#edit i just had to fix a typo sobbing

[fuckedmutt]

asking a cute puppy increasingly invasive questions and watching them squirm. Come on puppy, you want to be good, don’t you? Tell me how you like to touch yourself. Oh baby, you’re going to need to tell me in more detail than that! How else am I going to be able to replicate it?

[just-some-random-blogger]

Visenya | 1

Part 2

He snorts though his jaw tightens, "stupid little girl," he tilts his head and puts his hands in his pockets, "I wanted you before you were any of this."

Daemon Targaryen x Reader x Gwayne Hightower | 4k+ | cw: fem!reader, modern au, stripper!reader, power imbalance, age gap, slow burn?, angst, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: this pairing was voted on but the plot was inspired by anora cuz damn it got me thinking about fics I've read that are better than that film. i said this was gonna be a mini series (i wanted it to have 3 parts) but it feels so much like a train wreck idk fam, so pls if you like this please leave a comment/reblog cuz 🧍‍♀️ what even is this. Edit: nah this slaps

You were no stranger to attention; you had no choice, as it sought you out with a vengeance. For a while, attention was your enemy, a flame you so badly tried to put out, it left your fingertips charred. Now, attention was your comrade, a match you purposely dropped in the woods, the wildfire that warmed your eternal winter.

Once upon a time, you felt your face burn in shame and embarrassment. Once upon a time, you pretended to be completely distracted by the design of your textbook and the music from your earphones, though it was not really the case. Now, you took up space and stared back to whomever did. Now, you made them uncomfortable by being more than a rumor, a reputation, a name.

And for every self-righteous woman in your college that had shit to say about your night job, for every man-child who made it a point to make cheap porno noises whenever you passed them by, you got yourself a new customer, eager to find out about the name on everyone's lips: Visenya.

"I clocked some guys come in for you, V," Mysaria says as she fixes her lipstick. She can't really; the dressing room lights are so dim and purple. It doesn't matter either, cause the entirety of Mockingbird is poorly lit and none of its patrons care for the quality of makeup when ass and tits begin to jiggle. It does matter to her; Mysaria has perfect lipstick every night.

You pull your jeans down, unashamed to change in front of the other dozen girls in the room, having been both so accustomed to both their company and being half-dressed, "oh, yeah?"

"Yeah," she turns to you, "all pretty with suits and ties."

You adjust your cotton underwear, which did you no favors, and slip on your tiny booty shorts. You put on your ulta-glittery, backless micro dress and upon adjusting it on your body, you remember you hadn't shaved your armpits. You check your pits in the mirror and quickly wave yourself off, "it's fine."

Another girl groans, "maybe I should stop shaving too."

You chortle at the sentiment.

"Maybe then the creeps with the big bucks will come to my stall after Visenya over here is done robbing them blind," she chirps, slapping your ass before walking out.

You, as well as the rest, giggle at the thought. You grab your bald cap and begin to fix your hair, calling out to the woman who just left, "I'll send you a creep if you think you can handle one, baby girl!"

You walk towards the mirror, squeezing in beside Mysaria. You continue your conversation, "is he rich?"

The dark haired woman watches you as you expertly put on your silver wig. Pride blossoms in her chest as, once upon a time, it was she who fitted fake hair onto your head as you sobbed over the difficulties of this job. She crosses her arms, tilting he head at you, "very. Sports car, penthouse, granddaddy's money rich."

You fix your lace front and grab the hairspray in your bag, "how you manage to tell all that from how they dress still manages to astound me."

Mysaria smiles as she watches you spray your wig down. You let it dry a bit before wrapping your hairline with your satin band. She watches you put on your makeup. You do it so quickly, it felt haphazard, though it was anything but. She taught you better than to do things like that.

You look at her after you put on your lip gloss. As you smack your lips, you find yourself knitting your brows at her smile, "what? Is it bad?"

Mysaria shakes her head, placing her hands on your shoulders, "no." She affectionately pushes your fake silver hair back, "I'm just so proud of you."

The thought makes you pout.

"I'm so," she clutches your cheeks, "so proud of you," her eyes water, "for persisting. For not taking shit from anyone. For busting your ass off," she takes your chin, "for you."

Your eyes begin to water, "Mysaria."

"You're gonna do what most girls here can't," her breath begins to shake, "I'm both so happy and so sad that you'll be leaving us soon."

You pull her into a tight hug as the rest of the girls in the room coo at your exchange. One of them groans and chucks her mascara on to the table, "I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU BITCHES ARE GONNA MAKE ME CRY BEFORE MY SHIFT!"

You and Mysaria chuckle as you break away. Someone offers her a tissue and she grabs it, muttering a soft, "fuck you, V," to you before leaving the room.

You affectionately call out to her, and just then, Littlefinger walks in. Your boss claps his hands before shimmying over, "there she is."

You chuckle as takes you by the hand and spins you around.

"My Visenya, in all her glory" he looks you once over, "armpit hair and all."

You roll your eyes at his remark and pull your hand away mm, "I'm not shaving."

"No!" he shakes his head as he places his hands on his chest, "I would never ask you to do anything you don't want, my queen."

You turn to Mysaria, who promptly rolls her eyes.

"Especially not when you rake in as much money as you do," he grins.

Mysaria rolls her eyes one last time, giving you a final look before walking off. Littlefinger eyes her as she leaves, "go make me some money, baby girl."

"Don't tell me what to do, Petyr."

He chuckles as he turns back to you, "I love it when she calls my name."

You shoot him a look.

"Anyway," he claps his hands, "I have 3 rich assholes in VIP for you and Sandor on standby."

You strap on your thigh garters and heels.

"They're already half drunk and obnoxious, so make sure to make their life a living hell."

You grin, undoing the satin band on your wig, chucking it into your duffel, "with pleasure."

In truth, you don't know why you were so surprised to see the clientele in VIP. You should have known the moment Littlefinger said asshole, he meant your most generous regular: tall, blonde, and trust-fund.

"Konīr issa," a familiar baritone called, making his friends cheer, "Dāria Visenya," he raised a glass, "Tala Zaldrīzoti."

He wasn't an asshole per se, just a cocky rich guy that's very much full of himself and needs an attitude check. It's easier to just call him an asshole though.

You stalk over to the three men, eyes locked on the one with hair as fair as yours. You place your hands on your hips once you're in front of him. The man leans back and spreads his thighs, a stupid open mouthed half-grin on his face.

His friends holler like teenagers when you step your 6-inch heel on his lap. You lean forward, "you gonna translate that for me, honey?"

He gulps and grits his teeth, grin not wavering once.

"Woahhhh, Daemon," his friend yells, "you gonna let this hooker bitch talk to you like that?"

The same man yells again, only this time it's because you kick him back and dig your heel into his, making sure it hurts, "you wanna say that to my face, little boy?"

Daemon's eyes are on your leg. He so badly wants to touch you.

He yelps and tries to push your foot away, but you pull away before he can touch you.

You click your tongue, "someone clearly didn't listen to Sandor's briefing."

"Fuck you, you psycho-"

"And that's strike three," you raise a finger and turn to the door, "Sandor!"

Not a second later, a hulking man walks in, rolling his neck and shoulders back. His eyes are on you, and you merely point your finger to the man beside Daemon. Without a word, Sandor grabs him by the collar and forces him to his feet.

"W- get your fucking hands off me," he swats Sandor's hands off him.

Sandor glares, "you get three warnings from her and one big one from me. Get the fuck out of here."

He brushes his suit jacket off and combs through his hair, "I paid 500 to see this stripper shake her ass."

Sandor's face curls and so does yours. You raise your brows, "you paid for the Visenya Experience and your idiocy has led your experience to be getting thrown out by her Hound."

The man scoffs, "listen, sweet cheeks, I'm not fucking-"

Sandor shuts him up by punching him in the belly. The man lurches forward, not a morsel of fight left in him as he's dragged off. You grin and wave goodbye, "thank you, Sandor."

He nods, "you're welcome, V."

You turn back to Daemon and his remaining friend when the door closes. You cross your arms and walk over to the latter, "did that scare you, kitty?"

The man turns to Daemon but Daemon's eyes are locked on you, watching intently as you rest your knee on his friend's instead of his. He breathes heavily as when you turn to him.

"What's this one called?"

Daemon immediately answers, "Robb."

"Robb," you turn to the said man, reaching for his face. You see him anticipate your touch, which is why you pull away with a lopsided smile. You walk off to the poll in front of you, "I asked you a question, Robb."

Both men watch you as you walk around the poll.

Robb examines the shape of your legs, "...no."

Daemon counts the steps you take, as by now, he knows your routine by heart.

"Good," you stop in your tracks, "what about you, Daemon. You owe me a translation."

Daemon licks his lips. He wonders what punishment you'll have for him if he disobeys, but he'd rather not have you on your bad side today, not when this would be the last time he'd see you. He translates the words he spoke in High Valyrian, "there she is, Queen Visenya. Daughter of Dragons."

You tilt your head, "cute."

Robb gasps when you continue your routine. He'd seen pole dancing before, but what you just did was not something he'd ever seen before. You dip and spin and twirl so effortlessly; you've done this dance so many times you don't break a sweat. Daemon shifts in his seat and tilts his head in anticipation for his favorite move.

You climb up the poll and invert into an Eros position, slowly dropping down to your hands before doing a forward walk over.

Daemon huffs as you flip your hair back. He pulls out a thick fold of cash and looks at you expectantly. You smile and beckon him over.

He immediately drops to his knees and crawls towards you. His hands brush up and down your thigh until it's as warm as his palms, and then he takes his time hooking each bill into one of your thigh garters.

You turn to Robb and tilt your head, "my other thigh is cold, kitty cat."

Robb jumps off his seat and pulls out his wallet, garnering your other garter with all the cash he had at hand.

The two extended their session until Mockingbird's closing time, and when that came around, Sandor had to get involved because neither refused to leave.

Robb is now shirtless and drunk out of his mind; you have to hand him his dress shirt and suit jacket as he's pulled by the arm amidst his begging, "no wait, please— save me a dance tomorrow. You have to let me-"

"She doesn't owe you shit," Sandor grunts, shoving him out the room.

You smile and wave at him.

"B- wai- why does Daemon get to stay?!"

You turn to Daemon, who's lingering beside you. His jaw length hair is tousled, and the first four buttons of his shirt is undone. Though he had about as much to drink as Robb, you could tell from the focus of his lilac eyes, he wasn't drunk at all. You shrug and purse your lips, "yeah... why do you get to stay?"

Daemon eyes your body, "because my queen lets me."

Sandor manages to muscle Robb out, who huffs defeatedly outside VIP. The tall man then turns to you, asking plainly, "in or out, V?"

You smile at Daemon and turn to Sandor, "in. Give me 5."

With that, Sandor nods and closes the door.

Now that it's just you and him, the air is different. Your heart races when Daemon circles behind you and brushes your hair back. You feel your breathing as he leans close, so close that the tip of his nose brushes against the shell if your ear, "lift your hair for me."

You feel your skin prickle at his hot breath. You suck in a deep breath before doing what you're told. The air is completely different.

He brings his arms over and around you, and soon, you feel a brush of a cold metal on your burning skin.

"Happy graduation."

You drop your hair and look down at your décolletage. You brush your hands against the small, shimmering diamonds before turning around, "stalker."

Daemon drinks you in. He imagines what you would look like in a floor length dress under normal lights. He is pleased by how you inspect your reflection in the mirror, "it suits you."

You turn back to him, "how do you know about my graduation?"

"Mmm, a smart girl like you refusing to schedule more dances with me?" he clicks his tongue, "something clearly made you think you're too good for my money now."

You chuckle and cross your arms.

"Between you and me," he pulls out a bill, "the paper you get from me is better than the one you're gonna get from your kindergarten."

You roll your eyes at him but gladly take the money, "some of us don't want to live at the mercy of sleazy men's paper."

He snorts and puts his hands in his pockets, "we're all at the mercy of some sleazy man's paper, doll face."

"At least I don't have to walk around every night feeling like a piece of meat."

He does not reply. There's nothing he can say to that.

You stare at each other for a moment before moving to unclasp your necklace.

"No," he raises a hand, "it's a gift."

"You know I only take cash, Daemon."

"It's worth more than everything I've paid you tonight," he motions, "if you really don't want to keep it, go pawn it or something. Buy yourself a car or pay a few months of rent with it."

Just as you remove the necklace, he steps back and tilts his head at you.

You stare back at him, holding the necklace up.

"It spells out Visenya, you know," he points to each dangling stone, "V-i-s-e-n-y-a."

"Cute."

"I would have spelled it out after your real name, had I known it."

You shrug, "you should probably just go find a real Visenya then."

"Or, I can just make you another one once you tell me your-"

"Daemon-"

"It's your last night. When will I ever get to see you again?"

"Hopefully," you shake your arm for emphasis, "never."

He raises his brows, "please?"

"If you don't take this necklace, I'll never tell you."

"So... you'll keep it if I don't get your name?"

Your brows quirk.

You both stare at each other until the door flies open. Sandor cocks his head to the side, "come on, blondie. Time's up."

You turn to Sandor, but Daemon's eyes remain on you. When you look back at him, his hand is out for a handshake. For a split second, you think of shoving the necklace into his palm, but you decide against it.

His hand is as warm as it always is when you take it. Your breath hitches when he leans it and presses a kiss at the back of your hand. His eyes remain on you until he pulls away, "till we meet again, my queen."

Sandor gives him a twisted look as he walks away, but you, you watch him intently as he walks down the hall. The former scoffs, "fucking jackass."

So, no, you weren't a stranger to attention at all. It was exactly that, your ability to attract attention and manage it under your thumb that you found yourself where you were today, soaking in all the attention in this gala, only to shrug it off your shoulders.

You cared little for the attention offered in this place anyway. It's not like any of it was genuine.

"Sorry I took so long, my love."

You barely manage to turn before you feel a kiss on your lips. Your eyes widen at the lipstick stain left on his face as he pulls away, "Gwayne! I'm wearing red."

Gwayne places a hand in your waist, bringing you close to him, "mmm, yes. I'm not colorblind, my dear."

His pale blue eyes rove over the form of your red of your dress as you rub off the red lipstick on his mouth. You raise a brow, "I take that it went well."

He groans and leans into your neck, "must I talk about work with my wife as well?"

Wife. The word makes you smile, and you do, but you still push him away, "I'm not your wife, Mr. Hightower."

"Mmm," he takes your hand and rubs your knuckles with his thumb, completely focused on the feel of your skin rather than the large marquise-shaped emerald on your ring finger that he proposed to you with, "count your days. You will only be able to tease me with this for so long."

Your laugh is cut short by the feel of his lips on yours. You push him away again, and this time, the mark on his mouth is so big, you are concerned by how your own mouth looks, "Gwayne!"

He chases after your lips, stealing another kiss. When you push him away this time, you break away all together, quickly covering your mouth, knowing red was smeared all over. He does not flinch when you swat his arm, nor when you pull out the handkerchief from his breast pocket as you instruct him to wipe the mess off his face.

He does just that as he watches you run off to the ladies' room with a hand hovering your face. He cannot wait to marry you.

The moment you're in the bathroom, you make a beeline for a tissue dispenser and walk towards the mirror. You were glad he didn't do so much damage that you'd have to use makeup to fix it. You wipe red off the edges of your lips and on your chin, then inspect the rest of your body. After looking yourself once over, you chuck the used tissue into the bin and head out.

You stop in your tracks when you see Alicent and two of her friends at the door. Their conversation runs dry when they see you. You press your lips into a soft smile, rubbing your hands together as you walk past them.

The moment you do, they break into loud laughs, and you pointedly hear Alicent say, "no, I know, it's embarrassing."

You shake your head, telling yourself not to think about her as you go back to Gwayne. The only problem was, he was no longer where you had left him, and you quickly figured he was probably pulled by the collar into another conversation with some rich old man who wanted to absorb him into his company.

You decide to simply wait for him in the same spot, completely turned off by the idea of joining in a conversation with rich old men.

Suddenly, your ears ring at the name you hear. Of course, it wasn't your name, so you ignore it.

But there it is again: Visenya. You swear you even recognize the voice.

"V!"

The call was so loud, you had to look.

Your brows raise and your lips part. The man who had been so eager to run to you now grows laggardly, in disbelief it was actually you.

In truth, you had never seen him in proper light, but there was no mistaking his blonde hair or his violet eyes. He stops a few paces from you and he's unmistakable as he sighs. You take in his suit and the shorter cut of his hair. He takes in your floor length dress.

"You know," he chuckles softly, "I've only ever dreamed of seeing you like this."

You raise your brows and tilt your head, "sorry, do I know you?"

He laughs. Loud. He clutches his belly and steps forward, "her majesty forgets the face of her subjects too quickly."

You chortle and turn away, shaking your head at his ridiculousness.

Unlike you, he does not stifle his laughter. "Konīr issa, Dāria Visenya, Tala Zaldrīzoti."

You hum and cross your arms. You purse your lips, "you gonna translate that for me... old man?"

Oh, he's missed this. He chuckles, "I assure you," he takes another step, "I am just as capable, if not more, in my age now than years ago."

"Capable," you pull your head back, "of what?"

"Everything."

You chuckle dryly, "you haven't changed a bit, haven't you?"

"No, but you-" he reaches a hand out, "-clearly have."

You ignore his hand in lieu of rubbing your chest and pouting at him, "don't worry. It's never too late for some change. I mean," you point, "you managed to get a haircut."

He chuckles, brushing his hair back as he stares at your décolletage, "and you managed to lose my necklace."

"Ha... an odd response."

"Is it, when you bare neck is begging for my diamonds," he raises a finger, "V-i-s-e-n-y-a."

Your forehead curls, "baby's first-time spelling?"

"Baby?" he excitedly chuckles, "if we're talking about babies, I-"

"For gods' sake, Daemon."

You step back as Gwayne comes between you both.

"I turn around for one second, then the next you're here, sticking your nose into my business."

Daemon scowls, "this is literally none of your business, Hightower."

"Oh," he chuckles dryly, "I do beg to differ."

You can see his face begin to turn as red as his hair, "Gwayne-"

"No," Daemon laughs, "you work for him?"

Your lips curl at his words, "no." Gwayne looks between the two of you as you say, "I'm his partner."

"O h !" the blonde gasps exaggeratedly, raising his hands, "pardon me for the semantics."

"No, as in we're going to get married, Daemon," you blurt, showing him the back of your hand.

Daemon's entire expression drops at the sight of your ring.

This put Gwayne all the more on edge. He pulls a pinched expression as he asks you, "time out. You two know each other?"

"Unfortunately," you retort.

Daemon scoffs. He clenches his jaw and raises his brows, "why don't you ask her how we know each other, Gwayne."

You give Daemon a look.

"While you're at it, why don't you ask her about her old pal, Visenya."

"Visenya?" Gwayne repeats, turning to Daemon.

"Yes, Visenya," Daemon sneers at him, though his eyes remain on you, "go on, ask her!"

Your face twists at his expression.

"And what makes you think I wouldn't already know about her?" Gwayne snaps.

Daemon finally looks at Gwayne.

His shoulders are tense, and his face is hard, "or that I would ever be baited by someone as degenerate as you?"

"Alright," you grab Gwayne's arm, "that's enough."

"What do you know about Visenya?" Daemon asks, like a wronged child.

"I know that if you every try to hang this over her head, I will make sure you never be able to work in-"

"I said that's enough, Gwayne," you cut him off, pulling him away from Daemon.

Gwayne's nostrils flare as he turns to you. He clenches and unclenches his jaw as his chest heaves. You shake your head. He speaks out your name.

The sound of it makes Daemon tense and his belly churn.

You clutch Gwayne's cheeks and offer him a reassuring look. Without a word, the two of you walk off, intent on going home. Daemon does nothing, can do nothing but stand there, watching you as he tests the sound of your name in his mouth, over and over again under his breath.

[somniumfaults]

Hi! I just read your omega fic of Leo, Towa, and Haku. I was wondering if you could do one of them as alphas instead where they help you through your heat? It was literally the only thing on my mind the entire time I read it. Thank you! 😊

sorry for the delay!! Here's some alpha Leo, Towa, and Haku helping you through heat! :D in hindsight as I paste this into tumblr and read over what I wrote... Maybe I have a thing for crying? 😭

Sorry for any typos! I had to type this out on my phone bc my laptop is getting fixed :\

UPDATE: edited Sept 18th, 2024 for typos

omega vers here!

WARNING: NSFT under the cut!

Alpha Towa

Oh, he would have 100% be more possessive of you if you were the one going through heat. Don't get me wrong, he would probably love exhibitionism and showing you off when it's his rut, but it's a whole different ball game when you're the one smelling that good and tempting every alpha in vicinity. You won't be leaving Jabberwock under any circumstances until your heat is over. He's the only one who will get to see your fucked-out, crying expression as you fall apart on his dick or fingers from how overwhelmed you are. Never let it be said he left your needs unattended... Put simply, he's clingy (and wants so much cuddles), and even when things are said and done, you can be certain you aren't stepping out of that room until you're smelling exactly like him.

On the flip side, despite having an insane libido to rival an omega in heat (RIP you when he's in rut), during the moments in when he's not absolutely demolishing you with his dick, he's extremely sweet and fusses over you to the point of being overwhelming. If you aren't the happiest Omega on campus, it will be raining that night. He'll be feeding you the sweetest fruits he can find all while trying to cuddle you with his dick still in you if he can get away with it. You have to be careful not to look too fussed over anything or else he will read it as him doing something wrong and try to rectify it in the most excessive way possible.

Alpha Haku

Haku is in many ways the same as if the were an omega. He tries to have restraint, really. He probably takes suppressants for his scent and/or to help control when his rut is. If there's anything he doesn't want, it's to be caught unaware like that. He's also well aware that it's not healthy to repress his body's needs like that though, so what better way to make sure he takes care of that than to knock out your heat and his rut at the same time? Honestly, the amount of self-restraint he can show towards you even then is admirable.

As he waits for his rut to set in, all attention is on you. His hands on your hips trailing down to your legs, tucking himself between them so he can press kisses against the fat of your thighs. It's sweet... until he decides to make a move. He's not the type to be afraid to eat you out and make sure you feel good, and that's absolutely what he does. With both his hand and mouth being put to work, it would be any wonder if you weren't screaming his name and grasping at the sheets or his hair for dear life. Well, for as long as you can get his name out anyway. Despite being ever such the gentleman and prince charming, Haku does so love to see you fall apart for him. The messy look of tears tripping down your face as you sob and gasp for breath... To him, you're gorgeous like that. You're perfect. Beautiful. So good for him.

And well, his self-restraint can only last for so long. Especially with your scent starting to suffocate him as you fall further into your heat, desperation and depravity teasing him until there's nothing else on his mind but to bury himself in you. Rest assured, your thighs will be burning by the time both of you are done with your respective hormones. He'll be railing you in every position the both of you can think of, but especially any ones where he can stare and admire at just how beautiful you are when you're taking him do well.

Alpha Leo

If you're relying on Leo to help you through your heat, rest assured it's going to suck (in the best possible way ofc). Leo is nothing if not a tease, and this isn't going to change just because you're a sad little omega in heat. Asking him to be the one to help you is nothing short of an ego boost for him, because of course you'd come to him. Who else could possibly know how to ruin you like he does, hmm? He'll push and push your limits until you can't take it anymore, and only then will he finally indulge you in what you really need — his knot. Sure, he'll come to your room and lock the door behind him, but you'd be silly to think he would just show up and fuck you.

He's going to sit there and watch you desperately try to take care of yourself in whatever way you can first, whether it's with your fingers or toys. Put on a pretty little show for him if you're so desperate, omega. If you don't have any toys on hand already, don't worry. He'll make sure to bring along anything he wants to see you tormented with. Say "thank you" ❤️

When his own self-control starts to wane, maybe he'll finally deign you worthy of his touch... maybe. He'll look at your teary eyes and make you beg to have his dick in your mouth, even if he clearly wants nothing more than to fuck it himself. If you're good and he's feeling nice, maybe he'll even touch you while he does it too!

Eventually, once you're exhausted and desperate, hair plastered to your face from sweat and tears, he'll give you what you needed from the start. Neither of you will last long by this point, but you'll be damned if the relief doesn't hit hard. And as an added bonus, he'll make sure to have a nice warm bath drawn up for the both of you afterwards. God knows after all that you won't have the energy to walk.

[wandering-feather]

The Chain

Larissa Weems x Female Reader

Explicit no minors!!!!

Reader is a Normie who is married to Larissa. After the event with Crackstone the new mayor hired Reader as a communication liaison between the school and the town. Larissa and her have been drifting and Larissa seems to put her second all the time. After forgetting a work function of yours and chooses work again, Reader leaves and is  in an accident.

I just edited this a little more with just fixed wording, grammar and typos. I have issues with getting over excited and posted this a little too soon. I cleaned it up and made it smoother. 

AN: I have not written in a long time and this my first time writing for this fandom. This story came to me in a moment and was written pretty fast because I could not stop. It might not be great but it’s a start. Also this is me getting ready for my series that I posted about. Also the title of the work is from the song The Chain by Fleetwood Mac.

Warnings: angst, smut, car accident, blood, wounds, hospitals. 

You were sitting at your vanity, finishing up your hair and make up. You were excited to be going out with your wife even if it was for a work function. After what happened the year prior the new mayor hired you to be the communications liaison between the town and school. Even though you are a normie you were married to the Principle of Nevermore and with your degree in communications the job was a perfect fit. Ever since you started your job though you both have been busy and seem to be drifting apart. You stop for a second from putting on your earring and frown, the more you think about it it seemed you were the only one trying. You reminded yourself that the last school year was very hard on Larissa and she doesn’t want it to happen again. Sighing you finished up at the vanity and stepped in your closet and slid on your favorite dress and quickly slipped on your heels and grabbed your clutch. You stepped out of your shared chambers and stopped at seeing Larissa working at her desk dressed in the clothes she had been wearing all day. You looked at your watch and it dawned on you she forgot because there is no way she had time to get ready.

“Larissa?” You spoke trying to get her attention. 

Larissa looked up and smiled noticing how beautiful and fixed up you were but then her face turned to confusion as to why you were dressed up. The moment you saw her confused look you knew you were correct she had forgotten. 

“Darling, Why are you so dressed up? Not that I’m complaining, you look beautiful.” 

You shake your head feeling tears in your eyes. Larissa noticed this and became concerned.

“I have the work thing tonight that you promised you could make it. I reminded you last night.” 

Larissa feels her stomach drop. She did it again and it killed her to see that the tears in your eyes were caused by her. She quickly jumped up and walked over to you, placing her hand on your shoulder. She felt the slight pull of your shoulder and pulled her hand away.

“Darling, I'm so sorry things have been crazy and Wednesday seems to be up to something again. I have been overworked.” She said softly trying to get you to understand. 

You took a deep breath and hoped that maybe tonight could be salvageable. “I could go ahead so I won’t be late. You can get ready and then I will tell them you had something come up and will be a little late.” You looked at her with pleading eyes.

Larissa sighed she wanted to say yes but if she didn’t get these emails out tonight a disaster could be happening by tomorrow with upset parents.  When you heard her sigh you knew what was coming.

“Darling, I’m so sorry but I won’t be able to attend, with what happened today I have to get these emails out.”

You took a step back and blinked rapidly to stop your tears and not ruin your makeup.

Larissa stared at you noticing you were on the brink of either sobbing or yelling. She wanted to wrap you up in her arms but she wasn’t sure if you would let her. She heard you whisper something.

“Darling, I couldn’t hear you.” She said 

You looked up wiping at your eyes carefully, you were done crying over this and being looked over again. Not being able to be your wife’s first choice. You never have been anyone's first choice. What you were doing was helping the school also.

“Larissa, I’m tired of being second to everything in your life. You do this all the time lately. I have been patient and hear me when I say this. I love you with all my heart but I can’t keep doing this. It’s breaking me.” You said this calmly which scared Larissa even more as you have thought about this a lot. These were not just words being said in the moment of anger.

“Love, that is not true please you know how important the school is to me but you are my everything.” She pleads with you.

Shaking your head and huff, “Larissa that is not how it seems. We haven’t even had sex in two weeks and it was like just getting off no romance. You used to send me little notes, have flowers sent to my office. I still do these things I still try but you don’t” your voice was getting a little louder.

You watched as Larissa’s eyes turned to anger and you knew she was upset because you were right and now she was defensive.

“When we got together you knew how important Nevermore was to me.” She said with a curt tone and stood at her tallest height. “I'm sorry you think my love making is lacking and if we are being honest you are just too needy at times.” 

You took a shocking breath at her last words. She knew how insecure you are about being a bother to others. Larissa saw your face and instantly regretted her words. She quickly took a step towards you to gather you in her arms and say she was sorry but you took another step back putting your hand out. “Don’t” you could feel your whole body sake. “Just stay here, do your work and I will go do mine. Please don’t come.” You looked her straight in the eyes, “I mean it this isn’t me saying please surprise me and everything will be better.” You turned and grabbed the door knob and without looking back you spoke softly.

“Larissa one day I might not be here, almost losing you last year showed me we don’t have forever. Just know I don’t want to be apart from you.”

You opened the door as Larissa spoke but you didn’t hear her words after she said sorry you had heard that word enough. You walked through the school towards the front doors pushing it open. You wondered if Larissa in fact did follow you but you would not look back. You don’t like to play games like that if you tell someone something that is what you want and you knew Larissa knew that. You got in the car and drove off towards Jericho where the party was being held. You finally put your foot down, you were not going to make her choose you would never do that to her but she needed to know that you can’t keep going like this either.

You arrived at the party letting everyone know that Larissa had something unexpected happen. You worked on moving around the room greeting everyone and you felt your social meter deplete quickly so you excused yourself to your office and sat in the dark thinking. You were not wrong Larissa has drifted you even wondered if she loved you less. What was said had to be said. But you did just tell her why you were upset with her and left instead of trying to talk. You took a shaky breath finally letting the tears fall. If she was falling out of love with you then you would let her be free you would break the chain and let her go. Sometimes love is not enough to keep people together. You held back a sob placing your hand over your mouth. You needed to get to her to let her know you do love her and that the two of you could figure this out together. This can’t be it. You stood up grabbing your bag and keys and thankfully seeing your assistant you told her you were not feeling well. She let you know she would let everyone know. You hoped you didn’t look too bad after crying. 

You stepped out feeling the breeze hit your skin and a few raindrops hit your face hurrying to your car you got in as the rain picked up a little. You took some deep breaths trying to calm down. Maybe you should ask your assistant to drive you home but you didn’t want to ruin her night too. Turning the car on you took the road that headed to Nevermore. You turned the radio on to distract yourself and laughed lightly at the song playing The Chain by Fleetwood Mac. Both because it's her favorite band and the meaning of the song.  Feeling some tears slipping from your eyes again you quickly punched the station button hearing heavy metal blaring out. You wipe your eyes and that’s when you see the deer standing in the road. It was not raining that hard but it made the road slick. Screaming you grab the wheel swerving. You felt your car lift and roll to the ditch leaving you hanging upside down. Before you slipped out of consciousness you thought about how you never told Larissa you loved her when you left.

You didn’t stay unconscious for long, your eyes snapped open and you could feel the rain pouring around you. You looked around thinking about how your body felt and where it hurt, which was everywhere. You felt something warm dripping down your head and you touched it confirming that you were bleeding. You felt like you could move your body but that doesn’t mean nothing is not broken. You take a deep breath thankful that you felt air moving okay it did hurt to breathe a little. You reached over for your seatbelt and waited one second before unbuckling it and falling to the roof of your car. You cried out as you felt something slice into your leg above your knee. You bit back the pain and looked around for your clutch that had your phone seeing it you reached for it wincing in pain. Quickly getting your phone you groaned because there was no service. It was always crappy in this area and with rain it was impossible to make a call. You thought about writing a note to Larissa so she would know you loved her just in case. 

Before you began typing on your phone you saw lights. You knew it was dark. They might not see your car and you begin to climb out of the car ignoring the little cuts you’re getting from the glass. You finally got out of the car and crawled to the road waiving seeing the car slow down you collapsed on the road crying of relief. A person jumped out of the car and came running toward you yelling your name. The last thing you noticed was Vlad before you lost consciousness again.

***

Larissa stood there in shock as you walked away not even responding to her when she told you she loved you. You guys never left without saying you loved each other even if you were upset.  She wondered what you meant by one day you might not be there? Were you going to leave her? The tears and sobs began. She collapsed on the floor grabbing at her hair pulling pieces out of the pins. She knew you were not asking her to give up Nevermore but to just show you that she loved you. She was not doing that and she hated herself for that. She cried like that for what felt like ever. She noticed it had began to rain and now she was worried because she hated the fact you were driving out in the rain. She also couldn’t help but know if she kept her promise she could drive instead. 

Getting up she headed to the bathroom and was shocked by her appearance. She pulled the pins out of her hair letting the rest fall as her curls fell around her shoulders. She started to clean her face but before she could get all her makeup off she heard a knock at the door. She wondered if it was you but knew that it was too soon. Walking towards the door she opened to find the Astronomy teacher who was taken back by Larissas’s appearance. 

“Professor Wilson is everything all right?” Larissa could see fear in the teacher's eyes.

“You need to come with me, Vlad called me, Mrs. Weems has been in a car accident. Vlad found her and she is at the hospital. He asked for me to bring you.” The older lady was frantic at this point.

Larissa felt her world stop at first she didn’t move but when Professor Wilson snapped for her to hurry she grabbed her coat and bag and went with the professor. She was numb. She might have lost you just like you said and she was so stupid she should have been with you. You were not needy and you were neglected by the one person who should have never had. She felt tears fall down her cheek. As they pulled up to the hospital she jumped out of the car running up the steps into the hospital as fast as she could. She ran to the nurse's desk.

“My wife was brought in, she was in a car accident. Weems is her last name,” the nurse looked up and before she could say anything Vlad called out.

“Larissa, she's going to be okay. They are running tests.”

Larissa walked over to Vlad and collapsed in the chair putting her face in her hands. She did this, this was all her fault. She felt Vlad sit next to her and place his hand on her shoulder. “She kept saying for me to tell you she loved you every time she was awake.” Larissa began to sob after a few minutes she used her handkerchief to clean herself up as she saw the doctor.

“Mrs. Weems, your wife is going to be fine. She suffered mostly superficial wounds. Surprisingly nothing is broken, her wrist is sprained. She has a lot of small cuts that will heel up just fine. She does have a head wound but it’s not serious. Though she did have a large deep wound on her thigh it's been sewn up and she is resting. She can go home tomorrow if she stays stable.” 

Larissa breathed a sigh of relief thanking the doctor and rushed towards your room but quietly entered in case you were sleeping. Her heels grabbed your attention though and your eyes caught Larissa’s and she stopped when she saw your eyes filling up with tears and her heart broke for the millionth time that night. She was scared you didn’t want her there. You noticed her hesitation and reached your hand out letting her know it was okay to come close. She quickly closed the gap between the two of you grabbing your hand. You both stared at each other for a moment crying before Larissa spoke.

“I’m so sorry I should have been with you and you’re not needy. I have been neglecting you. I love you so much and…” you placed your hand on her cheek.

“Larissa, it doesn’t matter, I mean it does but we got this second chance to have time to work on us. I love you. I should have stayed home and talked to you. You are my everything too. I know you have other priorities but we have to take care of each other too.” You winced as you moved and Larissa quickly went to help and you grabbed her hand intertwining your fingers with hers. “I’m fine, I should have not been driving while I was upset. I let my mind get to me and told myself that you must be falling out of love with me. I just wanted to get back to you.” You touched a strand of her hair smiling lightly noticing she had left the school not put together. 

Larissa shook her head frantically as more tears fell down her beautiful face. “Darling I’m so sorry I made you feel that way. That is not true. I love you so much more than my own life. I forgot my priorities and that is going to change.” She leaned in to kiss you but hesitated seeing the small cut on your lip but you broke the distance and kissed her lips ignoring the slight pain. 

When she pulled back you smiled at her, “I love you too forever.” You laid there like that for a while you knew you both had to work on a few things but you didn’t mind because your love was too strong to let the chain break.

***

It has been a week since your accident. You forced Larissa to go back to work today because poor Vlad was about to lose his mind. She had promised she would be home at 5pm sharp. Her first promise she made since you were home. You got in the shower and cleaned your wounds which were much better. Your bruises were fading and your wrist hurt a lot less. The only issue you had was the gash on your leg. Getting out you dried off and put on your silk robe and went to the bed. Sitting down you begin to dress your wound on your leg. Before you could finish the job you heard the door to your room open and looked up to see Larissa who had kept her promise. You smiled at her as she smiled back at you.

“Hey I missed you today,” She said, noticing you changing your dressing and frowned quickly coming over to help you. “You should have waited till I got back.” She took over wrapping the gauze around the wound. “Did you think I was going to break my promise?” 

You heard the hurt in her voice and put your hand on her cheek making her look at you as she finished wrapping the wound. “First, I missed you too, and no I trust you. I did it by myself so we could have more time to relax together.” You then leaned forward and kissed Larissa’s lips softly.

You could feel her tension relax and she smiled at you as she kissed you back. “I’m sorry today has been hard being away from you after everything.” She said as she stood up and began to remove her heels, earrings and jacket. She then began to undo her hair. 

“No wait, stop let me take the pins out please.” You smiled and she nodded and unzipped her dress stepping out of it leaving her in her slip. She walked over to you and sat in front of you as you stood up by the bed. She shook her head and softly grabbed your good wrist to pull you back to sit on the bed. You shook your head this time.  “I can stand up for a bit Larissa.” She sighed “ I know I just worry.” She says smiling. You began to pull the pins gently from her hair hearing her moan at the relief of her hair being free. Her curls now fall down her shoulders and you run your fingers through it, smoothing it out hearing her moan again. You squeezed your thighs together feeling your desire run down your leg. It has been too long and you couldn’t help a moan escape your own mouth.

Larissa’s head snapped up towards you and quickly helped you to the bed thinking you were hurt. She stands up frantically. “Where does it hurt?”

You laughed and shook your head. “Larissa, it's okay I’m not hurt.”

She looked at you with such confusion in her eyes. Has it really been that long you thought. “Then what’s wrong?” she asks.

You blushed and looked down, “Its been a long time and when you moaned it just well turned me on,” You felt stupid for being so shy. You also felt like everything was new and to be honest it felt amazing.

Larissa put both her hands on your face and smiled, “Oh darling I have wanted to so badly, I have wanted to show you how much I love you, but you're hurt and I can’t hurt you worse.” She kissed your lips.

“Larissa please I will let you know if you’re hurting me but I need to feel you that way again. Please touch me. Show me.” You pleaded.

Larissa knew she could not deny you not with everything that has happened and she didn’t want to. The things you were saying and the emotion your eyes were showing. What you said in the office broke her heart but it was true she hadn’t really truly touched you in awhile. She nodded, “Alright but this is about you and me showing you how much I love you, we can worry about me later.” She said climbing back on the bed. She helps you lay back against the pillows  and being careful to not hurt you she spreads your legs apart. You gasp at the cool air hitting your core. Larissa stops looking into your eyes to make sure you're okay. You smile and place your hand on hers, your way of always telling her you're okay. Larissa smiles and carefully lays between them supporting most of her weight to not hurt you. Normally you like the pressure of her on you but at this moment you were thankful. You smile at her as she kisses you deeply and your hands go up into her hair and she begins to kiss down your jaw and to your throat, “I love you so much Darling you're so beautiful.” She says and she reaches for the belt to your robe untying it and letting your robe fall to your sides. She looks at the old bruises and looks up at you as if she’s asking if it’s okay to kiss them. She wanted to remind herself of how close she lost you or to make them go away. You nod as she then places soft kisses on the bruises each time thanking the stars you’re still here. She kissed back up to your chest kissing right over your heart ,"I'm so sorry." She whispers looking straight at your heart. You saw the tear fall out of her eye and you reached up to wipe it with your thumb. “I’m here Larissa, it's okay.” You said as she reached up catching your lips in a passionate kiss you moaned into the kiss running your hand down her arm. She pulled back looking into your eyes with so much love you knew the look she was in love with you today just as she was in the beginning.

Larissa began to kiss down to your chest taking your breast into her mouth your head fell back as you moaned laying your hand over hers squeezing letting her know you were okay. After giving your other breast attention she licked from your sternum down to above your throbbing core. She smiles seeing how wet you are, that it’s for just her and no one else. She carefully wraps her arms around your legs being careful as she runs her hand carefully over your bandage placing her hand above it she kisses the bandage. You watched her with your mouth partially open. You place your hand over hers keeping your eyes on her as she kisses on your thighs. Moans were escaping your lips and you couldn’t help but buck your hips a little. She chuckles as she looks up at you catching your eyes. Then with a smile she runs her tongue along your slit keeping her eyes on you. You arch your back as much as your body would allow and it was like an explosion came about your body. The sounds you were making were letting Larissa know what you wanted and she began to suck on your clit and while making sure you're staring into her eyes she slid two fingers inside you and began to curl them like you love so much. You were moaning and panting and an utter mess but you kept your eyes on Larissa’s blue ones with your other hand on her head.  You knew you were getting close and you knew Larissa knew because she replaces her mouth with her thumb on your clit and climbs up kissing you still keeping her weight off of you. When you guys were like this she wanted to be close to you when you came looking into your eyes. 

“Larissa I…..” You took a deep breath trying to get your words out as your head was spinning.

“I know baby it’s okay cum for me.” She whispered in your ear as her fingers moved faster. You felt the sensation start in your stomach and spread throughout your body while keeping your eyes on hers. You let out a sound you have never heard before and kissed Larissa as you came. She pulled her fingers out and you gasped at the motion with how sensitive you were. Larissa pulled back and moved some hair off your face. “I love you so much my darling.” She said kissing on your face running her fingers through your hair.

She laid back and softly pulled you up to her side as you laid your head on her chest. “I love you too.” You whisper. She reaches down and grabs your bad leg resting on her thigh. She rests her hand lightly above your bandage, again something to remind her you're here. You run your finger along her collar bone and smile. It was silent, all that could be heard was your labored breath. It was like all the words you could have said were said in the way she made love to you. You felt your eyes flutter a little as sleep begins to take over. Normally you would be ready to show her but you were to keep your promise also and she wanted tonight to be about you. Also your body was still healing.

Larissa ran her fingers through your hair, “Sleep darling we have later for more.” You hummed and you let sleep take over. Larissa looked down watching you sleep. She had been doing that a lot lately. She furrowed her brow at the about watching you sleep. It seemed creepy. However, right now it doesn't matter she couldn't keep her eyes off of you like you would disappear if she did. She almost lost you and she made a promise to herself and you that she would not do that again.

[hoedamn-eron]

broken heating - part 1

Your breakup with Jake hurt, but running into Steven afterwards hurt more.

Warnings: Reader is in an exclusive relationship with Jake. Inaccurate depictions of DID (only knowledge from the show and some light research). Mentions of alcohol and being drunk (and throwing up). Angst. Not proofread (hence the edit - there was a typo!) Word count: 1,730 GN!Reader, no use of Y/N.

This got away from me a little bit, so apologies if it doesn't flow as well as I aimed it to!

Part 2

Jake Lockley broke up with you on a Thursday evening. You’d gotten in late from work, and it had been pouring with rain. You’d left your umbrella at the flat, completely trusting the weather report that morning, so you’d come in soaked, dripping on the wooden floor of the flat. Jake was sat on the couch, watching you with hard eyes. It was odd, but you didn’t question it. He hadn’t fronted for a while, he was probably feeling a little out of it.

“Sorry I’m late, have you eaten?” you close the door behind you and place your bag on the floor. “We can get a pizza in, if you want, my treat since I’ve kept you waiting – “

“We should end this.”

It had taken you by surprise, of course it had. You thought you were both in a good place, you’d been talking about moving into the flat. You had asked him why, and he’d shaken his head at you, merely stating that his way of life just couldn’t fit you in. Of course you’d called bullshit, Steven and Marc didn’t seem to have any issues with an extra person being around. This was something specifically Jake.

You had fought, and cried, and eventually, you left. You would give him a few days to think about it, maybe he’d just had a bad day. You’d turned up at the flat after work on the Monday after that awful Thursday, only for Marc to be fronting. He didn’t say a word to you, his eyes rolling back slightly as Jake came to the surface. He just gave you that same hard stare as he asked why you were there.

“Because…I thought we should talk about Thursday – “

“I don’t have anything else to say.”

You blinked at him, the tears pooling in your eyes quickly. You hadn’t even made it into the flat. “So you…you just want to end this? After two years?”

Jake nodded and you take a step back, your chest suddenly feeling too tight.

“You can come back tomorrow and collect your things, Marc will be back by then.”

And he just shut the door in your face. You left sobbing.

You’d sent your friends to collect your stuff. You couldn’t face Marc. They’d told you it was an in and out job, that Jake had already gathered your things for you to collect. Seeing your broken expression when they dropped the box off at your own flat, your friends took you out as soon as they could, and got you drunk, but of course that didn’t make you feel any better. In fact, you threw up all over the cab home and had to pay extra for clean up. You stumbled into your flat and barely closed and locked the door before you collapsed to the floor, already crying.

That had been nearly three months ago.

You’d tried moving on, really, but you couldn’t stop thinking about him. You were nervous to get cabs anywhere in the city in case he was the one driving it (and also you vowed to never get a cab again after the throw up fiasco). So you’d taken to getting the bus and the tube more often than not. At least you wouldn’t run into Jake…you didn’t think you’d be able to manage that. You mentally berated yourself every morning, telling yourself that you didn’t need him, that you should be angry at him, but you weren’t fooling anyone. He’d claimed your heart and crushed it in front of you.

You woke up to yourself wrapped up in your duvet like a burrito. The heating had gone in your flat, and the landlord was taking his sweet time getting someone to fix it, so you’d been going to your friend’s for showers and hot water. Luckily, she didn’t live too far away.

You sent her a quick text, letting her know you’d be on your way in the next half an hour. You daydreamed about having hot water again, not having to keep relying on your friend. You made a mental note to contact your landlord again for an update on the boiler situation as you left your flat, duffle bag in hand with your toiletries and towel. You thought that it would be a quick and easy journey, that you’d use her shower for twenty minutes then go back home.

You hadn’t bet on running into Steven.

He spotted you at the same time you spotted him. You couldn’t help that your heart skipped a beat at seeing him, just being reminded of your last conversation with Jake. You didn’t know what to do. Do you say hello? Do you just ignore him and continue to your friends? You didn’t really want to talk to Steven when you were in need of a shower and knowing that you hadn’t moved on whatsoever after the breakup.

It seems like Steven had already made that decision for you because he’s walking over, a bag in his hands of the bookshop he’d just walked out of. You couldn’t escape now. What were you supposed to say? Why was he so far from his flat? Why did he have to come to that book shop?

Steven greets you with your name. “How…how are you?”

You avert your eyes, looking at the ground as you answer. “I’m okay. How are you?”

Steven nodded, giving you a sympathetic look. “Yeah…I’m doing all right. Been up to much?”

You shake your head. “Not really. Work’s kept me busy, so I haven’t had much time for myself. Got yourself a new book?”

Steven gave a nod, looking down at the bag in his hand. “Yes, about Egypt, obviously. This was the only bookshop that had it in stock. Would have gone…somewhere else, otherwise.”

You stood in an awkward silence before you cleared your throat, quickly glancing at him. “Well, I suppose I should get going.”

Steven nodded. “Right, yeah. Okay. Got errands?”

You mentally groaned. Why did he have to ask you questions, why is he making small talk? Can’t he see that your heart was still shattered? He might not be Jake but he bloody looked like him, and that still hurt. “My hot water’s gone so I’ve been showering at my friends until it’s fixed. She doesn’t live far so…” you trail off, not really needing to go into specifics. Couldn’t he see you wanted nothing but the Earth to open up and swallow you whole?

“Oh. That’s a bit of bad luck, init?”

“Yeah, suppose it is.” You gave him a quick smile. “Best be off then.”

As you went to walk past him, feeling like you could start breathing again, Steven calls out to you, “If it’s any consolation, I think he’s an idiot.”

You pause, grimacing before looking back at Steven. “I really don’t want to talk about it, Steven.”

“I know…and I know it’s not my place to say – “

“And I say this in the nicest way possible, but you’re right. It’s not your place to say anything. It wasn’t your relationship.” You didn’t mean to sound harsh, but that was how Jake left you. Harsh. “I don’t even know what I’ve done wrong. He just tossed me out like I was nothing. We were talking about moving in together and now you’re here trying to make small talk, and I can’t do this now, Steven. I’ve just started to get my life back together.”

That wasn’t true but you wanted him to think that you were doing okay.

Steven nodded. “I’m sorry.”

He sounded so broken. Why was he doing this? It was like you’d gotten a divorce and Steven was the child in the middle of it. He didn’t have to explain anything, it wasn’t his doing that Jake broke up with you. You should have left your flat five minutes later, and you could have avoided this part of your day; Steven would have left the bookshop and gone straight home, and you would have made it to your friends with no issues (well, with no more issues).

You feel the tears burning your eyes but you refuse to cry in front of Steven. You bite your bottom lip because you can feel the burning in your throat of a sob threatening to come out. You sniffed, turning away from Steven so he didn’t see the look on your face. “Don’t apologise. As long as you’re all okay, then I can’t ask for much more. I have to go.”

Steven sighed as he nodded. “Okay, yeah, I have to go too. Layla’s in town, so…”

You nod, before taking a deep breath and giving Steven a fake smile. “I’ll see you when I see you, I suppose.”

Before Steven could even get another word in, you are already taking off to your friends flat, not letting the tears fall until you were safely in her building. You gave yourself the time to cry in the lift to her floor (which was thankfully empty this early in the day). Your friend had silently questioned your tear-stained cheeks but you just shook your head. You’d feel better after a shower, and truthfully, it helped a little.

You replayed your conversation with Steven for the next day. You wish you’d been more indifferent, more uninterested, that it had gone a different way. You wish you didn’t blow up the way you did, it wasn’t Steven’s fault, but you couldn’t help but feel contempt towards him. Why didn’t you ask if he knew why Jake ended things? Steven wouldn’t lie to you. Why didn’t you think to ask? There was nothing you could change, but you had the right to know.

But, you’d had your first interaction with the system since the breakup, and you got through it. You had managed to walk away from it, even if you had wanted it to go differently. Now maybe you could put it behind you and try and move on, but you were a little more careful about your surroundings when travelling to your friend’s for a shower.

That was until your landlord sent an email a few days later. He told you he didn’t appreciate you sending 'your fella' to his office demanding to fix your boiler but he’d get someone on it.

Your heating was fixed that afternoon.

[agendratum]

so i finished a book. gideon the ninth. holy shit. holy shit both because i actually managed to finish a single book and because of that ending. god

idk if it’s my new eyes that allowed me to actually read again or just a temporary second wind, but it will be hilarious if after all these years what it takes to finally break through my reader block (and a new wave of it, reader block: electric boogaloo) is a fucking eye surgery that allowed me to read without contacts or glasses

but this is not a sob story about my eyes, this is me being in fucking awe of this ending. seriously, i was afraid that after finishing this book the only commentary i would have would be about the shitty russian edition. listen, this book is great, maybe with a pretty slow start, but it’s a lot of fun, it’s good, it’s intriguing. but god. fucking. damn it. the russian edition sucks ass. it’s just god awful. shit like that should be illegal in publishing business

anyway, the book is still good and i enjoyed it tremendously, even if by the end of it i had to take a pencil in my hands and constantly fix annoying typos, mistakes, just straight up bad translations, this-was-clearly-a-swear-word-in-the-original-why-did-you-translate-it-like-this bits and all the other shit to ease my soul a little bit

but the ending. the ending reminded me why it’s so difficult to read books when you’re crying. (it’s cause you can’t see the letters, a crucial part of being able to read)

i don’t think i have coherent thoughts in the moment about anything that happened, but i have to say, that gideon nav is the most relatable protagonist of them all, cause, as a fellow sapphic, i too fall in love with literally every single woman i meet. harrow takes second place in being relatable, cause she fell in love with a corpse of a woman that almost killed god (she seems to have a type)

i definitely want to continue reading the series, but now i have to make a difficult decision - do i buy next book from the same publisher and again read it with a pencil in my hand, cringing from every terrible mistake they made, or do i buy it from like ebay for a 3x bigger price? (e-books aren’t an option, i already have enough c-novels that i can only read in e-format, i’m not expanding this list by adding books that i can buy physically that are written in a language i know. i’m just not a big fan of e-books)

but for now i can read something else?? i guess?? probably?? unless this is all a dream and i still can’t read

oh yeah, and i would love to add the line that sold this book to me:

lesbian necromancers in space

[aspenflower17]

Finding You (Part Two of ??)

Hello again! I'm back with the second installment of my new series, Finding You, which was previously Untitled.  If you want to be tagged when I update this series, just comment below :)

 Part One Link

In this part, we finally get to Satan and what he's been doing during all this. It's not really a happy chapter. You have been warned.

I think it's important to note that I am American. In this part, there is a funeral. Since I don't know much about other cultures or religions way of holding funerals, I just wrote what I know (and that's very little actually. I've only been to two full funerals. I’d be happy to answer any questions you might have). Feel free to change the story up in your head to match your own funerary customs.

As always, likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated and help me endure the torture that is typing up this story from my notebook 😒 I also tried to make sure the editing on here was good. Any DM's for typos or things that didn't make sense are appreciated so I can fix them (please be kind though 🙂 ). I did write some of the funeral disjointed on purpose, trying to recreate how I was feeling when I attended the funerals I did.

Tags (for you lovely people <3 ): @obey-me-trashshshshsh, @naimena

F! MC/ Satan

Word count: 3,195

Warnings/triggers: ANGST!, description of funeral, loosing someone dear to you, some violence at the end though nothing too graphic (he is the avatar of wrath after all)

Satan had felt when Mc died. His pact mark had begun to glow and heat up. A terrible rending feeling in his chest, then… Nothing. He couldn’t move, fear completely paralyzing him. No, it couldn’t be…

Then he heard Mammon scream. Then Asmo. Then Levi. Soon, the whole House of Lamentation was filled with wailing. Satan scrambled for his D.D.D, hurriedly dialing Mc. No, no, no, no, no. He had just talked to her. She’d been fine.

“Hi! This is Mc. I can’t get to the phone-”

“No… No, no, no, NO!” Satan screamed, throwing his phone at the wall. Satan sunk to his knees in a sobbing heap.

The brothers never got an answer to what exactly had happened to Mc. Diavolo had confirmed she had passed, but he couldn’t get any details since she hadn’t been sent to the Devildom. He had managed to find out when and where the funeral would be, if they wanted to go. They would only be able to attend the graveside service though, since the viewing was being held in a church. 

Each brother attended the graveside service. Satan stood stoically as the casket was brought out of the hearse. He was wondering if he would be able to get Asmo to charm everyone in attendance so he’d be able to see her face one last time, when he felt his brothers all shifting around uncomfortably. He realized the religious figure he’d tuned out was quoting scripture at the congregation, promises that Mc was now in the hands of God. He decided to tune him out again. Then the casket was being lowered. He had to be physically restrained from going out and pulling her out as the first fistfuls of dirt were being thrown on the casket. How could they do that to her? A voice murmured a reminder that she was gone, and they were just saying goodbye. Well, he needed to say goodbye too. Maybe that wasn’t such a good idea.

Next thing Satan knew, he was at the corner of the grave, a flower he’d had a death grip on since they had started out from the Devildom in his hand. Her favorite. A shiny wood box met his eyes from 6 feet below. Was she really there? He couldn’t feel her presence from his pact mark. Where was she? When was he going to wake up?

The other demon lords watched their brother loose the fight with his emotions. He sobbed, falling on his haunches. Six hands found a part of Satan to touch, tears in their eyes as well.

“It’s time ta let ‘er go,” Mammon’s stuffy voice came from next to him. Satan looked over to find Mammon had removed his sunglasses. His eyes and face were wet.

“I… I don’t think I can,” Satan stated, tears falling freely.

“I know. I know,” Mammon said, pulling his brother in for a hug. Each of the rest of the brothers joined in the hug, pulling the fourth and second born up with them. After a bit, they all let go, moving forward to give Mc their own token and say their last words. When Belphie had finished, Lucifer put his hand on Satan’s shoulder.

“Mc’s waiting for her flower,” Lucifer said, gesturing towards the grave. Satan nodded, and walked forward. He fiddled with the stem for a second, trying to find the words to say, “Mc… Huh, I don’t actually know what to say… I guess, I… I thought I’d find some way to be with you forever. I never thought… I’ve never felt anything like you before Mc, and I don’t think I ever will again… Please… Please, if it’s possible, come back to me. Please,” he uttered as he dropped the flower onto the casket, and walked back to his brothers. He knew everyone was looking at him, confused and curious through their sorrow. They all stayed until the end of the funeral, when Satan turned to Lucifer, “I think it might be time to go.”

“If you’re sure, that would probably be the smartest course of action,” Lucifer nodded, the humans looking questioningly at the demons. The religious man from earlier was actually making his way towards them.

“I’ll visit her later when there aren’t so many people around,” Satan stated as he started walking. The brothers exchanged looks before following him.

The next couple months were quiet at the House of Lamentation. The brothers did the bare minimum required to keep the household going. They were all absent from RAD and Lucifer even took some time off from the endless amount of paperwork he usually did, to grieve. Mc may have been dating Satan, but the rest of the brothers loved her too, and missed her greatly. The only time the brother’s saw Satan was when he was raiding the fridge, finally giving into his stomach pleading for food. He still managed to look somewhat put together, though his eyes were dead and haunted. He had retreated so far into his mind if one of them managed to get him to acknowledge their presence they counted it as a win. He was a shell of himself, and everyone was worried.

Time marches on though, and life slowly returned to normal. One day, Lucifer had gone to RAD and come home with some random paperwork that needed to be done. Another, Asmo was going out to update his wardrobe because his was terribly behind the trends. Each brother found their own way of coping. Beel eventually asked if they could all have family dinner again. They all actually made an appearance, though Satan left once he was done eating.

Though he wasn’t doing well, Satan had been visiting Mc’s grave at least once a week if not more. Lucifer had granted him access to the portal indefinitely, a gesture of kindness that did not go unnoticed. At first he just cried quietly at her grave, not able to produce a coherent sentence. It slowly evolved into him reading her her favorite books or some snatch of poetry that reminded him of her. Eventually he was able to talk freely as he once had. Sometimes it was a mixture of the three. His brothers never saw him cry though. Since Mc had been the only one that seemed to truly understand his feelings, she was the only one allowed to see him cry. Through this self therapy, Satan started to heal. He started sitting in the common room with his brothers in the evening, or snorting at some joke that had been thrown around the table at dinner.

As the years passed, Satan would still visit Mc’s grave, though the frequency dropped. He slowly learned to deal with his sorrow, just like he had with love when he’d first fallen for Mc. It was much harder, his wrath often informing his depression. She became his support again, even if she wasn’t able to respond to help him through his feelings. He always visited on her birthday, bringing her a bouquet of flowers and some small piece of literature, art or playing her some music.

One year, while reading her some Shakespeare, someone came up behind him, “She appreciates it. I know she does.”

Satan stopped reading instantly, whipping around to see a woman who looked quite a lot like Mc, “Excuse me?”

“Coming to see her every year. You have great taste in art by the way,” the woman said, sitting down besides Satan, looking fondly but sadly at the headstone.

“Um, thank you. May I ask who you are?”

“Only if I can ask you the same thing,” the woman responded, smiling at him wryly. The look was so similar to one Mc would give him, he found himself instantly trusting this woman, “I’m S… Stan,” he answered, giving the nickname Mc come up with, when he had asked if he’d ever be able to meet her family. She’d laughed when she'd thought of it, saying she could never introduce him as Satan.

“Stan? I was wondering. She met you when she took that trip out of the country right?”

“Yeah… Did she tell you about me?”

“Oh, you want me to remember that far back? Hmm… I seem to remember her talking about how smart you are, “She chuckled, her eyes far away, “I remember one time, I went in to talk to her and she was furiously reading some book. When I asked what she was reading she told me she couldn’t talk to me right then, needing to catch up to where you were in the story. It was a silly little moment, but she looked so determined… I do know she was in love with you. Though she only really told me about you shortly before she died, I remember the look in her eyes when she talked about you. Telling me about how drawn she was the moment she laid eyes on you. You know what a romantic she was. As her Mother, you can guess how excited I was to meet you, especially after watching her get her heart broken before... You’re exactly her type, you know. Tall, blonde, smart. She was even thinking of introducing you to us. Then it happened.”

Satan didn’t realize the tears were flowing until she looked over and wiped a tear away. She continued, “I was disappointed when I didn’t see anyone that matched your description during the viewing. I don't know what kept you, but I am glad you made it for the casket lowering. I was surprised to see your brothers though, if that's who they were. You all look so different… Anyways, I’m sure she would've loved the intrigue you brought to her service. A handsome stranger, distraught at the thought of life without her. She always did love big, dramatic displays of affection.”

“You remember me from the funeral?”

“Who could forget? It became a topic of conversation in our family once we could all talk about her without crying. Who was that blonde guy? Why wasn’t he at the viewing? Who were the other men he was with? Did she secretly get married while she was out of the country? So many theories, each one more ludicrous then the last. It seems her best friend and I were the only ones to connect the dots as to your identity.”

“Ah. I’m a little embarrassed now,” Satan admitted sheepishly.

“Don’t be. I was extremely bitter after the funeral for a long time. How could my beautiful daughter be taken away from me? Parents were never meant to outlive their kids. I’ve never understood the reason people take photographs at funerals. Most of the time, there’s so much makeup caked onto the body they’re almost unrecognizable. There’s a photo of you from the funeral I actually saved though. You’re looking at the casket with such a look of longing and loss, just waiting for her to come back to you. That photo actually brought me a lot of peace after she was gone. Your look perfectly encapsulated how I felt at the time. It also helped me to know she was able to know that much love before she left. I never want you to feel embarrassed for showing that kind of love to my daughter.”

" She is and always will be the only one for me.”

Mc’s mother laughed, “Oh, you’re still young and quite handsome. You’ll find someone else. In fact, you don’t look like you’ve aged a day from the first time I saw you. You must’ve made some kind of deal with the devil,” she joked.

“Ah. Very funny. Yes. A deal with the devil. Haha.”

Mc's mother looked at him, slightly concerned, "Well, it seems I've made things awkward. I’ll leave you two alone now.”

“Oh, that’s okay. You don’t have to leave on my behalf,” Satan protested.

“It’s alright. I live close by, and I come and visit fairly often. Maybe I’ll see you around sometime. Good night, Stan”

“Good night, and… thank you.”

Mc’s mother smiled at him and walked away.

“Well, Mc, I guess I have your mother’s approval now,” Satan joked, turning back to his Shakespeare.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Remind me why we’re here again,” Satan said, only slightly interested in the antics Mammon was trying to drag him into.

“Tryin’ to get some sucker… er, customer ta part with their Grimm, obviously,” Mammon explained, leaning back in his chair and turning to face Satan and Belphie.

“What does that have to do with us?” Belphie mumbled, eyes more closed than open.

“Well, everythin’! You two are super smart, so I need ya ta…” As Mammon continued talking, Satan wondered, not for the first time, if Mammon actually ever intended to make money with his schemes, or if he had simply found a way to work through his sin without causing too many problems. He had to understand how likely his plans were to fail… Right?

A bump on his shoulder announced Belphie had fallen asleep. Since Mc had helped him work through some of the trauma he had held onto since Lilith’s death, Belphie had gotten comfortable with his brothers again, growing especially close with Satan, their mutual dislike of Lucifer giving them something to bond over. When Mc had died, Satan had found Belphie to be the most supportive of his brothers. Though they'll lost had lost Lilith, Satan had found Belphie the most sympathetic to what he was going through.

“Oi! Listen when I’m talkin’ ta ya! Ya both younger than me, so you shouldn't really show me more respect.”

Belphie lifted his head, and rolled his eyes, “Mammon, do you really want me to do you a favor? How about this? Maybe, don’t explain how you’re going to con people in front of those you want to con.”

Mammon looked around worriedly, finally noticing the glares he was getting, before rounding on Belphie, “I was just explainin’ the plan ta ya and Satan cuz ya both asked again! If ya didn’ wan’ an explanation, ya shouldn’ have asked!”

Belphie was about to retort, when he got a self satisfying smirk, “Oh, dearest big brother, looks like you’ve got your first customer.”

Mammon went pale, turning around slowly to find a demon about as tall as Lucifer staring Mammon down, obviously angry.

Very interested in how Mammon was going to worm his way out of this one, Satan turned to say something to Belphie when he caught sight of a familiar hat. 

“Belphie, correct me if I'm wrong, but isn’t that Luke?”

“Hmm? You mean the chihuahua?... Oh, I think it is. Why do you suppose he’s here? I never heard we were getting any visitor."

"It's a little terrifying just how much you know. You're like Asmo that way."

"It's not my fault everyone just assumes I'm sleeping while they're talking."

"Belphie, you know enough, I think you store information while you're asleep."

"Huh… I'd never thought of that before… Who’s that other angel with him?”

“I don’t know… She kinda looks familiar though, don’t you think?”

Belphie looked over at him, arching an eyebrow, “Do you know any angels younger than Luke?”

“Well, no, but… She just looks so familiar.”

“I guess… Hey, you’re missing Mammon squirm.”

“You watch and enjoy. I’m going to go talk to them,” Satan said, clearly distracted, as he got up out of his seat.

“Where do you think you’re going?” a large body planted itself in front of Satan. The demon was tall, but so was Satan. He was able to look him right in the eyes.

“What’s it to you?”

“You’re with the guy that was going to scam us right?”

“You were actually going to fall for his scheme? Really? Well, the first step to getting the help you need is admitting you have a problem. Now, move. I’ve got places to be.”

“Not so fast Princess. You’re not getting away that easy,” the demon put out his hand and grabbed Satan’s shirt.

Satan looked down at the offending hand, and then at the demon, his horns already starting to sprout, “I’d suggest you unhand me if you want to keep your kneecaps.”

The demon laughed, a cocky smile on his face, “Ya think just cuz you’re an elite ya can take me? What makes you so special huh? Ya just think ya so great, just because ya pretty. Am I right?”

The rest of Satan’s demon form appeared, his eyes glowing, a menacing aura surrounding him, “No. I know I can take you because I’m the Avatar of Wrath. Maybe, if you weren’t such a dunce you’d have noticed that,” and with that Satan grabbed his hand in a bone crushing grip. The demon started yowling, trying to twist out of his grasp. It only made Satan increase the pressure. He leaned in right next to the demon’s ear, “Next time you pick a fight, understand who you’re dealing with first.”

He swept the demon’s legs out from under him, and put him in a wrist lock submission hold. The demon was now yelling for mercy, desperately trying to break Satan’s hold. Satan looked around to see if he could still see Luke, but realized quickly that wasn’t going to be possible. Both of his brother’s were currently dismantling whatever demon had decided to pick a fight with them. The rest of the area had erupted into chaos, most demon’s running away. No one wanted to be around when one of the Avatar’s were fighting, much less three! A couple idiots were trying to get in on their fight though.

Sighing, Satan leaned down again, “Well, well, well. Looks like you’re losing your kneecaps today.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Satan muttered to himself, picking up bits of trash that had been left by the fleeing demons. Because of his involvement in the fight, he had to clean up the entire park. Trying to explain to Lucifer he'd been trying to walk away apparently didn't help when you'd put five demons in the hospital before he'd shown up to stop you.

“Well, Lucifer, if you could’ve just kept your cool, you’d still be prancing around with Simeon and Michael up in the Celestial Realm, making friendship bracelets, painting each other little rocks and braiding each other’s hair as you giggle about how… Huh?” Satan crouched down, noticing a small foot peeking out from a pile of leaves. Moving around to the other side of the pile, he saw it was the small angel that had been with Luke.

Up close, the feeling he'd met her before was even stronger. She looked so familiar, but he knew he’d never seen her before. The youngest angel he’d ever met was Luke. Maybe she was from the foggy memories of Lucifer’s he still had? That was forever ago though. She should've grown up quite a bit by now...

His musings were interrupted as the small angel moving. She winced as she sat up, holding her head, “Wha… What happened? Luke? Where are you?, then noticing Satan, “Oh, hello there. I’m sorry, but could you help me find my big brother?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part Three Link

[bereft-of-frogs]

Doctor Strange, Antman and the Wasp, Avengers Infinity War and Loki

I hope those are not too many :-)

not at all!

doctor strange - describe the process that leads up to publishing your fics. do you outline the whole thing? obsessively edit it? create moodboards?

It definitely depends! There are like 3 tiers:

- most complicated: aka multiple outlines/drafts - ex. ‘alone amidst the ruins’. For big complicated things I like making multiple outlines, usually one ‘conversational’ one right at the top of the document where I in paragraph form explain the plot like I’m explaining the plot to a friend, then a point-by-point plot outline (like A. Prologue....i. scene one...B. Chapter One...i. scene one...ii. scene two....), then a ‘worst’ draft, and a second/final draft. I usually do all the prep work and the first draft in Scrivener, and then the second draft back in Pages

- medium: similar to the first, except it’s all in Pages, the ‘point-by-point plot outline’ is in [brackets] right in the document. This is the most common.

- easiest: I usually just like....have the idea, write the idea, for the short fics (and also the not-so-short but kind of scary ones where I’m like ‘hm idea’ and then like 12 hours later I have 6k words and am like....��uhhh ok thanks brain u ok?’. ex. ‘the sleepwalkers’ iirc...haven’t had one of those in a while, I miss them). I’ll often write it out of order, starting with the most vivid scenes and then going back and filling in plot-necessary info

For all fics, I usually just reread a few times (until it gets to the point where I’m like ‘oh no it’s boring’), then format for AO3 in the google doc script thing, but even then I usually still have to go through and fix italics but that’s okay because the change in font usually makes random typos start to stand out, then I turn on Grammarly for a last typo pass (lol or really, let’s be real, rethinking some of those commas pass...) and then post! and run away. XD

I don’t really make moodboards...I do often research stuff while brainstorming/while the idea is percolating. A few I have actually read nonfiction books for inspiration (’alone amidst the ruins’, the medieval-ish fantasy AU). I do feel like I need a new way to get inspired for a couple fics I’m feeling like are sort of slogs/I’m stuck, maybe I’ll consider moodboards. Or playlists.

I don’t know, for people who do make moodboards or other creative inspiration for fics, any advice?

ant-man and the wasp - what’s your favorite type of comment to recieve?

I mean here’s where I should say ‘all comments’ because technically yes, all comments, even just short ones, but yes the best comments are the long ones with yelling and where you can tell the reader was really engaged. I’m most likely to respond to those because, that one post going around is true, honestly it’s not about just getting comments, I mostly just want to yell about my fics. XD (I’m sorry if I haven’t responded - there’s one in particular right now in my inbox I’ve been meaning to respond to for like...several weeks, maybe I’ll do that when I get back from my run.)

avengers: infinity war - do you have any fanfic recs?

I glanced through my bookmarks which are a mess but you can trawl through there. I usually respond with ‘he’s been dead for years’ because I still think it’s one of the best concept+executions of a fic I’ve ever seen (and also #calledout it is sooo accurate when I first read it I had to check whether or not it was roleplaying). And also unironically whenever someone asks me about depictions of death/funerals in media, internally I think ‘**sob** jacob and esau say their goodbyes’ before out-loud saying something about like...The Haunting of Hill House or whatever XD

loki - what’s the most outlandish (or it could just be your favorite) au you’ve ever read/wanted to write/thought of?

Hmmm. I don’t usually do big AUs unless there’s a reason for it, which is how I ended up with the “all-human AU” **cough** of dark underground//violent sky, I guess the medieval-ish fantasy AU is the most dramatic I’ve ever written. I’m honestly a bigger fan of dramatic canon divergence AUs. I would like to finish my ‘Loki wins Avengers 1′ AU one day, or the Sam/Bucky apocalypse AU (where the other set of people get snapped) but inspiration has currently stalled, I’m trying to be patient with it. :-)

[mcu asks]

[just-some-random-blogger]

So... Haha... I Like You...

DAY6 Park Jaehyung x Reader Summary: Jae was that nice guy that owed you big time; you didn't mean to catch feelings for him. Word Count: 2k+ Warnings: Fake Boyfriend AU, College AU, lying, cheating, pining, fluff, angst, etc.

A/N: sooooooooo this happened and then I made this edit and now i just have to write gosh i love jae so much. THE EDIT IS MINE AND SORRY ABOUT THE TYPOS I HAVE AMMSKSKSKM

I had exactly 28 polaroid pictures of him.

Twenty eight.

20 + 8

I mean to take five pictures of him, and yet things got so out of hand.

I really, really didn't mean to...

And you're probably rolling your eyes, because how in the world could I say this? How in the world was I planning to get out of this alive?

"Your socks are down again," a voice jolts me out of my running locomotive thoughts. My shoulders jolt suddenly at the readmission to reality. I tilt my head up and find Jae, giving me a blank look as a candy stick sticks out of the corner of his mouth. His lips are unnaturally red because of this strongly strawberry scented lolly, and though he does nothing but look at me, I feel my pulse in my chest and my palms begin to sweat.

I turn down to my feet and find my left leg has a loose sock unlatched on my calf, sitting by my ankles. I bend down quickly and pull it up.

He clicks his tongue, "we could go sock shopping today. If you're still to stingy to buy those socks you wanted, I'll buy them for you because I feel physical pain when I see your ugly bacon socks that can't even do one job."

My eyes flick back up to his face. Jae's stupidly adorable face that I shouldn't think is remotely cute, come on!

I part my lips and begin to think of something to say-- something like he was a stupid boy for making his lips sugary and shiny like that.

I suppose I give a disgruntled look because he furrows his brows and makes my heart race faster.

"You good, sweetie?" he says purely out of mastery, and not because he thinks I'm his sweetie.

I pull a sour face and gulp roughly. I look away and ruffle my hair, "shut up, we're going to be late."

This crowded hallways was the perfect place to lose this hiccup.

I slam my locker door and clench my binder on hand. I pull on my backpack string and storm off into the crowd.

Jae doesn't get it and stands there with a incredulous and confused face. He pulls out the lollipop from his mouth and guesses it's probably the distance the other has in hardened sugar again. He chucks it into a can and calls, "wait up!"

Jae is too quick, and too damn long-legged, my gosh. He is also a slinky skinny boy and goes through the crowd and gets to me no biggie. A lil out of breath but no biggie.

He releases a sigh and catches my gaze.

"I threw the lollipop away," he says, as if it solved the theory of time travel and takes my hand.

My beating pulse is in my clammy hand, and this moron takes it into his large one. He does it because it's what he's been doing for me. He thinks absolutely nothing of it, but right now in this moment, it hits hard. It brings calamity to my mind, and I can't decide if I am more giddy that he is holding my hand or hurt because he can do it because it's nothing.

He looks around, off to his side to dodge people. Jae again thinks nothing of his actions as he tightens his grip and leads me off to our next subject.

This damned subject is the reason for this all. Had he not had a hard time in his homework, had he not slipped out of the passing rate so bad, had physics not been the bane of his existence, then maybe I wouldn't have had to tutor him, maybe he wouldn't have been so desperate to ask the "smartest kid in class" for tutoring lessons, and maybe he wouldn't have even talked to me that day I had the crummiest time of my life.

And sure, I guess maybe had that not happened, I would still be a train wreck too preoccupied in my jerk ex Younghyun.

Maybe I wouldn't have found someone else to vent to about my stupid, trivial, fickle, cliché sob story.

But ultimately, I guess it's all his fault!

Had that stupid brat not hooked up with my best friend- ex stupid best friend,

then--

Jae tugs me close as me go through a thick crowd of people. His grip on my hand is tight and firm, but it isn't strangling, it doesn't hurt. It feels secure. It feels... safe.

I look at our joined hands.

... I don't really wish to be stuck with friends and boyfriends who'd think of doing that.

Jae makes a panicked sound, "gAh! I saw mister Kim walk towards our classroom!"

He and I begin to make it through and down the left hallway. His long legs cut back to keep in pace with me as we jog up to our room. We both release a breath, and Jae finally lets go of me to open the door. My hand feels cold.

I don't know why he has to smile when he opens the door for me. I give him no reaction and immediately tread off to hide from his hot eyes.

I don't particularly know where my feet are taking me, but apparently it's to the wrong side of the room because Jae pulls me back by my backpack, causing me to crash into his chest.

I grunt and feel heat trickle up my neck and ears. He isn't looking at me when I look up at him. Jae airily says, "not there," and straightens me up.

My face burns when he shoves me under his arm. My nose is intoxicated by his stupid candy scent and cologne. My stomach begins to dance like a washing machine.

Because of my preoccupation to my own bodily reactions, if goes unbeknownst to me where exactly Jae is looking, or glaring exactly.

I do notice his jaw clench, but I do not know it's because of the putrid sight he sees.

Younghyun watches a few rows away. Jae and he give each other looks. The later clenches his jaw and tries to make eye contact another. Jae is too protective and keeps everything under his arm. He makes sure to show full distaste and turns to give what he's protecting a kiss.

A kiss.

I said he kissed my head.

I turn to him and feel like a tomato. Jae smiles at me and leads me to the other corner of the room.

I can't do this.

Mr. Kim does his lesson.

He talks about theorems and angles.

He removes his coat halfway because he was getting into his discussion.

And even though all I could to is watch, or barely look at the professor in front of the class, blabbering on and on about equations, I was unable to actually listen or register any information, because, dammit, Jae was looking at me.

He had his right cheek in his hand, and his elbow on his desk and he was looking at me.

It was not intense.

It was bored.

He kept pointlessly bothering me, as in he found it boring to even annoy me.

But I was cut into a statue because of it.

All I knew was Mr. Kim was opening and closing his mouth, and Jae had his hands extremely near my face as he fiddled with the tips of my hair.

"I'm hungry," he mutters.

"Go eat something then," I reply, too snippy, too fast.

He takes a moment to reply and I make the grave mistake of thinking that I've upset him. He is fine. Jae is simply looking at the hair he was fiddling with as he thought of an answer.

The moment we made eye contact and I felt my stomach drop, I knew.

I couldn't do any of this anymore.

"I kinda want a burger and some fries."

I turn away from him and reply, "then go get some."

He drops my hair and props both of his elbows on the desk, bored, "okay."

I turn to the direction opposite to Jae and feel the sunshine through the window telling me to jump out while I can.

I don't.

The bell rings.

Jae takes my hand again once I have all my things tidied up. He takes my binder from me and begins to lead me out of the door. He makes sure I walk in front of him as we do so.

He wraps his arms around me fron behind and rests his chin in my head, "I'm sorry you have to deal with that."

Deal with what?

What is he talking about?!

Does he mean the hair fiddling?

Why would he apologize?

"My offer to break his teeth still stands, you know."

Wait. He's going to break teeth?

Break who's teeth?

Hold on.

Does he mean Younghyun?

"Who else would I be talking about?" he scoffs out from above me.

"pssh, I didn't know the loser was here."

.... and I'm speaking to myself aloud now.

We make it out of our building and the sun is just spotlighting the tree's leaves just right.

Jae's holding my hand again.

I'm dragging my feet.

Why doesn't he mind that I'm basically being such dead weight to him? I look out and see a girl coo at the sight if him.

Jae catches it and smiles because he hears the part were she says they looks so cute.

Suddenly, he remembers.

"Oh hey," Jae stops and pulls out something from his bag. I look at the hand he held as he then hands me something. "I figured since we used up a lot of your films, you'd need some more."

I take the small paper box from him and stare at it like oblivion.

Jae chuckles, "don't need to thank me for being such a good sugar daddy when I took up most of the pictures you have anyway."

My cheeks burn at the fact he called himself a sugar daddy.

It is in my silence and lack of teasing or mocking banter Jae knits his brows. He straightens up and fixes his own bag, "hey are you okay? You've been uncharacteristically meek today."

I release a breath as I turn to my feet.

Jae is really concerned at this point.

I fake a smile and turn to him, "yeah, no, I'm good. Mr. Kim's new discussion really got me."

"... but he did a recap of last week's discussion."

I am caught off guard. I chuckle nervously. I scratch the back of my head and rack my brain for an excuse. I think of nothing and play it off weakly.

Jae straightens up. He is about to speak but I beat him to it, "actually Jae, there's been something bugging me lately."

He knits his brows and crosses his arms seriously.

My breath hitches.

I gulp, "I think we can finally call it even."

There is a moment of silence

Jae blinks and shakes his head slowly. "Uhm, I'm... I'm not following."

I chuckle nervously, "well," I snap my fingers, "as you showed just a while ago, you're actually understanding the physics lessons by yourself now, and, like, Younghyun doesn't contact me at all anymore-- hell I don't even think fo the bastard anymore--" I grumble quickly. I turn from afar back to Jae and feel heavy underneath his gaze.

I give a pinched smile and conclude, "yeah, eh, we don't have to pretend to be girlfriend-boyfriend anymore."

I wait for a response.

A laugh.

A sigh of relief.

Something.

But there is none.

Jae just looks at me, perplexed.

"I'm just thinking," I point to my temple and motion, "I keep playing it in my head that you have to keep putting up with me. And like- and like- you spend money on me that even I don't want to spend on myself, and I don't think it's fair to you."

Jae shifts from where he stands and speaks, "well if that's what you're worried about. Don't. I really don't mind." Ask me why.

I sigh and chew on my bottom lip.

Jae catches on and knows it is a sign of agitation.

"Well, actually there's more."

Am I really going to be saying this?

I clear my throat and go back and forth the palms of my feet, "I actually just think--"

No. I am not going to do it.

"--that we should just go back to how things were."

Jae is mortified with what it could mean.

I catch in and immediately clarify, "I just mean! That... I haven't hung out with my friends in a while. And, like, Dowoon has been looking for me for a long time now..."

False. Dowoon could give a rat's ass about me and would most definitely kill me if he ever finds out I used him as an excuse to get out of a dreaded confrontation about my one-sided, undeserving like to Jae, which according to him is not one-sided at all, which is extremely preposterous as it is.

Jae feels himself deflate, key words: my friends. Wasn't already there a friendship between him and Dowoon?

"I really appreciate everything you've done for me. I'm glad that you don't need me anymore."

Jae wants to scoff at what he just heard, who in the world said that?

"I think it's best for all of us that we get out of each other's hair..." I explain.

I swear I saw a flicker of hurt in his eyes, but it's just my wishful thinking because Jae breaks into a warm chuckle, "well, you are pretty annoying."

"Ha ha," I reply, rubbing my shoulder.

Jae, who felt so good when he woke up, feels like burrowing underground. He pushes the though of it away though, because he sees the genuine smile in front of him. That genuine smile that got him the moment he saw it.

I gave him the most sincere statement I could muster up at this point, "thank you for everything, Jae."

He smiles back, softer, and waves me off, "we're even."

I nod, "even Steven."

He nods.

We stand in an awkward silence.

I realize the box of polaroids he gave me is still in my hand. I turn to it and turn to him.

He beats me to it, "consider it a parting gift."

I look at him and somehow feel hurt, hurt that he's making it as if we don't have physics class together anymore, or literature or home economics.

I pull myself back however and remind myself of the truth.

Dowoon's an idiot and Jae deserves way better that some girl who cried for months about a jerk.

I shake my head and purse my lips, "okay."

There is a breeze cutting in between us, begging us to go our separate ways.

Jae shoves his hands in his pockets and musters up the lamest, "guess I'll eat alone then."

He regrets saying that.

My heart breaks.

He takes a step back, waves off and promptly dissmises me with one last, "bye."

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[shreddedparchment]

Of Two Minds Pt. 06

You’re Not Alone

06/16/2019

Pairing: Bucky x Reader x Steve          Word Count: 7,713

Masterpost          Warnings: sexual descriptions, violence, language, ANGST!

A/N: Since there is only one or two more chapters for this one, I think I’m going to finish this one out before I go back to Parallel and the Brightest Star. That’s not to say I’m not working on either of those. I am. But I’ll focus on posting these first since it’s almost over. I hope you like this one. Also, I legit didn’t edit so, mind the typos. I’ll come back and read it tomorrow when I’m not so crosseyed. If you happen to reblog, thank you so much for helping me spread my work. xoxo

Bucky’s waiting in the small living room of the floor you share with him and Steve.

He's sitting on the sofa, black cargo covered legs spread wide. Feet flat on the ground and his hands tucked under his strong arms, crossed over his chest.

He’s not making any attempt to hide his displeasure. The rough tick in his jaw, the glare he has aimed at the TV is really for you and Steve. You know it is.

But why is he angry? Holding hands at the meeting?

When he turns it on you, that raging scowl, you release Steve’s hand as guilt builds inside your belly.

“Bucky?” You probe carefully, searching hopefully, despite his anger.

“Sounded like you were having fun. I was gonna go get you but Captain Spangled beat me there.” He’s bitter.

Oh no. Your heart stops as you realize that he must have seen. Must have heard.

What did you do?

The jealous sting in his voice you expect and the harsh glare thrown at you and Steve is more than understandable.

“Bucky…” You begin, but you don’t get much further.

“No.” He says, flat, unfeeling. For the first time in many years, you see the Winter Soldier.

The Soldat is diluted in Bucky. Suppressed. Bucky is almost free of him after years of careful reconditioning and therapy and recovery, but he’s there. Cold. Distant. And you did this to him.

You.

You’re scum. You’re shit. You’re selfish. You’re greedy. You’re the worst kind of person on the planet.

You’re sorry but you don’t regret what you did with Steve.

You need to fix this.

“Bucky…please…” You beg, moving towards him.

He allows you to step up to him. He doesn’t pull back when you take hold of his forearms. You see the subtle shift in his eyes as your touch weakens his armor. The muscles beneath your hands tighten however, tense.

“Please. I love you. I will never stop loving you.” You promise.

You know it’s not enough but you want it to be. You want your words to heal his hurt. You need for him to trust in that because you love Steve, it doesn’t take away from how you feel for him. For Bucky.

“No.” Bucky says, finality in his tone.

It guts you. A knife plunged into the soft fleshy bits of you, twisted and yanked pulling with it everything that makes you whole and happy.

“Buck-" Steve tries but when Bucky’s ice-like eyes find his warm storm blues, he stops talking.

“I said no. My answer,” He looks back down at you and speaks to injure. He wants it to hurt you and you can’t blame him. “Is no.”

You had already known that what you shared with Steve down by the lake, in Brazil, and last night cuddled safely in his arms would be all you’d get.

You’d known it and it still hurts. It’s still agonizing.

“You’re gonna leave me now, right?” Bucky spits.

You’ve never seen him so angry and his rage burns you. It takes lashes at you, scarring you.

You don’t want to leave him. Of course, you don’t!

You’d talked a big game but now that you’re facing the choice, you can’t make your feet move. You want them both but the idea of walking away from Bucky is unbearable.

You won’t do that to him. You can’t.

You cry, tears spilling quick and sudden as you grip his arms harder, trying to pull him closer but he’s a statue. Immovable. Michelangelo’s David. Cut and perfect and stoic.

“No…” Your guttural sob chokes you.

How do you walk away? How do you live your life knowing they’re both somewhere loving someone else? They’re yours. Both of them. Bucky is forever emblazoned into your heart. If he leaves you, he takes it with you, leaving a shell.

Steve is your soul. He knows your inner thoughts. He knows your impulses. He knows your darkness and your light. You want him to know your love. Your most vulnerable self, unshielded, ready to surrender to his love and to love him with abandon.

You want to be spread out beneath him as he takes you as one. As part of himself. Like you already are with Bucky. Intimate and private and personal.

And Bucky! Bucky needs to see your inner workings. You want to show him your darkness and to find out if he can still love it. Love you. How can you choose? How can you leave?

But how can you stay?!

“-I l-love you, baby, please don’t push me away.” You plead.

Bucky huffs, pulls your hands away from his body and moves around you.

“BUCKY!” You cry, a torn whisper, half crazed with the thought of losing him forever.

You drop onto the sofa, fisting the plush cushion with writhing claws. Your crying is loud and ugly and you didn’t know you could die and still somehow be alive.

You scream into the sofa because you don’t know what else to do. Bucky took your strength with him. You’d chase after him but your body won’t obey. It’s broken.

It’s full of pain, confusion, but mostly guilt because this is all your fault.

He saw you and Steve. Bucky did.

He heard you. He was there. He saw Steve touch you and you touch Steve in ways that are only his.

Why are you so horrible? Why do you do this? Why can you only destroy?

You hear Steve leave too. On some plane of consciousness, you're aware of him banging on Bucky’s door. You hear the door open and then slamming and then a small muted ruckus. Then silence.

The silence is punctured only by your sobbing. Eventually that stops too and you’re very aware of the fact that it’s either very late or really early.

You shut your eyes and fall asleep. Emotionally spent.

~~~~~~~~~~

You’re awoken by the gentle shake of a familiar hand. It’s not big. Not Steve. Definitely not Bucky.

“Y/N wake up. We got’im. We know where he is.” Nat takes her hand back and watches as you sleepily sit yourself up.

You teeter for a moment; caught between whatever dark dream you’d just woken up from and very real heartbreak you’re in.

“You okay?” She asks, wary either from the look on your face or the way your body seems to stutter.

“Yeah.” You croak. You clear your throat.

“Come on. We’ve got the jet going.”

You look towards the hallway towards the bedrooms. Bucky had stormed off that way and you faintly remember hearing Steve follow him.

“They’re already on the jet. You can change on the way. Come on.” She urges you, a strange gentleness in her voice that tells you she’s very aware of some part of what’s going on with you and your two boys.

No. Not yours. Rejected. And you can’t be with Steve. It wouldn’t be fair to Bucky.

You sigh and get to your feet, slightly stung that neither of them woke you up.

The elevator ride down to the hangar is thick with words that need to be said. Not by you.

When she speaks, she’s leaning against the wall, her hands—covered in fingerless tac gloves—squeeze the metal bar along behind her.

“I-I’m sorry.” Her voice is pleading, guilty. Like you feel.

“For what?” You look at her, eyes bleary from sleep. You hadn’t even bothered to look at what time it is.

“I pushed him to go on that mission with you. I’ve been trying to get him to do something…about the way he feels about you, for a long time.” Nat flexes her jaw, then looks down at her feet before meeting you with an apologetic green gaze. “He told me that he kissed you. To make Bucky jealous? To help you two along? I could see how miserable he was and I just…”

“It’s not your fault, Nat.” You look away from her to stare at the metal doors. You did this to all of you. You. No one else.

“It’s okay, you know? Loving both of them.”

And you don’t know how it can be okay. Nothing is okay. For one fleeting moment, you think it might be better to be dead than without either of them.

The thought scares you and you gasp lightly.

“Y/N?” Nat moves towards you, placing her hand on your lower back. “You okay? You look a little green.”

“I’m fine.” You growl, not meaning to but you’re so angry at yourself.

Angry for hurting Bucky. Angry for loving Steve and hurting him too. Angry because this isn’t you. You’re not a quitter. You’re a fighter. You’ll leave, just like you said you would.

Not forever. Never forever.

You just need to get some distance. You need space. You need time to think. Maybe Bucky and Steve need time, too?

Maybe being away from you will help things be clearer?

“Y/N?” Nat probes, leaning forward to look at your face because you’re still folded forward.

“I said I’m fine.” You push her hand away and as the elevator opens you move out with wobbly feet but find your stride halfway to the jet.

“About time.” Tony snarks, in full iron armor as he steps onto the jet.

He stands aside and watches you board but with his helmet off, you can see the confusion on his face from whatever expression you’re wearing.

You move for the back-left corner of the jet where a small compartment slides out for spare uniforms.

“Hey, pouty. What’s got your mood all puckered?” Sam asks, giving you a passing glance but quickly taking in your mood.

You don’t answer him.

Very aware of your surroundings, you take note of Bucky standing at the front of the jet, hand on the back of the left pilot’s chair where Sam sits. The right left open for Nat when she boards shortly after you.

He doesn’t turn to look at you as you come on board. He’s mad at you. You get it.

Steve sits on the right side of the jet, elbows on his knees, hands clasped in front of him. They’re both dressed in full mission gear but neither of them looks at you and it stings so painfully that you blink hard to chase away the tears that accompany the ache.

Fine. If that’s how they both want to play this, then you are more than happy to oblige.

You strip, not caring who may be looking. First to go are your jeans, then your white t-shirt. You still haven’t changed since your encounter with Steve by the lake.

As the back hatch closes and Tony climbs on, sans uniform which has tucked itself back into its nano-housing on his chest, he moves towards you. He leans against the wall of the jet, shielding your semi-nakedness from the rest of the team.

“Are you good?”

“Why does everyone keep asking me if I’m alright? I’m fine!” You shout.

You don’t mean to snap but your fuse is already short enough with Bucky and Steve having left Nat to wake you and both of them not even sparing you a glance. Maybe you deserve it? Maybe you don’t?

Either way, it ticks you off, and the gnawing guilt in your chest only serves to strengthen your sour mood.

You shove your clothes into the small compartment and pull the Kevlar tac suit on. Holsters fastened and guns slipped in place. Tony continues to watch you.

“Are you getting laid?” He asks, eyes narrowed. “Helps with stress. Are you stressed?”

You frown at him and move around him, ignoring the way he smirks because you don’t want to snap at him again.

“Where are Vision and Wanda?” You wonder, asking no one in particular but hoping that Bucky or Steve will answer.

“Scouting ahead.” Nat says, no hint of your rudeness with her earlier. “They’ll meet us at the safe zone then move in with us.”

You walk over to her and as soon as you enter his periphery, Bucky turns and walks away. He moves over to the right side of the jet and sits himself as far away from Steve as possible. Ramrod straight, metal hand clenching and unclenching.

The drop your heart does takes your breath away.

All of your anger seems to disappear instantly as that painful stinging returns to the inner corners of your eyes. You shut them, urging yourself to stay professional. You can’t focus on what’s happening with you and Bucky and Steve right now.

Aaron must be the focus.

“Where are we going?” You ask Nat and your voice is a gasp.

When she turns to look at you, you can see her take note of the spot Bucky had just stood in and then frowns as she finds him sitting as far away from you and Steve as possible. When she meets your eyes, the look of solidarity and sympathy is piercing.

“Rio. Or more specifically, Cabo Frio.” She states, pulling up a map of South America. On the bottom-right corner of Brazil’s Eastern coast is a not so small city with beautiful beaches, and crystal blue-green waters.

“What’s in Cabo Frio?” You wonder, forcing yourself to focus on the display in front of her.

Since you can’t choose Steve and Bucky won’t let you choose him anymore, you choose Aaron. That’s where you’ll devote your energy. Besides, the more you think about Aaron, the less aware you are of the empty feeling in your chest.

“It’s what wasn’t in Cabo Frio six months ago?” Nat moves the map to the East and about thirty miles from shore to empty, dark blue ocean. “This was the South Atlantic six months ago.”

She presses a few buttons with sleek black polished nails and the map changes on where there was nothing there is now a small island.

“This is the South Atlantic now.”

“So, we’re flying to that island?” You wonder, reaching out to zoom the map in.

“That’s not an island.” Sam says to your left.

You keep zooming in and find yourself staring at the largest ship you have ever seen.

“Is that a ship?” You gasp, zooming in more.

“Longer than the Sears Tower is tall.” Nat says. “We’re pretty sure that’s where the drugs are coming from.”

You blink, stunned by the size, the ingenious of using a ship to manufacture drugs.

Pulling anchor and moving on is so easy. If someone gets wind of you, you just float away.

“Are we going straight to the ship?”

“No.” Nat says.

“They’ve got a base inland where we got aerial footage of your mark making drops. We’ll go there first, scope that out, take it if we can. Then we’ll take the ship. We want to cut off communication with the base on shore so that we can sneak up on the ship. We don’t want one warning the other.” Tony says, sidling up behind you.

Turning to look at him, you frown. “That’s stupid. Once they lose communication with the base, they’ll move on. Why don’t we just split up? Half of us can take the ship. The other half of us can take the base.”

“It’s too risky.” Nat shakes her head, worry painting her green eyes dark jade. “Something goes wrong, we won’t have backup.”

“Where’s Bruce?” You wonder. “Looking around.”

Steve and Bucky are standing closer, interested in the conversation now that it’s turned to the mission. You hate them a little for meeting your eyes. For tearing your heart in two and then having the audacity to look at you with nothing but business on their minds.

The feeling lasts only a second because your mind is also on business. Once the shock of having them looking at you and listening as if it matters what you say has passed, you bring your gaze to Tony.

“He’s with Wanda, scoping out the base.” He says.

“And Thor?”

“With Vision, checking out the ship.”

“Well, call them back. Is there a safe zone where we can meet up with them?” You ask, inadvertently taking charge of the mission.

“Yeah, about twenty miles outside of the city.” Nat says, flicking the map to the small warehouse to serve as a temporary base.

“Call them. Get them there.”

“I don’t know if splitting up is such a good idea.” Sam says, voicing his concern for probably all of them.

“Rhodey?” You ask Tony, ignoring Sam for now.

“Called away. He won’t be here.”

“Nat?” You lean towards her again, staring out at the darkening horizon.

A quick glance at the clock tells you that your heartbreak made you sleep straight through breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

Your stomach aches and gurgles, but you ignore it. No one cares that you didn’t eat. You don’t care either.

“Get us to that safe zone.” You order and she happily obeys.

Steve doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know what to say to make all of this better. If he hadn’t insisted on pleasuring you outside then maybe Bucky wouldn’t have shut you out so harshly.

He knows that Bucky doesn’t mean it. The no is tentative. It had been spoken in haste and in jealousy and anger.

Steve’s already kind of changed his mind. Not really, but before Tony had called about Aaron, he’d thought he could see Bucky wavering.

Bucky loves you, and as much as he hates that you love him, Steve, he can’t fight that. Steve can’t understand Bucky’s resistance.

Of course, Steve doesn’t want to share you either. You were his firsts. Maybe not officially, but in every way other than sexual, you’d been his. You’d fallen asleep in his arms before Bucky’s. You’d stretched out on his bed and spent hours reading or watching shows or movies with him before Bucky was there to do all that with you.

He’d taken you on your first mission. He’d patched up your first wounds. He’d kissed you—yes, he had though you’d been asleep and didn’t know about it—way before he did it to coax Bucky’s jealousy.

He’d held you when you cried. He’d laughed at your jokes. He’d loved you in every way possible without telling you out loud before Bucky even came into the picture.

No. Steve doesn’t want to share you. But you love Bucky. How can he deny you what you want?

Bucky also needs you. More than Steve thinks even Bucky knows.

He needs to give in. He needs to hold onto you. If Steve needs to step aside, he will. If he has to listen to you and Bucky make love for the rest of his life, then he’ll do that. So long as you don’t leave.

Steve understands Bucky. More than he might think. Steve knows that you’re his light. He knows that Bucky can’t really live without you.

He hates to see Bucky struggle. So, he gave in. He surrendered. For you. For Bucky.

While you’d cried and then fallen into a restless sleep, Steve had promised his best friend that he wouldn’t touch you again. He’d stay away. He’d leave when you were a little better and could handle his leaving, and he’d stop interfering.

Bucky had only stared. Searching. Angry, but listening.

Steve can see the admiration in Bucky’s eyes as you take charge right now. You hadn’t been given this mission to lead but you’d taken up the reigns on your own and dove headfirst. You’re so strong. In so many ways.

As you cross towards them again, a dusty cloud of years’ worth of muck kicked up as you move over the filthy warehouse floor, Steve stands up straighter. Bucky across from him, leaning against the steel support beam trying to look as casual as he can with his hands shoved into his pockets, also stands straighter despite his attempts at playing it cool.

Like him, Steve knows that Bucky’s vowed to put all this drama aside. For the mission. For you.

“We hold out until we all reach our targets. We attack at the same time and take who we can. How sure are we that Aaron is going to be at the base and not on the ship?” Steve hasn’t spoken since he boarded the jet.

He’s trying to step back but so is Bucky. That’s not what he wanted.

“There’s no way to know. We spotted him the one time but haven’t seen him since. He could be on either site or neither.” Nat says, standing tall with her arms crossed over her full chest.

“How will we split the teams? Let’s get this going. I want to rip some heads.” Thor declares and you look at him then appraise the rest of the group.

Steve stands a little taller as your eyes scan him and then you speak. “I’ll take point on the base in the city. Tony? You think you can take the ship team?”

“Is that a serious question?” He quips.

“Good.”

“Bruce, you should go with Tony. They’ll need the extra muscle on the ship. It’s a large space.” Steve thinks that’s a good all.

Even with the Hulk tamed, Bruce can throw his weight around well.

“Nat, Wanda, will the two of you also go with Tony?” You order, and before you can speak again, Bucky cuts in.

“Me too.” He says, voice hard and quiet.

Steve can see the uncertain shift in your eyes. The pain that flashes out at Bucky as he stares you down.

For a few horrible seconds, Steve doesn’t breathe. Will this break you? Bucky hasn’t said a word to you. He hasn’t reached out. He’s barely looked at you.

Steve caught you struggling on the jet and now Bucky doesn’t even want to be on mission with you?

The way your mouth opens as if to speak then shuts again with a flex of your jaw, Steve knows that you’re trying hard to keep it together.

“Fine.” You say, your voice hard now too.

What the fuck is Bucky doing? He’s going to drive you away. Is that his plan? He’ll break you. Can’t he see that?

“The rest of you are with me.” You say, disappointment on the furthest fringes of your tone.

Steve knows you’d rather have Bucky with you. Yet, he takes comfort in knowing that he’ll be able to keep his eye on you. Just like old times. He’ll have your back.

Things do not go well. It’s almost as if you’ve offended God…or the Gods. Your mind shoots to Thor chaotically as everything falls apart.

There is no one on the ship.

No one.

Bruce, in controlled Hulk form, Tony, Bucky, Nat, and Wanda search the ship as quickly as possible with the help of Tony’s thermal scans.

The base on the other hand?

It’s packed. There are more guys than the five of you can handle.

For a little bit in the beginning, when Thor barrels through a large heavy iron door to expose what must be nearly three hundred workers in the largest room of the base, you think maybe all isn’t lost.

Thor can handle these guys no problem. You’ve seen him take on more. Worse. Stronger. Faster.

Then the twins show up. White dark chocolate skin, stark platinum blonde hair, piercing red eyes, and evil sneers create a terrifying image.

You’ve never seen them before. Illuminated collars around their necks that glow venom green come undone and then they chase Thor up through the roof and into the dark night skies leaving you, Steve, and Vision to fight fast and hard.

Vision grabs thugs at random, by the neck, then flings them up into the air to watch them drop. He flies down, sweeping long crippling tackles through ten, fifteen guys at once. You and Steve do your best to hold them off.

Steve fairs better, his strength super. You’re skilled, very much so, but you can only move as fast as your body will let you.

Each of the twins is followed by a stream of sunshine yellow light that seems to originate from their hands and feet. This propels them upwards, or that’s what you’d originally guessed.

It reminds you of Wanda but not exactly. The light is too thick. Solid. Like those lasers from Tron but that’s not possible because that’s just a movie.

And yet, when Sam goes tumbling out of the sky as he attempts to help Thor fight the twins, his wings hit a line of light and impossibly, inexplicably, the wings are severed. Halfway along their length, the left wing is clipped, and Sam goes tumbling down towards the ground. Too high. Too far.

Vision breaks away from you and Steve to intercept his fall, but he’s suddenly tackled out of flight by one of the twins, streaming across the large room and into a wave of thugs.

“Sam! Your chute!” You shout, scared and desperate for him as he falls.

He grows closer and when he talks you can hear the wind whistling past him.

He’ll die.

“I’m trying. It’s jammed!” He cries, his voice strong and controlled despite the panic that must be coursing through him.

There are grunts and pulls, punches, kicks, the occasional gunshot, as the thugs continue to attack you.

You fight harder. You somehow make yourself move faster.

“Steve, catch him!” You shout, desperate for Sam.

“We’re almost there.” Tony’s voice comes over your comms. He’s within range.

The hesitancy in Steve’s choice to do as you ask is so quick that no one would have noticed it. You see it because you know him. You love him. You know what he’s thinking.

I won’t leave you alone. He thought. Then he probably played the argument over in his head and realized that you’d dive underneath Sam and kill yourself in the process if it would mean his survival.

What other choice does he have than to do as you ask?

He sprints off towards Sam, leaping through a large broken window on the second floor. You glance him as he catches Sam, crashing into the ground outside.

Sixty thugs break away, race towards them to take advantage of the fall.

“Vision get back to Y/N.” Steve orders.

Vision is busy. You can see him shooting yellow beams at thug after thug. You hear the sing of his light, the sizzle of it’s burn. You smell the char of skin accompanied by the cries of pain.

He’s all the way on the other side of the large factory-like room.

“Vision!” Steve shouts, his fear for you more prominent than he probably means it to be.

You’re too busy to respond or react to his struggle. You’re dripping with sweat. Beads of effort build along your temples and forehead and trickle down along your skin, coating it with grime as dust is kicked up by your feet and that of your opponents.

You’re huffing with exhaustion already. Your arms are tired. Your legs are weak from taking so many hits. Blocking and returning. Your legs are suddenly yanked out from beneath you.

You scream.

“Y/N!” Steve calls out.

“I’m going.” Thor assures him that he’s on his way to you. “Gah!”

He’s knocked off course by the twin he’s been fighting, unable to get to you.

You get back to your feet, blocking punches and kicks before one lands hard on your chest. It sends you flying back. You gasp for air and loud heavy thud echoes around you.

The ringing in your ears is so distracting that although you lift up your hands to fight, you blink hard and try to remember where you are.

Someone throws a punch, a no one. You block it with your left forearm, then throw a hard right hook. It’s too strong, your arm moving lazily towards its target with zero control in strength.

The movement spins you to your left and you stumble backwards until strong arms catch you.

Your heart soars.

Bucky. You think with relief then shift your head back to look at your man to find your mark.

Aaron, Hawaiian God. Mass murderer. Crime lord. Not Bucky. Not Steve.

He smirks at you, gleeful that he’s caught you. The thugs around you move away, running towards Vision and Sam and Steve.

You can hear people calling you on your earpiece, but your head won’t focus.

Why?

There’s a flash of a memory. Your head violently hitting a large steel support beam. The explosion in your brain as you’re concussed, and green eyes transfix your addled mind as you pass out.

You dream of a snake with sea-green eyes. It hisses and laughs. Ssss-sss-ssssss.

Bucky can feel Bruce’s loud cry reverberate in his chest. It shakes his heart and reminds him that it’s there. Not like he could ever really forget.

Hearing Steve’s panic over the comms trying to get any one of his team members back to where you’d been fighting fills Bucky with dread. It chokes his heart. It aches painfully with a fear unlike he’s ever known.

Where are you?

He scans the room as Bruce stampedes through, swinging and making bodies fly. He tears through them like they were made of paper and he can begin to hear shouts of fear. The large group of thugs begin to run, making for exits and windows and holes in the walls.

Tony flies off to help Thor with what looks like twin men, sickly thing with dark skin and glowing eyes. Wanda and Vision join him while Nat, Steve, Bucky, and Sam meet in the middle of the large factory room where you’d been fighting.

“Where is she?!” Steve asks, screaming desperate and fearful.

Bucky’s stomach twists at the sound of terror in Steve’s cry because it’s his cry too.

“Where is she?! Nat? Do you see her?” Steve is fighting through the crowd, Sam pushing and punching.

Nat kicking and spinning her way towards the spot where Steve is standing.

“No.” Nat replies, grunting as she catches a thug in the chest with her knee then plunges a knife into his thigh as he tries to kick.

“Sam?”

“Nothing this way, Steve.”

“Bucky?”

But Bucky can’t answer his voice is caught in his throat. It’s a lump, building rapidly into grief and denial as he tries to convince his mind that what he thinks has happened hasn’t really happened.

He angrily grabs a thug’s throat as he runs by. He squeezes, the plates in his metal arm groaning and shifting as he glares up at the low life.

“Where is she?” He says low and angry. There’s death in his tone.

The thug claws at Bucky’s hand unable to fight it. He shakes his head and Bucky can’t help it. He squeezes too hard. He hears a sickening crack and then drops the limp body to the floor.

Steve finds him and he looks over Bucky’s shoulder as Bucky catches another thug.

“Where is she?” He asks again.

“Buck?” Steve asks, desperate for reassurance.

The second thug also has no answers for him. Bucky squeezes again.

As this body falls to the ground, Steve reaches out to turn Bucky towards him.

Bucky lets him. He meets his eyes, Steve standing with both hands gripping the sides of Bucky’s shoulders. He’s heaving, breathing hard and heavy from his fight to find you. He’s sweating and dirty and he fought hard while Bucky was stuck on some decoy ship doing nothing and letting you get taken.

“Buck?” Steve asks, searching his ice blues for that assurance that everything is going to be okay.

Bucky can’t give it to him, and he lets the mask fall for a second as he sees the same heartache and agony mirrored in Steve’s face. He opens his mouth to speak, to say something that might alleviate this black cloud over them as the last of the thugs are chased out by Bruce.

Instead his lower lip quivers and Steve falls to his knees.

“No.” Steve gasps.

“He took her.” Bucky realizes. He knew it the moment that you stopped responding to their calls. He knew it when you sent Steve to catch Sam. He knew that you wouldn’t be here when he arrived, and he can’t believe he left you alone.

If he’d been here, if he hadn’t been so stubborn, if he’d been willing to just try to accept that Steve—this broken man clutching at his feet as he struggles to breathe and what must be an astounding feeling of failure—loved you just as much as he did and that he had as much right to show it as he himself did, then you’d still be here.

You’d have had both of them at your side and when Steve had gone to save Sam, Bucky would have been there to keep you safe.

“No.” Steve cries. Really cries. His voice hitches. His hands are vices around Bucky’s ankles as he clings desperately to the only piece of you left. “Buck…no.”

Bucky falls to his knees to but to straighten Steve up. He can’t have him like this.

“We’ll get her back, Steve.” He promises him.

“We don’t even know where to start looking.” Steve points out and Bucky can see the dead in his eyes.

Now he can see what you’ve been meaning, what you’ve been saying Steve is to you. For the first time since this whole mess started, Bucky can see how much more claim Steve has on you and strangely, it doesn’t hurt.

It makes him feel better that someone on this team will be more desperate than him to find you. Someone else on this team will sacrifice life and limb to get you back.

“You’re not alone, Steve.” Bucky tells him, giving him a shake. “We’ll get her back. Together.”

Someone is talking. Someone is speaking directly to you as if you’re capable of listening. Never mind the fact that you’ve been completely unconscious until this moment.

Aaron.

“-trust easily. It’s nothing personal. I just need to make sure that you can’t punch me. Are the straps too tight?” He asks, deep booming voice actually concerned.

You feel tugs at your wrists as he checks large nylon straps. They’re thick and to Steve and Bucky and almost all of your friends they would be nothing but to you, a human, with no real super strength, they’re enough.

“Where-?”

“You’re on my ship.” He replies, a smile in his voice.

It’s like his statement brings to attention the gentle swaying, the smell of brine, and the groan of metal in water.

It creeps you out how he sounds like he’s making conversation with an old friend. Someone he can joke around with and have some fun.

In his defense, the last time you’d seen him face-to-face, he’d been about to eat you out.

“There was no one on the ship.” You say, confused.

“Oh, not that ship. That was a fake. I put it there in case someone like you and your team came lookin’ for me.” Aaron explains.

You open your eyes and the dim light of a light far away lets you see him. He’s big. Bigger than you remember but that might just be because it’s been a while. Tall. Beautiful copper tanned skin. Long wavy brown hair. Longer than Bucky’s. Tips bleached from too much sun. His beard is thick, well-kept, but longer than when you last saw him. Fuller.

He’s shirtless, tendrils of soft black chest hair scattered over his hard, flexing pectorals.

He’s slouched. Completely relaxed. The flesh of his stomach folded over though even with that small bit of extra muscle and tissue, you can see the chiseled shape of his abs.

Leaning forward, he spreads his legs wide wearing dark pants that look fairly new. He places his hands between his legs. He grips the edge of the chair, curling his shoulders in as he appraises you. He’s too at ease.

Is he not scared you’ll be found? Are you seriously in trouble here?

“Why didn’t you tell me that you’re an Avenger? I guess I should have put it together when I woke up the next morning and I couldn’t find my drive. You cost me a lot of money on that Cayman trip.” He informs you.

You stare at him, assessing your options quickly. How can you get out of this?

“How long have I-?”

“Two weeks. You know, this is the fifth time you’ve asked me that. I guess you hit your head pretty hard. I don’t have a doctor on board but as soon as I can get you one, I will.” He promises.

Why is he being so nice.

“You’re new to them, right? Haven’t been part of them long? I’ve never seen you before.” He gets up and moves towards a small metal table bolted down into the floor and against the half black, half red metal wall.

“Yes.” You lie, never mind that you’ve been on many missions with Steve and Nat and the rest of the team. You’d just been kept out of the big ones.

Stupid protective, lovable jerks.

“I knew there was something…that night in my place?” He moves back to you holding a small glass of water.

Your body craves it, almost aches for it.

As he holds it to your lips you push yourself up as much as you can take frantic sips.

You cough, choking on it a little. He takes the glass away and you hate him for it.

“Take it easy. I’ve got plenty of water.” He places the edge back against your lips and this time you’re careful. “So, I don’t know what drug you used to get me to pass out that night but did we-?”

Seriously?! You think, this guy is actually asking you if you slept with him?

Inspiration strikes and as he pulls the now empty glass away from your lips, you nod slowly.

“We did.” You tell him.

He believes you. He puts the glass on a smaller table also bolted down to the floor beside your infirmary bed then licks his lips and leans in closer, hovering over you with is arms on either side of your chest.

“Why did you leave?” He asks, desperate to understand.

“I-I was scared they’d come looking for me. I used to do things for bad people, and they don’t trust me.” The lies come easy. Doing bad things for bad people isn’t a lie, but it’s been much longer than you’re making it seem.

“I can keep you safe.” He sighs, reaching up to smooth the hair away from your face.

It clings to your temples, clammy skin coated in sweat. This is when you realize that you’re not exactly well.

“I’m scared.” You shudder, letting your real fear for your health surface and make your words true.

“Sshh, shhh, I’ve got you, baby.” He traces the shape of your shoulders.

You don’t want to push it too soon because it’ll make him suspicious, but he��s already so primed for it. Fearfully, you throw it out there to see if he’ll take the bait. You pray that Bucky won’t be angry at you for using this tactic that he hates so much.

Then you remember that Bucky is mad at you and that he probably doesn’t care about what you do.

The urge to survive this almost slips away but you know you’re better than that. You can live in a world where Bucky hates you, so long as you know he’s out there. You push through the depression that threatens to overtake you and stick to your plan.

“Can I hold you?” You wonder, pulling against the straps on your wrists. “I want you.”

Voice soft as silk, alluring, and pleading. You shift your hips, rubbing your thighs together as if you’re actually itching to have him fill you again—never mind that he never did.

He takes note of this, his hand wandering down your side and onto your hip where his eyes stay glued as he watches you squirm.

“Please?” You beg and he likes that so much he give a guttural grunt as he looks back up at you and climbs up onto your bed.

You feel frail and breakable. His large body looming over yours sends your heart into overdrive. Will he hurt you?

He touches you, and you try not to flinch away. You make sure to shift your disgust into desire, letting him cup your mound despite the way it makes you want to throw up. That could also be the malnutrition.

“You want this baby?” He asks, wafting hot breath against the cool clammy skin of your throat.

“Yeah.” You lie, hoping that it sounds real. “Let me hold you.”

You strain against your straps and he sits back, removing his hand from between your legs.

You’re filled with relief as he undoes your left hand strap and because you don’t want him to be suspicious, you use that hand to grab his shoulder and yank him down against your chest. You wrap it around him, holding him to you as his lips find yours and you kiss him hard.

As hard as you can anyway.

The taste of his tongue is salted and sour. You nearly gag but instead you groan. You need to get him off of you, get the rest of the straps off, get out the door, and up onto the deck of the ship. Then you can look for a plane or another boat…something. Anything.

You’ll float home if you have to.

As his tongue delves more deeply into his mouth, the heat of his skin bringing shocking attention to the lack of it in you, you suddenly bite down.

Aaron gasps and tries to pull back, but you’ve got a solid hold on him. He pushes against your shoulders and you follow him up as best you can as your teeth dig in deeper.

Your teeth finally snap shut. Aaron screams in pain and you taste rust.

Aaron scrambles off of you and falls onto the floor, kicking and pushing away from your bed and you spit out the pink wiggling flesh. Your mouth is flooded with blood and it drips from your mouth as you quickly undo the straps holding you down.

When you’re finally on your feet, you wobble, but not because of the sway of the ship. You’re weaker than you realized.

“Shit.” You gasp and grab a small metal tray beside your bed.

Aaron doesn’t see the hit coming and you knock him out saving him from the pain of his half-tongue but also giving yourself time to get away.

Weakly you run out of the room giving the hallways you run through quick looks before you venture into them.

You’ve been expecting to encounter thugs but there’s no one. Only empty rooms and the rotting smell of fish.

You have to stop to rest when you find the stairs and catch your breath. Two seconds is all you spare because the fear of Aaron waking up and coming after you is overwhelming.

You scrape up your bare feet as you climb the stairs as quickly as you can. At the top you find a heavy steel doorway with one of those large circular handles to seal compartments in ships from flooding.

Weakly you manage to turn it and hot salty air fills your lungs as the door falls open. Gray overcast skies and black blue water surround the ship.

You push it, itching for freedom and as you tumble out your foot catches on the bottom threshold. You fall hard, feeling a break somewhere in your leg.

You cry out, hoping that all of Aaron’s thugs are not up here.

“Y/N!”

No. It’s impossible. Your eyes strain against the bright light of the day and try to see where that voice came from.

Halfway down the much smaller ship’s deck but still as big as an oil tanker, you see Bucky fling a black mass of body overboard.

He races towards you at the same time and you frantically push yourself up onto your feet.

Forgetting your brand-new break, you collapse when you try to put your weight on your right foot but Bucky’s already there and he catches you. His arms are hot and tight around you, the smell of him—bitter sweat mixed with his usual clean linen and sandalwood musk—is intoxicating. You can hardly believe he’s real.

“I found you.” He gasps, shocked as if he’d never expected to see you again. “I found you.”

You look for his face, wanting nothing more than to stare into his steel blue eyes. He pushes your hair back, almost like Aaron had but there’s a desperate love in his hands as he holds your face and you want him to kiss you and hold you and tell you that you’re safe.

He does one of those.

He scoops you up suddenly and impossibly fast he carries you across the ship’s deck, winding around containers and piping until he reaches the stern and you can see the large black jet.

“Steve!” Bucky calls, and you’re so confused but Steve is suddenly there too. His arms are around you, and as he falls to the ground onto his knees, Bucky moves with him and carefully places you in Steve’s arms.

Steve holds you close, against his chest, clinging to you as he sobs.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’m sorry.” He cries but you don’t want him to be sorry.

Your heart soars as he pulls your lips up to meet his and then he buries his head into the side of your neck as he continues to sob, his blonde head of hair damp from the spray of the sea.

Bucky, also kneeling beside you, leans in to rest his forehead against your temple.

“I found you.” He repeats.

You turn to look at him, searching his face for explanation but he kisses you instead. Softly massaging your lips before he trails loving kisses down along your cheeks.

Then he wraps his arms around you and Steve.

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[chelsfic]

Chapter 4/18 - Safety - Bucky Barnes x OC Soulmate AU

Masterlist

Summary: Soulmate AU! Bucky/OFC. Our soulmarks appear at the moment of our soulmate’s birth. The Asset’s mark appears in the Spring of 1987. The words imprinted into the skin of his forearm. “Please! Don’t hurt me…”

A/N: I wrote this fic over the course of 2017-2018 and it was originally published on AO3. Recently, I decided to do some light revisions in order to fix inconsistencies in the POV, some awkward diction and typos. Please note–I’m aware that a lot of people love this fic just as it is. This is not a rewrite, I won’t be changing major plot points and I’m purposely leaving most of the writing alone. Just sprucing it up. Since I wrote this before I started posting fic to Tumblr, I decided to take the opportunity of posting the revised chapters here as I edit them. If you got to the end of this A/N: thank you!!!

Warnings: Kidnapping, Angst, Violence, Eventual happy ending

---

The Soldier leaped nimbly down the fire escape, his arm clamped firmly around the girl’s legs, securing her over his shoulder. He heard her let out little huffs of breath with each bump along the way and felt her hands desperately clutching the back of his jacket for security.

“Hey! You...oh, god, I don’t even know your name! You can’t just haul me off wherever you please. I’m a person!” she shouted into his back but he ignored her, hitting the pavement of the alley behind the apartment building and sprinting to the vehicle parked inside it’s entrance. 

She caught sight of the car as he swung her forward, opened the rear driver’s side seat and moved to stuff her inside. “Oh, no you don’t!” she struggled against him rather pathetically. The soldier felt a flare of aggravation and his instincts were screaming at him to just knock her out and be done with it. But the very thought of trying to hurt her sent a strike of pain through his chest and he ignored the instinct. It only took a few extra seconds to stuff her inside without violence and slam the door shut. Kind of like stuffing a prank snake back inside the peanut jar. 

Where the hell had that come from?

The Soldier shook his head as if shooing an annoying fly before sliding into the driver’s seat and starting the engine. He carefully pulled the car out of the alley and accelerated down the street. He heard the girl huffing and puffing in the back seat and glanced at her in the rear view mirror. She buckled her seat belt and folded her arms across her chest in an obviously defensive posture, turning her head to stare out the window and avoiding his gaze. He pointed his eyes back to the road and, after a moment, heard the tiniest sniffle from the back seat. His blood froze in his veins. Was she…? The Winter Soldier was not programmed to comfort damsels in distress. And the tiny secret self that still lived inside his head was horrified to contemplate that he’d made his soulmate cry.

---

Sophie sat in the back seat of the car, clutching her arms over her chest and trying to suppress the burning edge of tears that threatened to cap off this exceptionally horrid couple of days. She couldn’t stop the tiny sniffle and noticed that the man’s shoulders seemed to stiffen at the sound. She felt a constricting in her chest and the brush of his emotions against hers. Guilt. Well...good.

He should feel guilty. For manhandling her...for basically kidnapping her! She’d spent years pondering the nature of the words written on her skin and never once had she considered that the real danger might be from her soulmate himself.

“Where are we going?” she asked. He ignored her, removing a slim phone from the side pocket of his cargo pants and making a call. Sophie tried to burn laser vision holes through the back of his head while he waited for whoever he was calling to pick up.

Finally he spoke in that deep emotionless voice of his, “Target acquired….yes.” 

He hung up.

Excuse me?! 

“Um...did you just say ‘target acquired’? Referring to me? I’m a target?”

He glanced at her in the rear view mirror again. “You are...my soulmate.”

“Yes...I am!” she said with some indignation. “Why did you call me a target? Who were you talking to? Where are you taking me?”

Sophie watched as his face tensed in annoyance. Apparently he wasn’t used to people questioning him. Well...get used to it bud, I’m your true love. She felt humiliation as the tears she’d been trying to suppress suddenly spilled over. It was just too much. She’d been caught up in a gunfight, interrogated, and kidnapped by a man who was supposed to be her soulmate. She fell against the car door and sobbed angrily.

“You’re-you’re supposed to be a hero! That’s what the words mean, don’t they? You’re supposed to save me not kidnap me!”

His gloved hands tightened on the steering wheel and she felt the car accelerate even faster.

---

“You will present the target to your handlers at base 7-9, confirm.”

“...Yes.”

Base 7-9 . The Winter Soldier knew that location. He’d delivered many targets there for Hydra over the years. Located outside of D.C. it would be about a 5 hour drive. It was...a conditioning facility. A place they took valuable assets to break their will and place them under Hydra’s control. He’d personally assisted in...converting assets to Hydra. It was never a pleasant process. While the girl broke down in the back seat the soldier sat in silence, but inside he was experiencing a fury of pain and emotion. He wasn’t made for this. He wasn’t supposed to feel. But the bond with this girl wouldn’t allow his programming to suppress his feelings as usual. Instead his programming raged against the sudden tumult inside him. He felt like his head would explode but he continued driving. He needed...to think. He needed time to think.

He drove on until they made it to the city limits, finally getting on the highway for a few miles before stopping at the first available motel. When he’d neglected to respond to her hysterics the girl had settled down in the back seat. But he could still hear the ragged edge of her breathing indicating that she was crying and trying to be quiet about it. Again he felt the sour taste of guilt in his mouth. His life was suddenly more complicated than it had ever been. He pulled off the highway, parking the car at the very rear of the lot and killing the ignition. He took out his phone again and tapped at the screen.

Message: Stopping for the night. ETA: 1300

A response appeared almost immediately.

Message: Negative. Proceed directly to 7-9. Confirm.

The Asset stared at the screen for several seconds. The fingers of his metal hand tightening around the phone. The muscles in his back and shoulders went rigid with stress. When he felt the feather light touch of the girl’s finger tips brush his arm he very nearly startled. He turned his head slightly. Sophie had slid forward in the back seat and was leaning into the space between the front seats. She stared up at him, locking eyes. He took in her face, red from crying, her blue eyes looked glassy and tired. She stared at him with a sad kind of hope. It made him feel...awful. She didn’t speak, just looked at him.

The soldier cleared his throat, “We’re stopping for the night.” He powered down the cell phone and returned it to his pocket. 

Sophie glanced at the glowing sign for the motel and let out a shaky breath, “Okay. On our way to...where?”

“Let’s get inside first.” He opened his door and shifted in his seat to get out of the car. 

“Wait,” she hadn’t moved from her position. “What is your name? You’re my soulmate and I don’t even know your name.”

The soldier sat there for a long time, his brows furrowed in confusion. “I...I don’t have one.”

“What do you mean you don’t have one? Everyone has a name.”

“Not me. Let’s go.”

Tagged:

@watsonwise​

[stratsandwhiskeywritestuff]

Q+A With Strats and Whiskey!

We held a brief Q+A over on our Twitter, and had some awesome questions come in! We’ll post em here too for everyone to see. Have questions for us too? Hit us up on Twitter or in our ask box :D we’d love to hear from you!

Questions include asking us about the collaborative process, about writing kink together, the trust that takes, what characters we love writing most and our thoughts on writing in general!

PaleGlimmer: I asked about collab writing because I have no idea how you make it work.

WHISKEY: I’ve been collaborating on stories since I got into Hannibal. For me, it started as an offshoot of online RP. If you go back far enough you can see that, because the writing is stilted and jumpy, and you can tell that two people are writing. I’ve had three major collab partners in my fandom life and after a time our “voices” and styles start to gel and it becomes more seamless. That, for me, means that’s the right partner to write with, because you start taking on their mannerisms and descriptions, and they take on yours, and people can’t tell (or can tell very vaguely) that two people wrote a story.

As for technicalities, we just “tag” each other with part of the story for the other to continue it. Sometimes it’s short tags, dialogue, or brief descriptions, other times we get carried away (in the best way possible) and end up writing 6k a day. With Strats and I, we started with preferential characters and usually tagged for just them, but now we cover everything and everyone in our tags.

STRATS: Whiskey covered this pretty well. With Whiskey, We share characters pretty evenly now, and just write about 200-300 word chunks back and forth, but there are definitely characters we each feel more comfortable with. And scenarios we both excel at! Even if I haven’t written much, I’ll tag Whiskey in if we are coming up on something Whiskey is better at, and vice versa. (For example, Whiskey is much better at pretentious Hannibal speeches than I am, and I have a particular fondness for writing emotional breakdowns. This doesn’t mean we are the only person to write those, of course, just that we tag each other in more often.)

If I’m writing with anyone else, I usually write the same way. There’s only one person I’ll still do RP-style writing with. Usually I try to match my partner’s style, so for example, when I wrote with YAMD I focused a lot more on detailed descriptions than I usually do. I can’t really describe it, I just try to align with how my partner writes. 

I’M NOT VERY HELPFUL, SORRY :D

Cuttlefishcatfish:

1. What do you love about writing?

STRATS: When you finally get to that moment, that scene you’ve been thinking about for AGES, the one you have entirely plotted for weeks. 

Also, writing emotional breakdowns. Give me a sobbing panic attack any day. 

WHISKEY: The moment you hit the flow point and everything just makes sense; either an idea just CLICKS or you finally get over that plot point you were worried about and you are racing through.

2. What do you hate about writing?

STRATS: god why haven’t we yet invented a way for me to think words onto the page? I’M SO TIRED. 

WHISKEY: That meme? The one that goes like “I need this very specific fic and I need it immediately… which means I need to write it… but I just wanna read it, not write it”. That.

3. One writing tip that you could give to other writers.

STRATS: When I was a teenager I came across some writing advice from an author I loved (I want to say Steven King, but it’s been years). The advice was “sit down and actually write.” And I was PISSED. As a teenager struggling with motivation, I hated that advice. 

Now I’m almost 27 and I can safely say that the best writing advice I can give you is JUST FUCKING WRITE THE THING. Even on days I feel like my writing is garbage, I force out a bit of garbage. Force your way through the shitty parts so you can get to the fun parts. You can always go back and edit the shitty parts later (and often it turns out they weren’t as shitty as you thought they were). 

WHISKEY: Practice. I’m sorry, I’m trite and boring but honestly that’s the only way you will get better, get into a habit of writing all the time, and start to find your own voice. Practice even just 100 words a day, coz that’s 100 words more than you had yesterday.

4. One overused word in fanfics?

WHISKEY: Oh god our beta actually points these out now haha! I’m terrible for teeth/tongue/lip action (he tongued the corner of his mouth, flashed his teeth, bit his lip)

STRATS: any time someone’s smile “quirks up at the corners” or you read the words “fluttering/thrumming pulse,” that’s me. It’s always me. I have been called out on the hummingbird pulse before. 

5. Have you guys disagreed on a story direction? If yes, how do you resolve that?

WHISKEY: I don’t think we have *disagreed* really, once in a while we find that a story doesn’t flow how it should, and we start over, or a character we had planned in our head ends up written differently on a tag. In that case we usually just ping the other and explain what we were after (we have a chat always open alongside writing) and figure out what works best for the story. I can think of a couple times that’s happened and it’s always a super chill and fair affair; both of us have “won” those kinds of things before.

STRATS: We gel really well together, and often our stories are at least loosely planned out from the beginning, so it doesn’t come up much. Every once in a while one of us says “so I don’t think this is working” and we usually do our best to find a way to change it around. It’s not really “fun” to write together if you’re making your partner write something they aren’t happy with, so we try to take each other’s opinions into account. 

6. How did you guys manage to let the other into your thought process? Writing is intimate. With a writing partner, that person knows what your kinks, opinions about things, etc. are. Was it scary to let that person in and see you being vulnerable with your works? This is assuming that you let your personality bleed through your stories.

So, this is an awesome question actually, thanks for asking it, and the answer might sound a bit weird so bear with us! We both get a bit of a (major) crush on our writing partners when we write, and after. Not in a way that would be considered cheating or manipulative but in a way that is… intimate. You said it right that it’s intimate. Neither of us want to date the other (besides, Strats is married) but we love each other and spend a lot of time together with our writing.

There is a lot of trust there, and opening up is a process. I think with Strats and I, we started talking about a kink we shared (human furniture) and it sort of bled out from there. “Oh, I also like bondage! And I’m a huge fan of cock and ball torture, you into that?” and it grew from there.

There were some kinks that we came across that we’d both agree were not our jam and we’d just put them away, and there were some kinks that at one point were not one of our kinks but now we share them. These are interesting ones because it happened absolutely organically; neither of us ever push the other into kinks we know make the other uncomfortable, but we do offer the chance, if one of us is so inclined.

For Whiskey this was ABO and feminization, for Strats it’s underage. Once in a while we’ll push a little to see how we feel about those things, but there’s always a carte blanche to back out if anything makes us uncomfortable. It’s honestly such a safe place to explore these things that we really love it. Also both of us are super kinky and very open about it so there’s usually VERY little (if any) filter when we talk sex/kink.

Blue Posey: Where do you get the ideas from? Your stories are so varied.

WHISKEY: We shamelessly pluck ideas from the Hannigram Kinkmeme on Discord, we have about 150 saved in a spreadsheet that we random number generate from when we want a new idea. Sometimes it’s AUs of movies or other shows that we like, sometimes it’s just an idea that we’ve had that we put out into the void and one of us will freak out and connect it to something.

STRATS: we also both keep track of twitter and tumblr and will send each other prompts based on those. We are following quite a few non-fandom porn accounts… 

and of course, sometimes I wake up at four am and text whiskey absolute gibberish and in the morning we write a fic.

Christina Shinn: I always like knowing about what gets writers really excited about their own fics. How writers overcome their writer's block. What motivates writers. What are some pet peeves of writers. YAY! Love your fics!

WHISKEY: 1. I get excited about fics I know people are excited about. If Strats pings me with a story idea and she’s stoked about it, I’ll catch that fever and be entirely into exploring that story. Likewise if someone commissions us or requests a story that really digs its heels in.

STRATS: 1) I’ve gotten a LITTLE less vain now that I do commissions and gifts for other people, but generally, every single thing I have written is something I’ve wanted to read, and so I love rereading it. Sometimes I’ll cringe at a typo or a mistake or an awkward line, but overall, I love everything I write. I have spent hours retreading my own fics before. Write the kind of story you want to read!

WHISKEY: 2. Writer’s block is an asshole and honestly I have no actual “fix it” for you; collab writing definitely helps because you have someone to soundboard off of, but even then sometimes we find ourselves just stuck. That’s when we start yet another original story XD

STRATS: 2) Writer's block occasionally eats me alive. If it’s REALLY hitting you, take a day off. It’s okay. Take a break. Do something fun. 

But once that day is over WRITE THE THING. Write something terrible. Just do it. You can always fix it later

WHISKEY: 3. Collab writing is hugely motivating for me, it’s an immediate and awesome feedback loop of love. You tag, you send it off, and someone FINDS THAT IDEA COOL ENOUGH TO CONTINUE and ping you back, and you have new material to work with that didn’t come out of your head and… it’s great, it really is. Also feedback from readers. Even if it’s critique (note: not “I hated this” but “this could have been done differently imo”) it’s a great way to keep growing and moving as a writer.

STRATS: 3) collab writing is really motivating for me because I am a Guilt Monster and other people are relying on me. For my own stuff, I’m motivated because I’m writing something I like. Something I want to reread later. 

If a story isn’t working for you (and it isn’t required for some sort of work or whatever), stop writing it. Go write something you like. It’s okay to say “actually, I don’t want to write this one anymore.”

WHISKEY: 4. I think every writer has a pet peeve regarding their own headcanons. Some people hate endearments with a pairing, but have their own pet names that work for them in their personal headcanon. In others’ work? There are certain things that irk me, but they’re also entirely personal. If I feel that a character has been written really OOC in a fic that is marked as canon for instance, it grinds my gears. THAT SAID that’s also the writer’s own prerogative.

STRATS: 4) I have too many pet peeves to mention because I am a snob, but I still have relatively low standards for what I’ll read, so I’ve read a vast variety of things. 

Besides what Whiskey said about characterization, I have a few aspects of life that I’m somewhat knowledgeable about, and I can’t stand when people get it WRONG. Special mention goes to people writing children badly, which is the entire reason Family of Choice exists. If you don’t have children or know children, PLEASE do some research into child development before you write them. It drives me up the wall when kids are doing things they shouldn’t be at that age. NEWBORNS. DON’T. GIGGLE.

[upinthestarsx3]

Off Limits (m) part 6

Professor!reader x College student!Jungkook au

Genre: short series|smut|mostly angst|fluff in future|au

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: Explicit language, mature content, including some  masturbation and voyeurism in this chapter.

Summary: You’re fresh out of college having just received your masters degree in Math. You begin working at a nearby college and meet your headstrong student, Jungkook. After a drunk hookup; things get complicated.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

a/n: It’s been so long. Ugh I just fixed so many typos so apologies to anyone who read before I edited lmao. This chapter was fun to write. Enjoy and sorry i’m so flaky with posting more often!

The drive to Jungkook’s house is a blur. You sped through the main road knowing that he would also be on his way home; it was a race that you had to win.

When you arrive, your fingers run over the smooth keypad; trying every combination that might possibly get you into his fancy high tech building.

“Baby.” You hear someone whisper from behind you, letting out heavy breaths as if he’d just ran a mile.

You don’t need to turn back to know that it’s Jungkook, “Leave me alone.” You demand through pursed lips; your fingers still running rapidly on the keypad.

“You’re going to set off the alarm, y/n.” He speaks up again, his tone stern as he held his keycard in his hand. This time you turn towards him, confused that he used your actual name instead of calling you baby; the nickname you grew to love hearing from him.

“Let me in; I need my things.” Your words spill from your mouth like venom, and your glare holds nothing but disgust in them.

“Not until we talk.” He tells you, instead of asking.

A look of disbelief washes over your face, you place your hands on your hips and shake your head from side to side,

“No! I don’t want to talk. I want my things.”

He lets out a loud exhale as he rolls his eyes,

“Y/N, please stop being dramatic. I’m sorry, okay? Where will you go if you leave tonight?” He grills you, walking towards you to take your hand in his; but you quickly snatch it away, catching him off guard. His hand drops to his side, his eyebrows creasing deeply as he takes his keycard and swipes it for you.

The two of you walk quietly side by side to his front door. He reaches for his keys and pauses for a minute; taking a long look at you with fluttering eyes, and you see that same admiration in them.

“What, Jungkook?” You whine, eyes rolling as you quickly break eye contact with him.

“I love you.” He whispers, “and I don’t want you to leave me.”

“I don’t even think you know what love is,” you reply bluntly. He doesn’t acknowledge your insult as he finally opens the door and allows you to walk inside.

He watches you sadly as you gather your things, sitting at the edge of the bed while rubbing his sweaty palms against his jeans.

“Will you stay if I tell you what happened between me and Taehyung? Is that why you’re upset?”

“If you don’t know why I’m upset then we really have nothing to talk about.”

“You always try to make me seem like the problem, y/n. All I do is treat you well and you drag me along like a fucking rag doll because you know I love you.” He mumbles before he breaks into sobs. It takes all your might to stay put and not rush to his side and embrace him until his sadness passes, but you don’t- you refuse to feed into this any longer.

“I’m not going to let you manipulate me. Not this time, Jungkook.” Standing your ground as you hold several boxes in your hand.

“Everyone always fucking leaves me.” He sounds wounded, broken even. You wonder if he’s been this intense since the two of you first started dating.

You stand awkwardly by the door, silent for a few minutes, debating if you should even say anything at all,

“Hey.” You call out to him.

“Just go.” He croaks, turning his face away from you as his tears continue to flow freely.

“Kookie, look at me. This is not healthy. I’m so sorry that I let it go on; I should have never crossed that line. You are my student, and I am your professor. That is all it will ever be from this point forward.”

He rolls his eyes and gives you an incredulous look,

“Baby, you and I both know we can’t go back to that, not after I’ve been inside you-“

“Stop it.” You cut him off, twisting the door knob to leave before glancing back at him once more, telling him, “I don’t like who you’re becoming.”

**

Jungkook skipped 3 classes during the week, no emails, no texts, and no calls. The same paranoia that drove you crazy once before, crept its way back in once again. You hand back quizzes to your class, ignoring the awkward glances from both Jimin and Taehyung.

Are you on campus?

You can’t just keep missing classes.

Stop ignoring me! It’s immature.

He reads every message and leaves you read, which only fuels your anger. You continue class with a smile plastered on your face while you glance to your phone every once in a while.

Halfway through class the door swings open, and in walks Jungkook with another female student whom hasn’t been present from class; and they walk in hand in hand. None of them spare any glances your way and you clench your fists tightly by your sides,

“You two think it’s okay to just walk into class 35 minutes late and not even apologize?” You practically growl.

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry. I was distracted, it won’t happen again!” Mina apologizes sincerely. Not that it made you feel any better. You look to Jungkook and raise your eyebrows, waiting for him to explain himself.

“What?” He snaps loudly, embarrassing you as the group of students look from him to you, waiting for your response.

“See me after class,” you reply, turning your back to everyone and facing the board to finish the problem on the board.

“Or what?” He sarcastically talks back, “You’ll punish me?”

You snap your head towards his direction a shocked expression as you watch him lick his lips with low sultry looking eyes- all while having his arm around Mina.

Glancing to your phone you see that it’s 20 minutes too early to end class, but end it anyway,

“Have a good weekend, guys. Remember, midterms next week; I’ll email you all an exact date this weekend.”

Students quickly dart from their seats and out of the classroom, excited for the weekend, presumably.

“Jungkook, I told you to stay after class.” You demand, staring daggers through him. He rolls his eyes dramatically and tells Mina he would text her later.

“Why are you acting like this?” You ask in a small voice, looking away from him and towards the floor.

He stands there and stares down at you, a stoic expression on his face,

“Why am I acting like this? You mean getting together with someone that will actually appreciate me?”

“I meant why are you missing classes, showing up late, and being rude to me in front of everyone.” Of course you were upset about him dating Mina, but you’d never admit that to him. This seems to bother him, his face turning into one of confusion.

“Fuck you, y/n.”

“No fuck you, asshole! I’m so sick of you and your childish games.”

The two of you stand there, arguing in low voices to avoid being heard, like two children.

A knock on the door makes the both of you jump about two feet apart,

“Oh, I’m glad to see the two of you here.” Jin smiles, “y/n, the art competition is on Monday at 7pm, don’t forget. It’s right on campus, first floor in the art building. Jungkook, I’m expecting some great work for the art show from you.” He doesn’t wait for a response before he waves and walks off.

Jungkook begins walking towards the door without another word. This was something you were not used to at all, you had grown accustomed to him always being the one to apologize, admit he’s wrong, and ask for another chance- never did you think he would stop,

“Wait!” You yell out, “I left some things at your house, I’m gonna need to pick them up.” You continue, your voice much lower than before.

“I’ll be with Mina tonight, but you can get them tomorrow night.” He walks out without a goodbye, a smile, or an I love you, and it breaks your heart.

You arrive to the motel you’ve called home for the past week, lying in bed and allowing yourself to finally cry, weeks and weeks of emotions building up, only to be uncaged as you sit on a bed in an empty room, filled with nothing but an 80s style tv and a dresser that had cat claw marks engraved in it.

Grabbing your phone and looking through your contacts you scroll through names of people you haven’t spoken to since college, only stopping when you find Jungkook’s name, labeled as, Kookie.

The phone rings twice before it goes right to voicemail, signaling that he ignored it; which only made you cry more. You quickly begin sending texts to his phone back after back, unconcerned that he would be with his rebound.

“Please talk to me.”

“I’m sorry, okay? I am sorry!”

“Kookie..”

“Please don’t do this to me.”

A half hour passes, and you find yourself walking to nearest place that could get you blackout drunk. You were unbothered that you were now in a bar occupied by drunk young adults no older than 30. You’re too busy impatiently calling the bartender over and asking for three shots, all for yourself, and throwing them back before asking for another round.

“Geez, y/n. Slow down, wait, I can call you y/n, right? Since we’re not on campus?” Jimin’s voice sounds alarms in your head as you turn slowly towards him.

“Just fucking great.” Is your nice way of greeting him back and you place your head in your hands.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay, we’re not on campus. Everything okay with Jungkook?” He asks, making your eyes widen and you cringe,

“Please don’t do that, don’t- don’t ask about him. It’s weird.”

“Okay, fine. How about a shot? My treat? I still feel really bad about the whole Taehyung situation.”

You contemplate asking about Jungkook and Taehyung, wondering why they hated each other so much when they apparently used to be like brothers.

“Fine, shots. Your treat.” You smile, still a little uncomfortable, but not enough to turn down free liquor.

“y/n! y/n! Are you okay?” You hear Jimin’s voice echoing as you try to gain your balance, you haven’t drank this much since you turned 21. If you were being honest, you were more of a wine drinker and hated clear liquor.

“I’m fine.” you slur. Smiling his way and ignoring his worried glances.

Towards the back you see a group of people playing beer pong, and you quickly run to join them; Jimin tries to grab your arm but you pull away and walk over to the man who needed a partner.

It wasn’t like you to meet strangers in the bar- hell, bars weren’t even your thing. But here you were, lying on the bar table with your shirt lifted preparing for body shots with your beer pong partner after winning two games in a row.

You soak in the feeling of this man sucking liquor from your stomach and licking his way down to your hips, humming as began leaving kisses there.

You turn your head to glance around the bar, suddenly worried that Jimin might be watching. Instead, you’re met with Jungkook’s wicked eyes. His arms crossed over his chest as he raises his eyebrows accusingly. You quickly jump up from your lying position and push the man away from you as you walk to the door,

“Koo-“

“Don’t talk me, y/n.” He hums defeatedly, helping you to his car and buckling you in,

“Jimin called me and told me you were out of control.”

“I was fine!” You lash out, who did Jimin think he was? Calling Jungkook on you?

He ignores you the rest of the way, and takes you straight to his apartment complex.

“Go brush your teeth. You stink like liquor.”

Pouting at his insult you run into the bathroom, opting to take a shower as well.

“Kookie, please bring me a towel.”

He walks into the bathroom and throws the towel on the counter from the doorway, not even darting his eyes your way. He goes to walk back out and you comment,

“Want to come in?” A hopeful tone in your voice,

“No.” And he slams the door behind him.

His bad attitude made you wish you were back at your lonely motel, he doesn’t want anything to do with you and it tears you apart. The both of you lie in the same bed but he lies down a foot away from you, lying on his back and staring up the ceiling.

“Kookie.” You whisper, turning on your side and reaching out for him. You reach his arm and prepare for him to pull away, but he doesn’t. Sure enough, you slowly scoot your way towards his warm body, and as if it’s instinct, he wraps his arms around you. You don’t dare say anything to ruin this moment, he loves you, and you were beginning to think you loved him back.

In the morning you wake up to an empty bed, your head feels as though it’s weighed down by bricks and you squeeze your eyes shut.

“There’s medicine and water on the night stand, I’m making breakfast. You need to eat.” He smiles softly, the smile doesn’t reach his eyes but it’s a good start.

“Thanks.” Is all you’re able to get out, afraid you might say the wrong thing and set him off.

It stays that way the entire morning, quiet but content. No words are ever needed between the two of you. It was like you spoke through touching, through facial expressions, and through helpful gestures.

You watch him sit in front of his drawing canvas, the stress on his face makes you upset for him. He had only two days to finish his art exhibit work- and he hasn’t even started.

“I don’t know what to do,” he explodes, making you jump from your position on the bed,

“Why don’t you draw a portrait of your dad, you’d automatically win, no one will turn down a school president portrait.

“Shut up.” He laughs; the soft wrinkles near his eyes make your heart melt.

“Maybe you just need some motivation,” you say, standing up from the bed, walking towards him before you stand in front of him, attempting to sit in his lap but he pushes you back down on the bed.

“Seriously? After last night you’re going to try that?”

“Jungkook, how many times do I have to say I’m sorry! I wasn’t myself last night.”

“You haven’t said sorry at all, y/n.” He’s clearly frustrated and you know you’ve screwed up whatever nice moment the two of you were having.

“If you were pleasing me than I wouldn’t have to find it somewhere else.” You snarl. His eyes shoots from his canvas and he purses his lips,

“Then you should learn to please yourself.” He grills you, waiting for another smart comment to come from your lips,

“I don’t- I’ve never done that. I mean, I’ve touched myself but I’ve never-“

“Really?” He questions, a surprised look on his face as he loses interest in the canvas.

“You can teach me.” You beg, pulling his hand and guiding it to the crotch of your shorts, he moves his chair and kneels in front you, rubbing you through the thin material, listening to you let you soft moans. Just as quickly as he started, he stops.

“What the hell.” You meant to yell, but it still comes out as light moan.

“I wanna see you touch yourself.” He bites his lip before sitting back down in front of you.

“Take of your shorts baby.” He guides you, watching your every move. You listen to him, taking it off quickly and throwing it across the room. You reach for your panties but you hear him speak,

“No. You listen to what I tell you to do.” Your eyes light up and you nod your head quickly.

“Pull your panties to the side, I wanna see your pussy.” He shifts in his seat and moves a little closer. Your run your fingers over your slit covered by a laced thong before moving the thin material to the right side.

“What next.” Squirming in your place begging for instruction to please your throbbing womanhood.

“Run a finger between your lips, baby.”

You quickly swipe a finger all the way up to your clit but he smirks,

“Slower.” Dragging out the word, and leaning in to get a better look,

“So pretty.” You look up at him with a smile and see that he’s already palming himself through his jeans,

“Touch your clit. Flick it a little bit, it’ll feel good.” He reassures.

Bringing your index finger to your clit you graze it lightly and arch your back in pleasure, feeling you pussy get wetter.

You look up at him expectantly and see that he’s drawing; looking between you and his canvas. You quickly squeeze your legs shut and sit up,

“What are you doing?”

“Drawing.” He answers as though it’s no big deal.

“Yes I know what you’re doing but- but-“

“No one will know it’s you. Has anyone ever seen you like I have? Naked? Legs spread open? You touch yourself for anyone else other than me?”

“No.”

“So nothing to worry about, open your legs.” He comforts you lovingly,

“Now show me how you finger yourself, baby. Show me how you please yourself.” His words alone make you moan and you find yourself begging for him to finish you off, he doesn’t of course. This was your lesson- your payback for last night.

“Oh gosh,” you squeal, your hips circling as you continued to finger yourself,

“Rub your clit with your other hand.” He murmurs. You quickly place your hand over your clit and rub it at a fast pace while fucking yourself with three fingers.

You hadn’t realized how long you’ve been at this until you see his finished canvas pushed to the side and his hand wrapped around his cock as he moves his tight grasp up and down.

“Fuck me, Kookie.” You whine, fingers still rubbing your clit, your body shaking.

“Apologize.” He commands, just like you demanded of him the night at the strip club, the first night you two got together.

“Apologize!” He demands a little louder this time, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“I’m sorry.” You agreed, leaning up to pull him closer. He pushes you back on the bed for a second time tonight and crawls over you. Placing an elbow next to your head and the other on his cock to guide himself inside of you. 

Sex with Jungkook tonight was the opposite of what you were used to. He was slow, gentle even. Allowing his body to completely mold with yours and feeling every part of your body.

“I love you,” he declares,

“I know.”

He picks up the pace, smiling down at you and watching your eyes roll back with each thrust. His moans were driving you mad and clenched around his dick, something you did when you were about to cum. He throws your legs over his shoulders and takes a hold of your upper thighs, using them to grip you as he continues to pound into you relentlessly. You can feel him pulsating inside of you,

“Cumming.” He breathes heavily, eyes squeezed shut,

“Fuck.” He looks shocked to see you still writhing beneath him.

As soon as he releases you, you push his head lower until he’s facing your cunt. Without waiting for instruction he licks a strip up your pussy, enjoying your reaction. You run fingers through his hair and tug harshly at the strands.

His tongue pokes through and begins toying with your clit, pausing every once in a while to shove his tongue inside of you. “Oh god, Kookie.” You scream as you cum, trying to push his head away as he continues to suck your juices.

“I love you.” You finally admit as the two of you lie in bed together. He slowly looks your way with a large smile, looking just as drained as you were. He pulls you in and kisses you softly.

“Sorry to break it to you, but I’m with Mina now.” You slap his chest and the two of you break out in giggles.

“Shut up!” You complain with a smile. Your laughs die down eventually and he looks at you, a serious look in eyes as he proceeds,

“No more games, baby. I’m yours and you are mine.”

a/n: The story is on an indefinite hiatus.

masterlist is here

[they-did-what-to-allura]

My letter for the @justice-for-allura project. Posting mostly to remind anybody who might be lurking that this is a thing, and it’s a cool thing. If you feel bad bout how Allura’s story went down and wanna make your points known, this is a great opportunity for it.

Edit: Changed some things, fixed a couple typos and reworded some points for clarification.

To the Voltron Team, DreamWorks, to Any and All Involved with the Decision to Kill Off Allura,

Let me begin by thanking the team for giving us this iteration of Allura to begin with. She is a beloved character to many fans. If she wasn’t such a great character, there wouldn’t be so many of us upset about the way her story ended. So, thank you for Allura. She was an amazing character with interesting layers of personality and a delightful design.

In this letter I will explain not only why I was personally disheartened by her death, but also why I believe it was a poor choice to make in terms of writing and the larger narrative.

On the personal end, I related very much to Allura. I empathize with the trauma of losing loved ones and it was cathartic for me to see a character lose so much, but not be defined by that loss. A character who retained a multifaceted personality that included a playful streak, a love of sparkly things, a sense of justice, and abundant courage. She is not reduced to her loss even though it impacts her journey as a character.

Allura’s struggle with Alfor’s corrupted AI also deeply resonated with me. While this is coming from a rather abstract point, it reminds me of my own struggle with a father who is an addict. Allura had to let Alfor’s AI go in spite of how painful it was, in spite of the better memories haunting her every step of the way. The possibility I will have to let my own father go is a very real one because he has made it clear he will never change. His addiction has effectively corrupted our relationship and fed into my own stints with substance abuse. This will be an unspeakably painful decision for me and we have many happier memories that reel through my mind every moment I even contemplate making it.

To relate to a character, to be inspired by a character and her persistence, and then watch her die…really blows. My stomach sank. I felt like crap. I felt even crappier upon hearing that my friend’s nine year old niece sobbed when she watched the ending. I doubt we related to Allura for the same reasons, but I do know that Allura was her favorite character. So with that, I’ll get into the less personal and more objective reasons as to why I feel Allura’s death was a horrible decision.

Firstly, VLD is geared toward younger audiences. I know VLD has a notable periphery demographic, with many older teens and adults such as myself watching and being in the fandom. I know sometimes this periphery demographic can be louder than the intended audience, which I can only assume is children due to the toys and easy-read supplemental materials. VLD has a Y-7 rating, so even if the volume of the periphery demographic drowns out that of the intended, the rating alone demonstrates that this is a show that’s at the least meant to be accessible to children.

Children are impressionable. Representation is important for people of all ages, of course, but it is especially important to children. Kids connect more easily to media where they can see themselves and for the good or the ill, fictional characters can be role models for children.

Allura was a non-white female leader, described in-universe as the “Heart of Voltron.” That’s amazing! That’s truly rare. It’s sad that it’s rare. It’s 2019 and there should be a plethora of non-white female protagonists for young girls of color to look up to. But there aren’t.

Allura was fantastic representation for young girls of color. Representation they hardly ever get. I cannot see a single good reason to take that representation away from them. In fact, it seems downright mean to take that away from them. I do not want the excuse that the staff weren’t aware of the importance of representation, either. You can’t promote the show with official art like this:

  …and claim you’re unaware of how important representation is. Particularly for children, for whom this show was rated as being appropriate for.

I do not feel the excuse that this show was about war is reasonable either. Yes, in real life, war is painful. Lives are lost indiscriminately. This was one of the justifications cited for Adam’s death when VLD was criticized for portraying the “Bury Your Gays” trope. However, VLD had already made it clear that war had costs. The Arusian village was destroyed purposely to bait the team. Several Blades of Marmora lost their lives aiding the team. The costs of war were very clear early on in the show. Allura certainly didn’t have to die to reinforce a theme that had already been reinforced several times prior.

On that note, it is very telling that an apology letter was sent for the death of a character who had all of two minutes of screen time, but not for Allura, a major protagonist.

Many people are offended by Allura’s death, feeling that it is racist and sexist. I do not want to believe that Allura’s death was intended to be either of these things. However, there are serious unfortunate implications in killing off your only WoC in the main cast that cannot be ignored. VLD is fictional but it exists in a real world, where real people are impacted by these issues.

While Allura’s death ultimately feels disrespectful given what she represented and its sheer pointlessness in the story, I see attempts at respect in its overall framing. Allura is revered as a hero. There is a statue built in her honor. She has a legacy. These are things that generally shape the celebration of a fallen hero. But even within the framing, there are mixed signals. Most notably, her loved ones take cheery selfies in font of her monument. In my personal opinion, that is the antithesis to an attempted respectful tone.

And I specifically use the word ‘attempted’ because despite the framing, Allura’s death does not actually come across as respectful in the least. It is crammed into the last nine minutes of the final episode. It is immediately followed by a flash forward to the future. Neither the characters nor the audience have time to mourn her. I do not want to hear the excuse that Allura’s death isn’t offensive because “she died as a hero.” Simply because something may be framed to be respectful doesn’t mean it actually is. The poor execution of that attempted framing itself is one of the lesser of many harmful messages sent by the decision to kill Allura off.

In a world where representation is important, an importance that is acknowledged by the staff, somehow someone still came to the conclusion that Allura’s narrative should end in death. Intent aside, her death falls into the “Disposable Woman” cliche, and is especially gutting because she is a WoC. I cannot reiterate how rare it is to see characters like Allura, non-white women that serve as major protagonists.

Allura suffered unduly throughout the series. She lost an entire planet, her family, her home, her title, and eventually her life. She was always a giving character. She was willing to sacrifice herself to save the Balmera as early as season one. It is noble of her to have that kind of dedication, I’m not saying it isn’t. But girls are socialized to sacrifice their happiness for others, it is a message they internalize at multiple levels.

Girls are socialized to put others before themselves and to sacrifice, and this expectation is especially pressing for girls of color. The SBW (Strong Black Woman) stereotype is a notably prevalent one because of the expectation placed on black women specifically to always be strong and constantly put their own needs last. While Allura is an alien, she is in-universe a minority post Altea’s destruction and IRL, redesigned to be non-white. And many fans, including myself, do see her as specifically black-coded because of her skin tone, hair texture, and having Kimberly Brooks as her voice actress.

A hopeful ending for any character who sacrificed as much as Allura would be one where that character is rewarded for their sacrifice. Where they’re able to find happiness on the other end. Where the audience feels payoff because a character we’ve seen give for so long finally gets. Where the audience feels fulfilled because a character we’ve seen grieve and grieve finally gets to breathe. For kids to see a non-white female character get this kind of ending isn’t only hopeful, but important. Girls— especially girls of color —should be shown that they don’t have to give up everything. Boys should also be shown these narratives, because they shouldn’t internalize the expectation of the girls and women in their lives to constantly sacrifice.

Allura’s sacrifice stands out as particularly glaring when we take into account that teamwork was supposedly one of VLD’s major themes. In a show entitled Voltron: Legendary Defender, wherein the titular robot must be formed by a team, it seems very out of place that it was up to one person to save the day. What was the point of the team bonding with each other, and with the lions, if all of that was going to be rendered useless in the battle that mattered the most?

None of the main characters we’d been led to believe loved each other made any real attempt to find another solution through teamwork. They more or less accepted Allura’s sacrifice at face value even though she was supposedly important to them. The paladins offered some minimal protest, then each gave Allura a hug and just watched her walk to her death. In addition to undercutting the theme of teamwork in the show, it just felt very strange to watch. I didn’t feel like I was watching a team who fought side-by-side at all. These characters felt less connected to each other than they did during the first season and at this point, supposedly they’ve fought side-by-side for years.

Not only did Allura’s lone sacrifice seem to undercut the theme of teamwork, but it just seemed incongruent to the atmosphere of the series. While loss was depicted and prevalent in VLD, nothing ever indicated that it would be a tragedy. Watching Allura’s death play out feels like watching a show that forgot what genre it was supposed to be. The emotional beats aren’t the right ones.

We feel no payoff from her death because it didn’t accomplish anything of value in the narrative. Allura had something to live for after the war, her newfound family and love interest. She didn’t have anything to atone for, unlike Honerva. At best (and I really mean at best here) one could argue that her death contributed to Lance’s development because he spends his life spreading her message after the fact. However, many viewers understandably perceived this as a demotion for Lance with its own set of unfortunate implications. Even if that was the case— which itself feels like grasping at straws for some kind of explanation —I shouldn’t have to point out why it’s extremely problematic for a female character to be killed for her love interest’s development.

Allura’s death felt as pointless as it did out of place. It felt unsatisfying and frankly, just like someone in the writer’s room wanted to be Edgy™ for the sake of it. It also felt particularly mean coming from a team who acknowledged how important representation was to its viewers and who used representation as a promotion point.

VLD is over. That is clear. I do not write this with the intent to get the “real ending” or anything of the like. I write this to express why Allura’s death effected me personally, why I feel it has harmful messages, and why it comes across both as harsh and as poor writing.

I hope all those who were involved with this decision reflect on the feedback from the way her death was perceived, most important the feedback of the WoC in the audience. Major character death should always be handled with care, especially in children’s programs. Representation should always be handled with care, especially in children’s programs. The way Allura’s story ultimately ended feels careless at best and malicious at worst.

Signed,

An Incredibly Disappointed Viewer

[azaleablueme]

Heart to Heart

Genre: Romance/Angst Words: 3.6K Era: HBP Rating: T 

Summary: Ron wakes up to an unexpected guest in the middle of the night after he has been poisoned.

This fic is not edited and all errors/typos you find are mine. Apologies in advance.

Ron opened his eyes hours later to a silent, dimly lit room.  As he lay still, soaking in the quiet of the infirmary, he realised his brain was still a little fuzzy.  Thankfully, the strange buzzing in his ears he had woken up with the first time had lessened, although the bitter aftertaste of the potion Madam Pomfrey had fed him still persisted. He was only wondering if his limbs would cooperate this time when a soft sob broke in internal musings.

He’d know that sound anywhere- she was there.

The infirmary was lit with the softest of lights, and yet somehow he could see her clearly. The robe had been discarded but other than that she was still in her school uniform, perhaps she had come down after the last patrol? Her messy curls looked as if she had not bothered to comb through, while slumped shoulders shook with the softest of whimpers. And despite her dishevelled appearance, Ron couldn’t tear his eyes off her form- she was the most beautiful thing he had seen in… well… a great many months. 

As much as he hated when she cried, worse when it was because of something he had done, he was really glad to find her next to him. Unless… she was a vision… born out of his deepest desires. He continued to watch her, trying hard to not to blink, dreading every second that the vision would disappear if he looked away.

As his eyes got more accustomed to the lack of light, he could see her better, notice every little detail. Was it possible for a vision to be so ...accurate? Her cheeks were just the perfect shade, although it appeared paler in a tired sort of way. She looked smaller than ever, hunched at the very edge of his bed, head bent low. He noticed her ink-stained fingers as she swiped a hand over her face, wiping off the moisture, gaze fixed on, what he could only assume, was his hand.

Despite all the little things that pointed out that Hermione had indeed sneaked into the infirmary to visit him, he was still scared to hope she was anything more than his brains playing tricks. Perhaps it was more addled than he had thought earlier. Hermione, he reckoned sadly, would never come to see him in the dead of the night, nor cry over him after the utter mess they had made of their life, their friendship… and whatever it was that truly defined his relationship with her. He didn’t deserve it anymore.

But, he thought, the twins had mentioned her, and Harry, of course. They had visited him before he regained consciousness. But it had to be hours ago. He didn’t have the faintest clue how long he had slept but it was definitely past midnight, already; she wasn’t even supposed to be outside the Gryffindor Common Room at this hour.

Could she come back for him? Break school rules? He knew, his Hermione would… She’d stay outside the doors of the infirmary, magic them open against the rules if she really wanted to see him…

He lifted his hand without conscious thought and was both surprised and immensely relieved when his fingers felt soft skin instead of vapour.

Hermione let out a small gasp, her bloodshot eyes meet his, and Ron held his breath while she placed her hand gingerly over his.

Her touch was everything.  

Gently, he swiped away her tears with the pad of his thumb, and she let out another whimper. Suddenly she flung her arms around his shoulders and collapsed on his chest, muffled sobs reaching right to his heart, while her tears stained his shirt.

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer to himself until she was practically lying on top of him. Ron inhaled deeply, breathing in her familiar fragrance, reminding himself that it wasn’t just a dream, not this time.

It felt like coming up for air after being underwater for too long, like being found after being lost for an eternity. It felt like finding where he truly belonged- like coming home after a long, perilous journey.

At some point his fingers entangled in her hair as she snuggled deeper into his embrace, their breaths coming in tandem like the ebb and flow of a sea that covers miles to find the shore. Slowly the intensity of her sobs ebbed, but Ron held her on.

They had hugged before, they were best friends after all, but ever since he’d realised he fancied her, his teenage heart had dreamt up thousands if not a million scenarios where Hermione ran into his arms. But, lying together in a dark, silent hospital bed, after a close brush with death, Ron figured he had never truly understood before today what it meant to have her in his arms.

He had no clue how long they remained that way- entwined in each other, it could have been hours and yet, when she pulled her arms away and pushed herself up, it felt way too soon.

Disentangling herself from his embrace, she perched herself at the edge of his bed, her legs folded under her, her expressions unreadable. For a minute there, he was worried she’d leave without a word, but when she continued to watch him, he sighed in relief and scooted aside to give her more space.

For the first time in months, there was a comfortable silence between them. He had expected both of them to be awkward after that hug, but somehow it felt natural. How was that even possible?  

Hermione looked exhausted, and his heart cursed himself for everything he was putting her through - had been putting her through these few months. He managed to push himself into a sitting position and her knees nudged his thighs. Hermione didn’t move away, nor scooted. It was almost unbelievable that she was next to him, alone. Only now he truly grasped what was missing from his life, how sorely he’d been missing a crucial part of himself.

Unable to phrase his thoughts in words, he continued to soak in the warmth of her presence. It had been way too long since they sat at such close proximity, way too long since he had seen her properly. Up close he could see those freckles that peppered the bridge of her nose, the tear-stained face and eyes that seemed to have spent many nights without proper sleep.  

“I hate you…” she said hoarsely after a long moment, and despite all the hurt, it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard- she was speaking to him.

“I know…” he confessed, throat still aching as he spoke. Her eyes snapped up to meet his, pooling over with fresh tears and lips quivered as if to say something else before she looked away with a huff.

“And I am still not talking to you…” she added, looking at the bed adjacent to his. There was more sadness in those words than anger.

“I know that too…” he replied. Did she know how hopelessly he was in love with her? Did she know she held all his dreams, all his hopes? Perhaps she did, perhaps she didn’t…

This time she let out a sound of extreme frustration and turned around to face him properly.  Pulling her knees close to her chest, she wrapped her arms around them. She seemed to be struggling to reign in her emotions and trying to find words adequate enough to express her indignation at the same time.  

She was barmy but he was barmy about her. Who was he kidding, he’d never get over her no matter how much he tried. After all, that’s what he had been doing all these months, trying to curb his feelings for her, trying to give up his hopes of being loved by her. But it was a stupid attempt. In the end, he knew, he'd swap snogging to bickering with her any day- unless, she was the one he was snogging, obviously...

He looked away quickly. He couldn't think of snogging now, no matter how much he wanted to. She was much too close, the wait incredibly long already. And most of all, there were a lot many webs that had to be untangled first. Most importantly, he couldn’t afford to give her any more reasons to be mad at him.

Maybe Hermione didn’t appreciate him, maybe she didn’t think he wasn’t brave enough or good enough, but he couldn’t stop loving her like he did, insanely, irrevocably. He was long past that point.

“I was so scared…” she said at long last, biting her bottom lip as a fat tear rolled down and she hastily wiped it away.

“I’m sorry…”

She rested her head on her knees and began tracing patterns on the bed as she spoke.

“Every year, we fear losing Harry to Voldemort… And I know, if such a time comes, you’ll stand before him and … death... And…” she sucked in a breath as he continued to watch mesmerised, “-as much as I know it, it never fails to scare the life out of me… today… yesterday, I mean, I realised… how… how …” She buried her face into her arms, unable to go on, and Ron placed his hand gently on her wrist.

“I’m okay… and ...I’m sorry…”

“What are you sorry for?” she asked, voiced muffled, “You didn’t get poisoned by choice,”

“No,” he replied, “but I’m sorry for all the stress I caused,”

She lifted her head and looked straight into his eyes. His heart, Ron was sure, skipped quite a few beats.

“You apologise for something you couldn’t help, but you…” she paused and looked away. “How could you, Ron?” she asked after a while, and even with a fuzzy brain, he didn’t need her to explain what she was talking about.

He had temporarily forgotten all about Lavender. With her memories came guilt. He let go of Hermione’s wrist and fisted his fingers to curb the urge of holding her again. Why the fuck had he messed up his life so much?

“Months, Ron? Months and months…” she added and shook her head sadly before turning away from him. She let out a sigh of indignation and made to leave the bed; Ron caught her arm instinctively, half-formed words hanging from his lips.

“Please…” he begged, not knowing what else to say.

It had seemed right at that moment.

Lavender had taken the step he and Hermione never could manage. The day he found out about Krum had been his worst ever. His morale had hit an all-time low. His brain had convinced him that what he desired would never come to fruition. She didn’t even trust his abilities as a Keeper, how would she trust him with her heart? And then he had found the admiration in Lavender’s eyes, the one that he had craved from Hermione since a time he couldn’t even remember. And, he was a sixteen-year-old bloke with raging hormones, for Merlin sake! It was all so easy to get carried away. Lavender liked him. There was no competition, no need to prove himself. But no matter how many hours he spent snogging Lavender, Hermione was almost always at the back of his mind; she was the one who ruled his thoughts, crept into his dreams. And that had never changed. In hindsight, he was being unfair to both the girls, one who he was with but didn’t fancy, the other he was barmy about but couldn’t confess.

“It doesn’t matter to you, does it? Our friendship...My fe-”  she stopped abruptly and wiped her eyes on the back of the sleeve of her free hand.

“-you know that’s not true, Hermione,” he interjected, grabbing her hand harder. He considered it a good sign that she wasn’t pulling away. Blimey, this girl could turn his world upside down, hurt him or heal him, but she’d still be his world.

Hermione however, unaware of his internal musings, laughed bitterly. “I don’t know, do I, Ron?” she paused, turning sideways to look deeply into his eyes, searching. “I really thought I knew, y’know…” she added softly, sadly.  

Ron pushed aside the lingering doubt forcefully as he tugged on her arm, forcing her to turn completely towards him.  He took her hands in his, covering her fingers with his long ones. He might have had to face a near-death experience, but life had given him a second chance, and he wasn’t going to blow it this time.

“Hermione, I … I was mad…” he managed.

He had come to see her reasons a long time ago. It had been the same with her, hadn’t it? After all, she said as much during their infamous row after the Yule Ball... She had been waiting for him, and the dickhead that he was, he hadn’t even realised. Krum had just taken the initiative like Lavender had.

“You were mad?! About what, may I ask? And okay, alright, you were mad about something I did, but how was I to know if you didn't tell me? I deserved to know, didn’t I?” she said in a breath. She tried freeing her hands to wipe her tears away but Ron beat her to it, wiping the moisture off tenderly from both her cheeks. Some drops still clung to her lashes, candlelight glinting off them.

“I deserved to know too, Hermione…” he explained softly, “-from you… not Harry and certainly not from Ginny…”

He saw realisation hit her as she gaped at him for one solid minute before averting her eyes.

“W-what are you talking about?” Well, she just had to challenge him, didn’t she? Of course, she did.

“Never mind…” he replied, wrapping his fingers around her wrists and tracing the fine veins with his fingers. On a normal day, he would've spent hours gathering enough courage to touch her in a friendly way. But tonight something had changed within him. Maybe it was the aftereffect of almost dying? Maybe a near-death experience made people braver? Bolder realising that, without his friend’s timely action, he’d have lost the chance of baring his heart to her, forever?

“Oh come on!” she cried, tired of his silence perhaps, and he hushed her before both of them turned towards the nurse’s chamber simultaneously. Hermione pulled out her wand from her pocket and cast a Muffliato. Ron grinned to himself but let it slide.

Finally, she turned towards him again. “I had made up my mind- wasn’t going to talk to you ever.” Her voice cracked.  “I’m tired, Ron!” she continued anyway, “I’m just exhausted trying to figure out what I could’ve possibly done to deserve getting a cold shoulder from you when… when we… when everything was... fine between us! And then... then you …” she pulled her hand out of his and folded them at her chest. “I hate you…” she stated but with little conviction.

“Deserve it too…”

She glared at him hard, and Ron couldn’t help smile at the familiar sight. Carefully, he pried her arms apart and took them in his larger ones, rubbing the pad of his thumbs over her open palms, tracing the many crisscrossing lines. Trelawney once told them that the lines on the palm described one’s future. He didn’t really believe her unless she was in one of her trances, but tonight he found himself wondering if his fate lines intersected with hers at some point in their lives.  

“I’m sorry, Hermione... for everything… “ he said, “I didn’t really have the right to be upset… It’s just that…”

“What was it, Ron?” she asked, words laced with exhaustion and pain.

He looked at her, weighing his options. He’d perhaps never get another chance like this, with just the two of them. He focused on her hands while he spoke. He could do with a gulp of water but it had to wait.

“Harry and I caught Ginny and Dean snogging… And I got mad at her and…” he glanced at Hermione who was watching him, brows furrowed, “ y'know… never mind... forget it...”

“Ron!”

He sighed and began again, forcing himself to finish. “And Ginny said… you … you snogged Krum…” he noticed her fluster and spoke quickly, eager to get over the conversation. “I-I know I’ve no right to be upset but…” She inhaled sharply and tried pulling her hands away but he held on. He had more to say, much to explain. “I just… y’know...expected you to tell me yourself…”

“Well, Ron…” she paused and cleared her throat, “You’ve paid me back in kind, haven’t you?” she whispered while her voice shook and eyes pooled again. “ -by snogging her in front of me, for weeks… How would you feel if I did the same?”

His grip on her arms hardened and she winced and he quickly let go.

“Sorry…” he said again.

 He had thought about that too. As mad as he was to know after two whole years that Krum had snogged her, it would be nothing compared to the pain of seeing them in the act. He'd have murdered that bloke, or died. Perhaps both. 

“This isn’t a competition…” he replied at last.  He thought of the troll McLaggan she had invited to Slughorn’s party but decided not to bring him up. He traced his finger tenderly over her knuckles; he couldn’t explain it but he seemed to need her touch constantly.

“It isn’t?” she asked.

“C’mon, Hermione! I...I didn’t hide or  lie...”

“No, Ron, you didn’t lie. Just rubbed it on my face!” she cried, this time succeeding in pulling her hands from his. “I was fourteen, Ron! He was the one guy who asked me, and not just as a last resort because the ‘good ones’ were gone!”

Ron cringed. “‘M not denying I was a prat!” he replied, his throat aching with the effort but ignoring it. “And neither am I blaming you for it,” he added softly. “I was barking mad at first but that’s not your problem... Just sayin’ you could’ve told me at least, couldn’t you? You told Ginny!”

Hermione averted his eyes, sheepish, and her reply lacked the bite from earlier “And you’d have been very understanding, wouldn’t you, Ron?” she asked quietly.

He avoided that question. “You told Harry too,” he said instead.

“That’s just not the same…”

“Really, why, I wonder...” he whispered, but she heard him anyway and turned around on him.

“You still wonder why?!” she huffed, shook her head exasperatedly and got off the bed.  “I’m leaving. This is a useless argument... You’ll be out of the hospital and go back to eating her face in front of everyone again, anyway...” she muttered as she dusted the back of her skirt.

“No, I won’t…” She paused in her step and turned once again to face him.

“Don’t tell me you are tired of snogging her?”

“It just wasn’t about snogging…” She laughed derisively. “Okay, it was a fair bit about snogging…” he added and she scoffed.  “-but she liked me for who I am… she didn’t think I was useless…”

Her expression changed from shock to disbelief to hurt in a matter of seconds.

“You… You think I consider you useless?! Are you absolutely crazy?!”

“You don’t?”

She gave him the same look McGonagall gave the Slytherin trolls, Crabbe and Goyle, and then muttered furiously to herself as she hopped off the bed and began searching for something among his blankets, perhaps her robes.

“Can’t hear you,” he stated.

“I’ve to leave,” she replied in a flat voice and continued rummaging through the tangled blankets.

“You’ve been here for a while, surely you can stay a little longer,”

She stopped her search and took two measured steps towards him. “I just came here to see if you are okay,” she said, absentmindedly setting his bedsheet straight. “I should leave now…”

“Why did you break the rules for me, Hermione?” he asked suddenly.

He was expecting her to leave his question unanswered again but surprising him as only Hermione could, she came further ahead to stand next to his bed.

“Don’t ask questions that can’t, shouldn’t be answered,” she replied sadly, looking at the many potion bottles Madame Pomfrey had left on the table. Who knew what thoughts were running through that brilliant head of hers. But her expressions softened after a while and so did her tone when she finally spoke.

“Maybe you’ll never understand, Ron…And maybe I’m okay with it...”

“Why can’t you explain?”

“I’ve tried… you just don’t want to see… I can’t… can’t be upfront like ...others… or say it on your face, there is so much on the line...  doesn’t mean I don’t…”

She came closer to arranged his fringe out of his eyes and placed her hand on his cheek, rubbing off the dried traces of potion from the edge of his lips with the pad of her thumb, and Ron grabbed her hand at her wrist; his heart was surely going a thousand miles an hour. He tugged on her arm and she was suddenly back on the bed, their faces so close he could make out the dry tear patches on her cheeks, he could count the freckles on her nose, see how pretty her eyes were, see how those lashes curled, he could see the moisture glint off her lips...

“You know we can’t… There’s too much-” Her voice was a murmur, reaching his heart.

“-on the line?” he asked.

She smiled sadly, “Yes, and it’s not fair… to any of us…”

“Then we’ve got to set it right, don’t we?”

She didn’t reply.

“‘Ermione…” he called, and her eyes looked up and met his, a thousand unspoken words visible on those brilliant brown orbs.

“I’ll make it all okay… I swear…”

“You will?”

“Yeah,” he promised. “I have to...Life just isn’t life without you…”

[bihexualboi]

“Self-Control” Endless Summer College AU

Chapter 3: Temptation

Author’s Note: A chapter-based series I plan to update as frequently as possible for my favorite Choices book ever. I was inspired to undertake this personal project because of a wonderful friend @mlmseangayle. Expect art of significant scenes in my fic. Hope y’all enjoy!

Synopsis: Emrys studies his academic courses extensively. Can Emrys learn to study other people? Or will he fall to their temptations?

Reporting the robbery to the police had taken longer than Emrys had expected, so he knew he didn’t have time to study once he went home. Before departing the scene he exchanged numbers with Estela giving her a quick embrace for saving him, which she was hesitant to receive at first but soon willing returned the hug. Emrys began walking toward his apartment complex noticing a crowd had formed around the area the incident occurred. Mumbled voices and hushed conversations of Hartfeld students and locals greeted Emrys as curious eyes surveyed his every movement. Outside he recognized a familiar face and distinctive curly hair he could spot amongst any crowd it was Diego. Diego hurriedly asked each bystander if they’ve seen someone fitting the description on his phone until he made eye contact with Emrys.

“Emrys! Oh my God! I’m so happy your okay,” he shouted as he ran toward Emrys wrapping him in an affectionate embrace. Diego began quietly sobbing into Emrys’ shoulder as he apologized in a weak voice, “I’m so sorry for saying those hurtful things to you. I didn’t mean to I was just so upset that we didn’t hang out this summer. But when I heard you’d left the apartment I asked Varryn to go home while I waited for you to come back. I didn’t know where you went so I waited a little longer until I heard the police sirens. I was terrified something happened to you, so I went outside trying find you. And now I know you’re okay. Now you’re here and you’re okay that’s all that matters.” Diego tightened his embrace placing his head on Emrys’ chest slowing down his intense breathing comfortable in Emrys’ arms. Emrys was delighted Diego cared about him so much.

He hadn’t seen Diego ever become so emotional about his safety. Once they pulled apart there was a moment of mutual desire as they gazed longing into each other’s eyes. Emrys knew this was his opportunity to confess everything he’s been repressing all summer the reason he’d avoided Diego. Emrys desperately wanted to kiss Diego passionately to reassure him that everything was okay, but he couldn’t that feeling of dread associated with losing Diego was too strong for him to surrender to this moment. To shift the mood he said “ I’m so glad you care about me that much. I don’t know what I did to deserve a best friend like you.” Diego eyes darted toward the ground for a split second slightly disappointed by Emrys’ response, but gave him a reassuring smile to avoid confronting Emrys about his feelings. He helped Emrys carry the groceries back to their apartment before heading to their respective rooms and going to bed. Emrys’ body naturally woke up to start his morning routine. 

Emrys usually wakes up before Diego, so he always makes breakfast for the pair of them before heading to his first class. Remembering Diego’s imminent hangover he concocted Raj’s special remedy to help his friend start a productive day. Emrys grabbed a few healthy snacks from his pantry and packed them in his book bag. Emrys’ class didn’t begin for another couple hours, so he enjoyed his breakfast while simultaneously reviewing the material he took notes on the previous day. Emrys cross referenced his personal notes with text from the book to fully grasp the concept his professor was lecturing about. He further researched topics on his laptop to gather any additional information about the subject. Emrys then began highlighting key topics with yellow marker and topics he found difficulty understanding in orange marker. Any topic highlighted in orange he’d create flashcards for once his professor elaborated further in the class discussion. It was a half hour before class began and Diego was still fast asleep, so Emrys decided to creep into his room and wake him up. 

Diego groggily awoke from his slumber feeling nauseous and unmotivated to get up. Emrys handed Raj’s remedy to Diego to help wane the effects of his hangover before his class. Diego began scarfing down his breakfast complimenting Emrys’ cooking with every bite as his friend continued focusing solely on his studying paying little attention to Diego’s comments. Emrys hugged Diego on his way out the door to his first class. Emrys finished his classes and headed to the library to meet up with his study group. Michelle glammed in a full face of makeup had been gathering books essential to the assignments and exams for the course. Grace had begun organizing which texts to prioritize if the study group couldn’t cover all the material that day. Aleister was typing review notes for the group to highlight the most pertinent information to the subject. Lastly, Emrys was editing typos on the same document as Aleister as he rapidly continued to transcribe the information from the textbooks to the computer. 

Once a document was typed Michelle would gather the printed papers and hand it to each individual member. The process continued until the group had a packet of review material they’d staple and begin openly discussing with each other. Emrys provided everyone with the snacks he had in his book bag to keep the team focused. Aleister would openly ask each member to answer questions he devised with the information to reinforce their memory of the subject. Grace would return books once the group finished discussing that particular topic. After the group had mentally exhausted their brains for a few hours they headed home.  Aleister placed an arm around Grace as the couple headed out. Michelle invited Emrys to join her at the coffee shop where she was meeting her online date Quinn. Emrys accepted and the two headed to the coffee shop to be greeted by the charming redhead dressed in a cute ensemble and braided fiery hair. 

Michelle placed a kiss on Quinn’s cheek as she introduced Emrys to her. Quinn subtly ogled Emrys without Michelle noticing, but Emrys definitely caught Quinn gaze at him with flirtatious intent. Quinn led Michelle and Emrys to their table. Michelle excused herself to the restroom to fix her makeup leaving Quinn and Emrys alone. Quinn then spoke “How do you know Michelle, Emrys? You two would make a cute couple,” Emrys responded flustered, “Well we’ve had the same classes together for the past few years. And we also have a study group with two other friends, but I’d say me and Michelle are exclusively friends.” Quinn questioned further “Are you not interested in girls, Emrys?” Emrys replied,“No it’s not that I’m bisexual actually, but I consider Michelle like a second sister I wouldn’t feel comfortable dating her.” Quinn intrigued reaches her hand onto Emrys’ lap, “Would you be interested in ditching this place and heading to my dorm to have some fun.” Emrys was so confused by the situation he didn’t know how to react. “But I thought you were here on a date with Michelle,” Emrys whispered.

“I was. She is a nice girl after all motivated, ambitious, and drop dead gorgeous might I add, but she hasn’t once hooked up with me in the two months we’ve been together,” Quinn muttered. “I don’t know what’s she’s waiting for it’s not like I can get her pregnant or anything. I’ve tested myself for STIs and I showed her my results were negative. And I haven’t had sex since or cheated on her. But every time I try to get intimate she backs out. Like, am I her first girlfriend? Is she scared she can’t satisfy me like her past boyfriends? I just don’t know what to do Emrys,” Quinn pleadingly admitted as she continued to stroke Emrys’ crotch forming an erection in his pants. Emrys couldn’t allow Quinn to seduce him he was loyal to Michelle, and would never do anything to hurt her. Emrys gently removed Quinn’s hand and said, “I’m sorry I can’t betray my friend like this. Just tell her how your feeling. Michelle is an understanding person just tell her, and I won’t speak any word of this.” Quinn thought about it for a moment before realizing Emrys was right. “Thanks for convincing me to talk to Michelle I figured she was too busy with studying to become a neurosurgeon that those conversations wouldn’t be well received,” Quinn said appreciatively. “But if me and Michelle don’t work out I wouldn’t mind vibing with you. It seems like your packing in those slacks. I’ll call you when I’m available.” 

Quinn places her number in Emrys’ hand as she immediately strides to the women’s bathroom swaying her hips with every step. Emrys now alone shoots a quick text to Michelle excusing himself from the coffee date with made up emergency. Once she replied that it was okay Emrys quickly gathered his things and headed home. Emrys returned home to find Diego on the couch napping while an episode of Stranger Things was playing on the television. Amidst the snacks on the coffee table Emrys noticed study materials and textbooks scattered about. He was happy Diego was taking his education seriously and smiled proudly at him as he continued to snore. Emrys began cleaning up the mess and organizing Diego’s textbooks and notes. Emrys turned off the television before carrying Diego to his room and tucking him in. Emrys stared at how peaceful Diego slept and headed to his own room to get some assignments done along with additional studying. When Emrys undressed himself he realized his erection was still pulsing, so he strolled into the bathroom to relieve himself before finishing up for the day.

Click for more: Chapter 1 / Chapter 2