#easier because I don’t really have a vision in my head of the finished piece and that prevents me from being too hard on myself

[sableeira]

having aphantasia means I’m not plagued by images in my brain but at what cost

[cecilysass]

Shine On (4/16)

Read on AO3 | Tagging @today-in-fic

Chapter 4: The Art of Profiling

Farrs Corner, Virginia February 20, 2015

The pizza that Fox Mulder ordered isn’t from a pizza place Jackson has ever heard of, like Domino’s or Pizza Hut, but it’s really good anyway. Or at least it tastes good to someone who hasn’t eaten all day. Jackson eats the first piece really quickly, then he grabs for a second without thinking, forgetting his manners. When he realizes what he’s done, he hesitates.

“Go for it,” the older man says, his eyes darting sharply back and forth between the pizza and Jackson’s face. “Eat as much as you want.”

Fox Mulder has been acting much more intense ever since Jackson told him about the red-headed lady.

Jackson’s tired, and he has only barely skimmed the surface of the man’s difficult mind, but he can tell that the guy’s stunned by the news. Fox Mulder’s mind is channeling down a dozen different paths right now: fast, mazelike thoughts, like bobsleds going down tracks. A current of sharp worry running through like a winter chill.

It’s honestly exhausting to try to figure out. Jackson closes off the shine for now, takes another big bite of pizza. This sausage is a little spicy, which is exactly how he likes it.

“I have a lot of questions for you,” Fox Mulder says, his voice low. “I don’t want to overwhelm you. But I … gotta ask some of them.”

Jackson nods reluctantly, his mouth full. He doesn’t feel like answering questions at all. Still, he supposes the more he gets out of the way, the better.

“You said you have visions,” the man says, setting his own piece of pizza down. “Do you have other … abilities?”

Jackson studies him cautiously as he finishes chewing his bite of pizza. He’s not in the habit of discussing what he can do. It’s only really ever been trouble when he has, so he’s almost instinctively secretive about it. But things are different now. And Fox Mulder, well, he seems to know all about this kind of thing.

“Yeah,” Jackson says carefully. “I do.”

The man runs his hand over his mouth. Jackson notices he’s only eaten half of his slice of pizza. Either he’s not hungry, or he’s too distracted.

“You can read thoughts,” Fox Mulder guesses, leaning back, speaking with certainty. He folds his hands in front of him. “You can focus on other people’s thoughts. Not just one person, but several at once.”

Jackson sets his slice of pizza down in shock. “How did you know that?”

“You can move objects, too.”

Jackson blinks at him. “I have been able to do that. Some. I could do it easier when I was little.”

“What else?”

“I can, like, change people’s perceptions. What they see. Not for forever, just for a little while. So, if I, like, need a distraction in class or something, I can make the teacher think someone opened the door and mooned us. Stupid stuff like that.”

Fox Mulder looks undeniably fascinated. “Wow,” he says. “Interesting.” He taps his fingers on the table. Jackson doesn’t have to use his shine to see that the man is thinking this over. “So does that mean you could effectively shapeshift? If you wanted to?”

“Yeah,” admits Jackson. “At least I can make other people think I look like someone else.”

“Huh,” the man says, squinting thoughtfully. He tilts his head, looking at Jackson again. “Are you reading my mind right now?”

“No,” Jackson says honestly.

“Why not?”

“I’m tired,” Jackson says. “It’s work, sometimes. And no offense, but you’re kind of complicated and hard.”

Fox Mulder chuckles. “I don’t know if I should take offense at that or not.”

“I did read your mind earlier,” Jackson confesses. “And the red-haired lady …. she was really easy. I hardly had to try with her at all. It was like her thoughts just flew at me. I was wondering if that was because she was my birth mom. Do you think that could be right?”

The man stares at him blankly, not directly answering. “Her name is Dana Scully.”

“Dana Scully,” repeats Jackson.

“Have you ever heard that name before?”

“No,” Jackson says. “I don’t think so.”

“Did your parents tell you anything about your birth parents? Who they were, where you were from?”

“I don’t think they knew anything about them,” Jackson says. “It was a closed adoption.”

Fox Mulder nods, scratching his chin. “Yeah,” he says. It’s like a cloud of sadness has fallen over him. “Yeah, it would have been.” He fixes Jackson with a curious look. “Do you … have any questions for me? About any of this?”

“Uh. Sure.” Jackson looks around the room, slowly, as if the best question to ask might be scrawled on the walls. The faces peering out of the framed photos draw his attention again, but it’s all so much. He looks away, back at the box of pizza in front of them instead. “Is it… okay if I have another slice, Mr. Mulder?”

The man laughs a little, crossing his arms. “You can just call me Mulder.”

“I think I’m eating more than you, Mulder,” Jackson points out seriously. “It doesn’t seem fair. It’s your pizza.”

“I told you, eat as much as you want.”

Jackson feels like he has been polite enough. He shrugs. “Thanks,” Jackson says, taking another slice.

“Jackson,” Mulder says, watching him eat, his voice suddenly too casual. “Do you have any idea who your birth father is?”

Jackson picks up his piece of pizza and studies it, pulling off a particularly delicious-looking piece of sausage and sampling it. “Well,” he says, through a mouthful, “I’ve got a guess. Based on certain clues. But I don’t know for sure.”

“Clues you’ve read in people’s minds? Or clues you’ve noticed?”

Jackson shrugs again. “Both, I guess.” He gives Mulder a look, raising his eyebrows.

There’s a pause.

“What clues?”

“Well, I’m not stupid,” Jackson says matter-of-factly. “That woman, Dana Scully, was here, fighting with you. Lots of big feelings. Then, the way you’re acting now. Like you think I’m a brand new iPhone and you can’t stop looking at me. And how you seem to know things about me. That’s a bunch of clues.”

Mulder has been sitting with his arms crossed, and he hasn’t moved the entire time Jackson’s been talking. But now Jackson can see a tear sprouting in his eye. It surprises him. Wayne Van De Kamp, his father, would never have cried in front of him. Mulder blots it with his sleeve, and Jackson sees his hands are shaking, too.

Maybe he shouldn’t have said that so carelessly, kind of flippantly. It’s obviously a big deal to Mulder. Really, truthfully, it’s a big deal to Jackson, too—something he’s wondered about his whole life. But right now he just can’t have everything feel like a big deal all at once. Or he’ll explode or something.

He meets the man’s damp eyes.

“Yeah,” Mulder says roughly, trying to smile. “Okay. A lot of clues.” He pauses, uncrosses his arms, places his hands on the table. “I get the sense you can’t handle a lot more emotional drama right now, Jackson, and I get that, I really do. Believe it or not, I’ve been in that place myself.”

Jackson’s speechless. It’s like the man read his mind, but that’s not possible.

“I just want to say, we can talk about it whenever you want to,” Mulder adds. “No pressure.”

Jackson nods his head up and down, licking his lips nervously.

***

After dinner, they go back into the part of the room with the couch, which is surrounded by all the messy piles of books. Jackson sits on the floor and starts picking up volumes curiously. “The Art of Profiling?” he says. “Is that an art book?”

“No,” Mulder says with a smile, trying to kick piles out of the way. “It’s psychological profiling. Like for criminals.”

“Oh,” Jackson says, making a connection. “Like on Criminal Minds.”

“What’s that? A TV show?”

“Yeah,” Jackson says. “My parents love it. It’s about a team of FBI agents who profile dangerous criminals.” An exciting thought occurs to him. “Wait, is that what you did?”

“Yes,” Mulder says. “No. Kind of. I was a profiler, years and years ago. But then I was put on the X-files, where I investigated cases that had unexplainable, supernatural associations.”

“That’s why you have books like this,” Jackson says. He lifts the book Sasquatch: Diverse Perspectives. “Or this?” Extraterrestrial Abductions Beyond the Media.

“Yeah,” Mulder says, a self-deprecating shrug. “That’s right.”

“That’s badass,” Jackson says, a root of an idea occurring to him. He belatedly realizes his mistake. “I mean, that’s cool. Very cool,” he corrects himself.

“It was badass,” Mulder agrees, seemingly unaffected by Jackson’s profanity. “Although… it could be difficult. We went through a lot, working on the X-files. Scully and me.”

Jackson absorbs this information. “So you and Dana Scully worked together on the X-files. In the F.B.I.. That’s how you knew one another?”

“We were partners,” Mulder says with quiet precision, like this sentence is very important.

They’re just three words—we were partners—but Jackson can tell they tell an entire complicated story the length of a book or more. His shine cries out to be used, but Jackson pushes it aside.

“Mulder,” Jackson says slowly. “Is it a coincidence that you and my birth mom worked on these X-files … and that I have these abilities?”

“No, Jackson,” Mulder says, sighing heavily. “It’s probably not a coincidence.” He sits on the couch, looking down at Jackson still sitting on the floor. “There are things that both of us were exposed to that could have … caused the abilities.”

“But you guys don’t have them yourselves, right?”

“No. Not like you.”

It’s a frustrating answer. “Not like me? Or not at all?”

“Some things I want to wait to talk to you about,” Mulder replies. “Until we’ve had a chance to talk to your mother, too.”

Your mother.

Jackson inhales sharply, the words sending an unexpected shock through him.

“I meant Scully, of course,” Mulder says quickly, noticing his reaction. “I’m sorry.”

“Dana Scully isn’t my mother,” Jackson says with emphasis. “I have a mother.”

“I know.” Mulder’s eyes look impossibly sad. “I’m sorry, Jackson. I know.”

“I’m not looking to replace my parents,” Jackson says tightly. “That’s not why I’m here or what this is about. They’ll always be my parents. I love them.”

Mulder appears to sink further into the couch. “Yeah,” he says. “I can tell you do.”

Jackson looks down quickly at the stack of books again, playing silently with the cover of Criminology Through The Ages. He knows he shouldn’t have gotten angry. He knows Mulder didn’t mean anything by it, and he’s having to struggle with his shine now to keep from sensing any bad feelings or thoughts coming off of Mulder.

It’s just Jackson feels almost disloyal, sitting here talking to this man, learning this information about his birth parents’ lives, when his parents just died. When they probably died because of him.

“Jackson.” Mulder’s voice is kind. “What were they like? Your parents. Do you want to … tell me about them? I don’t know anything about them.”

Jackson pauses, still staring at the book in his hand. “Yeah,” he says. He tries to find the right words. He has to be the person who remembers them, who speaks for them to the world now. “They were … they weren’t anything like me. But they were great.”

Mulder waits patiently, his soft eyes on Jackson. Jackson puts the book back carefully on top of a pile.

“My dad was the shop teacher at Rawlins High School. He was good at woodworking, cabinetry. He was always trying to teach me.”

“Were you good at it, too?”

“No,” Jackson says with a tiny smile. “I was really, really bad at it.”

“Oh yeah?” Mulder echoes the tiny smile.

“I couldn’t cut straight. I forgot to measure,” Jackson says, shaking his head. “I was always disappointing him.”

“Not really,” Mulder guesses softly.

“No,” Jackson agrees, just as softly. “Not really.” He’s quiet, thinking more about his goofy, sweater-vested dad. “He was always cheerful. He thought you should look on the positive side of things, you know? Really into baseball. He coached my Little League team for a while.”

“That’s good,” Mulder says encouragingly. “It’s good to play sports.” He’s quiet, too. “And your mom?”

“Her job was running the church preschool,” Jackson says. “She was always singing. She loved holiday decorations, and to cook and bake.” He feels tears threatening. “She is just … she was a really good mom to me. Like, she hugged me all the time. I acted like I didn’t like it, but I did.”

“I’m glad she did that,” Mulder whispers. “I’m so glad.”

“She was really Christian. Really into church. They both were.”

“You were raised religious?”

“Yeah,” Jackson says. “Lutheran.” He glances at Mulder wryly. “But I was really bad at that, too.”

Mulder returns the look. “I’m not very good at that myself,” he says. “Scully’s religious, in her own way. But I’ve never been … that kind of believer. It’s just never made sense to me”

Something warm blooms in Jackson at being understood in this way. It’s never made sense to him, either.

“What are you good at?” Mulder asks. His tone is gentle, but Jackson’s shine is suddenly alert, suddenly aware of what’s underneath the man’s exterior. Mulder is hungry to know more about him, desperate for any detail. His need is so overwhelming, Jackson closes the door on it quickly.

“I don’t know,” Jackson says casually. “I’m good at math, I guess. Math comes easy to me.”

Mulder’s face lights up. “Scully’s amazing at math.” Looking over at Jackson, he seems to regret his words. His scolding to himself shines through. —stop making everything he says about me and Scully. “Sorry. You’re telling me about yourself.”

“I like to run,” Jackson continues. “I’m pretty fast, and I think I’m a good distance runner. I was thinking maybe I’d try out for the track team in high school.” He pauses. “But I guess I’m not going to high school now.”

“Come on,” Mulder says. “Of course you’re going to high school. Your life isn’t over.”

“I’m most likely going to prison,” Jackson mumbles darkly.

“Nah. Not going to happen.”

“I don’t even know where I’m going to live,” Jackson adds. “Where I’m going to stay tonight.”

“You’re obviously going to stay here tonight,” Mulder insists. “After that, we’ll figure it out.”

The lightning-fast image of a school building with a sign— Farrs Corner High School—and then another fast image, the two of them, Mulder and Jackson, running side by side on a country road, a road that looks a lot like the road right outside the farmhouse. Then almost instantly, more scolding in Mulder’s mind: Way ahead of yourself. Stop it. Haven’t even told Scully. Need to confirm.

“How will we confirm?” Jackson asks quickly. “What does that mean?”

Mulder’s eyebrows shoot up. “That’s going to take some getting used to.”

“Sorry,” Jackson says. “That was kind of rude of me, probably.”

“I have to remind myself you’re listening,” Mulder says with a small smile.

“I normally try to hide it more,” Jackson says. He stands up, stepping around the books to sit next to Mulder on the couch. “But I mean … what’s the point if you already know, right?”

“I was just thinking that before we introduce you to Scully, we should run DNA,” Mulder says. “Yours against mine. To confirm it.”

“Why?” Jackson says, frowning. “You don’t believe me?”

“Can’t you tell that I believe you?”

Jackson sighs. “Yeah, I think you do.” He kicks out his long legs and leans his head back against the back of the couch. “But like I said, you’re not the easiest.”

“The people that Scully and I used to be involved with,” Mulder says, “were the kind of people who would go to extremes. Even extremes like convincing a kid his birth mother was someone she wasn’t. Like planting ideas into people’s heads. I don’t think you’re lying, but I think it would be smart to know for sure.”

Jackson swings his head to look at Mulder. “Who were these people?”

Mulder regards him with a troubled expression. “I’ll answer that, Jackson. But I think you need to answer this, too: who drove you here? To Virginia?”

“I told you,” Jackson says, folding his arms defensively, “I can’t tell you that.”

“Why?” Mulder’s eyebrows draw together in concern. “It worries me a little. Did the person who drove you ask you not to tell me?”

“Yeah, they did,” Jackson admits. “But I don’t think they’re one of these bad people you’re talking about. They were just trying to help me.”

“But Jackson,” Mulder says urgently, “you need to understand that—”

“You’re just going to have to trust me,” Jackson insists, and his voice sounds younger than he intends. “Please. Just trust me.”

Mulder rubs his temple with one finger. “Okay,” he says simply. “I can do trust.” He leans forward on his forearms. “But still, Jackson, I think we gotta do the DNA test. If you’re not … the person we think you are—and who Scully thinks you are, it would be too hard for her.”

“She’s been wanting to see me that bad?”

Mulder is surprised. “Of course she has. Of course.”

“But it was a closed adoption. Her choice.”

Mulder opens and closes his mouth, again seeming not to know what to say. “Since the second she let you go,” he says, his voice strained, “she’s been wanting to see you again.”

Jackson’s shine pulls in an image then of a baby in a crib, crying, and then the woman Mulder calls Scully, younger, crying and crying, inconsolable.

It’s all too sad, and Jackson is sad already.

“Okay. DNA test tomorrow then,” Jackson says, shrugging. “No big deal.”

“Great,” Mulder says, standing up. “Now I thought I’d show you where you’ll be sleeping if you want. I’ll have to put sheets on the guest bed first. Maybe you can help me. This place used to be a little more organized when Scully lived here.”

“You have a guest room, huh?” Jackson says. “Fancy.”

“Yeah,” Mulder says in a strange voice. “It’s just an extra bedroom. Small. Not too fancy.”

It was supposed to be your room. In case we got you back somehow. Mulder’s thoughts are suddenly and unexpectedly clear.

“Then I guess I better sleep in it,” Jackson responds flatly, following along behind him.

***

[leenfiend]

I thought the Two Slow Dancers comic would be a fun opportunity to break down my process a lil bit cause this was a lot of undoing and redoing and adding so for any ppl curious it will be under the cut!!

So to start off I actually only thumbnailed what is now page five and six, the original image in my mind was them reaching out to each other in different seasons clothing, I considered just making an animated version of that but then I connected it to the two slow dancers scene I had imagined in my head a month or so back and wanted to make it part of a small narrative:

(I actually did page six first - u can tell by the way my writing is nearly incomprehensible that this idea came to me like a vision in the night)

But then looking at that i said - well surely that doesn’t tell the story enough. I need more. And then I played two slow dancers on repeat for probably an hour while I thumbnailed a surrounding narrative for those two pages and ended up with this mess:

And from there I actually started working on the lineart two pages at a time - I like working on freakishly large two page spreads because to me it helps the flow feel more cohesive, I don’t look at them as isolated pages until I get to the shading part of the process.

But once I sent it to some ppl for feedback and reread it myself a million times I felt like the story still wasn’t reading the way I wanted it to - two out of six pages were “flashbacks/memories” pages and that ratio didn’t really allow for the other four pages to read as a cohesive story in my opinion so I kept trying to workshop two more pages for the front and I went through a few iterations:

I thought at first I would show the outside of the garrison, give the audience more of a setting, and then show the flyer so we know Keith is getting ready for this celebration. But it was too literal for me (even though what I ended up doing was still pretty literal lmao). So then I started with the phone/text messages as a story telling device:

Also this is an example of how I almost always draw the comic panels before I decide what goes in them haha, unless I’m really sure what images I plan on focusing in on the panels almost always end up informing what goes inside if that makes sense. But I finally ended up here when I decided “that’s good enough”

I even did most of the lineart for this composition before I decided the imagery of the jacket was just too repetitive, like we don’t need THREE PAGES of keith putting on a jacket.

So i kind of just moved the left page over to the right, and left the right page blank for most of the rest of the comic process. I finished most of the lineart on the rest of it before I finally circled back and decided to go with a tweak of what I originally thought was a lame idea (I had this image in my head of the lions silhouette against the glow of the Earth for the first page, but with the lyrics “the ground has been slowly pulling us back down” I thought it was just too cheesy, especially because that’s not what the lyrics mean either in the song or in the context of this comic and I didn’t want them to be perceived as so literal)

So this is the thumbnail I landed on for that which eventually turned into the actual final page.

Once I had all of the thumbnailing done the rest was pretty fun work! Just lots of going back in and detailing out the scribbles I had first put down. Now in terms of color, I actually have a secret. Most times I don’t color much at all? It depends on the piece but for most of my comics what I do is this -

I flat greyscale color everything and then use a color curve adjuster inside of procreate to pick a color pallet:

color adjusters are ur friend for picking color pallets i'm TELLING YOU!! I used to have a lot of trouble with cohesive color comps but it's a lot easier for me even without using this method now. Anyway I usually leave it here, in my other comics I don't have any shading or background elements outside of the panels but I figured since I was working so much on this comic anyway, I might as well light it a bit. So I basically just scribbled over the whole composition with a purple marker set on a multiply layer and then erased out the places I wanted light to hit, and then added a soft light layer with colored lights to give it more of a party look:

The only hang up I had during the coloring process of all this was how to color the "memory" pages. I originally just wanted them to be more pastel/blue, I thought that would make them look distinct enough. So I painted/shaded this whole page before looking at it within the rest of the composition and deciding it didn't read well at all and ended up sliding the saturation down to zero and calling it a day:

But I'm happy with that decision because it allowed for the "coming into color" moment with the other memory page and I think it connects better to the rest of the comic visually that way. And that was the whole process! There were tons of other little adjustments I made along the way and other composition things I tried out but I do tend to erase instead of iterate in layers so this is the process I have to show you! As a little bonus behind the scenes, here's the time lapse replay of that initial thumbnail for all eight pages! (it is sideways just because it's so large so if you're on a phone/tablet/laptop just turn ur screen sideways otherwise I'm so sorry lmao)

[sbknews]

LS2 Explorer Plus Helmet Review

Maja Kenney of Maja’s Motorcycle Adventures reviews the LS2 Explorer Plus (Off-Road) Helmet. Having ventured into the world of adventure motorcycling I needed a new helmet to match the activity and of course, my new adventure bike, too! The first impression was a very positive one even before I took the helmet out of the box. The packaging itself is well thought out, with good design. The helmet itself is packed in the usual drawstring bag and as a bonus, it also comes with a carry bag. That’s my flight carry-on sorted. It also comes with an inflatable helmet ring for when you are fitting the comms to the helmet, removing the peak or the visor and generally storing it.

The helmet also comes with a pinlock and a set of blanking plates to use when the peak comes off. I love that about the helmet, I can use it with or without the peak depending on the type of riding I want to do. The removal of the peak is very easy, you need an allen key that comes in the box with the helmet and a Phillips screwdriver (you have to use your own) to remove the screw holding the peak in place at the top of the helmet. It took me 10 minutes to remove it the first time because I took a while to figure out how to take out the blanking plate at the top without breaking it (it just snaps in and out of the mount) but subsequent times the whole process took only a few minutes. I really like the sturdiness of the mounts and that you need to screw the visor in place, it feels much easier and not as flimsy as it does with the plastic systems on some other helmets.

The only thing I have noticed after using the helmet for a few weeks is that the rubber that seals the visor at the top seems to be rubbing against the pinlock when you open and close the visor. My pinlock now has visible markings at the sides. This is more of a cosmetic annoyance as it doesn’t impair the vision itself.  The look itself is quite aggressive, with the chin piece coming up very high and this does mean I had to slightly tilt my head down to see the bike’s dials (compared to the road helmets I have). However, it comes with a very wide side view which helps with the periphery vision. With every new helmet, I know to expect it to be tight for the first few rides, some take a while to ‘bed in’ and stop giving me a tension headache. I was delighted to find out that the fit is excellent and even after wearing it for a good three hours on the first ride, I’ve almost forgotten I am wearing a brand new helmet.  The LS2 Explorer fits perfectly around the crown of my head and it squeezes my cheeks in place. There is plenty of space around the lower jaw and chin area which makes it easy to talk to your riding buddies if you are connected with intercoms or just to sing out loud happy tunes. Some helmets can make me feel a little bit claustrophobic if they are too tight around the chin area, especially on long rides. I love the LS2 fit because even after a full day’s riding I don’t feel confined in the helmet and at the same time I feel very safe.  The foam in the helmet is laser cut, and the inside is hypoallergenic and breathable. The liner is washable and the helmet comes with a chin curtain for the colder rides to keep the wind away from your neck. As per my previous point, even with the chin curtain the movement of my jaw is not restricted.

The helmet is made out of carbon fibre composite and weighs 1400 grams which is very light indeed. It is ECE 22.06 compliant and DOT certified and is manufactured in 3 shells to ensure a good fit across different sizes. The sizes range from XS to 2XL and it is a long oval shape.  There are several vents to help keep you cool, a chin vent, two at the top of the helmet and two side vents or exhaust ports. Thanks to their design, they are super easy to open/close with a gloved hand.  To ensure good protection the chin strap is reinforced, and it fastens with the double D Ring. Personally, I really like the colour and the finish of the D Rings, too. The helmet also comes with an emergency release system. The visor is scratch resistant and the helmet also comes with an internal dark sun visor. I wish the sun visor would drop down a little lower to give you fewer lines in your field of vision  This is especially important for me as I have to wear spectacles when riding and the rims of my specs already clutter the view.

Having worn the helmet on three long days of green laning I am very pleased with the fit, the comfort and the look. Equally on roads, it handles the wind really well, the peak doesn’t pull your head backward when you look up. It is fairly quiet although not the quietest one I’ve ever tried. There is minimum lining covering the comms speakers which I like because I can hear the sound much better than in some other helmets.  I had the opportunity to take the helmet on a trip to Spain for three days and as I was hiring a street bike, I left the peak at home. The performance of the helmet was impressive in 25-degree Celsius weather where the many vents really made a big difference to my comfort. You can feel the air coming into the helmet from the vents on top and that helps keep your head cool. I found it quite easy to take the helmet off and back on at stops.

The best bit is that, as mentioned before, the helmet comes with a carry bag which made for the perfect carry-on bag on the flight. The helmet itself is light and the bag is big enough to allow me to fit inside my cameras to record the rides, a book, glasses and a few other bits and pieces for the flight.

Overall I find the LS2 helmet delivered more than I expected from a brand I wasn’t very familiar with. It offers great value for money with all the safety features and certification and the real bonus is the superior build and finish quality of the helmet. At £320 mark this helmet definitely feels more premium than its price tag.

For more reviews check out our dedicated Reviews page For more LS2 Helmet news check out our dedicated page LS2 Helmet News or head to the official LS2 Helmets website ls2helmets.com Read the full article

[quickspinner]

What if Luka told LB that he knew her identity post Wishmaker?

I'd really like to see your take on it!

Hey y’all it’s my birthday :D so I have a bunch of things to post today (hopefully, if all the bits I scheduled go as planned), because what's a better birthday present than comments and likes and kudos? I hope you all enjoy this little personal big bang birthday project, and thanks for helping me get through the year! These will all go up on AO3 as well, but maybe not instantly since I can't schedule stuff ahead on AO3.

Unfortunately life interfered (one of my kids has a chronic health issue that needed attention over the last two weeks) so I didn't get through very many of the birthday prompts I received, but I do still have some pieces to go up today, and you’ll probably see some of the other prompt fills pop up at random in the near future. 

On to the prompt!So here's the thing...I don't agree with the writer's decision for Luka to not tell Marinette. I've seen the arguments, I totally get the 'he is trying to make things easier on her/not stress her out' approach, and I just...I don't know, I don't buy it. Luka as a character has always been super supportive of letting Marinette make her own choices and I think his respect for her agency would override his desire to protect her, and to me, it makes more sense for him to tell her and let her decide how to handle it. So, here's me reversing that decision, once Luka's had some time to process and reflect.

Anything You Need

We need to talk.

Marinette froze, her whole body going hot and then cold, and she swallowed as her vision swam for a moment and it got hard to breathe. A few short, panicked breaths later the feeling had coalesced into a lump in her stomach, and she was able to flick to the next message, though her hand shook. 

Meet me under the bridge? Just tell me when you leave and I’ll be there.

Marinette moaned, putting her head down in her arms. ‘We need to talk’ never meant anything good, and that it was coming from Luka —she hardly even knew what to think. Maybe he was finally going to give her the tongue-lashing she deserved. Maybe he’d finally thought things over and realized that between flaking out on their dates with lame excuses, refusing to tell him the truth about why, and ghosting him for weeks, and Adrien , that she really was an awful person and he deserved a chance to tell her so to her face.

Which was very un-Luka , but still. 

It took only moments for her to text back leaving now . As awful as whatever this was going to be, thinking about it would be worse, and Marinette couldn’t afford that level of breakdown right now. Or ever, really. A breakdown actually sounded pretty good, honestly, but she didn't have the luxury of giving in to it. Better to just get it over with.

Mind whirling with possibilities, most of them terrible, Marinette didn’t see anyone or anything she passed as she walked quickly, wringing her hands and occasionally biting down on her thumb to stop a thought that got a little too out of control.

When she got there, Luka was waiting for her, as she'd expected, but he wasn’t sitting. He didn’t have his guitar, and he wasn’t relaxed. He was—he was pacing, she realized, and the look on his face was so strange when he heard her coming and looked up. He didn't look angry at all, but that only shifted her anxiety rather than relieving it. His face lightened when he saw her, obviously glad she was here, but his brows were drawn together and his whole body seemed tense, and that was…that was just wrong. She'd never seen Luka look like this before.

“Is everything okay?” she asked before she could stop herself, and Luka’s shoulders hunched up slightly, his head dipping to the side slightly. 

“More or less. I just have something I need to tell you, and I’m afraid…” he trailed off, and gestured vaguely with his hand. “I don’t know how this is gonna go,” he finished with a sigh, dropping his hands to his side. “So, um, let’s sit down and just…just get on with it.” 

“Okay,” Marinette said, sitting down on the ledge. Oddly seeing Luka so worked up was calming her down; her Ladybug, problem-solving brain suddenly engaged. 

Luka sat down next to her, weaving his fingers together as he rested his forearms on his thighs. “I’ve been keeping something from you,” he said quickly, and then sighed. “Actually, I…I outright lied to you about it. I thought at the time I was doing the right thing, but I’ve been thinking about it and I’m not so sure, so…” 

“Luka, you can tell me anything,” Marinette said, laying a hand on his arm as she leaned forward, trying to see his face where it was covered. “Listen, I…I know how much you hate lies and secrets.” He winced and looked away, but she barrelled on. “S-so I know how important this must be. I trust you, Luka, so…you can tell me whatever you need to. Or…or not.” She swallowed, and took her hand back, not really sure what to do with it all of a sudden. Eventually it fluttered into her lap and she squeezed it into a fist. 

Luka looked at her, and softened slightly, putting his hand over hers. “I’m sorry, I’m freaking you out. That’s the last thing I wanted to do. The whole reason I—well.” He took a deep breath through his nose, letting it out slowly through his mouth, and seemed about to speak, but he took another slow breath instead.

“I lied to you,” he said finally, very quietly, “after the battle with Wishmaker. When you asked me if—when you wanted me to say that I didn’t know your identity. I said it, but it wasn’t true. I did see.” 

Marinette stared at him, her throat working but no sound coming out. Luka turned more fully towards her, and took her face in his large hands. “Breathe, Marinette. You’re hyperventilating, you need to slow down.” 

I knew it, was all she could think. I knew it, I knew it, but it was Luka and Luka would never lie to me, and I was so relieved but I knew it, I just knew…

“Marinette!” Luka said sharply, and something cold and wet swiped across her forehead. “Look at me.” He dumped more water on his fingers from the water bottle in his hand—had he had that the whole time? He patted her cheeks with his damp fingers, and the breeze cooling the wet spots brought her back to the moment. “Breathe,” he ordered, taking her hands and squeezing them tight. “What color are the flowers behind me?”

Marinette looked over his shoulder, trying to focus. “Red,” she finally managed to say. 

“How do my hands feel?” 

“Strong,” she said, realizing how tightly he was squeezing her. 

“Tell me what you hear.” 

“The—the river,” she said, blinking, and Luka’s face was coming back into focus. “Your eyes are blue,” she whispered. “This concrete is cold. I hear the metro.” 

Luka nodded. “Good.” He glanced around quickly, but they were still alone. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you out.” 

Marinette sagged slightly, blinking back tears. “Everything freaks me out these days,” she admitted quietly.

Luka huffed through his nose. “No wonder.” His hands moved to her shoulders, squeezing lightly. “I’m sorry. I tried to think of a way to make it easier, and I couldn’t come up with anything besides just, spitting it out.”

“You’re always direct,” Marinette smiled. “It’s one of the things I appreciate about you.” For some reason, saying that brought tears to her eyes. She put her hand over her mouth and squeezed her eyes tight shut. She felt a slight tug on her shoulders, and gladly slid over and hid her face against Luka’s shoulder. She felt some of the tension go out of his body as he hugged her tightly—like he had the night they broke up. “I’m sorry,” she gasped, and his hand moved over her back, rubbing. “I’m so sorry, Luka.” 

“I’m sorry too,” he said softly. “I should have told you, I just…wasn’t sure what the right thing to do was, and in the moment I guess…I thought I was protecting you? I thought it would make things worse for you if you knew that I knew. I just…I hadn’t really even had time to process it myself, and all I could think of was how much you have to do, and how hard it must be, and I didn’t want to put another decision on your shoulders. But…” He paused, and Marinette waited, her face still pressed into his hoodie. She knew it sometimes took him a moment to gather his thoughts and make sure he used the right words. “Mom thought she was protecting me by not telling me about Jagged,” he finally said. “I understand and I appreciate that she cares about me that much, but…it never made me feel cared for. It just made me feel like she didn’t trust me. Like I couldn’t handle it. I didn’t want to do the same thing to you, even if you didn’t know about it.” He sighed. “So, I’m sorry that I lied to you. I hope you can forgive me, even after…” Luka stopped, sounding choked up, and Marinette felt him squeeze her tighter.

She turned her face just enough to say, “Luka?”

“I’m so sorry,” he said in a rush, his voice thick. “Marinette, I’m so ashamed, after I got akumatized like that over—and then I kept secrets from you—I’m such a hypocrite, and I…Marinette I promise I’m not telling you this so we’ll get back together. I know we can’t, and I would never want to put more on you, I swear that’s not what this is about.”

Marinette blinked, and pushed back from him. “We can’t?” 

It was Luka’s turned to blink, and he cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his hand quickly across his eyes. “I, um…no? I mean, you—and there’s Chat—”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “There absolutely is not Chat.”

Luka winced, and pulled away further, so that Marinette had to sit up. He actually slid away a few inches. “I…” 

“Oh,” Marinette flushed, recoiling. “O-of course, you don’t want to, why would you I mean it’s not like anything has changed—”

“Everything has changed, Marinette,” Luka sighed, and gave her a tired smile. “I mean, not the important stuff. I still care about you. More than ever. I understand why you couldn’t tell me what I was asking and I forgive you for that. But…it’s not that I don’t want to, but…”

“I get it,” Marinette sighed, looking down at her hands, which were clenched again in her lap. “It’s a lot. I understand.”

“You don’t understand,” Luka sighed, sounding frustrated, but his touch was gentle as he reached over to lift her chin with a curled finger. “It’s not anything about that. I…I can’t tell you what it is. I just…I wouldn’t feel right about—” He bit his lip, and laughed, with an edge that made Marinette cringe a little. “This really is hard. I don’t know how you’ve been doing it all this time.” He ran the fingers of both hands through his hair, and Marinette impulsively put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed, like he often did for her. Luka tilted his head to smile at her. “Can you just trust me when I say it’s not anything wrong with you or with what you’re doing? I would love to try again, Marinette, but I don’t think it would be fair to you right now. Can we leave it there for now? Later, when you…when you understand why I’m saying this, if you still want to give it a try, I’m there, okay?”

Marinette deflated a little, but nodded. 

Luka added quickly, “I mean, I’m there anyway, whatever you need from me. I still can’t believe how much you’ve been doing on your own. I’ll roll with however you want me to handle this, but I’d like to help you anyway I can.” 

Marinette tried to smile. “Thank you, Luka. I…well, I actually did tell someone else, and they’ve been helping me…” She shrank a little. “It’s not that I didn’t trust you, it’s just…well, I was really, really low after we broke up, and I just...I couldn’t keep it inside anymore. I’m still not sure telling her was the right thing to do, but…at least I’m not alone now.”  She looked up at him anxiously, but she couldn’t tell anything from his face. He was just looking at her with that same soft expression she was used to seeing from him. 

“I’m glad you have someone in your corner,” he told her, and she believed him. “And now you have me too, for what that’s worth.” 

“It’s worth a lot, Luka!” Marinette insisted, grabbing his hand. “It really is. I wish…I wish I had just told you to begin with,” she said sadly, looking down. 

Luka closed his fingers around hers and squeezed gently. “It wasn’t a good time to make a decision like that. I didn’t mean to put pressure on you, but that doesn’t mean you weren’t feeling pressured, and I’m sure it was hard enough getting your head and heart to agree on the right thing to do. If you trust me with it now, then that’s enough.”

Marinette smiled. “I do, Luka. I trust you.” 

Luka nodded. “I trust you too, Marinette. From here on out you tell me as much or as little as you feel comfortable with, and I’ll know not to push it any farther. Whatever you need from me, you’ve got it, no questions asked, okay?” 

“Okay,” Marinette whispered, feeling her smile grow. “For now, could we just…sit together for a little bit?”

She saw Luka’s shoulders come down and round slightly into his usual slump, and knew he was as relieved as she was that the conversation was over. “I’d love that,” he said, leaning back on his hands. Marinette watched him tip his face up and close his eyes, listening, she presumed, to the melody of the river. She sighed, and lowered herself back until she was laying down, staring at the lines of the bridge above them. She had a lot to think about, she knew, but for now, she just wanted to rest. 

“Marinette,” Luka said, and she lifted her head to look at him. He’d slipped off his hoody and was folding it loosely in his lap. He leaned over and slipped it under her head, and Marinette giggled. 

“Thanks,” she murmured, and reached out to take his hand. 

“I told you,” he said, meeting her halfway to curl his fingers around hers. “Anything you need.” 

Fiction Master Post

[mochikeiji]

Enough For Me

Request: "Congratulations on 1k!!! you deserve it, you’re a really good writer. Can i request prompt 12 “please don’t cry” angst to fluff with yuuta from jjk. thank you, congrats."

12. "please, don't cry."

↠ Pairing: Okkotsu Yuta x Reader

↠ Warning: angst to fluff

↬ Word Count: 1.5k

↳ from Go! Go! Gogatsu Event

When did every thing become so loud?

One minute you were similing. Laughing loud with a hint of the obvious enjoyment masked on your features. Then second you're staring to nowhere but silence greeting you. An expression so dim that the light in your eyes wasn't present as well. Left at the forest training grounds, the others had already gone back to their dorms. You told them you were staying for a bit for extra training when in reality, you were looking for an outlet without anyone witnessing your hour of vulnerability.

Stupid clan and their elders. As disrespectful as it may sound, you understood now why Gojo despises them. Loud it was to the point it deafens your ears; the murmurs of a child cast away from the bloodline because of the mockery it holds. A no good sorcerer was never welcome in families like yours. People would still chew on your head even when you have your backs turned on them. So frustrating it was to shoulder a burden of their devilish gossip and expectations.

At first it was alright. You handled it well. But to the extent where one of the higher ups brought it up during a meeting? How many people know of you and the disappointment you carry?

Gojo had his fist clenched that day. Maki understood you more than anyone, having to be someone who ran away from her clan as well. Inumaki and Panda did their best in comforting you, telling you that humans are weird to drag other humans down when they're the same race. That was just being so entitled, said Panda. You however, convinced your comrades you were fine. You were used to it. And it was fine.

It didn't matter what other's say as long as other's knew you for what you weren't, right?

That doesn't mean you couldn't help but become overwhelmed of the impact they had on you. Like knives forcefully shoved their ways through your heart. The pack of negative energy should've been enough to form a large curse that could take you.

Loud it was indeed. To have so many people shit their way into your life when you only wanted to live yours and not bother theirs.

You gulped down the heavy lump in your throat. Caught up in the fog of profanities from the world. Who were you kidding, you weren't Maki who can handle all this thrown at her. Tumbling and falling, that was all you knew about yourself in your whole life. The nails that grip in your palms pierced through the skin as blood trickles down, no amount of pain could level the amount of pent up emotions you buried in your heart.

Perhaps you've were born in the wrong time and place. If only you were a simple civilian, maybe life wouldn't be so bad. A loving family would be there, instead of the ones that were throwing their unfulfilled dreams to their children and controlling of their destiny.

The look in your mother's eyes will forever haunt you. Looking already as tired as you were, her eyes spoke more emotion than you could ever endure as loveless, empty ones met your teary gaze that very day.

"I only wanted a daughter who could've done so much for me as I've given her life after birth."

Your heart throbs, soon you were down on the dirt covered ground on your knees. The weight of her words colliding in the world you swore was a safe space for you. It shouldn't matter. Not when they've cast you away and yet, no matter what there is, she was still your mother.

And still the pain is as fresh as ever coming from the one you used to call, "family."

As loud as your world was, your cries were louder and clearer this very night. As if with all your might, you wanted to scream from above on how this was truly unfair. Wanting someone— anyone to hear you curse at the world you were forced to live in. It hurts your lungs, it was indeed hard to grasp small bits of oxygen when your insides felt like they were shrinking from the compact.

You wish you could scream at your mother that deep inside you still loved her. Even as a child who never received the motherly love they deserved, you loved her dearly. It was by instincts and the remains of your vision as a baby, being held in someone arms in hushing your cries.

The surface felt so firm unlike you remembered how it was when you were young. Yet the warm embrace felt nostalgic as it shielded you from the cold blistering wind of the night, you find yourself searching against the surface without a care of any danger or anything anymore. You wanted to be comforted for once. To not feel alone.

"Please don't cry."

Small hushes drowned out your sobs, an arm wrapped firmly around your waist while the other pets your head at the outmost caring matter. Curling closer, your hand held the one on top of your head. Taking in the rough texture, but reminding yourself that someone was now here in your time of need. Here after being away most of the times.

"Yeah, it's me." sensing your troubles as he averts his gaze away from you as if he was embarrassed. "I heard what happened. I managed to finish up much just to get here." next to him was the blade he carries around. Probably less hazardous as to why he place it down.

"Yuta.." sobbing as you clutched on the white material he wore. He immediately reverts back to soothing you in your distressed state. Something about the way he holds you only made you tear up more. It broke his heart in pieces to see you hold onto him as if he was the only person left to anchor yourself. And here he thought he had it worse back then, your body language brought this resemblance to the girl he used to hold just as he was doing now.

"Shh, I promise you that none of those words said about you is true."

Easier said, he knew that. It was easy to reassure someone of their thoughts, but it's not that easy to erase. The mind is a wondrous and torturous place to be in. Old memories can be dug out to the surface and you'd still feel the emotion like it just happened yesterday. Oh if you had Yuta's vision of you, you'd believe in his words.

A strong role model like you is exactly the reason why Yuta aims to be the strongest as well. To help people realize that strength isn't found in the words of other human beings, but within yourself. Yes, it's a harsh world we live in. Those who feel lowly amongst themselves would drag those above them. And those who feel the surge of entitlement snarls at those below them.

But no matter who it is that doubts you, and your potentials, there would always be someone behind you, with the glimmer in their eyes, you are their hope and inspiration in some ways.

That is what Yuta murmurs next to your ear, your cries now subsided to focus on his voice. "You're doing great. We've seen it. I've seen it." facing you with his boyish smiles, you wondered how'd this guy who came looking like a ragged mess become someone twinkling brighter than the stars above the night sky. It was contagious, it made you smile so minimal.

"There's that pretty smile." chuckling, he pats your head softly like treating a little kid. Yuta knows deep down that he can't fully resolve the thoughts inside of you— one of these days you'll have these moments again. And it saddens him because he's often away from you. Yet he's breathless at the fact that you're able to hold yourself off with all these tormenting you.

"You're amazing, darling." came out lower than a whisper before his lips closed in with yours. Last time he kissed you boy was he sweating buckets. He wasn't even as bold as now to be able to initiate first and pull you flush against his chest. But the erratic pace of his heart still was the same as ever. The loudness that had clouded you vanished. All you could hear now were pleasant chorus played by the crickets of the night and the wind lacing together throughout the atmosphere.

He promises to do much more with you for the time being. Help you mend the wounds no one can see and assist with the battles you two could only share and understand. One day as he stated before he would walk through the doors of your clan and prove to them that you were the diamond in the rough they've thrown but he's found.

You were his own butterfly. Beautiful to his eyes, you bestowed your wings; and to yours you cannot see but for people to admire.

"Give yourself more credit. You've done so much, my love."

© all content belongs to mochikeiji. Please do not repost or copy, あ���がとうございました!! (=^･^=)

[stormy-skies-falling]

𝕊𝕦𝕡𝕖𝕣 𝕐/𝕟!

about: Wilbur Soot

warning(s): the word "nuzzle," fluff, y/n not liking the cold... like at all, a lot of giggling

pronouns: none specified

word count: 790

note: found this little thing chilling in my docs, so I thought to myself "you should probably finish this." And I did! Look at me go! But anywho, I just wanted to put out a little something-something. Enjoy! Kisses! <3

The day was chilly: settling itself at -10℃, cold enough to make you think twice about not bundling up before you go outside. It had snowed last night, coating Brighton in a fluffy blanket of white. The trees lightly dusted in snowflakes, roads plowed… kinda, and children in their snow gear; some creating their first snow man, others their 100th; giving the city a peaceful sense and creating the perfect conditions for—

“Staying inside!” I say being extremely reluctant to adhere to the wishes of my wonderful companion.

“Now come on, we can’t just stay inside forever—”

“Although it looks absolutely beautiful outside,” I gesture to the window adjacent to the couch Wilbur and I are cuddled up on. “It’s still freezing and I can’t say that I particularly enjoy having my appendages going numb.”

Wilbur has always had a thing for cold weather; saying it’s just better in all aspects: cuddling purposes, cuter clothing, hot drinks— he’s not wrong, but still seems a little masochist-y to me to want to subject yourself to such cold conditions.

“Y/n, it’ll be fun!” Wilbur tries to reason, hugging me closer to his chest. Kiss ass. “We can go for a walk, we can—”

“But Baby, it’s cold outside!”

“Stop.” He glares, getting the reference to his duet, making me giggle. Huffing, I wrap my arms tighter around his waist and nuzzle my face into the crook where my boyfriend's shoulder meets his neck, placing a soft kiss on the area. “You just don’t want to get up. Do you?”

“Not really.” I say, voice muffled.

With a light sigh, Wilbur brings his hand up to my hair, running his fingers through the strands and smoothing the out-of-place pieces down. My eyes flutter shut. He brushes the pieces that cover my face from his vision, behind my ear, and places a kiss on my temple. “How about this,” He starts. “Why don’t we just go take a little walk around to block for some fresh air and then we can come back here and I will make us some hot chocolate and you can pick out a movie and we can get all warmed up. It’ll be even better than right now, because we’ll be all chilly and our noses and cheeks will be all pink” – I giggle at the words he chooses to accentuate, bringing my head up and looking him in the eyes – “And we can cuddle even more.” Wilbur tilts his head up, brushing his lips with mine.

With a playful roll of my eyes I fully press my lips to his and swing my leg over his waist, fully straddling him to kiss him easier. “Oh I suppose.” I say against his lips, giving in to his sales pitch.

“Yay!” My boyfriend giggles, bringing his hands to my cheeks, thumbs caressing my cheek bones.

Bringing my face back to his, Wilbur gives me another long kiss, causing my heart rate to quicken.

Wilbur and I have been together for about three years now, but even after all these years, kissing him– scratch that– just being around him makes my heartbeat soar. Colors seem brighter, my laughs are louder and harder, the world is just better ever since I met him– even before we were together. It’s one of those my-life-was-good-before-but-with-this-person-in-it-it’s-now-perfect-and-special kind of things; I don’t really understand it, but I just know it feels right.

I give him another few, quick pecks before sitting up; still straddling the tall man. His hands fall to my hips, rubbing gentle circles on the exposed skin from where my (his) t-shirt rode up. I place my hands on my waist, trying to summon up the will to actually get up and get around. “I must really love you.” I say with a shake of my head.

“Well I’d sure hope so.” Will smirks; I roll my eyes once more.

“Well… I suppose I should get around.” I look down to Wilbur to see him now looking up at me with a comedical grin. “What?”

“You look like a superhero with your hands on your waist like that.”

We both begin to laugh; he’s right, I do kinda have a little bit of a hero pose going on. Keeping my left hand where it was, I lift up my right arm, and jut my chin in the air: fully imitating “the stance”… from waist up. “Ah yes, Super Y/n and my mystical powers of Always-Tripping-Over-Air and never failing to memorize new Lovejoy songs comedically fast!” I announce as I attempt to look as heroic as possible.

“You’re such a dork.” Wilbur laughs, a love-struck look in his eyes.

“But I’m your dork!”

“Yes you are, my love. Yes you are.”

[moemammon]

Alright so my request is angsty-ish. Mc is engaged to someone else when they move for the exchange program and stays faithful during their entire stay, so maybe hcs on how the brothers react to a taken MC who (if they even try to advance) actively avoids romantic situations with them, and maybe a little bonus of them reuniting with their lover smittened.

I tried to request this before but all my asks get eaten so I just wanted to make sure it got through

"What Do You Mean You're Already Taken?!" (Feat the Demon Bros and GN!MC)

(Hell yeah angst time heheHEH >:))

Lucifer

Can you even imagine how Lucifer, the Avatar of Pride, reacted when his obvious advances toward you were always awkwardly brushed off? No matter what he tried, no matter how perfectly romantic the situation, he could never coax you into accepting his affections.

And he soon found out why, when you finally admitted that you were taken by another.

He can't remember the last time he's felt pain like this. He'd finally found someone he could be... vulnerable with. Someone he could open himself up to, who wouldn't see him in a different light as a result.

But to know that no matter what, he'll never be able to have you? It's a worse punishment than he could've imagined himself. He can't do anything but accept it, and you'll soon find that his advances come to a complete vault.

He's a little colder to you, but that's only because he's trying to relearn how to feel about your presence. He asks that you give him some time alone, for a few days. He'll be busy in his office in the time being.

Mammon

God, he's crushed. Mammon... was always aiming to be your first everything. Guess someone beat him to the punch before he could do anything to stop it. It takes everything in him not to accuse you of pulling his leg.

But you can't be serious... right? You're saying that no matter what he does or how strongly he feels, he can never have you? He won't get to hold you against him? He'll never be able to kiss you? To pull you under his sheets so you can sleep your worries away? Never be able to tell you just how much he loves you, more than any material possession in this entire world...?

But... why couldn't you just choose him..?

Mammon doesn't get it. He feels like he's always getting the short end of the bargain no matter what he tries. He knew the stakes were high when he started pining for you. You're... YOU! Perfect, amazing, lovable you... who will never be his.

These days he's barely home. You guys are still 'friends', but sometimes you can't tell if he's teasing you or actually being mean. He can't even stand being around you for too long, because his damned heart starts pounding until it hurts. He'd rather gamble the nights away than to have to deal with that.

Levi

Of course you're taken... it's not like he could've expected otherwise. Someone as great as you wouldn't look good standing with a gross otaku...

Jokes aside, Levi's heart has just shattered into a million pieces. You were his one! The one he dreamed about! The one he wanted to be around, despite his crippling social anxiety!

You got him... No, you REALLY got him. He didn't have to put up any walls when he was with you. He knew you liked him for who he was, and that you weren't secretly making fun of him when he wasn't around.

And... you two actually enjoyed one another's company! You shared so many laughs, so many days together, and just when he thought he'd gathered the courage to ask you to be his, you told him that you were taken.

He'll get over it. He's used to being disappointed, after all. Just don't mind him while he spends the next two weeks holed up in his room. If you need something, do you might just writing a note and slipping it under his door? He can't bear to look at his phone, since it's full of pictures of you.

Satan

Satan didn't mean to cause an outburst like that. He never meant to scare you. But when he realized that all this time spent falling deeper, and hopelessly in love with you, was all for naught? He didn't know how to react.

So many new, strange feelings rushed into him at once, until it all exploded in a fit of rage. Was it really anger? Or was it sorrow so strong that it could've been mistaken as such? He couldn't tell, because he's never felt this way before.

His room had been completely destroyed, many precious books lost to the unstoppable force that was his angry release. And when it subsided he was left feeling empty and lost... scared, even.

Would you think differently of him now? Would he think differently of YOU now? Could this... odd, sick, twisted relationship of yours be mended..? He didn't even know if he had the strength to attempt it.

So he isolates himself from you, spending a great deal of time repairing the damage done to his room. And when that's been finished, he's reading like his life depends on it. In the world of books, he can forget about real life entirely. Is it silly for him to imagine that maybe, some day, everything will work out like in a lighthearted fairytale?

Asmo

So you have a partner? Polygamy is fine too! Or so he thought, until you emphasized that you were loyal to your one and only partner. Meaning.. Asmo wasn't invited to the party.

Now, the Avatar of Lust wasn't exactly one who knew rejection. Sure he got a few 'no's here and there, but those little flings meant nothing and had no weight on his heart.

But you? You... were everything he didn't know he needed. Asmo knew he was beautiful and alluring, but you knew there was more to him than that. And you sought to bring those parts of him out into the light! He could only dream of showing his true self to you and you alone.

Asmodeus felt so secure with you, like the mask he'd been wearing for millennia could finally come off. With you, he could just be himself, and he could never tell you just how much that really meant to him. But now his heart aches with a pain he's never felt before, and it hurts so much that he can't help but cry.

His devilgram followers have been seeing him a LOT more lately. So has all of the devildom, really. He's never home anymore, choosing to fill the void with temporary lovers instead. It isn't enough though, and it only makes the pain worse. But in the end, what more can he do? He doesn't understand what love is without you.

Beel

Beel loved you. More than he could understand. More than he could've known.

When the feeling first blossomed within him, he thought it was hunger. Instead, it was a burning desire for you and only you, twisting in his core and setting his heart on fire.

Beel didn't understand it, but he knew that when you were with him, he could breathe a little easier. He could forget about the gnawing hunter that clouded his thoughts. For once, he actually felt free of his sin.

And then, you told him about your significant ofter, and he’d never felt so hungry in his life. The pain was so strong he thought he might collapse from weakness right then and there. It hurt... he hated it...

To everyone's shock, Beel has begun losing his appetite more frequently, most often after catching a glimpse of you. That familiar pain would sprout within him again and make him grimace, and he could no longer find the desire to eat. Maybe he'd just take his meals to his room from now on..?

Belphie

Right... of course. A human like you would be partnered with a human. It was natural that you'd have relationships before your life in the devildom. Anyone would've known that. So... why the hell did it sting so much?

Belphie couldn't sleep. Every moment he closed his eyes, visions of your sweet smile, your wonderful laugh, the way your nose wrinkled when you ate something gross... all of it haunted him. He couldn't get you out of his head no matter what he tried.

And it was so much worse now that he knew you were taken. He wondered if this was a punishment for killing you, like the universe's way of judging him for his misdeeds, and the ages of hatred he held in his heart for humans. Why would fate allow him to be happily partnered to one?

Try as he might, this was one worry he couldn't sleep away. He could never get comfortable. He couldn't close his eyes without thinking about you. He didn't want this. He hated this feeling of self loathing and regret. Belphagor wanted you, more than he’d ever wanted anything.

Maybe... he could convince you to love him? Show you that his love was so, SO much more than what anyone else could offer? He’d remind you of all the times you two shared together. You're not scared, right? Good. That's the last thing he’d want, because he loves you.

[sylverstorms]

Cassandra x Maiden ----Anonymity Ch.7

Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6

Cassandra gradually starts taking up more of your time. Or, more accurately, demands it like it’s her birthright.

Every day, you wake her up with a kiss to her shoulder or neck and a whisper of her name. She comes to you when she’s bored at random times during your shifts, to either talk –complain— about her sisters or to outright distract you. There are times at night when you’ll feel the chill of her slip into your bed and press up against your back, but she’s always gone by morning light, like a dream.

She used to be just another component to your nightmares. Now… she’s what takes them away.

And you’re afraid.

That you’re growing to like the time with her while she’s just playing around, that it will cut that much deeper when you find yourself on the end on her sickle. Because how else can it end, you reason, between the two of you?

The thought momentarily makes your liplock with Cassandra taste bitter, despite the sweet strawberry taste of her lip balm -and no way she’s putting that on for you, right?

She has you pressed deep into a plush armchair with her palm on your chest, while her thighs are locked tight on either side of yours. You want to tell her that you should stop –both because you’re literally in the open and anyone can walk in on you and because it’s late—but her lips are doing wicked things to your neck and you can’t find your voice long enough.

When Cassandra starts grinding down on you though, rather impatiently too, you have to speak up before she starts something neither of you can finish.

“Cassandra.” you say breathily. A sharp nip comes over your pulse, then slippery lips close around the area. “Ah! Cassandra. You’ll be late for dinner.”

She tsks and pulls back, expression much like a kid that got her hand slapped away from the cookie jar. She dismounts you with the same sour look, smoothing down her robes.

“Walk me there.” she orders.

You rise and fall into step beside her, trying not to linger on how strange it feels. It should be nothing, really, considering all the activities the two of you nightly indulge in, but it’s… something.

Cassandra, uncharacteristically quiet, keeps gazing out the windows as though calculating or pinpointing something while you make your way to the dining room.

She comes to a sudden halt just before you reach it, turns to you, steals a quick kiss and then quickly leaves you behind, a colder aura about her as she strolls inside.

You hear Lady Dimitrescu’s voice, but not what she says. Once a few minutes have passed and you can safely blend into the background, you join the other maids on standby within.

You used to hate it here. Having them all in front of you like that, serving them wine, when they’re all to blame for taking any semblance of normalcy out of your life. You never glance at what they’re eating. You still dislike dinner time.

But.

When Alcina makes a snide comment about Heisenberg and you hear Cassandra’s laugh above Daniela’s giggle and Bela’s chuckle…

It no longer seems so bad.

-

-

“Bela, stay a moment.” Cassandra says after Lady Dimitrescu leaves with Daniela in tow.

“Oh, no.” The blonde huffs under her hood.

“I didn’t say anything. Yet.” The younger sibling raises her hands in exasperation.

“When you go ‘Bela~’” You bite your lip to keep your expression neutral as you’re cleaning the table because hearing the normally stoic sister mimic Cassandra’s voice like that is just plain gold. “It’s never good.” her tone turns flat once more.

Cassandra very pointedly rolls her pretty eyes. “I need you to cover for me.”

“See?” Bela sighs. “Absolutely not.”

“Well, it wasn’t really a question, I was just trying to give you the illusion of choice.” Cassandra shrugs. “I’m going out tonight.”

“What?” Bela damn near hisses. “Have you lost your mind?”

“It’s fine it’s, like, thirteen degrees.”

“How is that fine?”

The elder sister’s gaze then flits to you. There is no other maid in the vicinity that can overhear them, but she’s clearly uncomfortable with you picking up the implications of their conversation.

You still don’t get it. You guessed their aversion to sunlight has to do with their mutations… but why would the cold be an issue?

The survivor in you wants to know more. To know if this is something that can be used to your advantage when the time and circumstances are right for a potential escape.

Another part of you… just plain worries.

“I know what I’m doing.” Cassandra says, stern.

“Then you’re doing it alone.” Bela turns to leave…

Except.

“Oh, well. Guess mother should know about that little maid you’ve been orbiting around, lately.” Cassandra comments. “The one you even did a favor for? Just imagine her disappointment in you, the shining example of the family, stooping so low.”

Bela’s back goes rod-straight. The piercing look she sends Cassandra sends ice down your spine. You think she’s going to pounce… yet she exhales.

“One. Hour.” Bela states. “If you’re not back in one hour I’m coming to drag your sorry behind to mother. And she—” A gloved finger points directly to you, “Won’t be coming back with you in one piece.”

Wait.

What?

-

-

You didn’t know Cassandra planned to take you with her. But she didn’t deny it when Bela pointed to you. After her sister left, all she said was: ‘Dress well.’

Which brings you to your current position, pacing by the entrance hall of the castle, in a warm coat and two layers of clothes underneath. You turn to look behind when you finally hear her steps descending the staircase.

And— you freeze.

Because Cassandra is not wearing her usual robes. She’s dressed in all black, yes, but the outfit is tight on her form, fitting every curve, hugging her wonderful legs like a second skin. She’s wearing knee-high boots instead of heels and her hooded, gothic overcoat reaches down to mid-thigh.

There’s not a single patch of her skin visible other than her face… and you can’t, for the life of you, explain why it’s that hot.

“You’re staring, plaything.” she chastises, yet doesn’t sound like she minds. Rather, she’s smirking.

“Uh—” you can’t really form words.

“We need to hurry, clock’s ticking.” she says as she jiggles the very key you’ve looked everywhere during work hours for. The key to freedom. To leaving the castle.

Cassandra double-checks her clothes before she opens the door. You file it as useful information for later as you hurry to catch up to her.

The path to the village –or what’s left of it— through the forest is… difficult. Mainly because Cassandra is entirely unbothered by any and all obstacles and moves like she’s on a walkway, leaving you to fight with every rock hidden in the snow.

You manage. Somehow.

Until a distant howl makes you jump and quite literally crash into her side.

Cassandra laughs. It’s a clear, beautiful sound in the dead of night. “My, my. Scared of a Lycan in my presence?”

“I thought it was just a regular wolf!” You whisper, mortified.

Yellow eyes blink at you. Then her gloved hand raises to yours, taking it in a secure grip. You didn’t realize you were shaking, yet the tremors quickly cease when she does that. It’s just your heart that still feels like it’s going to give out on you, but for an entirely different reason, now.

Cassandra safely leads you to the village. It looks more or less the same, except empty, void of life. You don’t linger on memories. You don’t.

“Show me your house.” she says.

You never thought you’d be tracing the steps of your front porch so soon. You only have to push the door for it to open. And the inside is just as you remembered. A quaint little house. It’s simply not… home, anymore.

Nothing is.

Maybe nothing ever was.

And the thought makes a thin, cracked wall inside you finally give. Cassandra is saying something a few paces behind you, but your vision has blurred, your eyes sting and hot, salty rivers roll past your lids.

“Are you listening to me?” she asks. “...Plaything?”

You can’t talk. If you do, you’ll sob and break to pieces on the floor like a pushed glass statue.

Cassandra’s grip is tight and demanding on your elbow when her fingers curl above it, but she turns you with gentleness you’d never think her capable of. You do not meet her eyes.

Her other hand comes up to your neck.

You can’t, you can’t—

“Alexia.”

Your eyes snap to hers when she says it, from the shock. You didn’t think she even knew your name. Cassandra shifts her weight from one leg to the other, then seems to decide on something and wipes the tears beading at your chin away with her thumb.

“Pack what you wish. We don’t have long.”

As you turn into your bedroom and open your wardrobe to pack a few clothes into a bag, just to feel a tad more yourself when you’re in your room in the castle, the sound of your name falling from her lips follows you.

Haunts you.

You have half a mind to get your mp3, phone and chargers before you return to her. Cassandra is holding whatever she wanted to get from the village in a box tucked between her arm and body.

“Come.” she orders. Her hand settles on your elbow again and practically drags you along.

You don’t talk on your way back to the castle.

From one of the many windows overlooking the front yard, you spot Bela’s eyes on the two of you until she retreats into the shadows. Rigidly, Cassandra enters and immediately goes by the large fireplace to warm up. You only then notice how much more fluid her movements get. Or rather, how sluggish she was during the trip.

You shut the door and turn the key and realize it’s much easier to handle your situation when you’re the one locking yourself inside.

You take off your coat and scarf, then make to head for your bedroom —according to your calculations you’ll only get 3 hours of sleep— until… you notice how cold Cassandra looks.

She’s one step away from hugging the flames. And you can still hear her call you by your name in your head.

Great. Another thing to keep me up at night. You think as you approach her.

Slowly, so as to not scare her, you slip your arms around her slim waist from behind. She’s like a block of ice in your embrace, at first. Her body thaws gradually, to the point she’s fully relaxed against you.

“Thank you for today.” the words don’t come easy –they’re like pulling teeth— but you manage to get them out clearly enough.

“You’ll thank me in very many ways, plaything.” she says. “Having your own belongings in the castle is not a privilege any maid gets. But.” her voice, although quiet, hardens the slightest amount. “If, despite my generosity, you harbor dreams of escape… I will turn them to nightmares.”

Your blood goes cold in your veins. You can only nod against her shoulder.

Cassandra turns in your arms to look at you.

“And if you ever try to leave me alone here… I will find you and kill you myself.”

[kass-storycorner]

An unpleasant surprise

I should definitely do my coursework instead of writing this fic, however the idea just came into my head and I couldn’t focus until I wrote this down. Writing this took waaaay longer than I anticpiated and it was way more spontanious... so it’s not proof read or anything, still hope you’ll enjoy it.

The idea/prompt: character is secretly in love with you, but won’t tell you because you are already in a relationship with someone else. Character however finds out that your partner is cheating on you – this is how they would react/act upon finding it out

Word count: 3637 Words (I’m sorry)

Character: Kaeya x gn!reader (in this it’s still very platonic and one sided love) Genre: Angst (?), Hurt, Comfort, even a bit of humour but maybe not, idk haha

Content warnings: cheating, threats, mention of blood and a major injury, mentioning of Dilucs and Kaeyas past, but nothing to explicit (tried to avoid the major spoilers)

Format: The first part / backstory is written in bullet points, but at the end you’ll find a fic written in the normal text format 

He just wanted to drown his sorrows in peace at the Angel’s Share, but no. He had to be witness to that disgusting display of infidelity of your (hopefully soon to be ex-) boyfriend

Kaeya has known you for several years now, both of you started around the same time in the Knights of Favonius. The early years of your training were some of the most fun times Kaeya had- thinking about it always made him smile. Both of you were known from the beginning as rule benders, mostly breakers, within the Knights and if it weren’t for the influence of Kaeyas adoptive family none of you both would’ve gotten that many chances to stay until each of you proved their own worth without familiar ties.

However, in the last few years you both grew a bit more distant. Kaeya blamed himself entirely for it, after Crepus death he knew he should not have any emotional ties to anyone in Mondstadt, at first he ruined the relationship with his brother by telling him the truth. He then just tried to avoid you more and more, which wasn’t easy, because after Diluc quit his position as a Cavalry Captain Kaeya rose up to his position – only to have you as his subordinate.  

It was not until you were on a mission with Kaeya that went horribly wrong, that Kaeya realised his feelings for you never were platonic, he was in love with you since the early days of training.You are his first love.

That mission was more of a secretive one, a few months after Diluc had left Mond and Crepus died, and one of the first bigger outings Kaeya had to lead as a Cavalry Captain. And the first mission without his brother by his side. The dragon Ursa resurfaced and continued to cause harm to the people of Mond, so Grand Master Varka gave Kaeya the responsibility to find that Dragons lair.

Instead of finding the hiding spot of Ursa, Kaeyas troop stumbled into a hiding spot of the, at that point not known as, Abyss order. That was the last time Kaeya went into a mission without information he himself collected and checked, because looking back it was so obviously a trap. How did he not notice it back then?

The fight was brutal and exhausting – somehow it was a miracle that the only Knight dangerously wounded was you. At least that is what the other Knights who were on that mission too would say, thankful that the worst they had to suffer from back then were a few scars at most. Hearing anyone talk about it enraged Kaeya, though he would never show it. It was because you were the most skilled fighter in that troop, even without a Vision Kaeya was sure that at your peak back then you could’ve bested him even now. But because of one of his mistakes, he did not care to watch his own back, maybe because he knew you would protect him, it was you who was injured and not him.

In that moment, seeing you unconscious on the floor laying in your own blood because you protected him, Kaeya understood his feelings for you.

After bringing you back safely to Mondstadt, and you thankfully not dying because of the injuries, Kaeya became even more distant. At first he wished to be able to tell you his true feelings after you’ve woken up, but he just couldn’t. When the healers and doctors gave the news that the injury was so severe that you would never be able to fight again, or even walk down the streets of Mond without being in pain – Kaeya thought the guilt of keeping that secret from Diluc and Crepus for years was unbearable, but the guilt he felt from being responsible for this? It pained him even more.

You stayed in the Knights, taking over administrative tasks and helping every other department of the Knights in the best ways you possibly could.

What surprised Kaeya is that you were never bitter about it. You never said it was Kaeyas fault, even went out of your way to constantly reassure him after you got the news that he shouldn’t blame himself for it (until this day he refuses to listen to you). Your smile and laughter didn’t stop after it, which he never could understand.

How were you able to be so happy and kind when your dream of leading your own troop just – vanished. To travel around Teyvat, see the world. When you weren’t able to do the things, you loved on your own, like going to Windrise to pick some of your favourite flowers.

Somehow, Kaeya thought, it was because of that guy. He never liked your boyfriend to begin with, but Kaeya thought maybe it was his jealousy that clouded his judgement.

He came into your life shortly after the incident and Kaeya remembered the first time he saw you two together – holding hands, you looked so smitten and the way you laughed when he leaned down to whisper something into your ear. After seeing that Kaeya knew he could never have something like this in his life. Not if its not with you.

Kaeya didn’t spend much time with you outside of the Knights anymore, though he would always have a conversation with you when you came up to him or he had to visit your office. Whenever he saw you outside of the Knights, you were always with your boyfriend, sometimes stopping and having a quick chat with Kaeya. Sometimes he wished you would stop being so nice to him.

Now seeing that disgusting piece of shit of a boyfriend sit in the corner of the Angel’s Share, with his hands all over some young thing made Kaeyas blood boil.

How dared he, the man who should be so lucky to have you, have his eyes and hands on another woman.

Also it’s a good thing that Diluc is not at Angel’s Share today, he was also a close friend of you back in the day and even though the friendship with Diluc didn’t survive his three years absence, Diluc would definitely throw that bastard out

Kaeya was astounded by the audacity your boyfriend had. He never had a high opinion of him but seeing that man openly flirt and make out with a woman that was not you, so obvious for everyone to see… in a bar that was frequently visited by your colleagues and friends. If it weren’t for the fact that he was cheating on you Kaeya could maybe muster up some respect for a man who had so clearly a death wish. Eyeing him from the corner of his eye, Kaeya kept observing that situation. How the hands that always held yours in public were touching all over the body of that unknown woman. How the mouth that told you sweet nothings over and over, told you that he loved you, was occupied with kissing the neck of another woman. That whole display just filled Kaeya with disgust. The loud giggles of that woman in his lap filled the Tavern and that was the moment Kaeya decided he had enough. Calmy, he finished his drink, stood up from the bar and made his way over to the table. “You surely don’t mind if I join you two”, Kaeya said in a nonchalant manner, sitting down opposite to the couple. “Oh, Sir Kaeya!”, the young woman giggled, clearly intoxicated, and embarrassed by the way Kaeya eyed the two. Quickly they both shifted, so the woman sat now besides your boyfriend. The way the cheater looked at Kaeya, it was quite amusing. A mix of fear, shock and uneasiness filled the eyes of him. It filled Kaeya with a weird sense of pride, knowing that being caught by him was something that scared him. “Seemed like you two had quite some fun back here”, Kaeya smugly started his interrogation. It was not unusual for Kaeya to use the Angel’s Share as his interrogation room – the casual setting and the alcohol made it so much easier sometimes for people to spill all their secrets. Especially when Kaeya could just be so charming. What Kaeya interested the most was if this was the first offense of the cheater or if that behaviour was a more… regular occurrence. It was at least for him the first time he caught that man red handed. Getting some information out of the girl was quite easy, she was so eager to tell the Cavalry Captain all about the two. Though from what Kaeya gathered the whole thing between her and your boyfriend was quite fresh. “You two really seem like a fitting pair”, Kaeya replied after a long ramble of that woman on how she was just so in love with your boyfriend. His voice sweet and smooth as silk, not showing how the anger inside him grew. It was just not fair, not fair to you. “Hey,” Kaeya began and eyed the empty glasses on the table, looking then back at the woman. “How about another round of drinks, it’s on me. Would you be so kind and go to Charles and order a few?”, again his voice was charming as ever.  “No, no, Sir Kaeya, that’s too kind, but another drink won’t be necessary. It is quite late; don’t you think flower? We should get going”, the cheater chimed in and Kaeya nearly lost his cool when he heard him call the woman ‘flower’. Whenever Kaeya met you and him on his patrols around Mondstadt he always heard him call you ‘flower’. Fucking bastard, is all Kaeya could think before the voice of the woman protested the cheaters concerns. “Nooo, just one more round. How can you turn down Sir Kaeya, love? Just one more, please”, she looked at him with pleading eyes and he just sighted. “Fine”, he said and with that the woman was on her way to the bar. Kaeya now hoped that Charles would keep her occupied long enough so he could find out everything he wants to know from that cheater. His eye shifted from the woman who made her way to the bar to your boyfriend who sat directly across Kaeya. Now completely alone and vulnerable, for his shield left his side. The tension in the air seemed to be unbearable, Kaeya could see how uncomfortable the silence and his curious glance made the cheater. But Kaeya knew – sometimes saying nothing says it all. Helplessly your boyfriend looked over to the bar only to see that the woman he was with was now totally engrossed in a conversation with Charles. After a few minutes, that might have felt like hours to that cheater, he broke the silence. “So,” he tried to start a conversation, clearly not knowing that he fell right into Kaeyas trap. “What gives us the honour to be invited by the Cavalry Captain?”. “Oh, I think you might be smart enough to come up with an answer yourself,” Kaeya replied, keeping up a smile. Though the look in Kaeyas eye was just as cold as the top of Dragonspine, causing the other man to shiver. “As much as it honours me that you think of me this highly, I sadly have no idea what would make the renowned Sir Kaeya sit down at my table tonight.” “Oh, so this is how you want have this conversation”, now his voice was just as cold as his look. “I don’t understand what you mean.” ‘Bullshit’, Kaeya thought. “I’ve been just curious about that woman that just sat so prominently on your lap earlier this evening, she seems to be not the same I saw you hold hands with earlier this day.” “As nice at it is that the Cavalry Captain seems concerned for me, it isn’t one of the Knights duties to pry into the lives of citizens, now, is it?” Oh, how confident the cheater now sounded, thinking he was winning that conversation. Kaeya couldn’t deny that the entire situation made him furious and that he handled it a bit differently than he usually would if he were to talk with drunk treasure hoarders. “Oh, we’re awfully bold now, are we? Believe me the Knights don’t care about your infidelity, though I guess a certain one might find it awfully interesting to know how you spend your nights.” There was a short moment of silences between the two men, the tension just rising. “Well, they wouldn’t believe you. But if you want to go and be a telltale go, I won’t stop you”, the man gave as an answer. His words did not fit his body language – bold words, but his body was tense and Kaeya could see the fear behind the eyes of the man. But it was not fear of losing you, no he seemed to be quite confident that this would not happen. Kaeya said nothing, he just looked at that man, piercing him with his ice cold look. “You see”, he continued, “I wouldn’t be sitting here in Angle’s Share with that lovely company if I thought they might believe the words of any low-rank Knight coming in their office, believing their lies. Quite sad what pranks some people want to play on them, don’t you think?” Slowly, but surely, Kaeya understood that this tonight was definitely not the first offense of that man. And he now understood why most of the Knights here tonight just looked away from the scene, not batting an eye at what was going on. Kaeya could kick himself in the ass, how did he not notice the behaviour of that rodent before him earlier? If he was so open about cheating on you that even most of the other Knights knew, how come that he did not? “And I think its just so sad, that one of the people they hold in such high regards would join in on those baseless accusations, don’t you think Sir Kaeya? I mean it would be so disappointing for them to find out that you tell them such a lie, only because you just don’t like me.” If Kaeya wasn’t a Knight, if he weren’t Kaeya right now, if he hadn’t to uphold a certain image… the floor of the Tavern would be painted with the blood of this absolute bastard. Oh, how Kaeya wished he could lose his cool. “If you say it like that, then I guess I won’t tell them a word,” Kaeya replied. “I’m glad you understand”, the cheater smiled, the fear in his eyes now subsided and he seemed to relax a bit. At that Kaeya just leaned forward, his look cold and his voice even colder. “You are telling them.” The man just scoffed, looking confused at Kaeya. “Why should I?” Kaeya now coming closer, his voice more threatening than before. “Do you really want to find out, if you don’t?”. Kaeya leaned back, smiling and at that moment the woman came back with the drinks. The face of the man was just pale as snow, the fear back in his eyes. “Oh, thank you dear”, Kaeya said when she places his drink before him, and he took a sip. If your boyfriend is smarter than he seemed to be after fooling around with that woman in public, it would do him good to do as Kaeya said.

                                                             -

Dealing with the pain in your leg was something you were used to now for a few years, but the pain in your heart today… you somehow would prefer a broken leg over your shattered heart. Your eyes were fixated on the documents before you, though trough the tears in your eyes you could barley make out what they said. What they were even for. How could you ignore it for so long, that he cheated. That he fooled around with any woman in Mondstadt willing to be with him. This sleezy asshole. The tears fell down on the paper, you couldn’t care right now what important piece of documents you ruined with your tears. How, how, how??? Why were you so stupid to believe him when he always said that all the people that came to you with their concerns must have been mistaken. Why did you believe him over and over again. You couldn’t stop thinking about how the first person coming to you was Outrider Amber, so nervous to even say anything. How you just laughed her worries away, saying she definitely was mistaken. How after Amber again and again told you how sure she was. Had you just listened to her. Then maybe you wouldn’t feel so humiliated. If you just hadn’t listened to that damn liar. In that moment you heard a knock on the door. Quickly you wiped your tears away with your sleeves, clearing your throat. “Come in,” you said, though you were shocked at how hoarse you sounded. Stepping into your office was Kaeya, but when he saw your red eyes and tear stained face, he quickly closed the door behind him. “Are you alright?”, he asked in such a soft and kind voice. Since you woke up in the infirmary all those years ago you hadn’t heard him talk in that voice. You couldn’t help it, it made you immediately tear up again. Throwing your head into your hands you just couldn’t stop the uncontrollably sobs that took over you. You didn’t even notice that Kaeya was kneeling beside your chair until he felt his hand on your back. “Hey,” you heard him say, again in this soft voice. “It’s alright, let it out.” And you did. For a while you just sat there, crying and sobbing until you ran empty. The whole time Kaeya was on your side, saying nothing. He was just there and somehow, even after you two grew apart in the past years, after all that happened – Crepus death, Dilucs disappearance and return, your injury. Even after all it did not feel awkward to just cry and look for comfort at his side. After all, you still were friends. Slowly you calmed down, looking up to him. “I was so stupid, Kaeya. So many people came to me, told me what they saw, who he was and I- I just ignored it. I ignored it all, my feelings and-“, you felt the lump in your throat, making you stop speaking. It was just too much. “You’re not stupid,” he said, taking you in his arms. It felt so good to just melt into the hug. Just trying to forget the pain for a few seconds, slipping back into the familiarity of Kaeya you haven’t felt in such a long time.

Kaeya on the other hand couldn’t stop asking himself if what he’s doing here was alright. Was it okay to comfort you, he asked. If he hadn’t basically threatened your, obviously now, ex-boyfriend last night to tell you the truth, he might have been met with your bright smile today and not that painful expression. But it was the right thing to do, you deserved to know. You deserved for that guy to tell you, although he should have told you the truth out of his own free will. Not because Kaeya got involved. “Thank you”, he heard you mumble into his chest. “For what?” he asked, both of you now parting from the hug. “For just… for being here. And for being a friend”, you answered, again wiping tears away. Kaeya couldn’t help himself and chuckled at that statement. A friend, yeah. That is what he was and what he must be fine with. However, he didn’t really expect you to view him as one, after all that happened and how much he tried to avoid you in the past. “Well, I have been an awful friend the last years, haven’t I?”. Your eyes shot up, looking directly into his eye. “No, what makes you think that?”. You genuinely looked surprised at his statement. “Well,” he gestured towards your leg. Before he could even say anything, he felt your hands cup his face and looking at him sternly. “Kaeya Alberich, how often do I have to tell you this. What happened to my leg is not your fault, please stop taking blame for it. It was my choice to join you on that mission.” For a short while you both just looked into each other’s eyes until Kaeya couldn’t stand it anymore, a sigh leaving him, and he looked away. “How come that I want to comfort you and you just end up telling me something I just can’t seem to learn.” He stood up and then he saw it. You smiled at him. A sad smile, but a smile, nonetheless. “One day you’ll hopefully learn it”, you said. “Now, to make up for this”, pointing at your leg, trying to joke, “and for threatening a Mondstadt citizen, I think you should get me something from Good Hunter.” Kaeya was surprised. How did you know? He couldn’t even ask you, you already gave him the answer to the question that was so clearly written all over his face. “He literally begged me, after telling me the truth and breaking up with me, that I made sure you wouldn’t hurt him.” Now Kaeya gave out a small laugh, partially because he felt a bit embarrassed by you knowing, but also the thought of that arrogant asshole being so afraid of him amused Kaeya. “And, what did you tell him”, he asked, now back with his more playful tone. “Mmmmmh, I told him I’ll think about it.”

[somewhatgreatexpectations]

For The Lover That I Lost (Wanda Maximoff/ Reader)

Hello! Welcome to part 9, inspired by Sam Smith’s “For the Lover That I Lost”. This now takes place post-civil war. 

Summary: Y/n and Wanda are finally able to talk. Will the talk end in love or tragedy?

“All of the memories feel like magic, all of the fighting seemed so sweet. All that we were, my love, was tragic and you're the last thing that I need.”

“Do you think we could have that talk now?”

For a moment you just stared at the clouds floating past the small window you were seated by and let the question hang in the air. She had given you space for a few hours, but you knew this moment was bound to come. 

The problem was that your healing was precarious, you knew that, and you didn’t know if it could withstand a conversation that was sure to open the wounds you had spent months patching up. 

“Y/n?” Wanda called, cautiously placed a hand on your shoulder. 

With a deep breath you turned your body to face her. “I thought about it, and I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Wanda.” You answered honestly. 

Her brow furrowed slightly, “I understand your hesitation, but-“

“Look, Wanda, allow me to save you the trouble.” You began steadily, “You’re sorry for how everything happened. I accept your apology. You don’t want to lose me from your life. Give me some time and then we’ll work on rebuilding the friendship. Did I get everything?”

She stared at you, her eyes troubled. “Well, not exactly, I was trying to-“

Once again, you interrupted her. “And I won’t stand between you and Vision.”  You added with a snap, as if you had just remembered something important. 

“Will you stop interrupting me?” Wanda exclaimed, shocking you into silence. “Sorry, I just-… I forgot how stubborn you can be.” She rubbed her arm in embarrassment. 

You stared at her silently, granting her wish of no interruptions. Waiting for her to get to her point, that you still weren’t sure you wanted to hear. 

As you observed her, you noticed the way she nervously spun the ring she was wearing on her finger while she seemed to ponder where to begin. “Have you always done that?” you gestured to her hands, unable to stop yourself from asking.

Her eyebrows raised at your question, obviously not expecting it. “I…” she thought about it for a moment, then ducked her head slightly. “I guess it was something that I picked up from you. For so long, your nerves were intertwined with my own that it just became a habit from watching you, I guess.” She mumbled.

You bit your lip and nodded but said nothing, taking note of how her eyes closely observed the action. You gestured for her to go on.

Wanda took a deep, steadying breath, making sure she maintained eye contact with you. “First, I am no longer with Vision. I haven’t been for months.” Your eyebrows raised curiously. “You were right though, part of what I wanted to talk about was how sorry I am. Y/n, I am, so, so, sorry. You deserved so much more than what I gave you. I don’t expect you to forgive me because I certainly don’t forgive myself.” The sincerity in her voice took you by surprise. 

The glassy look in her eyes and prominence of her accent were tell-tale signs of how upset she was. It was information you wished you didn’t know anymore. You dropped your gaze to your lap, it was easier this way.

“There is no excuse-“ she continued until a quiet knock on the wall made her stop. You both looked over to see a sheepish looking Steve Rogers standing a few feet away. 

“Sorry to interrupt. Again.” He coughed awkwardly. “I just wanted to let you know we’ve landed at our temporary hide-out. It’s that house up in the distance.” He gestured vaguely as the door to the quinjet opened to reveal an open field with an unsuspecting two-story house located in the center.

Under normal circumstances you would have thought it was a beautiful sight. The knowledge that you were all there on the run, tarnished that though. You let out a quiet breath. “It’s beautiful. Where exactly are we?”

“Spain. A very rural area at that.” He replied easily.

Despite the view, Wanda couldn’t take her eyes off you. She needed to talk to you uninterrupted and it seemed as though the universe was actively trying to prevent that from happening. All she could do was hope that this wasn’t an omen. That she still had a chance. 

“How long will we be here?” Wanda questioned, finally tearing her eyes away from you.

At the question, Steve shifted in discomfort. “A few days... if that. When Natasha arrives, it’ll be best if we split into small groups at most. We’re wanted fugitives now.”

“Natasha?” you asked with a tilt of your head, distinctly remembering her on Tony’s side.

Steve nodded. “She helped me and Bucky get out. She’s wanted now too.”

Both you and Wanda shared a look of surprise, Wanda speaking up before you could say anything. “Thank you for the update, Steve. We’ll meet the rest of you inside.”

With a knowing nod, Steve took the hint and turned to catch up with Sam who had already began walking ahead. “Guess we better head out.” you mumbled.

“Can we take a walk before we go in? I’d really like to finish our conversation.” Wanda requested hesitantly, her eyes pleading.

With another steadying breath, you nodded. She seemed determined and obviously wasn’t going to let this go. “Okay, Wanda.” You stood up and walked with her out of the quinjet, veering to a small path that was on the side of the house rather than going inside. 

After walking a decent amount, Wanda stopped and took your hand, effectively stopping you as well. You looked at her expectantly. She decided she couldn’t handle another interruption and decided to just be bold. “You’re the love of my life.”

Her words were so unexpected that you just stared at her for a moment, opening and closing your mouth as you tried to process. “I’m sorry, what?” you eventually choked out.

“You are the love of my life.” She repeated with three light squeezes to your hand. “Pushing you away – not fighting for you – was the biggest mistake of my life. A mistake I never plan on making again. I was confused and thought that my powers were tied to my heart. I was wrong. The only person that has ever held my heart and will ever hold my heart is you. I want to grow old with you. I want you for the rest of my life.” Her words were passionate and desperate as she tried to express the true contents of her heart, hoping you’d believe her. 

Disbelief was the only thing you could feel as you watched her shimmering eyes remain on yours. Shortly following the break-up you had dreamed of a moment like this. Not anymore though. You couldn’t. You had spent months learning to live without her. The risk of allowing her back into your heart came at much too high a cost. You wouldn’t recover a second time. “I-I learned to live without you, Wanda. I can’t risk it with you again. I’ve played before and lost.” You answered, finally pulling your hand out of her grasp. 

“Do you still love me?” she asked in a pleading tone, ignoring your words. She took your hands back in hers, you noticed that they were shaking ever so slightly. “Tell me you still love me. Please.”

You swallowed thickly and met her eyes, “I don’t love you anymore.” You said weakly, so weakly that you didn’t even believe it yourself. 

Wanda shook her head, clearly on the verge of tears. “I don’t believe you. I know you still love me. A love like ours doesn’t just go away. I love you, Y/n. Let me show you.” Without a moment’s hesitation, she took your face in her hands and connected your lips passionately.

Wanda sighed contently at the contact she had been missing, the way you both fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. The rush of electricity was a feeling she longed for. Getting swept up in the moment, you returned her kiss temporarily before the shock wore off and the hurt settled once again. 

Pushing at her shoulders you quickly stepped back. “You can’t just kiss me and expect everything to go away, Wanda.” You shouted at her. “I think I should go.” You mumbled turning to leave.

Watching you walk away again was a nightmare vision to Wanda and she would be damned if she gave up so easily again. She ran and stopped so she was directly in your path, preventing you from going any further. “Y/n, please, I can’t imagine my life without you” The tears she had been holding back bubbled over the surface and fell down her cheeks. You fought the urge to brush them away.

“You know, I used to think of you as the person that I was going to spend the rest of my life with too. As somebody who would never hurt me. Ever.” Wanda listened to you quietly as tears flowed more steadily down her cheeks. “Now all I see when I look at you is that last moment on the roof. Of you with him. It doesn’t matter what you say, or what you do… it’s too late.”

A sob escaped Wanda’s lips as she briefly covered her face with her hands. “Y/n, please… This can’t be it.”

“It is though.” Blinking back tears, you moved to step around her. 

“Y-you’re a coward!” She cried after you, at your retreating figure. The pain clear in her voice. 

Anger quickly replaced the anguish at her words. You spun around to face her, her jaw clenched. You couldn’t believe her. “I’m the coward? No, Wanda, you are!” you shouted back.

The woman in question ran a hand through her hair, tears falling even faster. She seemed at a loss. “You’re the one that chose to run instead of staying and fighting!” 

Her words made something in you crack, she had no right to be angry. To pin the demise of what you both once were on you. “How is that fair?” you snapped at her. “I was supposed to stay and fight for someone who had very clearly decided they didn’t want me anymore? You don’t get to pardon yourself. The ashes of our relationship are on you and you alone.” You gritted out bitterly. 

For a moment she just stared at you, her chest heaving as she clutched at her chest. Almost as though your words physically impacted her. “I…I’m sorry.” she took a deep breath and recollected herself. She reached out to you, you stepped back. Her face contorted in pain at the knowledge that you didn’t want her anymore. 

“I know I don’t deserve it and you have no reason give it to me, but please, give us a second chance. Let me prove to you I mean what I say, to prove that you… you are everything. There will never be anyone else. I love you.” her eyes met yours pleadingly, slowly breaking before your very eyes.

You took your own deep breath and braced yourself for the words you were about to say. “Wanda, we don’t stand a chance. It’s sad, but it’s true. We’re bound to end in tragedy.” You said quietly, staring off in the distance because you weren’t sure you could handle watching her reaction. “It’s time to move on.”

Like a magnet though, your eyes found hers either way. 

Broken. That’s the only word that came to mind when you saw her expression. Broken sobs left her lips. Her eyes glistened as they desperately searched yours for something, something that you had blocked off long ago. “You don’t mean that.” She whispered, her lips trembling along with her words. 

You shut your eyes for a moment and prepared yourself to close the door on what you both had. “Goodbye, Wanda.” You whispered as you walked off without looking back.

If you did, you would have seen the way she fell to her knees. The knowledge that she had no one to blame for her own broken heart but herself bringing her to her knees. She buried her face in her hands as sobs wracked through her body. Longing for the comfort of your arms.

Silent tears rolled down your cheeks as you listened to the sound of her cries in the distance, but you knew it was for the best... At least you hoped it was.

That night Steve announced that it would be in everyone’s best interest to split up for the time being as he handed out older phones to everyone so each of you could be contacted and check in. After his announcement everyone retreated to their room. You quietly let Steve know where you planned on going and told no one else. 

As you discreetly prepared to leave the following morning, you found a dozen flowers at your door, half purple violets and half white dittanies. The memory of the last time you saw these flowers filled your mind bittersweetly. A memory that no longer felt like it belonged to you.

When Wanda awoke, she was disappointed to find the flowers she had gifted you back at her door and the room you were staying in empty. Even if her heart ached, she knew that she couldn’t give up. She’d try and try again because your love was worth fighting for and she wouldn’t let you go again. She was determined to spend the rest of her life trying to win you back if she had to. There was no other path for her.

And there we have chapter 9! Angst, angst, angst. I got a little carried away lol. Only 3 more to go, where do you think the reader and Wanda will go from here? As always, hope you all enjoyed and thoughts and comments always welcome. 

P.s. did anyone catch a hint of a different Sam Smith song in there? It may be a hint for the next chapter, it may not be. Still deciding. 

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

tuxedo iii, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader, mentions of previous jungkook x reader

summary: It’s the next morning. Your cat is still a man. Fuck. He still thinks he owns the place, including you. Sigh. Well, you still have to do your job, because, yikes, your cat-man has spent a small fortune on new clothes (spending like he’s got a black card, what’s up with that?). Ah, but... maybe both of you are starting to finally acknowledge that he might be a more man than cat – at least for the time being...?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, mentions of the coronavirus pandemic; possibly full-on crack; mentions of and a tiny bit of smut (fem reader, spanking, doggy, unintentional??? voyeurism, dry humping / thigh riding); domestic and soft moments with your cat-man; non-idol!AU - cat!Yoongi x human!reader; ft slightly cocky Jeon Jungkook (+drama!!!) and bestfriend!Kim Seokjin; breaking of the fourth wall; are YOU a furry? yeah, I kinda think you are

*deep breath* I reference a certain boat that was stuck in the Suez Canal, Yoongi's livestream where he poked himself in the nose with the coffee straw, his love for tangerines, too many Twitch chat memes, that time his mom called him a boiled dumpling, 'BST' pink pajama Yoongi, DTS, TXT's 'Cat & Dog', etc...

–

part i | part ii

-

You woke up slowly. 

A perfect, peaceful morning. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Neck cradled by your memory foam pillow? Check. Back well supported by your soft mattress? Check. Not sleeping on your sofa and destroying your spine? Check. Hey, you’re moving up in life! Ah, what a normal day already. You opened your eyes a crack; vision blurred from the morning sunlight filtering through your curtains. Bundled in your minty-green duvet? Check. Wearing your extra soft black-and-white striped pajamas? Check. 

Large pale human hand firmly gripping your right titty? Check. 

Wait… 

What?

Your eyes snapped open and flew to your left. 

Min Yoongi's face was centimeters from yours, buried into your pillow, messy bedhead sticking out everywhere. Black choker with the tiny silver bell around his neck. Still had those black velvety pointed cat ears and glowing pale skin, pretty pink lips ever-so-slightly upturned, warm exhale against your ear. 

Your cat still a disturbingly handsome man?

Ah, yup, check. 

His hand was on your right breast, fingers molded to the soft curve. A quick glance and, whew, he was still fully dressed in his black t-shirt and sweatpants from yesterday. Yes, fully, completely dressed. Shit, what if he caught you staring? You quickly flickered your eyes up at the ceiling, hastily wiping the drool away from your mouth. Whoa there. That would be embarrassing if he caught that.

Also, kind of gross. Don’t be gross. Keep it together.

Hahaha…

Well, yup, this was still awkward, the whole hand-on-the-titty thing, hahaha, but not as awkward as it would be if, hahaha, you accidentally, oh, don't know, hahaha, got really, really, really disgustingly drunk and, hahaha, had somehow lost all impulse control and, hahaha, fucked your cat?

Man.

Cat-man. 

Hahaha, that would never happen. You’d make sure of that.

... 

Unless?

No, no, no, stop, he's your cat, your cat, he's literally been a (cat) man for one fucking day, albeit a incredibly hot, deliciously built (cat) man who put your facial massager on your nipple and let you touch his human dick in the shower and he was hard for a hot second, so... no, no, no, stop, you are not a desperate thot, get a fucking grip – well, you kind of are – but not him, for fuck’s sake, you still don't understand what the fuck is going on or if he even remotely likes you and, let's face it, he probably doesn’t because you almost paid a guy to chop off his nuts–

"Are you dying?"

You choked on air and lurched sharply at the sudden deep, raspy voice. The grip on your right breast tightened, preventing you from moving away. You did what any sensible human being would do in this situation and wheezed like you were on the verge of passing out. 

"Urk!"

"Do you have high blood pressure?" Yoongi yawned calmly, turning his face to the side to avoid breathing in your face, thereby pressing his body even closer to you. Your neck and ears heated to five billion degrees. "Your heart's beating abnormally fast. Maybe you should see a doctor."

You definitely needed to see a doctor for something as well as several gallons of holy water and a priest to get an exorcism for that horny demon inside you. 

"Y-Your hand!"

Yoongi grunted. "What about it?"

What about it???

"It's on my tits!" you squeaked.

Yoongi lifted his head, squinting. "It is." Then his head dropped and he closed his eyes again. 

HELLO, Min Yoongi? That's ALL you have to say???

"Is there a problem?"

IS THERE A PROBLEM???????

"I've always slept like this," he mumbled.

That's... true though. Your tuxedo cat, previously named Shooky until you realized he had his own name, did used to always sleep next to you, when he wasn’t trying to murder you by sitting on your chest, that is (he was adamant on letting you know when he needed breakfast). Usually, your cat was splayed out by your left side, his long body extended and pressed against you, his white, sock-like paws encircling your arm. Shooky had basically been a small furry heater that kicked you sometimes in his sleep. 

Keyword: small.

"Y-You w-were a cat!" you sputtered.

"I'm still a cat."

"No, you're a man! With arms!"

"The reach is a little farther. Who cares?"

WHO CARES???????

Before you could very loudly inform Yoongi who exactly cared – that’s you, by the way, yes, you – he wrapped his arms around you and yanked your body to his, turning you into a red-hot chili pepper with the amount of heat your face was now emitting. Then his free hand grabbed your other titty. Without asking! Without even so much as buying you dinner or, hell, giving you a goddamn cracker! You didn't need to be wined and dined, but at least a single fucking snack before using your tits like his own personal stress ball!

Yoongi pressed your back into his chest.

You froze. 

He pressed his crotch into your ass, shivering slightly.

Your soul left your body. 

"Ugh, this human body is terrible," Yoongi muttered. "Always so cold. I need this extra body heat or I'll die."

You'll die? YOU’LL DIE?

You were pretty sure that you were already dead. Rest in peace.

Hang on. 

Something was stuck in a very specific place, quite similar to a far-too-large boat in a narrow canal.

"Um."

Er...

"What?" your cat-man grunted.

"Your..." You gulped. "Dick."

"What about it?"

"You, uh... have morning wood."

"Is that a human euphemism?" he grumbled impatiently, clear annoyance in his tone. "I don't understand your species. Wouldn't it be easier to be straightforward and explain yourself clearly?"

A muscle in your eye twitched, reaching breaking point.

"Your dick is rock-hard and you're shoving it between my ass cheeks!"

"Yeah, so? It's cold too."

Your irritation fizzled out at Yoongi’s self-assured, completely calm response. In fact, he sounded borderline bored and exasperated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. His hard dick was cold, so he put it in the warmest place he could find, your ass, duh. Nothing weird about it, of course. Your mind reeled, unable to compute what the fuck was going on. Thus, your body did what it did best in these moments where you did not want to give a response that would most certainly expose you and your dire need to get dicked.

Not deal with it, of course.

You fainted.

-

"Fuck!"

You shot out of bed at the harsh yell, tangled in the covers, barely registering that Yoongi no longer had a death grip on your tits – in fact, he was no longer in bed at all – and stumbled towards the source of the sound, highly disoriented, your earlier fainting spell turning you into a bumbling mess.

Admittedly, not that different from your usual self.

(Ouch, roasted.)

"What, what, what?" you croaked, running into the doorframe of the bedroom and nearly taking yourself out. 

Might as well, maybe it would have been a blessing in disguise, considering the way your life was going. 

You finally tumbled your way to the kitchen, where your cat-man was hissing at the pan on the stove. 

"I was trying to make eggs," Yoongi spat, pointing accusingly at the frying pan. His ears were flat and his tail was sticking straight up. "And then it attacked me."

If you had three functioning brain cells, you would have remembered Yoongi putting his morning wood between your ass cheeks this morning, but alas, you only had two at the moment – you did run into the doorframe, might have lost one there – so instead you nudged him aside and rolled up your sleeves, taking the pan and shaking it so the eggs wouldn't burn. 

"Was it the oil? Sometimes it pops," you asked as Yoongi continued death glaring at the pan.

"I saw you doing this yesterday. You didn't seem bothered," he mumbled, finishing with a low, angry hiss as if the pan was sentient and mocking him. The oil popped and seared your forearm, but at this point you maybe had five hair follicles total on your arms with how many times hot oil had splattered in you. It used to bother you when you were a kid, but years of cooking had desensitized the feeling, turning it to nothing more than a mere annoyance. Yoongi stayed behind you, intermittently letting out hisses of rage as you cooked.

"I told you, my dad's a chef. You get used to it," you said, tipping the pan and flipping the thin egg pancake with ease. 

"That's bizarre," Yoongi muttered. "No normal animal gets used to pain."

Normality was starting to become a bit of a foreign concept to you.  As for being an animal, well…

You took the pan off the heat and rolled the egg onto a plate with a spare set of chopsticks, turning it into a log shape. A literal egg roll, ready to be sliced into bite-sized pieces. You took a sniff. It seemed to be seasoned already. Had Yoongi simply copied what you did yesterday? His observation skills were insane.

"Then again, you seem to enjoy–"

"Yoongi," you blurted, not wanting to know what he thought you seemed to enjoy, but very sure it was going to be one-hundred-percent embarrassing and only for you. "There's some leftover beef and vegetables in the fridge you can have with the egg and rice."

He raised his eyebrows. "Beef? Why didn't you say so earlier?"

Because I was asleep and maybe half-dead? "Did you brush your teeth?' you asked suddenly. 

Yoongi scowled. "Unfortunately."

"Right, so should I, goodbye now."

You marched away hurriedly, trying not to think about how your cat had surely witnessed you getting spanked while being fucked from behind by none other than, surprise, surprise, his not-so-favorite human being, Jeon Jungkook. Tattoo guy strikes again. The worst part was, you couldn't lock the door on your cat either, because then he would meow incessantly while you were getting deep-dicked and that was even worse. 

"Your cat really likes you, huh?" Jungkook mused as you yanked open the bedroom door to the black-and-white tuxedo furball. 

"Like is a strong word," you muttered at your cat, who yawned and sauntered past you to his cat tree, acting like he owned the damn place. 

"I like you."

"Hah... wait, what?"

Jungkook grinned as your eyes found his. Took a while. You were a little distracted by his nakedness. His tattoos up his right arm. His tan skin. His muscles. His white teeth biting on his lower lip, tiny mole underneath flashing. His long black hair, framing dark chocolate eyes and teasing, cocked eyebrow. 

"I like you," he repeated, voice deep and sexy.

You turned red and made the most coherent noise you could. 

“... Urk?”

“Noona.”

Why did he look so fucking hot and disrespectful at the same time when saying an honorific?

Jungkook came up to you, hand cupping your head and tangling his fingers in your hair. He brought his face close to yours, lips brushing against your swollen ones, taking your breath away.

"Wanna go back to me spanking you while you get off on my dick?"

Respectfully, of course. 

"How much rice do you want?"

You started, poking yourself in the nose with your toothpaste-covered toothbrush and smearing mint up your nostril – almost as bad as poking a coffee straw up your nose during a livestream in front of millions of people, yikes – as Yoongi appeared behind you, breaking you out of the memory. Your cat-man watched you with mild disgust and displeasure as you coughed and dunked your head into the sink, hurriedly rinsing off your burning nose.

"Whatever, I'll just fill it halfway."

And he left you sputtering, pajamas and hair soaking wet in your haste.

Awesome. 

-

“I’m ordering some groceries,” you announced in between bites of rice and egg. You tapped lightly at the phone screen as you spoke. Green onions, tofu, cucumbers… “Do you want anything?”

“Meat.”

You swiped rapidly and added packages of chicken, pork, and beef into your cart. Why the fuck not? You like meat. All kinds of–

“Yes, Yoongi, I’m getting meat. Anything else?”

“What else is there?”

You made a face and handed him your phone. “All sorts of things. Household products too, in case you don’t want to smell like my soap.”

“Your soap is preferable,” he said absentmindedly, scrolling through the online grocery app. You continued eating, shoving things in your mouth and none of it dick. Sad. At least it tasted good. Your cat-man had seasoned the egg well. You jumped as Yoongi spoke again. “I want these.” He turned the phone around.

You squinted at the screen, staring at a picture of orange balls. “Tangerines? Why?”

He turned the phone back to him. “They’re small, round, and look tasty.”

You blinked at him, then shrugged. “Sure, why not? I guess your palette might have changed. Try whatever you want.”

He pursed his lips and pressed a few buttons as you ate. You realized you needed to order more groceries now that your cat was a man eating your human food and no longer a cat eating his rather expensive cat food. Sigh. You had put Shooky’s cat bowls in a cabinet earlier this morning before sitting down to eat. It seemed weird leaving them out on the floor like that. Kind of offensive, maybe, now that your cat was a man and all…

“Okay, I ordered it.”

“Ah, okay, that’s good. They’ll probably come later this week.”

-

After breakfast, you spent nearly half an hour with Yoongi trying to pick out something for him to watch from your various streaming services, only for him to select a historical drama series. Like what? You cat (man) wanted to watch historical drama out of all things? Instead of learning about the modern world, he wanted to watch a depiction of the past?

Whatever, it had seventy-seven episodes, so at least he would be occupied for a while.

You let him be and went to your computer, intending on getting some editing done. Sure, the universe decided your cat was a man now, but you still needed to pay for said cat-man’s existence. You still didn’t know what you were going do to with all that cat food, cat toys, cat tree… ugh, this was all a problem for future you, not present you.

Present you needed to splice five-hundred images of PepeHands together and overlay it over a League of Legends one-shot compilation.

Uh, so, it was this meme of a green frog named Pepe holding up his anthropomorphic hands in despair, therefore coining the term PepeHands for a particular Twitch chat emote… never mind, it just meant you were spending some time video editing for a gaming YouTuber and it required concentration, shitty memes, and well-timed captions. And you were getting paid good money to do this.

Yeah, it’s a weird world.

You sat at your desktop and got to work, doing the rough cuts of the video first. Thankfully, the YouTuber had already sent you the timestamps of the noteworthy moments, therefore making your job a lot easier. You spent several hours compiling the clips before adding your extra flair and effects. You had a library of images and sound bites that you commonly used (including Goofy singing Evanescence's ‘Bring Me to Life’) and was in the middle of grayscaling a video clip and adding the familiar audio of all around me are familiar faces before being scared shitless.

“Woof.”

You swore someone was singing ‘Mad World’ as they were narrating your life right now.

“Gah!”

You jerked in your seat to see Yoongi leaning over behind you, eyebrow raised as you gawked at him.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that!” you exclaimed, pulling back an earcup of your headset.

He frowned. “How can I sneak up on you?” He flicked the silver bell on the black choker around his neck, making it jingle cheerfully. “You put stupid thing on me, remember?”

You winced. “Well, I’d take it off, but there’s some kind of voodoo magic on that shit – and hey, don’t change the subject! You have that weird cat thing where you’re silent no matter what.”

Yoongi looked unbothered. “Weird cat thing? Thought you said I was a man?”

“Thought you said you were a cat?” you shot back.

You glared at him and he gave you a blank expression. Then he cocked his head to your desk.

“Your phone is flashing.”

You jerked your head to see your phone screen flicker. You grabbed it off you desk and unlocked it, checking your messages. Five messages from – ah, but of course – your best friend. Kim Seokjin.

LET ME SEE YOUR CAT

LET ME SEE YOUR CAT

LET ME SEE YOUR CAT

LET ME SEE YOUR CAT

LET ME SEE YOUR CAT

You pursed your lips. With the pandemic and all, you hadn’t visited Seokjin in forever, but every week he would text you, asking for a photo of your cat and he would send you a picture of his sugar glider. With every week being the same and nothing interesting of note happening, it was hard to think of conversation topics. Therefore, Seokjin and you came up with this weekly event so your friendship wouldn’t deteriorate. Also, both of you were serious introverts, so he spent most of this pandemic playing MapleStory while you spent most of it on your couch watching Netflix with your cat. It was a miracle you two hadn’t morphed into actual potatoes yet.

You glanced at Yoongi, who was inspecting his nails and picking at them. You frowned and batted at his hand. He frowned back and smacked yours, harder. You glared at him. He gave you a vacant stare, as if he had done nothing.

“Why are you picking at your cuticles?” you muttered, going back to your phone and sending Seokjin an old picture of Shooky. You couldn’t exactly send him a picture of current Shooky. He was… well, currently not a cat. You stared at the picture of the fluffy tuxedo cat curled into a ball, asleep in your lap on the couch.

That moment wasn’t even that long ago.

Somehow, it felt like ages since you had last petted that furry butt.

“Hm, dunno. Occupies my hands, I guess,” Yoongi replied distractedly.

“Well, you shouldn’t. It’s not good for you.” You noticed you had another message from the local delivery service, saying a package had arrived at your doorstep. You stood, placing your phone on the desk and looked at Yoongi, who was staring at his old cat tree, the one by the window. When he was a cat, he used to poke his head between the curtains and look outside, watching the birds. It was his favorite haunt.

Now…

“Why’d you say woof?” you asked abruptly, giving him a quizzical look. “I thought you were a cat.”

Yoongi shrugged, tearing his eyes away from the cat tree to give you an uninterested stare. “Thought it would surprise you more. You’ve heard meow for long enough.”

You furrowed your brow. “Why would you want to surprise me?”

He shrugged again. “I was bored.”

“… You were bored so you decided to sneak up and scare the shit out of me?”

He paused, black tail swishing back and forth, pointed ears perked. Then he nodded.

“Yup.”

Sigh.

-

You lugged in the huge cardboard box, Yoongi standing out of sight of the front door as you huffed and puffed with your weak arms. Okay, it wasn’t even that big, but it was quite heavy and you weren’t exactly John Cena. Your arms were about as strong as a bowl of overcooked ramyeon noodles and that was putting it kindly. You weren’t the working out type. People who worked out diligently were dog people. People who preferred sleeping as their primary workout regimen had cats. What were the kinds of people who had cat-men then? The kind of people who like sleeping, but also needed a…

(You already know the answer.)

Yoongi snapped the door closed the second you managed to pull it on far enough to do so.

“You look like a boiled dumpling,” he commented.

“At least I’m delicious food,” you wheezed, inspecting the box. You recognized the clothing brand. “Is this the stuff your ordered? How did it come so fast?”

“I selected next-day delivery.”

You paled.

“I need clothes as soon as possible, don’t I? Or should I go back to being naked, since you’re a pervert?”

You choked, ears burning. “I’m not a pervert!”

“Mhm.”

You tried not to think about the hit on your wallet as you grabbed your keys from the side table and opened the box, seeing all the plastic packages inside. Monotone, in white or black. Figures. You tipped the box to the side and the clothes spilled out, tumbling all over the floor. It took a firm shake to dump it all on the ground. You got on your hands and knees to spread them out, tossing the cardboard aside carelessly to shift through the items. Hopefully, Yoongi had read the listings and selected the correct sizes. From your brief glance, you noticed the tops were quite oversized. Maybe he liked that fit? He had been quite a fluffy cat.

You spotted the packing slip with all the prices listed. You fished it out and then heard a thunk-thunk-thunk, the sound of cardboard on hardwood. Huh?

You looked up to see Yoongi swatting the box around.

“What… are you doing?”

He shrugged. “Investigating.”

You blinked. “Investigating what?”

“Don’t know. I simply feel the need to investigate, thus I am doing so.”

You stared at Yoongi for several minutes as he continued to… uh, investigate (???) the cardboard box, holding it this way and that, smacking it around, watching the flaps bounce in the air as it rolled. His velvety ears perked upwards, sleek black tail swishing with interest.

His expression was completely neutral.

For the first time since becoming a human, you thought Yoongi was more cat than man.

“Uh… okay…”

You glimpsed down to the paper in your hands, seeing the total cost.

You felt the color drain out of your face.

My… wallet…

F in the chat.

You fainted.

-

You felt someone poking you in the head.

“Are you dead?”

You gasped and jerked up like a drown victim coming up for air, still in mild shock of the sudden financial hit of your cat becoming a man. It was okay. You weren’t poor. You just didn’t expect Yoongi to be a shopping like he owned a fucking black card.

“Did I spend too much?”

You snapped out of your stunned state at his soft tone. Yoongi wasn’t looking at you. He was kneeling on top of the pile of clothes, dark eyes on the paper in your shaking hands. With a start, you realized his words were heavy with guilt, his ears pointing downwards and tail tucked against the ground.

“No,” you said quickly, putting the receipt down. “No, Yoongi. I asked you to buy clothes, remember? And besides, it’s better for you to buy things you like and are interested in, rather than me wasting money on things you’ll never wear.”

He raised his head a little, eyes darting from your face to your hands.

You smiled at him, reaching up to pat his head and stroke the fur on his ears. “Hey, don’t worry. It’s only money. Money will never be more important to me than you, okay?”

For a second, you saw something flicker in Yoongi’s eyes. It was so fast that you barely caught it. Relief? Gratitude? Fondness? Then he ticked his head out of your hand, fair cheeks flushing pink.

“You… you don’t have to do that,” he muttered.

“O… oh.” For some reason, you felt a pang in your chest at his words. “R-right.”

Yoongi made eye contact with you, dark brown orbs guarded. He spoke quietly, without emotion.

“Do you wish this never happened?”

“What?” You furrowed your brows. “What do you mean?”

He gestured to himself, waving a hand up and down carelessly. “This. Human me.”

Human me.

You answered instantly.

“No.”

Yoongi gave you the disbelieving side-eye.

You let out a sheepish puff of air. “I always kind of wished you were human.” You scratched the back of your head aimlessly. “No one listened to me like you did. Even if I was having the shittest day of all time, you always made it better. You were the best cat ever.” You chuckled, smiling up at him. “Sure, your species changed, but you’re still the same, right?”

His eyes shifted, his cheeks still a light pink. “I’m still a cat,” he mumbled awkwardly.

You raised your brows. “Mhm, is that why you were playing with the box?”

“I wasn’t playing with the box,” Yoongi huffed, sounding insulted.

“Then I’ll break it down and recycle it.”

“No,” he snapped firmly. “It’s useful. We’re keeping it.”

“We don’t need a box, Yoongi.”

He tutted. “Hmph, humans. So wasteful. A perfectly good box should be reused.”

“Right.”

You tried to hide your laugh as Yoongi refused to look you in the eye.

-

You left Yoongi to examine his new wardrobe on the floor. You tried to pick them up but he stubbornly remained on the pile of clothes, not letting you move them. When you stood up to leave, you asked him when he was going to move – he replied with, "When it feels right", just cat things, you supposed – and hurried off to export the edited video you were working on earlier. The due date was today and you had to review it for quality.

A certain quality. 

A certain quality of... of... 

Needing the money.

Because your cat (man) had spent fat chunk of it on clothes, only to be more interested in the box they came in and sitting on said clothes rather than the actual items themselves. 

Sigh. 

-

"I ordered the wrong color."

"Oh?" you muttered distractedly, clocking on the export button. You'd been going cross-eyed for the past two or three hours – had it really been that long? shit – and checked your phone to see Gukmul, Seokjin's white sugar glider, peering up at the camera on a white fluffy blanket. You smiled, typing a response to praise his cuteness, completely ignoring the fact that Seokjin had also stuck his handsome face in the photo, smiling with a thumbs-up next to his pet. 

The reply was instant. 

hello, acknowledge my BEAUTIFUL FACE

You deliberately didn't answer right away to piss Seokjin off even more. 

"What's wrong with it?" you asked, looking up. 

Your jaw dropped. 

You dropped your phone. 

Yoongi, your cat-man with excellent reflexes, made absolutely no move to catch it. 

It smacked you in the calf and hit your toes – fucking ow, holy shit – before clattering to the floor. You had a protective phone case on it with a cute tuxedo cat graphic. The screen wouldn't crack with the protector on it. In this moment, however, you didn't give a shit about your smartphone, Kim Seokjin, or even the blinding pain in your foot. Nope. 

You were ogling at Min Yoongi in pink silk pajamas.

-

We interrupt your regularly scheduled program to–

Oi!

No, don't you dare scroll past! You think you're clever or something?! Hm? Advertisements always happen at the most crucial parts, you say? 

This is just an ad? 

Look here, Lemona Vitamin C Powder can provide a lot of benefits, including providing natural energy and boosting your immune system in, say, a worldwide pandemic–

STOP TRYING TO SCROLL PAST!!!

-

Jeon Jungkook stared at his phone. 

At a very specific number. 

He put it down, sighing a little, looking out the window instead. It was a nice day, but he couldn't enjoy it the way it was meant to be enjoyed. Pandemic and all that. He frowned, looking at the urban jungle surrounding him. Had he made a mistake moving here to the big city? Sometimes he wondered. Back then, he had moved to finish school and pursue his ambitions. Back then, his choice had seemed full of opportunities, but now.

What did he have, really?

A tiny apartment with a kind and understanding landlord. The world at his fingertips from his computer. Still a decent amount of savings left. Online courses that he needed to finish to get his film degree. 

Loneliness.

He delved into his memories, smiling at the recollection of confused looks, awkward smiles, indignant huffs. So very unlike him to tease so much, but it was too fun and he hadn't felt the usual nervousness and shyness he had around others. There was something comforting about that smile, that apartment, and that fluffy tuxedo cat that loved to interrupt everything. 

He shouldn't have played it off.

He shouldn't have distracted.

Not after he admitted it.

"I like you."

Jungkook said it to the air, to the memory. So vivid that he reached out to touch those lips, but then it all disappeared, just like that. 

Ah.

He looked at the back of his phone, wondering. But now he was too nervous and shy to pick it up again. Why was that? When he was there, being seen by those surprised eyes, he could do and say shameless things. But far away, when he was alone, Jungkook was hesitating, suddenly afraid.

Sigh. 

-

You sneezed. 

Very loudly and jerking your head away from your cat-man in luxurious pink silk, jamming your nose into your elbow.

Yoongi raised an eyebrow. 

You sniffed, rubbing your nose. 

"Someone must be thinking about me..." you muttered. 

Yoongi looked down, plucking the collar of the pajamas. "The cotton shirts are the same size, but for some reason this one fits tighter. Why is that? Is there no regulated sizing in human fashion?"

Dude, be glad you're not a girl, you thought dryly. "Might be the fabric," you coughed distractedly. Distractedly because you were staring at quite possibly the most gorgeous man in the history of men and you stared at a lot of men in your short lifetime, so you had experienced eyeballs.

Wait. 

Man or cat-man?

Well, Yoongi was definitely the most gorgeous cat-man considering you were pretty sure there was only one in current existence.

His pointed ears stood straight up in interest, black hair messy from taking clothes on and off, fair cheeks and nose flushed pink, perhaps from physical exertion. Dark brown eyes sheepish, not quite looking at you. The black leather choker stood out on his neck, silver bell gleaming against his collarbones. The material was a mauve-pink silk, clinging to his lean body, showing off his shoulders and long limbs. The button-up shirt created a rather deep v-neckline, a sliver of pale chest visible. And his legs! His slim legs reminded you of a nimble dancer, ending in fuzzy black slippers. 

There was a weird lump in one of the pant legs, going down his thigh. 

Whoa. 

"W-Why did you pick them?" you tried to ask in the least awkward way possible, attempting – and failing – to not to stare at his delectable thighs. 

Yoongi shrugged. "They looked like the ones you have. I meant to get black, but I suppose I didn't read the listing closely enough. They're comfortable though," he mused before making a face. Your eyes bulged as there was a sudden jerk in his pants, creating a large tent in the crotch. 

Alarms sounded off in your head, arousal shooting up like a rocket. 

Oh. 

Oh??? 

Oh!!!!!!!

"My tail is stuck," Yoongi grunted, lowering the back of the pink silk pants. The sleek black cat tail slid out, swishing in the air, tent in his pants gone. 

Oh…

Right. The tail.

Because he's a cat... man.

Your inner thot was sad. Your dignity smacked you upside the head, highly disappointed in you for falling for that, then calmly shot down your arousal rocket with your shame. Oof.

"Can you show me how to sew so I can fix my own clothes from now on?" Yoongi asked as he readjusted the front of the silk shirt. 

You bent down to pick up your phone, trying to do something with your face and hands to disguise your embarrassment and burning ears. "Yeah, of course." You placed it on your desk and turned back to face him. 

Yoongi was right next to you. 

Literally so close that you could feel his body heat. 

"... Urk!"

You jumped in your seat, banging your knee against your desk and howling in pain, computer chair rolling and making you lose your balance, ass about to slip before Yoongi grabbed your chair and shoved it into the table, making you trip and fall back into the seat, head hitting the headrest a little too hard, seeing stars and rubber duckies for a second. 

Wait, were they rubber duckies? They were white and glittery, almost as if they were made from snow…

Yoongi slapped you in the face.

“Ow!”

You rubbed your cheek, blinking rapidly to clear your vision before glaring at him.

“Checking if you were alive,” was his placid response.

Alright, it wasn’t that hard, but the unexpectedness of it still hurt. You frowned, only for the pain to slowly melt away, quickly being replaced by something else as you realized Yoongi was still half-leaning over you, a knee on your computer gaming chair to prevent it from rolling. The sting in your knee was temporarily forgotten. Yoongi spoke again, his voice low and deep, almost a sensual purr.

“You hit yourself pretty hard.”

He doesn’t know what’s he’s doing. It’s just a coincidence. A kitty-incidence, Seokjin would say.

Your eyes widened as Yoongi closed in, peering at your unfocused gaze. Now you could see down his shirt. Holy shit. Were you so deprived that you were getting mad horny from seeing Yoongi’s fucking clavicle and sternum?

Is that even a question?

Yes.

Yes, you were.

“You look like you did last night.”

“What?” you breathed, still unabashedly looking down his shirt.

“Your pupils are dilated.”

You froze. His cool fingertips were on your neck.

“Heartrate increased.”

You wanted to pull back, say, no, wait, don’t do that, but Yoongi was too close and his exhale was too feathery, brushing against your lips, and you couldn’t move, trapped in your chair, between him wrapped in pink silk and your mind reeling, him still playing fucking doctor while you were trying not to jump his half-covered ass.

“And that smell.”

You finally tore your gaze away, eyes drifting up to his.

You swallowed.

“S… smell?”

Oh no.

Oh no, no, no.

Ohnoohshitwhatifhecansmellmypus–

Yoongi’s eyes narrowed, surveying you closely. He was so close you couldn’t see his lips, only his dark brown orbs. He didn’t say anything. He smelled like your soap, reminding you of his naked body pressed against you in the shower. Your heartbeat was leaping to your throat, threatening to choke you with your own horniness. Honestly, at this point, would you even be surprised?

You chuckled nervously, clinging onto your last shreds of self-preservation, which, admittedly, were rapidly yeeting out of your hands.

“Hahaha… but you’re… a cat… yeah?”

Right?

Seconds passed.

Right???

Minutes passed.

RIGHT???????

Yoongi’s lashes lowered, not quite looking at your eyes. Staring at your lips.

“I’m a man too,” he whispered softly.

Your eyes widened.

Yoongi kissed you.

You were so shocked that you swore your eyes nearly left your head.

It was a soft kiss, his eyes closed, tilting his head slightly to fit better against yours, pressing you back into your chair. Your head hit the headrest and you gasped, your tongue lightly flicking his lips and they parted, his own tongue sliding against yours, gentle licks, your brain malfunctioning, but body remembering, hands coming up to grab his shirt and yank him closer, pressing back against him. He backed up a little at your suddenness, exhaling hard. Your eyes snapped open, suddenly aware of how forceful you were.

Yoongi looked away, pointed black ears flicking back and forth uneasily.

You kissed your cat. Man. Cat-man.

He’s been a man for not even two days and you just tried to make out with him like a demented beast!

“A-ah, Yoongi, no, I’m so sorry, I-I… please, I didn’t mean to…” you stuttered, letting go of him quickly, but also not wanting to let go, but you should, your hands getting confused by your mental signals, repeatedly clasping and unclasping the pink silk, not realizing that he wasn’t even trying to move away.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” Yoongi said slowly.

You clutched his shirt, staring at your white knuckles, unable to look at him directly.

“I’m sorry, it’s just… you’re so handsome, but I’m your owner… and I cracked…”

“What you are is a desperate, sexually deprived human.”

You jerked your head up, seeing his unreadable expression. “I-It’s been over a year–”

All of a sudden, Yoongi lowered his knee and grabbed you by the ass, scooting you down on the rolling chair. You yelped at the swift movement, gasping as your crotch collided with his thigh, wincing as you heard the squelch of your panties jamming into your soaked core.

Yikes.

Welp, you can’t hide that shit now.

“You like things like this, don’t you?” Yoongi murmured.

Your cheeks heated. “T…Things like w-what…?”

Oh, you knew what. You knew very well what, but you also couldn’t form coherent sentences.

His fingers sank into your ass and he pressed you into his thigh, rolling it into your heat. The whines tore out of your throat involuntarily, grabbing his arm and staring up at him with shaking eyes, seeing his curious gaze looking down at you.

“B-But, Yoongi… I’m your o-owner,” you panted, resolve slipping with every second, your hips already rocking into his thigh, the slippery thin fabric doing nothing to hide his lean muscle, your own thighs clamping around his leg. “I’m supposed to t-take care of y-you…”

And last more than two days, fucking shit, get it together!

But you couldn’t get it together, especially not as Yoongi’s voice dropped to a lower octave, one side of his lips curving upwards.

“It’s a little different now, isn’t it?” he drawled softly, lashes lowering, eyebrows raising, his black hair darkening his gaze. “Since I am now capable to take care of you too.”

You whimpered, losing it.

Just started freely humping his leg, self-preservation completely gone. Did he even know what he was capable of, really? Did he have any idea what he could do? Surely not.

Surely, he had no idea how good he could make you feel.

Yoongi bit the side of his lip, frowning. “How will can I make it feel better? I’m only cop…” He trailed off, furry ears anxiously flicking.

You tugged on his arm, getting his attention. “Angle your leg a little more downwards… Y-Yeah, like that…” He did as you instructed, his thigh now pressing down on your clit and your rocking hips moving faster, clinging to his arm and setting your jaw, moaning at the added pleasure. “A-ah… yeah, fuck… yes, I c-can… like this…”

“You can what?” Yoongi breathed, watching your face closely, firmly holding the armrests of the chair so it wouldn’t slide.  

Your head tipped back a little, bucking harder into his thigh, so wet your juices were soaking through your leggings and drenching the pink silk, turning it darker, the strong scent of your sweet arousal clearly evident. Your eyes drifted to Yoongi’s dark orbs covered by black hair, vision hazy, noticing the slight inquisitive upturn of his upper lip. There was no point in hiding it anymore.

“Can cum, Yoongi, fuck, I’m going to cum…” you moaned, inhaling his scent, his presence, saying his name and looking up at him, the stimulation and touch of another enough to get you there, eyelids fluttering as your orgasm swept down, taking you away and filling you with serene satisfaction, crashing waves soaring through you, washing away the sand of your dry spell, a different kind of euphoria than when you were on your own, pulling Yoongi close, kissing him deeply, breathing hard.

“Y… Yoongi…”

“Was it nice?” he murmured. “Was I what you needed?”

“Yeah…” You kissed his soft lips again, semi-breathless. “I–” The wave of guilt came now, your words dropping, brows furrowing, a sharp pang in your chest. Rising, rising. Panic. Yoongi lowered his head, black hair and soft pointed ear rubbing against your eyebrow, nuzzling your cheek. Once. Twice. Again, headbutting you lightly, smoothing the worry away from your forehead, a small laugh bubbling from your throat.

“What are you doing?” you chuckled, patting his arm, smoothing out the wrinkles you had made while furiously humping him. Your eye caught the dark mark now on one of his thighs. Welp. You lasted less than ten minutes.

Pink pajama Yoongi was dangerous.

“You liked this,” he mumbled. “When you were upset.”

You chuckled, instinctively reaching up and caressing his velvety ear. “You were a little smaller then.”

“Only a little.”

He slowed until he came to a full stop, dark eye staring into yours, cheek to cheek.

“I have to look after you, my clumsy human.”

-

part iv

--

masterpost

[viperbarnes]

The Tie That Binds – [Two of Eight]

[B. Barnes, Soulmate AU]

Summary: HYDRA took everything from you, your life, your future, they even burned off your soulmark to make sure nobody would go looking for you. Now the man they forced you to fix reappears in your life, to make amends and to be ‘of service’.

You know that they made him do all those things, that James ‘Bucky’ Barnes is not The Winter Soldier, that he’s innocent. You don’t blame him.

But that doesn’t make seeing him again any easier.

Warnings: Panic attacks, language, talk and depiction of home invasion and abduction, canon level violence, HYDRA levels of torture, angst, fluff, slow-ish burn, friends to lovers.

Note: This is entirely un-beta'd so all mistakes are my own. Thank you for reading!

<- Prev / Next ->

The room is cold enough that you can see your breath in the air. Around you, the low hum of activity signals the debrief after a mission well-done, various personnel seeing to their jobs as you do yours.

The Winter Soldier sits as still as a statue in the chair set out for him, already waiting when you’d arrived. You’d been in the middle of some of the best sleep you’d had in weeks when your cell door had flung open, and you’d been unceremoniously dragged from your bed. Even though they blindfolded you every time, by now you knew the way to the debrief room by heart.

You aren’t sure how long they’ve had you, time passes strangely when you only ever saw the inside of a cell. You’d attempted to keep track at first, but eventually you’d lost count of how many days had passed, or if they had at all… for all you know, you’d been counting nights, anyway.

It must have been years at this point.

You work quietly on the Soldier’s arm, the incredible piece of machinery and engineering the only bright spot in your confined life, but even that had worn thin some time ago. You were never permitted to really look at it, just fix any faults or problems that it had. And it certainly had its faults. After you’d first been taken, and you’d realised there was no way you were ever leaving here alive, you’d tried to make do, to make the best of your situation.

After every mission, the Soldier would need repairs made to the artificial limb which, while an astounding piece of biomechanical engineering, seemed to be oddly fragile. You had kept yourself busy, thinking up ways to improve elements of the arm, so that it wouldn't need so many repairs, but when you had approached someone vaguely in charge about it, you’d been told to keep your mouth shut.

Interestingly, a few of your proposed improvements seemed to present the next time you’d worked on him, though, none were executed in ways that made them truly useful.

You keep your head down as you work, eager to finish as soon as possible. You didn’t often pay much mind to the goings-on around you when you were called to service, but the heated conversation happening several meters away from where you sat beside the Soldier put you on edge.

A man in a suit and a man in nondescript military fatigues seemed to be having a barely civil discussion, moving in and out of English, and what you think may be Russian. The man in the military fatigues was one you’d seen plenty of times before. He never spoke to you directly, but the soldiers and guards of the facility responded to him like the lash of a whip. You’d heard him referred to as Karpov, and you can only assume he was in command of this facility.

The man in the suit however, you’d only seen a few times, and only ever in the debrief room when the Soldier had returned from a mission. He was American, his accent made that much clear, but further than that you didn’t know.

You’re still leant over the metal limb, several of its outer panels peeled open and removed so that you may access the mechanics inside, when the heated conversation gets nearer. You flinch at the movement out of the corner of your vision, causing your tweezers to tap into a wire that they really shouldn’t. The result is a small spark, and a slight shock for your ‘patient’, and though he doesn’t move an inch, when you hiss at your own mistake, and swivel your eyes up worriedly, you find he’s dipped his chin enough to watch you out of the corner of his eye.

You can’t tell if he’s glaring or not, his face always sullen and morose, but briefly you feel the urge to apologise.

You don’t however, fearing a reprimand from either of the arguing men who still near.

“You hide behind that book, Karpov.” The American man shakes his head.

“Without me and my book, you are nothing.” Karpov all but spits back. You feel your body stiffen as they begin to circle around the Soldier, and you by extension.

“Is that right?” The American man taunts, stopping on the other side of the chair to you and planting his feet. He crosses his arms over his chest.

“Солдат, убей ее.” He commands in perfect Russian.

Before you can even register what is happening, there is a hand around your throat, forcing you back and up, until your feet have left the ground. A crashing sound joins the sudden chaos, your small workbench of tools upended and scattered over the concrete floor, all other personnel in the room backing themselves against walls or desks as they watch on in shock and surprise.

You can only gasp as your airway is constricted, and you’re left to claw pathetically at the hand that has raised you from the ground. Fear and adrenaline fuel your futile fight, and you look desperately to Karpov, who watches on in thinly veiled horror.

Your eyes feel ready to pop from their sockets, your ears filled with nothing but the sound of your own blood when you’re suddenly released, dropping to the ground like a sack of bricks.

You gasp for air, the cold burning your throat and lungs as you drink it down. You scurry back out of pure instinct, spluttering and terrified, sending your fallen tools even further in every direction.

The American turns to his companion, a smug expression smeared across his features. You can’t hear what he says, your senses still too scrambled to pick it up properly, but he gestures to you, leaving Karpov with some final words before he turns on his heel and leaves.

You’re still shaking, gasping for air in terror when Karpov finally turns back to you.

He orders you to finish your work, and then he leaves.

You wake with a soft gasp.

Swallowing thickly, you force your eyes shut again as you take in several deep breaths, calming yourself as best you can. Unable to help yourself, you lift a hand to delicately touch your throat, where the bruises from your dream feel all too real for several seconds, before they fade into memory.

You could have died then, you’re sure of it. All your suffering, all the effort HYDRA went into seeking you out, it would have amounted to nothing. And for what? A petty power play?

It makes you feel small, which makes you angry.

You know they were an evil Nazi organisation and all, but they’d upended your entire life, completely ruined any semblance of normalcy you could ever hope to have again, and they hadn’t even had the decency to act as if you weren’t replaceable.

For all you did know about HYDRA and it’s going ons, there was so much you didn’t know. After you’d been freed, you hadn’t gone out of your way to seek out information, everything you knew was everything you’d found out about during your court hearings.

When Captain Rogers had brought down SHIELD and HYDRA, there had been a dozen raids on known facilities, the one you’d been at at the time being one of them. But bureaucracy would be bureaucracy and they’d had to officially investigate and clear your name before you were truly free to go.

There wasn’t much question about your innocence though, HYDRA hadn’t really bothered to code any of their notes or files on you or your capture.

By the time they’d let you go, you were more than willing to disappear and never hear about HYDRA or SHIELD or anything else to do with it ever again.

You’d managed it for almost seven years, too, until The Winter Soldie– Bucky– had shown up.

You chew on your lip and glare up at your ceiling, and then, with a hefty sigh, you reach for your phone on the nightstand, and the slip of paper tucked beneath it.

---

Once more, you marvel that the man before you is the same as the one who occasionally haunted your dreams.

It was rather incredible what simple expression could do to change a face.

Bucky Barnes sits in the corner of the coffeeshop looking both innocuous and extremely out of place as he fiddles with the gloves he still wears. His distraction must be true, because he only notices you once you’re already halfway to the booth, his face lighting up with recognition. For a moment he looks as though he might stand up to greet you, but you give him no time to do so, quickly sliding yourself in across from him with a thin smile.

“Thank you for meeting me.” You greet, settling yourself into the seat. Bucky waves you off with a shake of his head and seems to adjust himself in his place.

“Of course… is something wrong…?”

It’s strange to you, that you can pick out nervousness in his voice, that he would let himself be so readable, but then you wonder if he even realises. You give him another thin smile and shake your head, but reach for the menu.

“No. Nothing is wrong. Have you ordered?”

After two coffees are delivered to your table, yours a simple latte, and his a caramel mocha with marshmallows that you have to raise your brow at, you settle in once more and focus on why you’d asked him to come.

“You said… when you approached me, you said you were trying to make amends…?” You say, but it comes out more like a question than you intend. Bucky’s brows knit together and he nods.

“To be of service.” He confirms. A part of you bristles at that, a part that thinks he’s done quite enough of serving others for one lifetime, but you brush the thought aside.

“I– I thought of something that maybe you could help me with…” You aren’t expecting his face to light up the way it does, or for him to lean forward almost unwittingly. Momentarily you’re reminded of a very good dog.

“I don’t know much about HYDRA. Or why they did what they did… but I want to know.” You find yourself unable to meet his eye fully as you say this, instead focusing on gently turning your coffee cup around in place on its saucer.

“If you have questions, I’ll answer everything I know.” Bucky tells you a moment later. Something in his voice makes you feel as though he understood, and you wonder if he’d felt the same at some point. You look up at him briefly, grateful for the lack of judgement.

“Do you remember everything that you did? Were you aware of what was happening, or does it just feel sort of dream-like now?” You can’t help but blurt out seconds later, as if the opportunity might be gone in a few few minutes. Bucky blinks, and you can see him restraining the small quirk of his lips as he takes a sip from his cup and places it back down again.

“It’s a little bit of both. I remember everything, but it does feel ‘dream-like’, in retrospect.” He tells you.

“Who was Karpov?” Your next question makes him pause, a brief, almost undetectable flash of disgust and anger crossing his features before he clears his throat and speaks again.

“A Soviet, then Russian intelligence officer… He ran the program for a time…” Bucky frowns as he speaks. You nod, having thought as much.

“He’s dead, now.” He adds after a moment, and you glance up at him questioningly.

“Wasn’t me.”

You proceed to poke and prod at his brain for the next hour, and to his credit, he answers every single one of your questions as best he can. Even subjects that you think he may not normally broach, or things that seem like they might be classified, he tells you honestly.

You’ve both gone through two coffees when you’re finally coming to the end of your questioning, your mind filled up with more information than you could possibly hope to remember at length, but that wasn’t the point.

The odd ease you’d felt the last time, when he’d shadowed you around the grocery store, is gone. You no longer felt as though he posed some kind of threat, which was ridiculous, because the sheer size of him should have instilled that in you. The fact that you had so many traumatic memories tied to him should have sealed the deal, but somehow, it’s like none of that mattered.

That in itself gives off its own unease.

You feel like you’re in a constant limbo.

A comfortable silence had settled between you since your last question (and answer), and you watch Bucky finish off his drink. He’d removed his gloves halfway through your talk, and you’d done your best to steer your eyes away from the shiny black and gold of his new metal limb. Now though, you find your curiosity piqued at the sight of a strange black mark on the underside of his wrist, only visible when his sleeve pulls back just so.

You’d never noticed it before, though why would you have? You were always too focused on his metal limb. It makes you wonder though, which leads you to staring at your own hand, at the discreet lumpy white scar on the back of your palm.

“Do you know why they removed my soulmark?” The question comes quieter than all the others, and you don’t look at him as you ask it, though you see from the corner of your eye that he stops and stares down at your hand too.

He doesn’t reply at first, and you almost think he may not have heard you. When you do look up at him, he seems to jump, blinking rapidly and tearing his gaze from your hand.

“My guess is they didn’t want any loose ends…” He says slowly, but frowns.

“They didn’t remove yours?” You nod to his wrist, which he looks down at, clearly resisting the urge to cover it up again.

“They tried… but the serum… I guess it prevented them from doing any last damage to it.” Bucky tells you, finally meeting your eye again. He looked pained, but you don’t understand why. It wasn’t as though he really did lose his mark. Not like you.

For a brief few moments a burning jealousy overcomes you.

It wasn’t fair! It wasn’t fair that he should keep his and you should lose yours! You would forever be left wondering, no matter how much you healed from your ordeal, you would forever be left with the scars of it, unable to truly move past it.

You stare down at your hand again and feel the anger fuel you.

“They took everything from me. My life, my career… even love,” You wave your hand briefly before scoffing and shoving it into your lap. You didn’t want to look at it anymore. You didn’t want anybody to look at it anymore. Bucky sits quietly, face drawn into an intense scowl.

“I should hate you. I want to, believe me…” You purse your lips and shake your head, blinking away any tears that spring to your eyes. Now was not the time.

“But I can’t, ‘cause even though what they did to you was worse… You’re the only other person who understands. And I don’t have anybody else.” You shake your head again and feel the tension leave your body with your words.

It’s as if saying them out loud releases the anxiety in your bones. You feel lighter all of a sudden, the heaviness that you’d felt since gaining your freedom, the tiredness, it seems to diminish somewhat.

When you can finally bring yourself to meet his eye again, Bucky is watching you with something like sympathy, though, it feels softer than that.

“I was alone, and I thought I was fine with that.” You ball your hands into fists and let out a deep breath.

“And then you showed up.”

Bucky’s lips quirk, but this time he doesn’t try to hide it.

“Does that mean you’re no longer alone, or that you’re no longer fine with it?” He asks, and you can’t help but chortle.

“I don’t know yet.”

---

The burning question Bucky had had since he last saw you, the one he’d not known how to answer, resolves itself in the worst way possible.

He stares at the lumpy white scar on the back of your hand and feels his blood run cold. He’d been scared that you’d realised the truth, or that he’d have to tell you sooner or later, but this is far, far, worse than that.

They’d removed your soulmark.

Bucky knows they’d tried with him, remembers the searing pain, but it had never worked. With you however…

His chest aches just thinking about how you must feel. It was clear by the look on your face how much it affected you, and regardless of how you would have reacted had your soulmark been untouched, to find out he was your soulmate, Bucky wishes this were the one thing he could go back and change.

It leaves a hole deep in his chest.

But something else nags at his mind, long after he’s parted ways with you. You had no idea who you were to one another. It feels like a cruel joke played by the universe. Bucky clearly still made you uneasy, and even if you felt as though you could understand one another, that was very different to wanting to be soulmates.

No.

Bucky decides that you deserved more than a cruel joke. After everything you’d been through, you deserved true happiness.

And Bucky Barnes would rather see his soulmate happy without him, than miserable because of him.

If you like and enjoy, a comment or a reblog would be greatly appreciated!

[icedcappujaeno]

kingdom come | four

Jaehyun remembers you, and he hopes that you remember him as well.

genre: mafia!au | fluff | angst | smut

pair: Jaehyun & reader

warnings: language, sexual content, drugs, blood and violence, guns

↤ previous | series masterlist | next ↦

“Do I know you?”

There was innocence and sincerity in your eyes that Jaehyun figures the genuineness of the question, but the pieces of the puzzle still won’t connect.

“I—“

“What’s taking you two so long?” Halmeoni speaks as she approaches the two. You bow a little as you apologize while Jaehyun still stares at you unnoticed. The old woman dismisses your apology and leads the way for you and Jaehyun. 

A chary smile paints your lips as you look at Jaehyun. He still has his brows knit while he carries the boxes and paper bags as he follows. 

Halmeoni instructs you and Jaehyun to put the bags on the table. You comply and once the goods are all set, Halmeoni lets you unbox your goods for the children, all while Jaehyun watches you closely at your back.

You unbox as quietly as you can. You feel your heart racing since you feel eyes boring at the back of your head. 

The deafening silence breaks when Jaehyun speaks.

“I’m sorry.”

This causes you to turn your head sideways, his figure on your peripheral vision. He was standing straight and composed, but his face wrote hard to decipher a different expression. You look at him incredulously while Jaehyun tries to form the sentences in his head.

When he doesn’t speak for an awkward period, you raise an eyebrow. “Sorry for what?”

“I,” he trails off in hesitation. “Did I scare you?”

“To be honest,” you sigh. “A little. But, well, this happens often-”

“Hyung!” Daejung reaches for Jaehyun’s hand which diverts their attention to the little guy. Jaehyun responds with a forming smile on his lips when he looks down. 

“Let’s play!”

Jaehyun looks over to you with an unsure smile and you shrug, yet mirroring the features of his face. You mouth “Go on” and he looks back to Daejung who was looking at him with expectant eyes.

“Alright, let’s play.”

Daejung looks over you and grins. “Noona can join too.”

You shouldn’t be surprised when the child asked, but you were genuinely touched. You reach out your hand to his to which he takes. 

“What are we playing…?”

Jaehyun ushers for Daejung to tell his name. The child responds with his mouth forming O’s, and then beams at you with a dazzling smile. “My name is Daejung, Noona!”

“I see,” you reply. “What are we playing Daejung?”

“Football!”

 “Noona is so beautiful.”

Eunha chides as she messily braids your hair. Her breath smells like the strawberry candy she’s been munching on but you don’t mind. You had been dragged away from the boys’ football game to the girls’ playhouse, earning mocks from the little princes. You could only laugh at their childish innocence.

You flash a wry smile to Jaehyun when he looks at you while Eunha and Ai continue to braid your hair.

“Is Jaehyun oppa your boyfriend?”

You feel your cheeks warm up. The timing of Ai’s question plus the act of catching Jaehyun staring at you was a perfect opportunity to make you flustered. You try not to move your head to make it easier for the girls, your hands now covering your reddening face.

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Ooooooh. So I have a chance.”

Eunha girlishly giggles. Ai hands her an elastic band to finish the messy braid.

“Done!”

The girls look at you like some sort of an achievement, their teeth proudly showing with a wide smile on their lips. They seem to notice the curiosity on your face so they hand you a hand mirror from the doll set, the toy mirror is quite blurred but you can see stray hairs and feel the loose braid hanging on the back of your head. Regardless, you smile widely in return, appreciative and proud of what they did to you as well.

“This is really pretty! You should do my hair often!”

Jaehyun hears you laugh, and he’s lost count of how many times he turns his head to see you.

Your laugh which he misses almost every single day.

The little boys shout at how bad Jaehyun is at football as he misses almost every pass and goal, but he doesn’t mind. 

Because his thoughts are completely devoured by you.

“Thank you for today,” Halmeoni bids the two of you goodbye at the parking lot. Her face glows like a young adult despite the wrinkles lining her facial features. 

You responded by shaking your head. “I don’t mind, Halmeoni.”

The elder woman grins and takes your hand which surprised you lightly. She is wearing a smile on her lips, and there was genuine warmth radiating from it. “If you need our help again, feel free to come anytime.”

“I will.”

You hug the elder woman, a way of showing your gratitude towards her and the center throughout your recovery process. 

With the last light pat on her back, you separated yourself from the hug. You bow in respect to Halmeoni before turning to your companion for the day, Jaehyun, and lightly bow for gratitude for his company.

“It was nice meeting you, Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun seems to be lost as it was after a few seconds before he replies. 

“Oh. Yeah. It was nice meeting you too.”

And then you turn, not before the last wave to the both of them before entering your car,  starting your engine and steering away from the orphanage after a tiring yet productive day.

“Jaehyun, huh.”

You say as you reach a stoplight, eyes fixated on the road but your mind was off elsewhere—the familiar name ringing into your mind causing a headache.

The light turns green and the car behind you honks, breaking your thoughts.

“Why do you sound so familiar?”

[stuckybarton]

Red Velvet Cake

Summary:   Behind the sweet smile and angelic personality was a spitfire when someone dared destroy her little bakery in the heart of New York. Steve finds that out the hard way when his girlfriend's bakery becomes collateral damage in a small fight in New York. Warning: Profanities. Mild Violence. (Two Loud Slaps to be specific). Grammar Errors. Not Beta’d. Characters: Unnamed Female Character x Steve Rogers Words: 1,775 A/N: I don’t know, I just thought of this idea and thought why not. Masterlist

You had never thought your life would become this wild, but you've gone with the flow. Who would have ever thought that finally starting this bakery in the heart of New York. It was tough, with just a handful of employees, would bring you into so much chaos in your once peaceful life.

Meeting the Avengers had been a wild ride with a smooth beginning for you. First meeting Sam, a man that was looking for a quick snack post-work out. A man with a soft smile and quick quips that brought a smile on everyone's faces every single time he would come to visit. Then eventually, he came not alone, but with two of his best friend and your life changed ever since.

Bucky Barnes was the mellow of the trio, preferring to stay in the background while Sam would try his hardest to flirt with you and push his other friend with you. But he always had this charm on him that had a few of your female employees swooning just by the simply nickname of Doll he would throw at them.

But Sam's other friend had all his attention on you just as much as you had your entire attention on him. The dame that always spoiled him with sweets and made him enjoy morning runs more now that your bakery become their daily stop after.

It started out with the flirtation, at least that was what Steve believed it to be. Having been used to Sam's daily flirtation, you got so immune to it that it had become easier to hide the warmth in your cheeks or the heart eyes that Sam and Bucky were once quick to point out when Steve wasn't looking. Eventually it ended with him finally asking you out for lunch and the rest, as they say was history between the two of you.

Eventually, it had brought you into the circle of what was his team. The Avengers. Starting with one Tony Stark that had visited your bakery one fair morning and brought everything in your bakery long before the trio would come for their visit. It was an eventful day for you, that much you could admit. Everyone had the rest of the day to themselves and gave you time to spend with Steve, as annoyed as he was to not be able to have his usual treats. You made him your special apple pie as compensation, much to his enjoyment.

Then it was the rest of the team, Natasha Romanoff, Wanda Maximoff, and Vision. Visiting after getting a taste of your pastries that Tony Stark had generously provided for the team. Now like the trio, you now have another trio you can call as your regulars. Then there was Clint Barton, Thor, and Dr. Bruce Banner that eventually came to visit after everyone had egged them on and they would come for a few pastries and coffee, but not as much as the rest of the bunch. You were alright with that, being able to meet Steve's team and knowing each and every single one of them were good people in their own little way was enough for you.

Weeks turned into months, and months now turned to almost two years. Your life at the bakery was filled with ups and downs just as much as your relationship with one Steve Rogers. The constant fear you had when he was on a mission, uncertain whether he would come back alive or not.  Then there was the more often than not times that you were too consumed with the bustling number of customers than you only had time to give him a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek before helping out on the cashier. It had once been a fight between the two of you because of your line of work, but you would constantly compromise. He was out saving the world while you were living the dream you had always wanted for yourself with baking. Instead of his apartment in Brooklyn, Steve was now living with you, in the humble little apartment you had above the bakery. Your little piece of heaven.

This life you had created with Steve was something you had never thought you'd have for yourself but you were enjoying it immensely. You would want nothing more in your life. Until things had gone horribly bad and you want nothing more than to kill Steven Grant Rogers and the rest of the Avengers.

~

Y/N was going to kill him. That much Steve had known while they continued on with the debriefing. A quarter of New York City was wiped clean by the attack of the alien overlord attempting their luck on the planet. As much as Tony had assured that they could stay in the tower while repairs were being made, He was still uncertain with what you would be feeling because of it.

Nothing hurts him more than seeing you sad or disappointed.

"What's the ETA on the repair?" he inquired as soon as the meeting was done.

"More or less two weeks. We've had our team assure Y/N that her employees would be paid full for the two weeks while we are doing repairs." Tony explained. "Last time I heard she barely spoke a word while she helped her employees with cleaning up."

Steve could only sigh, annoyance peaking through his mind. It was worst than he thought.

"Mister Stark, Ms. Y/L/N is on her way to the meeting room." F.R.I.D.A.Y announced.

Before the A.I could finish with the announcement, the sudden slam of the door had everyone's head turn, every single one ready for another fight. But the sight of the innocent Y/N looking displeased brought everyone to a slight calm. There was still a problem, but this was better than another alien attack.

"Babe-"

The resounding slap had everyone else wincing. So much for the Super Serum. Everyone could see the red imprint on Steve's face and your shaky hand responsible for the said mark on the Captain's face.

"Your fucking shield destroyed the ramekins." you snapped, Steve could practically see you shaking from where you stood in front of him.

You were nothing, compared to him, a Super Soldier. But just the sight of you, fuming to the nose made everyone believe that you can easily take him on. This was a genuine surprise for Steve. He had seen so much side of his girlfriend of nearly two years. Through many stages of emotional turmoil, happiness, sadness, annoyance, dysphoria, and that godforsaken puppy dog eyes that he could never say no to. But this, the sight of you  angry, genuinely furious was the last thing he would have ever thought to see from you.

"Everyone has a long day, Y/N." Tony approached and the glare than now focused on her made it very well known that his presence and his response was the biggest mistake he has ever made in the moment. "Why don--"

Tony wasn't able to finish his sentence as he gets to experience the same slap handed to him by you. Without the Super Soldier Serum, the sound of the slap resounded even louder than the former. Everyone was left in a mix of shock and the need to hold in their laughter at the shock look than now lingered on Tony's face as he rubbed his red cheek.

"As for you," you snapped pointing your finger right into Tony. "You're going to pay for both the fuckin bakery and my apartment upstairs. Of all the places Stark, you just had to throw the alien on my newly renovated bathroom."

Tony could only nod.

"Your people also need to talk to my employees, some of them are injured because a big fucking green dickhead thought it would be nice to throw alien matters into the basement like basketballs through the hoops." you snapped side-glancing towards the guilty Bruce Banner that refused to make any eye contact with you. "You're covered for their hospital bills, therapy, and two weeks of their supposed shift."

Tony gaped nodding.

"Jesus, why the fuck does it always have to be New York, better yet, why the hell does it have to be in the US? There are so many fucking countries in this world." You ranted turning your attention back to Steve that now broke into a small smile at your outburst. "You're not off the hook. We're staying here, but you're sleeping on the coach until further notice."

What smile he had now comes falling from his face. Blinking, this was a dangerous situation. Far more dangerous than his earlier encounter with the aliens only hours ago. But all he could do was nod, not knowing if any protest from him would result in a worst punishment.

"Sam," you turned to the man that now looked scared to be your focus. "Can you show me to the kitchen? I'll try making everyone someone to eat. God knows you're all starving." you request, all signs of anger now slowly dissolving from your features.

Steve didn't know what scared him more at this point, your anger or how quick you were able to recover from said anger. As Sam escorted you out of the meeting room, the rest of the team also made their way out to help you in whatever you may need in the kitchen. It now left Steve and Tony alone, practically still feeling the aftermath of your slap.

"Having second thought about proposing, Lover Boy?" Tony finally broke the awkward silence.

Taking a deep breath, the first chuckle all day finally escaped his lips.

No, he was far from having second thoughts. The engagement ring hidden in his locker room made it evident to him what he was about to do on their 2nd anniversary. It would take some convincing on your part after what happened. But you loved him enough to forgive him for what happened, since technically it wasn't really his fault why the bakery was ruined.

"The proposal is still a go, Tony." he responds finally leaving the meeting room to making his way to the kitchen, already hard at work with cooking what he assumed was spaghetti and meatballs and his favourite red velvet cake.

"Steve's not having any cake right?" Nat asked as soon as she caught sight of him.

"You know what, Romanoff--"

"Not even a fucking crumb." Your response even with you facing away from him had everyone roaring in laughter and Steve rolling his eyes even with the smile on his lips growing bigger at the situations.

The things he has to endure for love.

[heli0s-writes]

pagan poetry*

A/N: Hey-o! After nearly 3 months of being a complete disaster, I ... did a thing. Very much my usual brand of filth. Thanks for sticking around as I continue to navigate this impending sense of oblivion!! 1.6k words of bangin’ Bucky Barnes. Yeeeeeeahhh.

Title is from this song, by Bjork. 🖤

Warnings: Smutty smut and heathen shit, what else is new with Helios?

brooklyn after dark masterlist

Steve asked if you were religious once.

It was an off the cuff kind of question, prompted by something you can’t remember now—silly banter over drinks and a background party, perhaps. Both grown weary of entertaining a crowd of strangers, etiquette spent nearing the night’s end. You’d shrugged lazily and prefaced that it’s hard to shake an entire childhood of indoctrination but now, by resolute choice, you aren’t.

You lied. You’ve never been more devout.

It was easier than getting into all the semantics, anyway. Where would you start explaining that you now spend more time than ever at worship? Not in the middle of Tony’s so-called “small” get-together of “only” seventy-five people. Certainly not a place to admit to Steve that your knees supplicate more earnestly than the most pious of priests, your throat constantly pouring the sweetest profession of faith—the name of the most divine.

Even if the two of you were somewhere more private, and he was at least half as drunk as you were, it’s a bit blasphemous, Steve, that you fuck Bucky six ways to Sunday and call it religion.

It’s a hard desire to curb when he looks like that. Bucky’s built like a god— his arm the kind of weapon you’d happily split your tongue polishing. Strong, powerful legs. Broad shoulders like lovingly carved marble, worked between the hands of a Renaissance master, tapered sharply down to his wasp’s waist.

His hips. Lord, you could dedicate eternity naming every last inch of his hips.

Such a pretty boy. How he makes you hungry to sin.

“Bucky,” you whisper, enthralled again when he steps out from a quick shower. Smoldering and glorious, and you’re Joan of Arc constantly being descended upon by a burning archangel. Some random night, like any other night, and you’re overtaken again. Hazy with orange glow, the billowing mist makes a halo to crown him and for a second you feel blind.

Then, you feel… hm.

Wet.

He cautions the way you chew on your lip, eyes twinkling brightly because what else is new. You? Turned on? Bucky could be brushing his teeth and you’d start climbing him like your personal jungle gym.

“Sweetheart,” he begins warily, adjusting the towel on his hips—those beautiful, beautiful hips. “One more dinner with us swinging in late and they’re gonna stop inviting us.”

You nod along dumbly, deaf now and set on a singular mission. Crawling on your knees, you reach Bucky halfway as he tries to put an end to your pilgrimage. Tries because your palms are fast over the damp fabric, fingers threading through warm fibers before landing flat against his abs, feeling up to his chest, murmuring stupidly, always so shocked at his everything. You graze up his wrists, his forearms, making paths of taut muscle.

“How bout after dinner?” His thumbs gently brush the swell of your breasts before he holds you back, straightening your spine when you arch into him. “Promise I’ll give it to you good later.”

“Give it to me now?”

He laughs. “You really gotta work on your negotiation skills…”

“Huh… Lemme try again: give it to me… right now?”

Bucky groans in equal measures of exasperation and exhilaration when you fall back on your knees. A few more half-hearted baby, quit it, ‘m serious, and then he gives up completely.

“Steve’s gonna get himself in a mood.”

“Steve’s always in a mood.”

Wilted protests quickly disappear into the hollow of your cheeks, licked away by your clever tongue. He grips the back of your neck firmly, tilting your head the way he likes best, eyes flicking down to meet yours before they close. He keeps you there a little longer, his toes curling into the carpet with each bob of your head.

“Yeah, you’re—always in a mood, too—uhhm—“

And you hum in agreeance, but the sound only vibrates into his skin, making him groan louder.

Bucky’s voice is slurred, as if half drunk. “Can’t hear— mm— you, sweetheart…”

So you make something up to give him what he wants, that buzzing of your throat on his cock, and his thighs tighten in response, the hand on the back of your neck reflexively scrabbling to your shoulder with a hard grip.

It’s a bit counterproductive of you to be so sloppy, considering that Bucky’s freshly showered and cleaned up— the scent of his brisk body wash strong and harsh in your nose— but fucking him like it’s your job allows some insight to what he likes, and it’s easily this:

Dirty, filthy, drooling wet blowjobs. The messier the better and the faster it gets him there. Your radiant Right Hand of God, but goddamn is he a little devil himself.

Bucky’s growling by the time he hauls you toward the bed, depositing your thrilled skin on the mattress firmly. Red lips meet yours with force, plush and full, nipping at the corners of your wet mouth like he’s kissing back every trace of him. He presses on across your jaw, up and down your neck. His voice is husky sweet and breathy in your ear.

“You bad, bad girl.” And you start curling yourself into him, nodding for more. One of his hands is working himself, the sound of your spit slippery in his fist. “You got me all messy again.”

Your skin feels blistering and freezing at the same time, chills racing to your fingertips tightly hooked around his biceps. The outfit you put on for a nice, quaint dinner at Steve and Sharon’s too heavy now, too constricting, but he doesn’t let you take it off.

“Every morning and night not enough dick for you, is it?” Bucky brushes your hands away, taking hold of your chin and peeling your head back until you’re looking at him. His pupils are blown wide, the only thing left of his irises are two thin rings of barely there blue as he scans your face. Your brain is short-circuiting, hanging onto every syllable, every purse of his cherry lips.

He switches on and off like a light. Beautiful, soft, thoughtful one minute, all force and darkness the next. You faithfully take it all, every facet of him. Your angel boy. Your wicked soldier.

Joan of Arc was only hallucinating, but she wasn’t half as lucky as you to have conjured something half as astonishing as Bucky. Gorgeous strong jaw, bristles along his chin and cheek scrubbing noisily against your lips as he kisses you. His mouth— open and wet, sloppy against yours— hardly landing right and you’re toeing delirium by the time his fingers slide up your shirt.

Bucky pushes you down into the sheets, rucking up your skirt until it bunches around your waist. “We’re in a rush, remember?” He tucks two fingers into the elastic of your panties and yanks them to one side. Just enough. In a rush. Your thighs meet with a determined shimmy of his hips— those incredible hips— and then you’re full, so full of him.

The blood in your ears crashes against reality and bends it all sideways. Not religious like that, but since the first time you’d touched him, you’ve been cocksure if heaven were real, it’d be this. It’d be him.

“Everyone’s gonna know,” Bucky promises, “You stumbling in there.”

The image flashes through your addled brain, the tell-tale sign of him screwing you stupid— lips swollen, legs wobbly, outfit crumpled up, smelling like him and sex in front of all your friends.

“You want it, don’t you, want them to know you’re all mine?” He smears your wet around the sides of where he’s connected— spit, slick— up to your clit. And then he pushes you like a button, flicking the pad of his thumb upwards and grins at the way you jerk in time to it like a trained toy.

“Bucky,” you mewl, “Buck.” The syllable breaks, your panting comes out in choked babbling.

He takes the back of your neck again, lowering his body over yours, faster now. Deliberately reckless and the entire bed is rocking, springs squealing under his pace.

“Oh my god,” you smash your brow into the junction of his shoulder, hanging on by a thread as he drives into you, on a mission to break either the bed frame or your brain, both were fine. In a rush. Can’t quit now. A little bit more. Your entire body is folded against him, insides fluttering desperately, maddeningly.

“Come,” he commands, “Come for me right now and I’ll fuck you through it, how you like. Then I’ll make you come again and we can go.”

His grip is tourniquet tight, thumb moving to the middle of your throat, pressing ever so slightly until your breath feels trapped under the swirl of his fingerprint. The curtain of his hair hangs over your face, blocking out the room going blindingly white. Your eyes shut tightly, opening only for a second to catch him panting over you, burning hot, his features flickering from utter control to trembling pleasure to something akin to frenzy.

Your vision shuffles like a deck of cards. His hands are everywhere. Eyes devouring every inch of your skin. There’s a million of him taking a million of you to a million more pieces. You shatter then, clawing his back and arms, singing like a fucking choir the infinity of his name.

Bucky. Bucky. Bucky. He makes your days holy. The altar of his body. The sacrament of his sweat. He breaks you apart into something luminous.

Religion. Not religion. Your heathen soul—whatever tiny fracture you may have—all his, forever. Now, tomorrow, at the end of the world.

So, when the two of you stumble into a nearly finished dinner, as predicted, over an hour late and in terrible disarray, Steve crosses himself before promising, “I’m getting you two a goddamn chastity belt.”

On the couch, Sam clicks the remote to a new channel, snapping his fingers with an offhanded, “A-fucking-men.” 

All you can do is duck your head and grin.