#even though I give it a higher rating because it gets violent later on | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

babyybitchhh · 4 years ago

Text

Shigaraki x Reader 18+

Title: Crybaby

Rating: Explicit/R-18+

Words: 12,290

Warnings: I'll be honest and say I'm not entirely sure how to tag some of this so proceed with caution. Infantilization, forced age regression, mental age regression, non consensual regression, ageplay, mentions of baby bottles and pacifiers, coercion, general noncon and dubcon, diddling, vaginal fingering, involuntary urination, wetting, mention of forced third party bathing, diapers, penis in vagina sex, unprotected sex, creampie, excessive use of 'Tomu-nii', mention of sex slaves, a brief but explicitly violent death mention towards the start, overall very questionable decisions from both me and Shigaraki

A/N: I will not be taking any questions at this time, thank you.

( @tomurasprincess)

♥♥♥♥

There was a fine line between a gift and a burden.

A new video game, for example, is something people were generally happy to receive and there was no obligation to slave over it at all hours of the day, unless you wanted to. A puppy, on the other hand, came with a certain amount of responsibility that couldn’t be side lined until Tomura decided to deal with it. There was no save button, no coming back to it later. He had to be vigilant to some degree, mindful of the life that was now in his hands, and that wasn’t something he was accustomed to by any stretch of the imagination. He couldn’t stand it. Didn’t even really possess the vernacular needed to describe exactly how much it pissed him off that he was suddenly expected to take care of someone - something else.

It was bullshit.

Standing over your prone form sprawled out on the cluttered floor he thinks, not for the first time, about ending it right here and now. It would be easy, surely. One touch of his hand and you’d be gone. Disintegrated to mere dust and nothing more than a vague, unpleasant memory in the back of his mind. You deserved it by simple virtue of being such a damn inconvenience but, just as every other time, he hesitates.

Not because you don’t even realize the danger you’re in as you innocently kick your legs back and forth in the air, all your wide eyed, dopey attention locked on the tv screen. Tomura is not so soft as to consider a sneak attack you don’t even see coming an insult to his pride. He would’ve been showing you mercy, actually, because if he didn’t fear upsetting All for One so much he’d have preferred to wrap his hands around your scrawny little neck instead. Give you a good throttle or two. Squeeze until his knuckles were a stark white against your purpling blue skin. He could almost envision what you would look like, all bloated and full of blood from burst capillaries and reddened eyes rolling into the back of your skull.

His cock stirs in his pants and his hatred for you grows with it. He couldn’t stand you or what you represented, a sudden addition to his life that he never asked for but couldn’t get rid of, and the fact he was getting stiff from his morbid fantasies was certainly your fault too. Everything was your fault. Right down to the most minor of inconveniences, you were to blame - even if it happened before you were dropped into his lap with all the to-do of a posh, overly indulgent birthday present. It was you. You, you, you, you you you youyouyouyouyou -

“Tomu-nii?”

With a jolt, he snaps out of it. The haze lifts and his blown out eyes focus in on your tubby little face, now turned over your shoulder to glance back at him. Tomura isn’t sure when you realized he was looming over you like some horrible, sickly wraith and he knows even less how it is that you show no fear towards him. Were you really so stupid that you couldn’t sense his desire to not only kill you but make you suffer? So blind that you didn’t see the way his bony hands fisted at his sides with a purpose and not in idle reflex?

No. It wasn’t that you were as unintelligent as a brain dead sheep happily trotting off to slaughter. Rather, it’s because that was what All for One had designed you to be.

Tomura wouldn’t claim to understand how, exactly, his mentor had gotten these results but he knows enough to recognize the signs. You’d been stripped of everything in a way that far exceeded mere surface level nudity. All for One had gone even deeper than that, past flesh and bone and right into the heart of what made you you. The brain.

He had no doubt that a quirk had been used, the specifics of which he couldn’t even begin to fathom, but the tinkering and rewiring had done its job exceedingly well, in fact. While your body was that of a young adult woman, early to mid 20’s if he had to wager a guess, your mind was something like that of a toddlers. You could speak just fine but the enunciation was sloppy, your words childish and limited to small, easily communicable sentences. You picked up on things surprisingly fast, perhaps even a little too well if the way he’d heard you let out a soft, half hearted ‘fuck’ earlier was anything to go by. But you slipped up just as easily and he was getting real tired of making sure you went and sat on the toilet instead of pissing all over his (no doubt already smelly) carpet. Living in his own mess was one thing. Living in someone else’s was another matter entirely.

Nothing about this was in error, though. You were exactly what All for One intended for you to be - little more than an animal for him to look after but with arguably higher stakes involved - and he’d had enough. It’d only been a single day, a full 24 hours since you were dropped into his room, and he was already at the end of his patience.

“What’s wrong? Don’t like that stupid cartoon I put on for you?”

You actually had the audacity to pout at him, jutting your lower lip out and puffing your cheeks as if that was supposed to make him feel anything other than an even stronger urge to take you out of this world. “S’not that. Mm’ just bored. You’re no fun.”

Tomura very nearly lunges at you with outstretched hands, All for One be damned, but your next words stop him in his tracks.

“I thought maybe you were coming to play with me.”

Play with you? He would’ve laughed if only he could find even a sliver of real humor in this situation. This was a joke, if not because of the absurdity of it all then at least because he wanted to play with you alright. He wanted to play a game that started with you screaming in shrill terror and ended with a chilly body laid out on his bedroom floor. That sounded like more fun than a barrel of kittens.

He stills himself, though, and snobbishly peers at you down the length of his nose. “I don’t play games with brats. Sorry.”

That only makes you pout even more. “Meanie.”

“Watch your fucking cartoon,” Tomura grits out through gnashing, angry teeth, unreasonably irritated by your persistent refusal to cooperate. “Before I make you.”

He isn’t even really sure if that threat makes any sense at this point, so thrown off by your mere presence in what should’ve been his space that he can barely make heads or tails of his own thoughts anymore. But the dramatic way you squawk in displeasure and throw yourself out flat on the floor placates him somewhat. You were easy to rile up, and he would have been a boldfaced liar if he’d said he didn’t get a kick out of that. Tomura had never felt quite so cruel, so much like an adolescent bully looking to make his problems someone else’s as when he was working you up into a proper fit.

It was easily the most enjoyable aspect of this arrangement so far, and he watches with nothing short of smug satisfaction as you pound your hands on the floor in pent up frustration. It was laughably easy to picture what they’d look like, well groomed after a manicure and with a fresh coat of polish on the nails. You looked like you’d probably been the sort of woman who would go with reds. Fierce and bold, as much a statement as your pretty face, which was currently scrunched up and pressed tight against the carpet in front of his tv. Those same hands were plain and unadorned now, squeezed into tight little fists that were about as harmless as they could get. Tomura probably would’ve considered a turtle more of a pressing threat than you right now.

“Crybaby.” He spits the word out like it’s poison. “Does that make you feel better? Huh? Throwing a tantrum just because you’re not getting your way?”

“Mm’ not a crybaby!” You scream into the carpet. The contrast between your plushy figure and your behavior is disturbing on some very real, intrinsic level and that only seems to add fuel to his fire.

“Hah! That’s funny. You certainly look like one, you know that? What would you even think of yourself if you were in your right mind, I wonder.”

“Mm’ not!” Your incessant screeching rises in pitch and Tomura is almost positive you aren’t even really hearing him anymore, but he decides he doesn’t care.

“Embarrassing. Maybe I should have Kurogiri bring me a bottle since you want to act like a baby so much. Or would you like a pacifier instead? Hmm? Would that make you feel better, princess?”

“Nooooo!”

Your feet start kicking the air again, violently rather than in placid distraction, and the motion draws Tomura’s gaze to the seat of your onesie. Pink and humiliatingly infantile for a grown woman to be wearing, he’d looked at it with nothing short of contempt up until now. But the (no doubt exhausting) flex of your legs bunches the loose cotton, making it gather around your upturned ass and in turn emphasizes the convenient button flap across the back. Now that he’s actually looking at it, he’s almost positive it was wide enough to expose your entire rear to the world with little more than a quick snap of his fingers. Maybe even wide enough to expose other things too …

Tomura jolts with all the force of a sudden electric shock when you cry out his name or, rather, the ridiculous moniker you’d given him. He’d like to know who’d planted that particular seed in your head - if it was All for One’s idea of a twisted joke or if Kurogiri had really thought being called niichan by a woman who may or may not actually be older than him would make Tomura feel all warm and fuzzy inside. It doesn’t exactly matter now, though, because the wet quality of your voice makes his cock spring up in his pants. He’s mildly horrified with himself, far more comfortable with his earlier fantasies of killing you, but there’s no helping it anymore. Not when you say his name like that. Not when the tears he’d initially thought were crocodilian at best were so thick and heavy in your throat that the syllables come out garbled and almost incomprehensible.

He’s not sure what he intends to do, but he shuffles closer.

You’ve started to tire out now and the kicking slows before stopping all together. He watches your ankles cross over one another in the air, as if you were trying to self soothe on some level by physically keeping yourself together, but it doesn’t seem to do much in the way of good. Your shoulders were still trembling with the lingering traces of your fit, and he can hear you mewling into the abrasive carpet like a wounded animal. It was clear that you were hurting because of him - and not just as a result of his teasing. After the complete and utter deconstruction of your mind, you were probably scared without even really knowing why. Confused, but too lost in the quirk induced stupor that had left you in this sorry state to seek out answers.

He hadn’t bothered to test this theory yet, but Tomura would have been willing to bet good money that All for One left you with very little inside that thick skull of yours. It just made sense, after all. For what good was a doll with memories of her past life? What would he have possibly gotten out of playing house with someone who fought him every step of the way, either out of embarrassment or repulsion towards him as a person?

No. You were a blank slate in the strictest sense. His to mold however he deemed fit and with no recollection of who you were, who you’d been or even who you’d wanted to be, he was free to do whatever he damn well pleased.

There was still raging contempt for you burning within his chest, certainly. You were an annoying, unnecessary burden on him and there was no getting around the fact that he still wanted you gone. But the spark igniting his gut is even stronger and, for better or worse, it momentarily overrides his better judgement.

So he sinks down onto his knees, directly behind you, and reaches out to tentatively palm the swell of your ass. Pinky held away, so as not to disintegrate you, which surprises him somewhat given how vivid his fantasies of killing you had been. He doesn’t get to linger on that for very long though, because you grow still at his touch and your pathetic sniveling quiets to a soft, almost hopeful sniffle. Tomura bites back a crude snort, just barely managing to catch himself before he backpedals and hisses another insult at you. He could probably take what he wanted with any given method, he didn’t have to be nice about it, but somehow the alternative just felt wrong. Physically you were an adult, but with the mental state of a child it felt a bit like taking advantage of an innocent and he wasn’t a complete monster.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, the word foreign on his tongue. “I shouldn’t have been so mean. Will you forgive me?”

You squirm and push your face further into the carpet. “Mhm.”

He doesn’t smile. But he does take that as an incentive to push forward, and he starts caressing your backside with slow, cautious circles. “Do you really want me to play with you that bad?”

“Mhm.”

Hesitating, Tomura considers his next words very carefully. “Fine. I’ll play with you. But I get to choose the game.”

You don’t immediately respond and he starts to wonder if he’d made a mistake. Overestimated his ability to be diplomatic and conscientious - which wouldn’t exactly have come as a surprise. But then you shift on the floor, tension draining from your body as you turn your head so you aren’t suffocating in the carpet anymore. “Okay.”

His brows lift in surprise only to then knit together. It was that easy? He’s not so sure he trusts it but, dropping his gaze back down to your ass, he gives the doughy soft flesh an experimental squeeze. Your only response is a soft, faltering sigh that seems to help you relax more. This, too, seems a little too good to be true but he keeps going anyway.

When a few minutes of kneading your defenseless backside does nothing to upset you, Tomura starts to get bolder. He slowly brings his opposite hand forward and latches onto the other cheek with four fingers, massaging both sides in tandem. He’d had the unfortunate luck of seeing your bare ass late the previous evening, after you’d emptied your bladder all over the blanket he’d tossed you to sleep on which had resulted in an aggressively administered bath for you and a frustrated headache for him. He hadn’t paid too much attention at the time, far too angry to be horny, but he knew enough to realize that you were unexpectedly voluptuous under that onesie.

The garment itself was so oversized it hid even the smallest hint of the womanly figure underneath. He probably would’ve forgotten all about it, pushed to the back of his mind in favor of more pressing matters (like getting rid of you) but now that he’s got his hands on your butt it’s all he can think about. The way your full tits jiggled when he’d non too gently manhandled you into the tub. The frustratingly cute lower belly pouch that bulged when you sat down, crying, on the porcelain surface. The way your thighs molded to whatever position he’d yanked them in so he could hose you off like a filthy stray. He’d actively avoided looking at what was between your legs, in fear of what he’d see as much as stubborn refusal, but looking back on it now he isn’t sure how he hadn’t given in to temptation.

Now, however, he was suddenly more interested than ever in finding out what your pussy looked like and, hooking his long index fingers into the flap, he starts to unlatch it one button at a time.

You make no move to stop him. Don’t even protest or question what he’s doing. It’s almost as if just having his attention on you is enough, and Tomura’s mouth pulls back in a sneer at the mere thought. You were so damn stupid for trusting him like this, completely oblivious or uncaring about what his intentions were. He could be as violent with you as he wanted. He could erase you from this existence with the briefest touch. But you just lay there, your shoulders slowly rising and falling with each even breath you draw, and he can’t decide if that feeling clawing at the back of his throat is hatred or guilt.

But there’s no real reason to stop now, so he carefully peels back the flap of fabric once he’s got it completely unfastened. Bare skin greets him, a perfectly exposed strip of swelling flesh that seems all the more enticing with pink cotton framing it so nicely. He pauses long enough to lick his dry, cracked lips. The weight of his stiff cock strains against the inside of his zipper, twitching eagerly when he reaches out to hesitantly touch your back side again.

The sensation of a real, living person under his fingertips makes his breath come a little faster. Still, you don’t move though and he picks up right where he left off, roughly groping your ass cheeks with barely contained excitement until he gets so vigorous that you whimper.

“Shh. I’ll try not to be so rough.” Tomura shushes you, throaty and barely more than a murmur.

You settle back into place, thankfully, and he takes that chance to spread your cheeks open. He gets a brief glimpse of the puckered hole hidden inside, white hot static racing straight to his groin, and he lets out a rumbling groan. His fingers squeeze into flesh again and he pulls, baring you entirely to his voracious eyes. The tight muscle twitches, winking at him, and his attention drops to the smallest satiny peak of your slit. He can just barely see it, mostly hidden behind the pooling fabric bunched under the swell of your ass, but it’s more than enough to make him feel dizzy.

“Shit,” he sounds winded even to his own ears. “You’ve got such a nice body.”

To his surprise, you actually perk up at that. “Really?”

Tomura almost snaps at you on impulse, so irritated by the sound of your voice that he nearly forgets what he’s trying to do. Quelling himself, though, he tugs at the bottom half of your onesie until he can see the plushy soft lips of your pussy. You look so inviting, so warm and real he can hardly even stand it.

“Really.” He croaks. “How old are you again?”

You seem to think about that. “Mm, I dunno’!”

He frowns. Contemplates that for a long beat. But the coarse hair curling around your slit seems answer enough, for him at least. You weren’t actually a child. You just sounded like one, acted like one, dressed like one. That wasn’t what was getting him so painfully hard though. It was the fact you were a woman, physically, and he’d never gotten to see one up close and personal like this before. Why hadn’t All for One just given him a proper sex slave instead of one that threw tantrums and cried at the drop of a dime? Was this really what his mentor had intended for him to do with you?

“Tomu-nii?”

Drawing a sharp breath, he brings his attention up to bark at you to be quiet but the words catch when he finds you looking at him over your shoulder. He can feel his cheeks starting to warm, suddenly embarrassed.

“What?”

“Why’re you looking at me like that?”

He flounders for a moment. Then, awkwardly clearing his throat, he decides to fall back on his original excuse. “This is the game I mentioned earlier. You wanted to play, right?”

You nod your head, but you don’t look entirely certain about that. “I do but … aren’t games s’posed to be fun? This is boring!”

His mouth presses into a thin line. It hadn’t occurred to him that you might not be content to just idly sit by while he molested your slutty little body, but if it was fun you wanted then he could certainly give you that. “This was just the warm up. Roll over and I’ll show you how to play.”

The way your eyes light up almost makes him regret this decision. It’s too late though, you’re already twisting over on to your back with your elbows braced on the carpet so you can stare up at him. Stupid and expectant.

He clicks his tongue.

Reaching out to grab your wide set hips with only eight of his fingers, he inelegantly drags you closer so that you were nicely slotted between his knees. Your legs curl up as you regard him with nothing short of intense curiosity, lips parting in a silent ‘o’ that very nearly sends him over the edge. You were too pretty for your own good. Much too beautiful to be wearing a pink onesie and acting like a baby. This was such a waste, and he almost feels bad for what All for One did to you.

But he shrugs it off, forcefully, and his delicately poised hands descend on your zipper. Zrrrrrt, straight down the length of your body. It stops directly above your crotch and he reaches up to reverently push the cotton out to the sides and expose the rest of you.

Your tits were even better than he’d initially thought. They were full and heavy, dotted with the most perfect little buds for nipples. Soft and smooth. Tomura’s mouth waters in anticipation and he doesn’t realize how roughly he’s jerking your arms out of the sleeves until you wail dramatically that it hurts.

He’d like to tell you what really hurts is his cock, unbearably hard and trapped inside his pants, but he refrains. Instead, he huffs out an insincere apology and keeps on yanking. He can’t get you undressed fast enough, mesmerized by the way your breasts jiggle and bounce every time he pulls on you. There’s something inherently wrong about this, he knows. It’s so damn obvious you’re not right in the head, that you aren’t of sound enough mind to even understand what he’s doing to you, but he can’t bring himself to stop. Not when you were so willing and pliant under his shaking hands.

Finally managing to wrest the blasted onesie off your kicking feet, Tomura tosses it off to the side and he eagerly sets his sights on your naked body. You should have looked seductive and coy, spread out in front of him with a devious smile curling artfully painted lips as you invite him to have his way with you. Instead, you fitfully squirm, neither seductive nor shy. It’s clear that you have no sense of shame, your artificially infantile brain completely void of the concept and even less aware of how inappropriate any of this was. You just keep looking at him, waiting for the explanation he’d promised to give you.

Oh. That’s right. The game he kept talking about. Perhaps he could still salvage this after all.

“The rules are simple,” he says slowly, scrambling to put together a decent excuse to keep going. “I’ll touch you for a little bit and if I can make you feel good then I win. After that, it’ll be your turn. If you make me feel good, you’ll win. Understand?”

Your expression pinches in confusion. “So we both win?”

“Only if we make each other feel good. What’s wrong? You don’t want to play with me anymore?”

Much to his relief, you quickly bob your head. “I do! Please play with me, Tomu-nii!”

The way his cock jolts at that makes his entire body ache. It’s much too late to turn back now, he was well past the point of salvation, and he haltingly drags his attention down to your chest. Your petite nipples had stiffened in the cool air but it’s as if you don’t even notice. Wasn’t that something a grown woman would be conscious of? He thinks so, or at least he’s pretty sure it is. Apparently it isn’t the sort of thing a dumb baby brain even registers, though, and he reaches out to curiously flick at one.

You gasp, eyes widening slightly. Misplaced hope sears his veins and he watches you intently, holding his breath, but you don’t seem to understand what it is you’re feeling. Your brows furrow as you glance down at yourself and bring a hand up to cover your nipple.

“Oww …”

That certainly wasn’t the reaction he’d expected. Or at least it wasn’t the sort of reaction Pornhub had taught him to expect, but it was still something.

“Baby.” He grumbles, reaching for the opposite tit.

“Mm’not!”

“Are too. Didn’t that feel good?”

“No!”

“Then you’re winning, aren’t you?”

Confusion marches across your face for a moment before understanding dawns. You look quite pleased now as you track the movement of his hand as he carefully pinches your puckered nipple between thumb and forefinger, gently rolling it between the pads. He doesn’t get an immediate reaction out of you but the longer he does it the more your lips start to purse. It’s as if you were holding back, determined not to show him that you might be enjoying it and risk losing the game, but it’s enough to embolden him.

His ministrations pick up and he gives your delicate little teat a mild twist. There’s no malice or cruelty behind the action. He just wants to see what you’ll do. And you don’t disappoint, the way you jump and your mouth flies open as if to squawk making his stomach clench with something perverse. You catch yourself at the last second though, teeth clacking together as your gaze flits up at him to see if he’s looking.

He is, of course, and you forcibly swallow the sound you’d almost let out. Tomura is a bit disappointed, sure. He’d wanted to hear how pretty you’d moan for him but there were still plenty of other chances for him to coerce at least one out of you.

Hunching over your prone body, he brings his other hand up to latch onto the opposite nipple, the one he’d previously flicked. You wince at the contact but make no move to stop him, biting down on your lower lip to keep quiet as you watch him play with your fat tits in petulant silence. It was ass backwards in so many ways. He’d thought, despite everything, his first time with a girl would be somewhat normal. Maybe not picture perfect or all that good when everything was said and done, but at least relatively mundane. This was the farthest thing from that though. He couldn’t conceive of a more wildly abnormal scenario even if he’d tried, nor did he recall ever seeing any porn with this hyper specific set up. But there was still some sick, twisted part of him that was deriving pleasure from this decidedly unorthodox encounter with the opposite sex, and that feeling only grows exponentially the more he keeps going.

Kneading, pinching, squeezing, tugging. He doesn’t let up until your nipples are flushed dark and straining hard, the glistening hint of tears at the corners of your eyes telling him beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was getting somewhere. The urge to call you a crybaby swells in his chest again but he doesn’t want to risk another tantrum. He wasn’t so sure his cock could handle it, particularly not when he’d positioned himself over you in such a way that one solid kick would put him out of commission for the foreseeable future. No, this was a delicate situation that required the utmost care on his part and, gathering his nerves, he swoops down to cover one of the stiff buds with his mouth.

The heated gasp that bursts out of you in a great woosh has him groaning into the meaty swell of your tit. You shudder underneath him, involuntarily twitching as he traces your areola with the tip of his tongue and laves it in warm, wet attention. He can tell that you’re not sure what to do so he waits with bated breath, reveling in the fleshy nub pinched between his lips. There was no reason for him not to squeeze every last drop of enjoyment he could get out of this while he could, after all - but then your hands find his hair, threading into wavy locks, and he throbs for you.

“Tomu-nii …”

He practically sinks into you, damn near suffocating himself in the plushy swell of your breast. His mouth opens wide and sucks more of you past his lips, suckling enthusiastically just like the infant you were programmed to be. This particular role reversal doesn’t even seem to register in your mind though and he seethes when you tug at his hair, trying to pull him off.

“St-aaahp …. I don’t like it!”

Tomura comes up off you with a wet gasp. “Bullshit.” He practically growls, narrowing his eyes at your dopey, flustered expression.

“It’s true! I don’t!”

“Oh? Should we check then?”

Your face scrunches and you draw a breath to question him, but he doesn’t give you the chance. Going back up on his knees, he plants one hand against the meat of your inner thigh and shoves it wide. His other darts between your legs before you can react, spindly digits finding your bare cunt and prodding at your folds with rough fingertips. You jolt at the contact but it’s too late. He barely has to touch you to feel the slick oozing out of you and he lets loose a harsh bark of laughter.

“My ass. You’re fucking soaked. You shouldn’t lie, you know.”

“I didn’t!” You gasp, clearly offended by the insinuation. “You’re just a fucking meanie!”

That gives him pause.

Glancing up at your face, Tomura regards you carefully as he tries to figure out his next move. On one hand it was his own fault for saying that word around you so much and it’s not like it was any of his business what you did or didn’t say, but on the other … there was something uncomfortable about hearing that come out of your mouth with such a childish inflection. It lacked any and all bite, not even a hint of impotent aggression to be found. You were just parroting him, that’s all, but for whatever reason he didn’t really appreciate it.

“Don’t say that.” He huffs, turning his attention back to your pussy.

Tomura had wanted to leave it at that, but of course you have to fight him every step of the way.

“Why not?” You ask rather flippantly.

“Because i said so. If you want to get smart, be my guest. I know how to handle bratty little girls like you.”

He’s a bit surprised when that actually shuts you up. Apparently, he was starting to get the hang of this but he still has to sneak a quick peek at you just to make sure. The fact you actually look contemplative, as if you were turning that over in your empty head, almost makes him laugh.

“Do you still want to play?” God, he sorely hoped you did.

You hesitate though, unwilling to give your acquiescence just like that. “When is it my turn?” You ask warily.

“Soon. I’ve got one more chance to make you feel good and then you can try.”

“Mmm … okay. But I’m not gonna’ lose!”

He’s almost certain you would have already lost if you weren’t such a petulant little thing, but he keeps that to himself. Instead, he once again turns his attention to the spot between your legs. Your puffy slit was noticeably wet, the faint sheen of fluid glistening slightly in the overhead light, and he takes a moment to gently part the curls there. Just as he’d thought. Damp to the touch and only getting wetter. He really was going to have to talk to you about lying especially since, in this particular context, you were cheating. This was a far cry from his video games but that didn’t make it any less annoying.

Swallowing his reprimand for the time being, though, Tomura carefully presses two fingers into the doughy softness of your labia and spreads them apart. He can see now that you were practically drenched in slick arousal, thin threads of discharge stretching across your petal soft folds before snapping. He gulps down his nerves. You really did have the prettiest pussy he’d ever seen and the fact it was all his for the taking very nearly had him creaming in his pants right then and there. It was almost obscene how bad he wanted to fuck your tampered brains out but he didn’t want to scare you into noncompliance. He wasn’t going to fight for this if he didn’t have to.

Slowly, so as not to startle you, he brings his other hand close and prods at where he thinks your clit should be. He’d certainly seen them in enough triple X videos to have some idea of where to look, but when all you do is let out a soft sigh he knows he’s mistaken.

His teeth gnash in high strung irritation as he walks his finger lower and then higher, feeling a bit like a blind fool searching for buried treasure. There were so many fleshy ridges and folds that he couldn’t pinpoint the right spot from memory alone, so he has to take his time feeling around instead. He thinks he’s found it for a split second when you shift underneath him, but then he realizes you were simply getting fussy - no doubt bored with all his incessant pawing - and that only angers him further. It shouldn’t have been this damn hard to find!

Impatient now, Tomura roughly swipes his finger up the length of your slit and surprise washes over him when you jolt as if he’d electrocuted you. Your head comes up off the rug and you stare at him, wide eyed, but it was much too late. He’d finally gotten the reaction out of you that he’d been hoping for, and he leans into it with nothing short of devilish delight.

Knowing precisely where to look helps a great deal and it immediately occurs to him that the reason he’d struggled so much is because your clit was still hidden behind its protective hood. But he’s got the advantage now, and he ever so carefully pinches at satiny soft skin until he can ease it back and expose the sensitive little bud nestled inside. You whimper slightly as he does it, squirming awkwardly on your back as if you could instinctively sense that you might be in a bit of trouble now. It was kind of cute, if he was being totally honest.

“I don’t think I like this game …”

“You will. Trust me.”

Clearly not believing him, you start to open your mouth to complain but he stops you cold with a quick flick of his finger. Your engorged clit jostles against the indelicate contact and you blurt out such a startled sound that he actually glances up to make sure you’re okay. Unsurprisingly, you look a little more flustered now and the panic edging your expression is almost enough to make him reconsider this.

Almost, but not quite.

“What’s the matter?” He goads, dropping his gaze back down to your pussy again. “I thought you didn’t like it.”

“I … I don’t …”

“Really? I’m not sure I believe that.”

He does it again, gentler this time. Just a brief tap against the meaty little nub, but it’s enough to make you twitch and try to close your legs from him. Tomura won’t let you back out so easily though and he shifts even closer so he can wedge himself between your thighs to keep them spread. You issue a frustrated, huffy sound that he could only describe as babyish as you try to push up on your elbows, no doubt intending to scuttle away from him. He had to give you credit for being so hard headed even in this infantile state but he was far too invested to quit now.

Letting up his hold on your labia, Tomura directs his fingers lower and wedges three of them into your slit. You freeze, momentarily stunned, and he takes that split second opportunity to feel around for your entrance. It’s not hard to find. Much easier than your clit, at any rate, and he wastes no time wriggling a long digit up inside your body. The penetration is smooth, your guts such a slippery mess that it almost startles him.

You really were a liar.

He suddenly realizes he’s panting. At the same time, he realizes that you don’t appear to be breathing at all. Your expression is about as dumbfounded as it could be, and he dully watches the way you sway in your half upright position. Shellshocked would probably be an appropriate descriptor, and he wets his lips in anticipation.

“Well? Do you like it?”

Your legs flex around his arms and you shake your head. “Nuh … no …”

“If you don’t stop lying to me,” he grumbles. “I’m going to get mad.”

You stiffen, clearly drawing yourself up to challenge that statement just like he’d known you would. It was embarrassing how predictable you could be.

He’s had just about enough of this back and forth though, and he roughly curls his finger upward in search of the spot that would finally shut you up for good. But his efforts only make you more fussy and his patience quickly unravels when you try to twist away from him, wailing in displeasure. He hated that sound and, if you weren’t careful, he’d go right back to hating you too

Grunting, Tomura abandons your clit in favor of latching his hand onto the swell of your thigh and he digs his blunt nails in to keep you still. You actually have the audacity to kick out at him but he puts a stop to that quickly enough by shoving a second finger into your sticky cunt. Just like the first time, it makes you hesitate and he watches your warbling mouth drop open in what he thinks might be pleasure. It’s frustratingly hard to tell with you but, having no other choice, he decides to take it at face value.

Your pussy clicks loudly when he starts pumping into you straight down to the knuckle, the wet squelch almost deafening in his ears. It’s unreasonably hot though, his mind running a mile a minute as he tries to commit every little detail to memory. The way your face screws up with a stuttering gasp, the way you squeeze your eyes shut and try to brace against the pressure of his digits driving into you again and again. The way you moan, even when you try not to, is particularly enticing, especially since it’s just as pretty as he’d hoped it would be. The way your legs shake and you threaten to double over, the way he can see you clutching the carpet in a death grip, the way you just seem to get even wetter for him. There was too much to take in all at once but it was also far too erotic to look away from. He really was going to cream his pants at this rate.

Somehow, your honest reaction appears to make up for all the trouble you’d given him up until now and Tomura can feel the wet spot bleeding through his boxer briefs start to grow. He was positive he’d never been harder in all his life. Animalistic and practically slobbering like a rabid dog, he hunches further over your quaking body and pistons into your cunt so vigorously his arm starts to ache. You were wailing for him to stop, crying out for Tomu-nii, Tomu-nii, Tomu-nii, but he doesn’t even slow down. He can’t.

Your cunt just keeps sucking him in deeper on every plunge, gummy walls pulsating around his no doubt pruning fingers so enthusiastically that he’s sure you’re going to cum. He can practically taste it. Tomura wasn't going to stop until you did and, realizing he doesn’t have to hold onto you any longer, he reaches out to roughly shove you down on your back again.

“Are you going to cream for me, princess? Huh?” He grits out through savagely bared teeth. “Is that what you’re going to do?”

“No! Please, Tomu-nii … it hurts!”

Even in the heat of the moment he can’t stop himself from clicking his tongue in irritation. “No it doesn’t, you big baby. You love this. I know you do. I can see it written all over your stupid, pretty face. Go on. Tell me exactly how good you feel. Do it!”

Wailing, you peer up at him through heavy lashes with a look so imploring it very nearly gives him pause. “I - I can’t! I’m … Tomu-nii, I’m gonna’ … I’m gonna’ pee!”

“No you aren’t. That just means your clo - -“

Tomura cuts himself off when you do exactly that. He’s almost too stunned to react and all he can do is watch as the steady stream of urine bursts out of you before dribbling down his wrist to soak into the carpet underneath. It’s only now, when you’re pissing all over yourself as well as him, that he finally has the decency to slow his pumping to a staggered halt. For a fleeting moment he actually considers the notion of keeping at it. There wasn’t much else you could do to ruin this for him, after all, but one look at your expression immediately quashes that idea.

He’d be lucky if all he could manage was to stop you from dissolving into ugly, heaving sobs, let alone worry about getting himself off. Dammit. You really were nothing but a pain in his ass.

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” He deadpans, slowly withdrawing his fingers from your cunt now that he was thoroughly coated in warm, smelly piss. “To be honest I was kind of tired of that rug anyway. And these clothes, too.”

You hiccup so sadly that what little bit of anger had sparked inside him immediately dies out. He couldn’t even be mad at you for this no matter how much he may have wanted to blame you for everything. You’d tried to warn him.

“T- Tomu-nii … mm’sorry …”

Tomura sighs through his nose, hard enough to make the split end tips of his hair shift. “Don't be. That was my fault. Just - let me find something to clean us up with.”

“Do I have to take another bath?” You ask so meekly he almost misses it.

Pausing halfway through the motion of rising to his feet, he glances down at you again. It occurs to him quickly enough that it wasn’t the accident you were so upset about but, rather, the looming possibility of another aggressively meted out trip to the bathroom. Interesting. He’d almost think he was mistaken, it had only happened once, after all, but the way your lower lip wobbles tells him everything he needs to know. Apparently you were more scared of him than you’d let on.

“No, not right now. I think I can get you clean enough with a wet rag or something. You’ll have to take one later but,” Tomura scoffs, hating that he was actually trying to be nice after you’d peed all over him. “I’ll try not to be so rough next time. You just made me mad last night, that’s all.”

You nod slowly, looking like you don’t quite believe that, but still too naively trusting to press the matter. “Okay.”

Nodding once, Tomura climbs to his feet. The inner seam of his pants from the knee down is absolutely soaked and he makes it only three steps before deciding he didn’t like them all that much to begin with. Dropping his hand to the rough denim, he brushes all five fingers across the thigh and they dissolve into nothing without a second thought to the matter. He can faintly hear you ooohing behind him but there were much more important things to worry about than how easily impressed you were.

His half flagged cock throbs hopefully inside his boxer briefs and he reaches down to delicately adjust himself. God, he’d be aching for the next week thanks to your uncontrollable bladder.

An idea pops into his head with that thought. You weren’t the only thing he’d been saddled with yesterday, and he turns to regard the thick gym bag he’d previously thrown against the far wall in anger. It’s where he’d gotten your pink onesie after you’d similarly soiled the first pair of clothes you’d been wearing. He hadn’t bothered to look through all of its contents just yet, but he felt relatively confident he’d find what he wanted in there.

Circling back around, Tomura squats in front of the bag and yanks it open. He can feel your eyes watching him from your spot on the floor but he pays it no mind. Digging inside, he pulls out a few more articles of clothing, far too cutesy for his tastes, and then a book on child care that he knows for certain was put there in jest. Over his shoulder it gets chucked, and he digs deeper. Down at the very bottom he finds exactly what he’d been looking for.

But in addition to the baby wipes there are two other items that catch his attention. He outright balks at the very notion - however, realistically speaking, it could very well be the answer to his problems. At least the most pressing one, anyway.

The idea that All for One knew he’d likely run into this issue but still decided to dump you on him anyway bothers Tomura a great deal and he frowns even as he looks over the packaging. Diapers and pull ups. What was the difference? He’s not so sure there is one, and he feels almost certain that they serve the same purpose. But further inspection proves him wrong. One was for a total lack of control and the other was for the potty training stage, so not as thick or absorbent. That’s what the packing said but, at any rate, they definitely weren't the plain adult brands he was looking at here.

These were bright and colorful, and he can’t help but cringe at the thought of putting you in either of them. But he was still left with a very real concern that he simply couldn’t overlook. The fact he even had to make this decision at all was ridiculous but he couldn’t very well have you pissing on every available surface in his room. And given your track record of absolutely drenching whatever you happened to be sitting on at the time …

Hesitantly, Tomura takes out the diapers and shuffles towards his unkempt bed. The print on the back wasn't particularly clear about what to do with them. He’d probably have to look up a tutorial later, when he wasn’t feeling quite so downtrodden and his balls weren’t aching, though that would certainly put him on a few watch lists. Not that it really mattered.

He sighs and tosses the package on top of his sheets before tearing into the baby wipes. Taking his time, he methodically scrubs his wrist and his legs clean while he contemplates his next move. It wasn’t going to be pretty. It certainly wasn’t going to be sexy. It was still probably the lesser of two evils, though. Far be it that he wanted to go this route but did he really even have any other choice at this point?

“Tomu-nii …”

Your soft whining draws him back to reality and, abruptly realizing you’ve been sitting in your own piss this entire time, he turns to look back at you. For a split second, he seriously considers just killing you right then and there. It would save him a lot of trouble and you wouldn’t even realize what was coming. You were so stupid you’d probably think he was going in for a hug or something asinine like that. He’d be doing you a favor, really, because as far as he was concerned, death was certainly preferable to wearing diapers but … the urge fizzles out almost as quickly as it had appeared. He wasn’t going to let you slip out of his hold until after he’d gotten to bury himself in that tight, pretty little pussy of yours.

Decision made, Tomura makes his way over to the carpet again. You look cold, which doesn’t exactly come as a surprise, and he bends down to grab the meat of your upper arms so he can drag you up to your feet. “Come on. I think I’ve got a solution.”

Your brows furrow slightly. “Salution?”

“Close enough.”

Steering you over to the bed, he makes you bend over the mattress so he can take a baby wipe to the backs of your thighs and ass. Luckily, depending on how you looked at it, the urine had run down rather than going every which direction so it was pretty easy to clean up. The way you tremble and shift your weight back and forth makes it a bit more difficult than it needed to be but he manages, somehow.

Tomura straightens after a long moment, finally deeming the back of you good to go. He’s not so sure he can get through this next part when you were fidgeting so much, though, and he briefly considers the clothes in the gym bag. The thought of putting you in another girly, saccharine sweet garment repulses him almost as much as the thought of putting you in a diaper. But he was going to have to pick and choose his battles here and, reaching back, he delicately tugs off his t-shirt.

“Turn around.”

You slowly comply, teeth chattering the whole time.

“Arms up.”

At this, you hesitate. But at his expectantly bland look, you do as you're told and raise your arms up in the air. The lift of your heavy tits almost successfully distracts him and it is with a great deal of self control on his part that he pulls his shirt down over your head, yanking it a little too forcefully into place.

“There.” He practically hisses, watching you clumsily work your arms through the sleeves. “Is that better?”

You think about that for a moment, eyes scanning across the front of his shirt, and he briefly wonders if you’re going to say something derisive about the worn video game logo stretched across your chest. But then you smile, nodding your head a little too enthusiastically.

“Mm! It smells like Tomu-nii!”

He really couldn’t stand you.

“Good. In return, I’ll need you to cooperate with me here. I’ve never done this before, you know?”

You blink at him quizzically. “Done what?”

Tomura rolls his eyes, feeling grumpier by the second. He couldn’t wait to get this over with and have you situated so he could run off to the bathroom for what probably wouldn’t even amount to five minutes of desperate jerking. “Never mind. Just do what I tell you, okay?”

You nod your head again, but he has some very real doubts about that. Even when you were pretending to go along with whatever it was he wanted you still found some way to fuck everything up for him. If this scheme somehow backfired because your brain was so scrambled you couldn’t even follow simple directions, he was not going to be happy.

Mentally bracing himself for the worst possible outcome, he reaches for the diapers. He rips the bag open almost violently and pulls one out, but it feels even more wrong in his hands than he’d thought it would. A strange sense of scandalized affront warms his chest, making him reconsider this choice for the upteenth time. If Tomura was being completely honest, he felt embarrassed for you but a quick glance in your direction proves that you don’t share quite the same sentiment. You really couldn’t have cared less, huh?

Right. Baby brain.

He grumbles under his breath as he non too gently snaps the diaper open with a loud crinkle of plastic and lays it out close to the edge of his bed. Motioning you closer, Tomura awkwardly helps you get seated on the damn thing and then instructs you to lay down. You genuinely don’t seem to have a problem with this as you recline back, just placidly peering up at him with your little fists balled in the hem of his shirt, but now that he’s gotten this far he’s not sure how to proceed.

At a loss, he takes another baby wipe out of the package and inserts himself between your bent legs. “I’m going to clean you some more, okay?” He's not sure why he’s telling you that, especially when all you do is nod your dopey head in understanding. Just buying time. That’s all he was doing.

But it gives him a chance to think and for that he’s grateful. Try as he might, he couldn’t seem to figure out what All for One’s intention with all this had been. ‘A splendid birthday present for my favorite pupil’, he’d said, as if there were any others. But what was the reason? Surely you weren’t actually supposed to be a sex slave for him. Not in this sorry state. His battered onahole did a much better job on that front and it wasn’t prone to tantrums or crying, and it certainly didn’t pee on his stuff. It also didn’t require more than a perfunctory cleaning every few months. He couldn’t very well shove you into his nightstand and forget about it until the next time he was in the mood to rut into something.

All that was true, yes, but … his onahole also wasn’t warm to the touch, and it didn’t have soft, curly hair framing its abused slit (he really should buy a new one) nor did it self lubricate. It didn’t squeeze him quite the same way your pussy had squeezed his fingers, and it didn’t even really feel like an actual vagina now that he had something to compare it to. You were soft and squishy, pliable in the way only flesh and blood could be, and although he had no way of knowing if this had been All for One’s plan or not, he was certainly self aware enough to recognize that he’d screwed up somewhere along the line.

Tomura absolutely should have turned you to dust while he still had the chance.

Licking his lips, he drags the wipe through the seam of your cunt much more slowly than he needed to. You don’t even stir on the bed, and he thinks you must be starting to doze after … all of that. He’s not quite ready to leave well enough alone yet though, and he gently presses down on the spot where he now knows your clit is hiding. Still using the moist towelette as a pretense to keep touching you like this, he circles the sensitive little bud with it and genuine surprise washes over him when you let out a soft, pleasant sigh.

He glances up at your face but you aren’t even looking at him, lashes fanned out against the apples of your cheeks. It’s hard to tell if you were actually asleep or just pretending so you could lull him into a false sense of security, yet he doesn’t particularly care one way or another. You were his so he could do whatever he wanted to you, right? Besides. You kind of owed him after pissing all over his hand like that.

Discarding the baby wipe, Tomura bends closer and carefully spreads your labia again. He could see your little hole weakly palpitating, beckoning him to pick back up where he’d left off, but he drags his gaze a bit higher instead. You were so velvety soft and smooth it bordered on insane, so much more inviting than he ever would have thought possible.

He briefly hesitates before throwing caution aside and sealing his lips around your clit, gently mouthing at it. Your plushy thighs twitch around his head as you shift on top of the mattress, letting out another breathy sound that rushes straight to his cock. It almost hurts, the way it so eagerly springs back to life after being denied something as simple as release, but he can’t find it in himself to complain. You were giving him another chance, knowingly or not, and he wasn’t the type to squander such an opportunity.

Tomura takes his time lapping at you over the next few minutes until you’re almost as wet as when he’d started. You taste heavenly even with the artificial flavor of the wipes clinging to your folds and he entertains the notion of eating you out until you cum all over his face. There’s something he wants even more than that, though, and he sighs in relief when he finally straightens up so he can fish his cock out. It was almost painfully sensitive to the touch, and he could feel it throbbing potently in his hand. He knew this probably wasn’t going to last long but he didn’t care.

Guiding himself to your waiting entrance, he slowly pushes in one fraction at a time, damn near blowing his load the second his glans disappears into your body. He holds back though, struggling to maintain his composure as he seethes through gritted teeth. You finally seemed to realize that something was going on and your pretty eyes flutter open, immediately searching out his face.

“Tomu-nii …?”

“Be quiet. I’ve got you.”

You accept that in lieu of an explanation surprisingly fast, at least by his standards, and without another word you sleepily glance down at the juncture where your bodies were connected. A slow inhale makes your chest rise, mouth falling open as if to groan. He couldn’t take it anymore.

“Fuck,” the sound rattles out of Tomura’s chest as he slides in right down to the base, toes flexing against the floor. “I’m not even gonna’ get to enjoy this.”

Brows knitting together, you let out the softest mewling sound he’s ever heard and it makes him dig his carefully poised fingers deeper into the meat of your hips. He can’t even bring himself to move, so overwhelmed by how soft and wet your guts are. It felt like you were massaging his length, involuntarily or not, as your pussy suckles at the tip like he’s almost positive your mouth would.

Softly wheezing, Tomura drops his chin to look at where the two of you were stuck together. His pelvis was so flush against yours that your pudgy cunt was molded to the front of him, squishing under the pressure, and his silvery pubes were tangled with your darker ones. He hadn’t expected such a sight to be so damn erotic and it has him twitching, fighting back the orgasm he’d gone through hell and back for.

He’s almost scared to do it but, slowly, he eases back. The way his cock gradually reappears, glistening obscenely now, very nearly sends him over the edge. He isn’t sure how he hasn’t ruptured yet, his ballsac drawn so tight and throbbing that it leaves him feeling lightheaded, but through sheer force of will alone he manages to sink back into the inviting heat of your body without spraying your insides white. His self control was tentative as best, hanging on by a mere thread, but you felt far too good to waste on a quick nut.

“Goddamn … you’re so tight, baby. So fucking tight.”

You fidget underneath him, fussily tugging at the hem of his shirt. “Mm’ not a baby …”

Your pouty little response is enough to make him bark out a clipped laugh, more breathless than amused. You could insist you weren’t a baby all you wanted but, even putting aside the cruel, infantile reprogramming of your brain, it was hard to think otherwise when you were spread out on top of a diaper. It’s stark white, cottony lining was an almost unsettling backdrop to the perfect view he had of his cock stuttering in and out of your slick cunt. Even when he was barely moving, it crinkled softly underneath you with each rocking motion of his hips and he couldn’t quite forget it was there no matter how hard he tried.

Tomura wasn’t sure what he would ultimately do with you and he knew even less why he was even entertaining this wildly absurd situation to begin with, but there was no denying that you did have some use. The clinging grip of your pussy, for starters, and if he could get that bratty mouth of yours under control he might even some day find your company bearable. He still didn’t particularly like you but it wasn’t so farfetched to think that he might be able to tolerate you, with enough effort.

Hissing through his teeth, he drags one of his hands down to spread your puffy lips apart and get a good look at the way your petal soft folds clutch to his cock. It was a mesmerizing visual in the worst possible way, especially when accompanied by the soft, wet clicking he pulls from your body. He could have watched this for hours on end but, realistically, he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer, and he gives his wrist a brief twist to bring the middle finger down on your clit.

You twitch at the contact but Tomura takes a much more gentle approach this time, sedately drawing circles around the swollen bud. He doesn’t get much in the way of a reaction for his trouble so he just keeps at it, rubbing you in tandem with his staggered thrusts. The thought of making you cum around his cock is almost disturbingly enticing, but he isn’t so sure he can accomplish that. Not when so much of his focus was devoted to simply biting back his orgasm - but then, to his throbbing surprise, you draw a faltering breath.

“Tomu-nii … feels good …”

It’s as if the air had been punched right out of him. He isn't so sure he even believes his own ears, the blood suddenly pounding inside of them making it hard to hear much of anything. He groans though, thick and heavy as he slides his other hand up across your stomach to push at the bottom of his shirt. Your grip on the soft cotton momentarily tightens, still fighting him at every turn, but you give in almost immediately and allow him to shove it over the swell of your tits.

They’re moving, jiggling ever so slightly with the push and pull of his narrow hips as they quietly slap against the backs of your thighs. Tomura heaves, practically doubling over you with another throaty moan that rises in pitch at the tail end. His palm descends on one of your breasts, squeezing hard enough that the pliable flesh bulges and spills out between four of his fingers. You just stare up at him the entire time, face pinched and flushed while your glistening eyes dreamily watch him with a far off sort of quality that he’s sure must be - has to be pleasure.

He’d never seen anything sexier in his whole life, and that thought alone is far more terrifying than he could have ever guessed it would be. There was something wrong with you, yes, by All for One’s design. But there was something even more inherently wrong with him for getting off on this so much and without the added bonus of quirk tampering to excuse his behavior. You were so sweet and unfairly innocent despite your seductive figure, the sight of you naked save his bunched up t-shirt driving him absolutely wild. It was like you belonged here, with him, in his bed. It wasn’t that he no longer wanted to kill you but that he couldn’t.

What little bit of self control he’d still been clinging to up until now shatters, and Tomura snaps his hips into your upturned ass: once, twice, three times. The sticky squelching between your bodies increases in volume, echoing inside his skull like a ricocheting bullet as he watches your face screw up at the sudden force. It doesn’t even matter though. He’s long since reached his limit and, with a wounded grunt, he slams into you one final time, lurching over your prone body.

The sound that comes out of his mouth as he shudders and violently paints your pink guts is, frankly, embarrassing. But he’s riding a high too great to care, clinging to you hard enough to make his joints ache and you whimper in discomfort. He can’t stop though. He’s cumming so hard, pulse after pulse, that it feels like his soul actually slips out of his body for a worryingly long beat before returning in fragmented pieces. The same, but also somehow different. Like he’d experienced rebirth in the warm, comforting clutch of your drenched cunt.

He wheezes as if he’d been stabbed in the chest when he finally eases his softening cock out of you some time later.

Tomura was completely spent, both physically and mentally. His wobbly legs could hardly support his weight anymore but, with a strength of mind he hadn’t even realized he possessed, he directs a shaky finger to your clit again. You squirm in response, huffing after that rough treatment, but he soothes you with hushed words and a gentle touch to the delicate little pearl he barely even needs to brush against to have you shaking for him.

“Relax. You feel good, don’t you? Let me hear those pretty sounds again, baby.”

Obstinately, you purse your lips together to deny him even that one simple request. Tomura heaves a tired sigh, wishing you weren’t such a brat, but he doesn’t let up. The gentle circles he rubs into your clit with the pad of his finger slowly brings you around though, grudgingly, and he can’t quite deny the satisfaction that sparks in his throat when your mouth warbles open to let loose the sweetest, tiny moan he’s ever heard.

“Nngh … Tomu-nii …!”

“Don't fight it. I want you to feel good too, yknow.” He pauses, tongue glancing over his dry lips. “Will you cum for me, sweetheart?”

You shake your head, eyes screwing shut, but the way your body continues to tense up seems to suggest otherwise. He could tell you were practically thrumming with it, burning from the inside out even as his milky white discharge slowly oozes down your slit to pool in the seat of the diaper. It was unexpectedly exciting to watch, disproportionately naughty given how utterly unappealing the crinkly plastic was at first glance, and he picks up the pace of his rubbing.

“I think you’re lying again. You liked how it felt when I was inside you, right? This will be even better, I promise. You’ll love it. I know you will.”

Weakly writhing on top of his bed, you crack your eyes open to peer up at him again. “T - Tomu-nii … I can’t … ahh. Ahh. Ahh! I … I’m … ahh! Tomu-niiiii!”

You suddenly jerk, tossing your head back against the sheets, and he watches in rapt fascination as you quake so hard it nearly catches him off guard. It wasn’t the seductive, rolling tremors he was used to seeing in porn videos but, rather, a full bodied spasm that had you twisting as if to get away. Your thighs try to clamp shut around his hand but he elbows them apart, refusing to let up until he’d milked your orgasm as thoroughly as you’d milked his.

And you looked so pretty, too. Caught up in mind numbing pleasure so intense he couldn’t even begin to fathom what you were feeling. Even his own earth shattering release seemed to pale in comparison to this, and it takes you much longer to start coming down from it than it did him.

Your hair is a mess by the time you’re done, matted in some places and sticking to your damp forehead in others. For a fleeting moment, Tomura can almost see the adult woman you should have been when your face goes slack in ecstasy and your flushed lips were parted to suck in as much oxygen as you could get. He imagines you were probably no stranger to pleasures of the flesh, not with that body and those looks, so the thought that he could make you feel this good was a bit like a pat on the back for him. It was probably just beginners luck, but that didn’t stop him from feeling any less proud of himself.

Slowly, he takes his hands off you and steps back. The spot between your legs was absolutely covered in fluid, your sticky, copious slick mixing with his spunk to make a truly viscous concoction that clung to your damp curls. He thinks that he should probably clean you up again and reaches for the baby wipes, but stops himself short.

The idea that crosses his mind is very likely foul, perhaps even more offensive than anything else he’d done til now, but … a quick glance at your sloppy pussy proves too great a temptation. There was something inherently erotic about making you walk around with his semen dripping out of you, even if it was only going to be absorbed by the diaper, and he shuffles close again with his heart in his throat.

Tomura hasn’t the slightest clue what he’s doing and it takes him a long moment to figure out the tape tabs on the sides. He gets frustrated halfway through the process, struggling to make sure the crinkly plastic was secure enough around your waist, but by some miracle you stay relatively still through all of his fumbling. He isn’t quite sure how he got so lucky but he doesn’t stop to question it, hawkishly focusing all of his attention on the task at hand.

At length, he straightens to admire his work. It’s not perfect by any means but he’s pretty sure the damned thing wasn’t going to fall off as soon as you stood up so there was that. The diaper itself was just as obnoxiously girly as everything else in the gym bag; a soft, lilac purple with a flowery, cartoon bunny design on them. He didn’t mind the rabbits so much, and it was certainly preferable to the onesie, but he still thought you’d look nice in something a bit cooler.

The realization that he was thinking about this in such quaint, fuzzy terms chills Tomura to the bone, and his gaze flicks to your face so he can ask what you think of them. Even if only to distract himself from his own uncomfortably perverse change of heart.

But you were already asleep. He probably should have expected as much, and he could tell you were actually snoozing this time by the shallow, even rise and fall of your chest. A strange sense of embarrassment washes over him and he reaches out to delicately take the hem of his shirt between thumb and finger so he can tug it back down into place. You only snuggle further into the mattress though, getting comfortable, and further cementing the notion that he had, indeed, fucked up.

He’d never be able to get rid of you now.

Grumbling under his breath, Tomura leans over you with one hand braced on the mattress. The other slips between your legs, unable to squeeze shut now with the bulk of the diaper between them, and ever so carefully cups his palm over your crotch. It was cool to the touch, but if he pushed down hard enough he could feel the warmth of your body bleeding through. You let out a quiet huff in response, petulant towards him even in your sleep, and he can’t quite stop himself from laughing. It was absurd. It was strange. It was strikingly, unequivocally weird, but he was almost glad he hadn’t disintegrated you or strangled you to death.

This wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind when he’d wished for a woman he could do with as he pleased and not have to worry about her running away, but … it was close enough, he supposed.

#shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki #self insert bullshit #my writing #I'll tag the series later #I don't know if I want this to show at the top of the main tags seems a bit like inviting trouble #I've wanted to write something like this for a very very long time and I just took advantage of Shigaraki's birthday to finally do it #blah #I make him cry bout' the pussy #prolly why my shit so wet #ahh 👅

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itsuki-minamy · 3 years ago

Text

PROFILE: YATA MISAKI

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Ridia

Real name: Yata Misaki

Terms of address: Yata-san, Misaki, Yatagarasu

[PROFILE]

Birthday: July 20, Cancer

Blood type: B

Age: 20 (At the beginning of the second season)

[APPEARANCE]

Physique: 1.67 cm in height. He gives the impression that he is smaller than his height.

Face, hair: His eyes are good. He wears a hat. The base is the face of a cheerful child, but the expression is rich and changes every time. He can be a vicious person and often laughs carelessly.

Attire: He wears a street style with a skateboard.

Personal effects: Skateboard. A metal bat.

[HABITS, SKILLS]

· Skill on the skateboard and the use of flames.

· Before thinking that the blood would rise in his head, his body would move and sink.

[IMPRESSION, OTHER NOTES]

· "Foolish".

· There are some comic aspects that should be loved, but when viewed by the general public, they are vicious.

· Get angry and laugh a lot. The emotional expression of emotions is clear.

· The sign of "Homura" is on the left clavicle.

[POSITION, OBJECTIVES]

A member of "Homura". Identified as a captain of the first class. Number 3 in combat strength.

A young man who loves "Homura" and loves his friends.

He is one of the main members, except for Suoh, Kusanagi, and Totsuka, who are the first members. Instead of Suoh, the lord who doesn't move much, Kusanagi, who often sticks to the role of staff, and Totsuka who is a non-combatant, in case of a difficult situation, he often takes the initiative and fights violently.

His fighting ability is high and reliable, but the troublesome side is also great, and when he causes trouble, Kusanagi gets angry. However, after Suoh and Totsuka died and Anna became "King", he became a little stronger than before as an executive of "Homura", supporting Kusanagi.

He was a close friend of Fushimi from "Scepter 4", and has a close relationship. When Fushimi was a member of "Homura", he was considered to be a combination of Yata and Fushimi, even in Shizume society.

[PERSONALITY, CONDUCT]

A quick fight. Although it is a direct path, he has a particularly strong feeling for his friends. He thinks about things in emotions and acts by intuition.

He is not good with women. He blushes in front of a woman. He does not harm women, but not as long as they are recognized as an enemy with equal fighting power.

He is excited about Suoh, and is pleased to show the power of Suoh and "Homura". He becomes furious when Suoh and "Homura" are insulted. He shows his emblem of "Homura".

He is a burning guy as a child, and he also has the name "Yatagarasu".

He looks bright and carefree in "Homura", but there are some aspects of the world that are dissatisfied and refracted. That's why he gets along with Fushimi.

[FATE, ENDING]

Overwhelmed by Suoh's death and "Homura's" breakdown, he later rallied and supported Anna in a completely different way than Suoh's, and his sense of companionship was excessive and depended on "Homura". Yata will be able to think from a larger perspective without being paralyzed by the form of a "team" or "partner", even though the passionate aspect of him remains the same.

He was only looking at Fushimi through the "filter of the organization I belong to" or "traitor", but he re-evaluated Fushimi as an individual who got rid of him and confirmed that they were different from each other. A new bond was formed after doing that.

[ABILITIES, TACTICS]

He fights combining skateboarding action and "flame control ability" as a member of the "Homura" clan. He blowing flames from the steering wheel, accelerating, climbing walls and exploding under his feet to carry out an aerial battle. He attacks with weapons like bat metal and fire. His ability is great and powerful.

[POWER]

B (Along with Kusanagi in “Homura”. Fushimi and his combat power antagonize, but Fushimi is slightly advantageous due to the use of two power colors.).

[LIKES]

Friends. He likes to do something with someone (be it good or bad). He hates cowardice, but not necessarily justice.

[DISLIKE]

Be alone in silence. Treachery.

[HOBBIES]

Physical activity (what you can do close to where you are, not go to the gym).

He likes games in general, but in particular he likes those that use physical ability and reflexes (case games, rhythm games, shooting, racing, etc.).

In high school, he often played competitive games with Fushimi. Compared to Yata, who operates only on reflexes, Fushimi, who controls reflexes and strategy, has a higher win rate.

[FASHION]

Mostly casual, street style. The beautiful and rigid clothes are brilliant. He also believes that it does not suit him.

[BODY]

Small and light. A healthy complexion. The physical capacity is very high.

[INTELLIGENCE]

Studying is disappointing. Since he has quick power, he may have been miraculous when he infiltrated during the night. His intuition is good.

[BELIEFS]

Act as soon as you think about it. The companions first.

[RELATIONSHIPS]

[EARLY YEARS]

Raised in Shizume until childhood. A common home. Having a mother and child family, he had the spirit to protect his mother from an early age. Kamamoto is a younger brother. He left Shizume after his mother's remarriage. The marriage partner is an ordinary office worker but a good person. A younger brother and a younger sister are born between the mother and her marriage partner. Yata, who originally hates being mistreated, begins to feel a sense of alienation at home.

He met Fushimi in middle school and became a close friend. After graduating from middle school, he went to "Homura" with Fushimi without going to high school. After that, he lived in an apartment in Shizume without receiving the support of his parents. He has a part time job.

[TIMELINE]

· 1993, Yata Misaki is born.

· 2006, he meets Fushimi in middle school.

· 2009, Yata joins “Homura” with Fushimi.

· 2010, Fall, Fushimi leaves "Homura" and moves to "Scepter 4"

[ATTITUDE AND THOUGHTS TOWARDS OTHERS]

[TERMS OF THE ADDRESS FOR HIMSELF]

The first person is "Ore".

A vigorous way of speaking.

[TOWARDS SUOH MIKOTO]

He calls him "Mikoto-san".

No matter what Suoh does (even if it's natural), he thinks everything is great. Unsurprisingly, when he is passionate he goes too far.

[TOWARDS FUSHIMI SARUHIKO]

He calls him "Saruhiko" and "Monkey (when he's joking or angry)".

Fushimi was recognized as a traitor when he called him "Monkey", and "Saruhiko" when he was scary and serious.

He was angry at Fushimi's betrayal, but he was shocked because he believed in Fushimi. Depending on the circumstances, he could forgive Fushimi, and if Fushimi were willing to return to "Homura", they would bow to Suoh together. For Yata, it was considerable preparation to appeal directly to Suoh, as he was very frustrated.

[TOWARDS KUSANAGI IZUMO & TOTSUKA TATARA]

He calls them: "Kusanagi-san" and "Totsuka-san".

The two do not go up. Since proper honorifics cannot be used, honorifics and misleading words get mixed up.

[TOWARDS ANNA KUSHINA]

He calls her "Anna".

Anna's "child" side feels the same level of empathy and is easily touched, but the "girl" side is disappointed. He would like Anna to stop calling him "Misaki" if she could, but since she is Anna, he forgave her.

[TOWARDS RIKIO KAMAMOTO]

He calls him "Kamamoto".

Kamamoto is older and joined "Homura" before, but since he is a younger brother and his ability is stronger, Yata turns him into simply Kamamoto. The reason why Yata, who is younger in age, ends up calling himself "Yata-san" in "Homura", is because Kamamoto is under his spell.

#k #k project #k fan clan #yata misaki #profile yata misaki

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emersonfreepress · 4 years ago

Note

What would the ro's be like in a zombie au?

whyyyyy anon whyyy. I'm actually gonna write this in like.. slightly different terms, you'll see. any time I even briefly think of a zombie au I'm just like

I WANNA WRITE IT SO BADDD

i don't even allow myself to entertain it for very long because getting into that would be the worst thing ever for my productivity with the alpha omg 😂😂 so I'll put like the ideas that pop into my head for writing a zombie au, to work some of that creative frustration out 😆

so in this very general, absolutely noncommittal idea of mine, the main cast are older and the setting is in and around a civilian settlement led by the Emersons.

and as a refresher, i like my zombie aus to have fast zombies and fast infections ^ ^ 28 Days Later/Train to Busan style babyyyy, we the Sprinting Dead up in this bitch 😆

= = =

Gabe is, predictably, looking for what's left of his family. Following rumors of safe havens and bunkers and such. Starts the story as someone who tries to be diplomatic, if not outright pacifist, but as times get tougher and resources dwindle, he'd become one of the most cutthroat motherfuckers in the wasteland. Low-key though, low-key. People won't trust you if they know you’re capable of throwing them to a horde for strategic reasons. Like if Rick turned into Shane (for those of us familiar with early Walking Dead--idk did that happen eventually? i gave up before we even met Negan lol). The end justifies the means :) Damn, I can legit see Gabe going full evil in a zombie au omg 😂😂 i want to write it so fucking bad

Preferred weapon for zed encounters: rifle

Preferred weapon for human encounters: handgun

Faith in humanity: fucking zero

Zombie kill count: plenty; the type to kill every zombie he has spare ammo and time for

Human kill policy: When it benefits him or the people he’s looking after

Survival rating: B+; he can make it out of some pretty dire situations through sheer will to live and ruthlessness

- - -

Kile has arrived--clearly, this is the timeline they belong in. They start their journey with Gabe (and their doggo) and stick to him like glue, even reluctantly so when Gabe eventually has them join the settlement. This can only go one way, though: Kile's just too much of a wildcard for the group and hates being told what to do. (Especially now that society has fallen, wtf) They'd make their exit alone and unannounced aside from a brief head’s up to Gabe. It's slightly bittersweet, but also? They get to loot and hunt and sneak around and kill fucking zombies, all by themself. Kile is a loner, a hiker, and a hunter to begin with so they do beyond fine on their own. However, once the inevitable violent human threat comes for the settlement, Gabe is sent out to convince Kile to come out of isolation, just this once please, to be the camp’s super soldier help defend the camp.

Zed weapon: p much anything they can get their hands on, ranged or melee, blunt or sharp, w/e; improvised weapons

Human weapon: hunting knife

Faith in humanity: never had any to begin with

Zombie kill count: lol infinite?? any zed they come across is double-dead if they have the time for it

Human kill policy: at Gabe’s direction or when provoked enough/threatened

Survival rating: A-; they trust no one, live in isolation, and prioritize survival above all else. only reason it’s not higher is they would risk their life for Gabe or their furbaby and also... their own Rambo-esque antics def attracts the occasional horde lmao

- - -

Jack... this poor boy, he doesn't deserve a zombie au 😂 He's one of those people that first believes zombies are just sick people, too squeamish to keep up with TV news coverage at the onset and too upset to consider anything else. He'd hunker down at home, staying holed up even while his neighbors evacuated, and probably be discovered while the main group is looting the same place as him. When people try to tell him the real state of the world, he'd be in denial until he absolutely couldn't be anymore. idk, probably after Kile shooting a bunch of non-lethal holes thru a zombie to make a point (attracting more in the process lol).

He’d almost immediately join the medical team at the settlement and as word spreads about how easy he is to talk to, he quickly becomes the literal on-site therapist. It's a role he embraces but... idk if it's an emotional burden he can bear. He's very emotionally resilient! But he ain't a professional lol imagine a whole settlement of traumatized zombie survivors seeking you out for counseling, yikes. He also can't say no to a person in need, so instead he quietly spirals into a very private depression while continuing to help others!!

Zed weapon: Oh gosh, do I really have to?

Human weapon: ...Kindness?

Faith in humanity: Unrealistically high

Zombie kill count: Single digit

Human kill policy: Not ever, unless completely unavoidable and to defend the defenseless

Survival rating: C...? idk, that feels generous. D+. To be protected at all costs!!

- - -

Jessie also had the initial reaction of hoping zombies could be saved, but she woke up from that dream swiftly. The science-minded person that she is, esp with her interest in biology, leaves her determined to find anybody who's got the intellect, expertise, and resources to start doing actual work toward a treatment, cure, vaccine—anything. Nothing would get her to finally unabashedly embrace her love of science (and innate leadership skills!!) faster than a zombie apocalypse! In fact, it’s thanks to her that the Emerson settlement’s got a small but growing team of scientists doing as much research as humanly possible to best educate the others on the outbreak and zombie behavior. Def no zombie experimentation going on though lol. ...Not yet, at least.

Zed weapon: rifle

Human weapon: rifle

Faith in humanity: High! We’ll find a solution! Don’t give up hope!

Zombie kill count: Double digits, but less than 30

Human kill policy: Only in unavoidable self-defense or defense of others

Survival rating: B! She has experience with ranged weapons, farming and gardening skills, first aid, camping experience, and a can-do attitude with a healthy dose of realism!

- - -

Rain remains cargo as I said in the last post about this 😆 They'd be very good for keeping clothes repaired and making useful modifications in the settlement, but their life up to this point has been very sheltered and privileged. We're talking somebody with a chauffeur and a personal chef before the outbreak! They would contribute to quality of life and homemaking efforts more than anything—an overlooked aspect of these scenarios tbh! After as many months of dragging their feet as possible and being nigh impossible to track down when you need them, they eventually become involved in meal planning and even help out with medical stuff if they're asked.

Zed weapon: how do you reload this thing again?

Human weapon: switchblade or other concealable sharp-pointy

Faith in humanity: Very low

Zombie kill count: 0! Can you believe it!

Human kill policy: Well if it’s you or me, of course I’m choosing me.

Survival rating: C. Being so tiny helps them find good hiding spots and their self-preservation is high enough to keep them from unnecessary risk-taking. Plus they're very stealthy! Self-defense is a major issue though, so hiding is always their best option.

- - -

Rupan/Rohan scouts for and leads scavenging missions and is Curt's right hand on the recruitment team. The two of them together are the perfect combo of diplomacy, debate, and deception--although R is more honorable about the last one and will only deceive for strategic reasons. When they aren’t looting and recruiting, they’re doing peacekeeping inside the settlement. Most social disputes end up getting brought to them for mediation and they’re pretty dang good at making and enforcing calls. One day they’ll wake up to realize they’ve basically become a sheriff and feel the need to puke their guts up and do something, anything, to reassure themself they’re still punk 😂

Zed weapon: SMG

Human weapon: shotgun

Faith in humanity: Believes in fundamental goodness but knows better than to trust first impressions

Zombie kill count: decent, more than 40; you won’t catch them having a field day tho, they’re trying to gtfo of most zed situations

Human kill policy: Violent threats have to be taken out. And they aren’t, at all, immune to a revenge rampage either...

Survival rating: B-. Can handle themself both with humans and zeds but is vulnerable to hostage situations and truly difficult sentimental/interpersonal decisions!

- - -

Vivian/Vincent manages inventory and stock and they run it so efficiently it’s scary! They're the perfect pick: a hawk-eyed tyrant and tattletale 😂 Despite constantly butting heads with just about everyone on every imaginable thing, they quickly become an important part of the inner circle of decision-makers for the settlement at large. Terrible at stealth, jumpy, and squeamish at the sight of blood and gore, they literally never go on missions unless they're 100% needed for their expertise on a supply run. (They would deny all of these shortcomings are that big a problem, meanwhile R is definitely acting as their bodyguard lol.) When they do tag along, they're prone to becoming the damsel in distress. Seriously, it happens near every fucking time. It's like they just attract only the most improbable and perilous zombie attacks and hostage situations 😆

Zed weapon: shotgun

Human weapon: handgun

Faith in humanity: Medium; seeing people work together at the settlement helps restore it a bit

Zombie kill count: Double digits, under 25

Human kill policy: Violent threats have to be taken out. Well, no, not by me! Get one of the ruffians to do it!

Survival rating: C-. They’d be higher if they weren’t such natural zombie bait.

- - -

Heidi is running the settlement, well-organized to the degree of actually managing to bring bureaucracy to a post-zombie apocalypse settlement 😂 People are free to come and go, but getting in if you don't live there requires trading something of value (fuel, med supplies, food, etc), temporary surrender and registry of firearms and explosives, and you gotta GTFO at the time and date specified upon entry! You can stay long-term if you contribute to the community in a tangible way—and each person admitted is approved by Heidi personally. Yes, every individual. No, she has no free time. And she is not known to be lenient with rule breakers—you want rule bending, you’ll have to go to Curt for that. People kind of hate her, but it can't be denied that she runs a tight ship. She kind of throws herself into the work to avoid the harsher reality at large and hasn't left the settlement in a long time. She's out of touch with how bad things have gotten in the wastes, but she knows better than to take reports at anything less than face value--even when she's skeptical.

Zed weapon: rifle

Human weapon: handgun; dagger

Faith in humanity: Medium. It fluctuates, honestly

Zombie kill count: Double digits, less than 20

Human kill policy: Violent threats must be taken out if they can’t be reasoned with. Spare those who surrender, eradicate those who don't, keep an eye on the newbies. Not tryin’ to nurse any vendettas around here lol

Survival rating: B. She's good with a firearm, masterful at persuasion, and savvy enough to calculate risks appropriately. Also far tougher than her prim exterior and demeanor suggests!

- - -

Curt leads the recruitment and reconnaissance teams! When a new person or group shows up in the area, Curt's the one who stalks watches them, decides if they're worth approaching, and if they should be approached with an invitation, a simple acknowledgment/announcement of their presence, or an outright armed warning to leave the area. He also keeps tabs on morale and general confidence inside the settlement, alongside R. When he isn’t leading those efforts, though, he’s flirting with settlers and squirreling his way out of manual labor and other chores. He’s also secretly growing weed at his place--don’t tell Heidi or Vi ‘cause they’ll wanna yell at him and ration it UGH.

Zed weapon: SMG, explosives

Human weapon: handgun, dagger

Faith in humanity: Pft, sorry, what now?

Zombie kill count: ...way more than you’d expect

Human kill policy: I don’t start confrontations, but I sure as fuck end them.

Survival rating: A! He’s good at playing hapless idiot when it suits him to be underestimated, good with firearms, and capable of being ruthless and decisive in life or death situations! Plus he has no qualms about ditching the settlement if he decides it’s not working out for him. Just don’t tell Heidi lol

#the rest are under the cuuuut #had to stop myself from writing too much SEVERAL times #love me a zombie apocalypse #lovely anon #answered #ROs #whoops got carried away lol #spent most of my work day finally finishing this ask because VIVA PROCRASTINATION #someone help ._.#phew #feels good to finally get it out of my system tho #now I can promptly never ever write it 😂#AUs #fave #scenarios

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gale-gentlepenguin · 4 years ago

Text

Gale Reviews: Miraculous World: New York

(The following review contains spoilers, and if you would like to not be spoiled, I would recommend watching the episode before reading)

(I had to pause a LOT to get through this special)

-Oh s*** Cosmo bug and Astro Noir. That is so cool.

-Okay maybe its my audio, but their voices seem a bit deeper. No big, just something I noticed.

-Okay the yellow flower was cute. Good on you kitty.

- Also, side note. This is very nice animation. Very crisp.

- Marinette is moving on... kinda. Well, she is trying. Its not easy getting over someone you have a thing for. I guess that means Miracle Queen did happen and I will need to suck it up. But.... I am not moving on yet either.

- The puppet show was perfection. And honestly on par with what you would expect from middle school projects. (I almost thought it was the adults showing them and was like WTF)

-BACK THE F***. Madame Bustier is PREGNANT! PREGNANT?! I am so lost? What is the story!? Who is the father! Is she married? Is it artificial insemination! Is it the principal?

-Adrien so moved by Marinette’s outburst of Friendship. Marinette ‘Just a friend’ Dupain-Cheng is going the Tia Gardner method of friendship. Lol

-Marinette ready to fight and Gabriel just like ‘Yea sure whatever’ (Gabriel’s smile murders puppies)

- Kagami trying to cheer adrien up. If you love adrigami, get that juice. (That looked like a kiss kiss, but the angle seemed off, so I am not counting it that way.)

- Kitty Clicker is wonderful. This entire scene is gold.

- Gorrilla doesnt like planes, poor baby

- Plagg, you are a devious little s***. I love you so much. As a writer, his dialogue on how to convince adrien is so devilish its amazing. Using technicalities to tempt adrien.

-Lukanette shippers get your juice... even if it was still tainted a bit by Adrien inclusion. You still get a kiss.

- Okay, can we appreciate that Adrien is also having the same amount of trouble as Marinette moving on, but also include Guilt into the equation? I love this because you KNOW Chat noir is going to get an ear full later.

-Marinette has totally moved on from Adrien.... Oh my poor sweet little girl. You havent. You havent even a little. This ride is litterally the reverse of Startrain and its amazing. Alya is NOT helping. Also, give the person that drew Marinette’s Daydreams a f***ing raise. They earned it

-Marinette pulling herself OUT of the situation. Now adrien is slightly bummed out. Well i am sure that this is the last awkward experience with Adrien she will have. It isnt like the two of them will get lost in NY together... thats whats gonna happen isnt it?

-Marinette walking past all the couples sleeping together. JULROSE GET YOUR JUICE!!!

-Ah yes, nothing like watching the sunset with your good friend. Yes, you good pal, Adrien. Who is Just a friend. Wow, the realization that Marinette used the word friend in this movie more times then Adrien did in the entire series so far. (Or at the very least close)

- Adrien, STOP! Marinette is trying to move on from you! Stop making it so damn difficult for her. (I am not serious, i am eating this s*** up like Sushi)

-Nino confirms he loves Adrien. ADRINO COME GET YOUR JUICE! But yea, I feel alya and Nino’s pain. So they are going to help them both.

-Adrienette hugs. Yes, good.

-And thank goodness for Techno Pirate! Saving everyone from awkwardness by trying to bring down a plane... thats heading for NY...

-OH SWEET! BATMAN RIP OFF AND Captain Marvel rip off! And their sidekicks, Robin rip off and... Medusa girl? Okay Neat.

-Jokes aside, Majestia and Night Owl are boss as hell.

-Wow, I know that Ladybug and Chat noir got powerups now. But these United Heroes make their powers look so bland in comparison.

-Get rekt France!

-ADRIEN! DONT USE YOUR PHONE ON AN AIRPLANE! Well, unless he is using the in flight wifi, then he good.

-How come New York has a f*** ton of superheroes in this universe? America really gets all the cool stuff regardless of what fictional universe your in.

- Why are the superheroes so keen on watching over Marinette’s class? Do they know? Do they know Marinette and Adrien are there? Or is it like they just want to prevent an international incident. PLEASE LET IT BE THE LATER.

- I have only had Aeon for 15 seconds and I would violently murder anyone who harms her.

-Oh my Sabrina! GET YOURSELF AN AMERICAN BOY! ... And Chloé is going to ruin the fun. Oof tough break roomies.

-The entire class! I cant even! Not even a second after the door closes they out to party on the roof!

-Aeon, “See? They are made for eachother!”

- Damn, now that’s some guitar playing! Plus Her design is boss as heck. America really just has better versions of EVERYTHING.

-American boy basically snuck in to see Sabrina! GET IT GIRL!

-HOTDOG SUPERHERO! WITH MAGIC HOTDOGS!!!!!! BEST NEW YORK EVER!

-Nino and Alya be tag teaming this!

-Wow Zag, you stuffing me full of Adrinette goodness. Gorilla is a beautiful sunflower.

- Marinette and Adrien havent been in the US 24 hours and they already have two shippers of them. Also, what do doors have against them?

-Jess is Shipping it too hard. “Lets put them in danger!”

-Jess is having way too much fun with this.

-Hawkmoth akumatizing an actual Super villain. FINALLY!

- “Wouldn’t you rather have an Atomic Bomb?” I love Techno pirate.

-”Super Heroes should never use their powers for personal gain.” Hmmm I wonder how this will back fire on everyone involved.

-”OH S*** HE STOLE THEIR CANNONS! BOOM GOES THE CANNONS!”

-Okay, I take back what I said, these heroes need some Miraculous asap.

- Ladybug is 100% justified in being angry with Chat Noir. It is his fault.

-AEON!!!! NO!!!!!!! Okay, guess i have to kill that techno pirate, and Chat noir

-MAJESTIA IS F***ING PISSED! WRECK HIM MAJESTIA!

- Seems they really hammering it in that Chat noir f***ed up. They right though, but at least Ladybug isnt angry enough to agree that Chat noir should give up his miraculous to some rando. FLEEING FROM THE LAW!

-So lucky charm can only fix damage due to specific villains. It cant fix things when the villain is gone or they are out of range. I always knew it had limitations, but damn. Chat noir REALLY screwed the pooch on this one.

-Adrien no! Oh s***! He cant just... I mean.... He can but...

__________

-Gabriel stole the Eagle! The Kwami of Freedom. The irony is so delicious here.

- So night Owl and Sparrow are both chick with Masculine superhero appearances. Thats actually pretty damn smart, great way to keep people off their identity.

-Welp, i am depressed. Adrien doesnt have Plagg.

-EVEN THE PRESIDENT IS A SUPER HERO! AMAZING!

- So an akumatized person can USE A MIRACULOUS WHILE AKUMATIZED! WHAT THE F*** THATS AWESOME. Also why didnt catalyst do that?

-Gabriel actually getting adrien out of there while before s*** hits the fan. That is actually kind of a decent parenting move. Granted he is going to cause it, but appreciate it.

-Marinette the bike thief is back! And she is an international criminal!

- She tried so hard. Welp I am glad that Marinette is clearly over... actually no. This trip made that clear.

-Liberation, Wow. That is the most American power I have ever seen. I LOVE IT.

- Okay, so I never thought i would say this. maybe there is such a thing as too much freedom? Or at least Freedom that lets you impede on Other people’s freedoms.

- I know what Zag is up to, and it is working. I want a tv series Of Jess and Aeon. They are wonderful.

-So Majestia can casually move the moon. Yea, thats amazing and terrifying! I love her.

-Quantum masking! So there is a glamor effect! I knew it! So Aeon knows who ladybug and Chat noir are.

-DID I F***ING MENTION I WOULD MURDER FOR AEON!

-aeon will never see Tikki or plagg. Thats so sad.

-At least Adrien learned an important lesson.

-Cute LADYNOIR REUNION

-The was clever, using the keychain

- Eagle jess is epic.

-and Majestia can catch missles. Considering she can move the moon. Not surprising.

-OH DAMN, Night owl and Sparrow are LEGACY HEROES! Thats like the Phantom, Or like Jojo.

-That was sweet of Marinette and the class.

-Oh so the guardian of those miraculous came back to claim it.

-But now sounds like the set up for a new series.

____________________________________________________________________

Overall, I did greatly enjoy this movie. Though there were times i wanted to know more, and times I wanted to know less. I know this takes place sometime during season 4, but the exact time is vague. It did tell a really cool story. It felt like a three episode saga combined into one. It was kind of interesting. And damn the drama was higher.

I give it a 7.5/10.

I would rate it up there with my favorite ML episodes.

#ml #miraculous ladybug #ml ny special #miraculous world:#New york #ml ny #ml spoilers #ml season 4 spoilers

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kpopisthereasonihavenolife · 5 years ago

Text

Blight | XI [Final]

Jeon Jungkook/Reader [F]

Genre: Dragon/Shapeshifter AU, Magic AU, Enemies to Lovers

Warning(s): a lot of crying (i’m sorry), cursing, violent intent, lack of a limb, but a happy ending, angst->fluff

Rated: PG-13

Words: 18.4k (oofs)

“We found your body in the courtyard, Y/n wasn’t with you and your mark had already disappeared.”

“What do you mean? She was with me, she’s the one who put that spell on me, right? How could she not have been with me?”

“Jungkook, Y/n went missing after she broke your contract. No one’s been able to find her since.”

“She’s,” Jungkook choked, “she’s missing?” His voice strained and Jimin’s hyper-sensitive hearing picked up on the fragments of pure sorrow in his tone. “B- but you can hide in people’s shadows, right?” The dragon asked Yoongi. “Can’t you just go hide in her shadow and find her that way?”

“Don’t you think I’ve tried that already?” Yoongi unintentionally bit. He looked at his own shadow on the floors that the hospital lights created. “It was the first thing I tried to do, but it didn’t work. Wherever she is, she isn’t casting a shadow for me to find.” Yoongi sighed as he spoke- his inability to find you always nagging at the back of his head. An uneasy feeling in his mind that Jimin could feel along with his Master.

Jimin got up from his place on Jungkook’s hospital bed and walked to Yoongi’s side; leaning down to cup around his ear and whisper out of Jungkook’s hearing range. Though, with his dazed expression, Jimin doubted he’d listen anyway. His mind was elsewhere- rightfully so.

“Could you head back without me?” He asked as the warlock shot him a look and a jumped brow. “Please, I need to talk to him. I know Jungkook the best and I know how he works better than you do. He needs to get it all out of his system before he bursts into a fit. If you’re here he may not open up about it.”

“You think he’ll talk to you?” Yoongi asked, not offensively, but curiously. Jimin nodded, glancing back at the spaced out dragon.

“Yeah,” he confirmed turning back to Yoongi. “He’s my best friend, he will,” Jimin smiled small as Yoongi just stood up with a huff and small stretches. The movement alerting Jungkook back into reality as the warlock looked at him.

“I’m heading out, I’ve got things to do. I’ll tell the others you woke up while I’m at it.” Jungkook nodded as Jimin moved to sit back on Jungkook’s bedside, kicking his feet in micro-swings. “I’ll leave Jimin here with you; don’t start a fight,” the warlock teased.

“He means to say that he’s glad you woke up,” Jimin translated. Yoongi rolled his eyes and dismissed himself, holding back the urge to hide in Jimin’s shadow and eavesdrop. He’d give the two the privacy Jimin asked for.

Silence fell over the room as Jungkook looked back down, just starring at his wrist and bathing in how cold he felt. Jimin just watched him at the moment, hoping maybe Jungkook would open up to him first. He lightly cleared his throat. “Jungkook, listen-”

“I know,” Jungkook interrupted. “You want me to talk about it,” he sighed as he slouched, dropping his head back as his chin lifted towards the ceiling. “I want to talk, Jimin- I do, but,” he cut himself off with a deep, harsh breath. Jimin understood, remaining quiet and patient. It was Jungkook’s way of collecting himself.

Junkook had just woken up after six long months. If the idea of how long he was sleeping was hard for him to process, then the bombshell about your disappearance was something even more explosive. He’d need to gather his thoughts before he even began to work through all the details and questions he had. He wasn’t sure how long he sat in his bed, just thinking and staring at nothing. Running his eyes back and forth along with the ceiling tiles in concentration to not lash out, especially when Jimin was sitting so patiently beside him.

It was during the time he stared upwards, not speaking and not thinking when the first tear slipped from his glassy eyes. Blinking it out of his eye, the blurred vision cleared just enough to split his sight in half. Half blurred, have clear as he just continued to stare. The tears were falling in a steady stream, the stinging behind Jungkook’s eyes and nose told him that they would be falling for longer than he wanted.

He sniffled, taking a shaky breath as he curled his lips inward to pinch between his teeth and then let out a heavy breath. He looked down at his hands then his eyes wandered to his empty wrist as the tears seemed to pool higher as he blinked them once more out of his sight. He curled and uncurled his fist as he then pushed his palm into the comforter the hospital had him covered with before he gripped it harshly. The force in which he clenched his fist around the fabric of the blanket threatened to tear it, he could feel his claws start poking through into his palm.

Jimin watched in silence as with each passing moment his best friend started breaking down further and further. The tears that once ran down his face were now just dripping straight off his eyelashes into his lap as he ducked his head down, his chin tucked in towards his chest. He started to hiccup as he brought his hand up to scrub as his eyes.

“It’s not fair,” Jungkook whimpered. “I don’t know what’s happening to me,” He sniffled again as he moved to grip over his chest, exchanging the gripped covers for his boring hospital scrub shirt. “I don’t know, but I-I’m not strong enough anymore,” he lifted his head, reaching for Jimin’s comfort.

You weren’t here, you weren’t going to come to him just because he was crying, even if he wanted you to burst through that door. He wanted you to come and apologize while he screamed at you for acting like an idiot on your own and running off and putting a spell on him, but he knew it wouldn’t happen. So much sat in his gut as he just hiccuped and breathed unevenly. Eyes rimmed red.

Jimin scooted closer to him, grabbing one of his hands as Jungkook curled forwards, resting his forehead on his friend’s arm. Jimin rubbed the dragon’s back as he wept, trying to coax all that sorrow and all his tears out of him. He’d never seen Jungkook this way, not even when he opened up about how much he missed his mom after they met. Jungkook was sobbing so hard, his throat was contracting as Jimin rubbed his neck. His eyes softened, his own eyes misting over- ever the empathetic type.

Jungkook must care for you a hell of a lot more than Jimin or Yoongi realized.

“I’m not strong enough to say goodbye to her yet, Jimin,” Jungkook whispered through a wavy voice. Jimin nodded, offering his all to soothe his friend.

“I know,” was all Jimin could think to say.

Jungkook must’ve been crying to Jimin for almost an hour. The heaviness in his eyes and the soreness in his head and neck made the time apparently clear as he winced occasionally at the pounding behind his eyes. Jimin was quick to offer him a glass of water the moment he had the chance to get up.

The cold water felt nice traveling down his parched and sore throat. His nose was still tinted red as his eyes were puffy. He took deep breaths to steady his breathing as he pushed his wrist against his check and eyes occasionally to wipe away any stray tears. Jimin gently took the glass back when Jungkook finished it off as Jungkook looked at him.

“Yoongi wasn’t in your shadow or anything, was he?” He asked, a bit embarrassed. He hated breaking down like that- but he supposed if it was to Jimin it wouldn’t be so bad. However, if Yoongi had been in Jimin’s shadow the whole time, he wanted the earth to open up and swallow him whole. Jimin chuckled lightly, shaking his head.

“No. I asked him to leave us be for a while. He isn’t here,” Jimin reassured. “Though, I’m sure he’ll be popping in eventually to tell us if someone is coming or not,” he added. It was quiet again for a while as Jungkook continued to calm himself down and Jimin sat babbling on about whatever he could think to help Jungkook lower his emotional tirade.

No sooner than the red around his eyes faded, Yoongi’s voice echoed into the room- without him actually being in it.

“I hope your talk is over,” his voice blurred. Jungkook looked around, not even smelling his scent around the room. Jimin looked down at his feet, his shadow far darker than it should have been. He shuffled his feet as the shadow started stretching without Jimin moving. Jungkook gasped as he watched Yoongi raise out of the shadow, lifting himself out without breaking a sweat and then landing softly beside his familiar.

Yoongi flicked at his hair, smoothing it out as he dusted off his pants and pulled his jacket, straightening it out. He then looked at Jungkook, the skin of his nose still burning the slight shade of ruby and his eyes swollen. Yoongi smiled at him- knowing he must’ve cried a great deal. Jungkook scowled at his smile.

“Got something to say?” Jungkook shot.

Yoongi just waved it off before stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets. “Nothing, really.” Jimin held back a small giggle in the atmosphere. It was just the slightest bit less suffocating in the room than before. It was easier to breathe and that made Jimin just a little bit more hopeful. Yoongi turned to Jimin. “The doctors will be coming in to examine him in a few minutes. I just told them he woke up and decided to get here ahead of them to give you a proper warning.”

“Is Parrish coming too?” Jimin asked.

“No,” Yoongi shook his head. “He’s dealing with,” he hesitated before he shook his head again, “I’ll tell you later. He’s just busy at the moment, so physicians under his bracket of expertise will check on Jungkook instead.” Jimin nodded as Jungkook sat on his bed. He had a feeling he knew why Parrish wouldn’t be present- he was probably still dealing with Zaros. Wherever Zaros was.

Just as he said, doctors soon rushed into the room, pushing Yoongi and Jimin to the side of the room as they took tests and prodded at Jungkook. Taking his temperature, asking about how he feels and if he’s dizzy or nauseous at all. Taking blood samples to make sure nothing was overly wrong with him and even asking him if he was able to shift like before. Pushing out his scales, fangs, claws and shifting his eyes in color he kept his wings tucked into his back, the wall behind him not giving him space to stretch them out.

He was curious to see if he could shift fully into his entire dragon form, but that experience obviously had to wait. The small hospital room would be blown to bits if he tried shifting completely in here.

When they left, Jimin and Yoongi did too. Leaving to complete a few unfinished tasks they had previously abandoned to tend to Jungkook’s unexpected awakening. Jungkook just ushered them off, not wanting to keep them from their work. Not only were they students, but they also did jobs for Parrish and the school now. They were a capable duo with Jimin being a diligent hellhound and Yoongi a top-notch warlock.

Jungkook just slouched back in his bed when he was on his own again. Missing the connection he used to have with you once again. He couldn’t help to glance back at his wrist, hoping that if he blinked that tattoo would appear back on his skin for him to view. He remembered so vividly what it looked like. If someone gave him a marker he could draw it on his skin.

It was still early afternoon and he had been sleeping for so long already, but with his mind buzzing and fatigue creeping upon him from all his crying, he lay down and decided a little bit more sleep wouldn’t hurt. It wasn’t like you were going to just show up in a few hours if he slept anyways.

So, he’d dream of you instead.

XXX

Jungkook was stuck in his hospital room for 4 days before he got any kind of clearance to leave. He wasn’t set to go home just yet, even though there was nothing really wrong with him anymore. Everyone was being overly cautious because of how long he was sleeping, but he felt fine and nothing was overly dramatic about his health. His tests weren’t bad and he could do nearly everything asked of him. Parrish’s orders, however, were to keep him in the hospital until he said otherwise.

Parrish had stopped by one night when Jungkook was woken up by a nightmare. Walking in and finally having a long chat with the dragon. Jungkook profusely apologized to the medical warlock that night, apologizing for losing track of his unofficial daughter. Parrish didn’t blame him, but Jungkook still blamed himself. Parrish was shocking open about the entire situation- even telling Jungkook details pertaining to Zaros- the offender.

Apparently, a secret trial had been held over Zaros’s future of magic and freedom. It was decided that he was to be held in prison until further notice and if his magic ever returned, he’d be held in magic confinements that restricted its use. As far as the Spell Master was concerned, he did not need a violent, power-hungry villain running around his school and targeting his students. Jungkook found some relief in that at least.

Parrish went even further to tell Jungkook where the twisted warlock was being held. He was in an isolated cell that sat below the academy apparently. There was a door in the Spell Caster building that lead down into an underground prison that had been abandoned for a long time, now with only one prisoner inside it. It was now on constant surveillance, guards keeping any nosy students from going down and getting some gossip scoop. No one knew Zaros was down there except for a small circle of professors. They all thought the basement was just under some maintenance.

Apparently, Yoongi and Jimin already knew Zaros’s location, but they were under a strict order not to share the information; not even with Jungkook.

Parrish left that night with a few checkups concerning Jungkook’s health and shared that he was free to go, but he’s only keeping him here simply because he thought it’d be hard for him to go back to the dorms at the moment. That night, Jungkook had a dream- as opposed to one of his nightmares. Or maybe, it wasn’t a dream per se, but it didn’t feel like a nightmare.

He’d have these dreams of the world you forced him to see. He’d always wake up in a panic, a cold sweat on his spine as he grounded himself and repeated to himself over and over that that world wasn’t real. This is where he belonged. It seemed that your spell still has some lasting effects due to him waking up and breaking it all on his own.

It was the morning of the 5th day since Jungkook had woken up when Jimin walked into his room, Yoongi once again popping out of his shadow once the door was closed. He had been hiding from other warlocks and witches who admired Parrish, and as his only son, Yoongi had his own little fanbase he couldn’t stand. It was too attention gathering, so he hid until it was safe to come out.

When Jimin looked at Jungkook, he was sat up, half out of his bed as his legs swung over the edge of the mattress. The hellhound eyed the dragon suspiciously before he opened his mouth.

“I want to get below the academy to see Zaros,” was Jungkook opener to the pair. They eyed each other before looking back at him, giving him a look of ‘you’re crazy’. Jimin cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry? You want to do what now?”

“I want to talk to Zaros,” he spoke again. “Parrish already told me where he is and I know you two know too. I want to talk to him, I have the right to. After what he did to Y/n and to me, I think you should’ve seen this coming.” If Jungkook was being honest with himself, he didn’t want to just ‘talk’ to him. He wanted to scream and shout at him. He wanted to berate him and kick him down. He wanted to beat the shit out of Zaros frankly, but if he spoke like that, the likely hood of their help would slim.

Yoongi sighed. “My dad can’t keep his mouth shut, can he?” Yoongi looked at Jungkook, looking at the steel-look in his eyes. In truth, Yoongi wouldn’t argue with him- he agreed that he had the right to be sat in front of Zaros for whatever he wanted given the current circumstances. He remembered the first time you and Jungkook met so long ago.

He could remember how you wouldn’t be able to carry anything along the lines of a civil conversation before. You’d always be at each other’s throats, yelling and insulting each other without a hint of restraint. You flat hated each other. Now, it was so strange seeing the way Jungkook looked. Crying over you, fighting for you and being enraged at the idea of you being wounded. He remembered how he was when he was under hypnosis and clung to you like a child.

Jungkook has changed and Yoongi trusted him now.

“Alright, fine,” Yoongi said, crossing his arms. Jimin jolted beside him panicked.

“What?! You can’t be serious, Yoongi. We can’t go down into the basement cells! Parrish told us not to!” Jimin waved his hand about, trying to make a debate happen- instead, he got an eye roll from his Master.

“So? We all know that rules and I aren’t exactly compatible. Besides, it’s like the snake said-”

“Dragon,” Jungkook hissed in interruption.

“-he has the right to see him at the very least,” Yoongi finished. He walked to Jungkook, grabbing his arm and lifting him off his bed, fully onto his feet. “I’ll take him with me into your shadow and you’ll get us down there.”

“Yoongi!” He protested in a whine, even stomping his feet.

“Come on, Pup,” Jimin’s face exploded in red at the nickname as Jungkook had to slap a hand over his mouth to keep from bursting out laughing. Pup? When did Yoongi start calling him that? Moreover, what a nickname for a hellhound. Yoongi just grinned as he and Jungkook started falling into Jimin’s shadow.

It was odd, being inside one’s shadow. It was like floating in dead space, but also similar to what it would be like submerged head to toe in water- but able to breathe. It wasn’t nearly as suffocating as Jungkook originally thought it might be. It was freeing and warm. He could see the outside world from Jimin’s shadow from beneath the floor. Looking up at the world that seemed too large from so far below.

Jimin changed with a sigh. His human form fading as he doubled onto all fours and black fur sprung from his body. A tail sprout at his rear and ears lifted from the top of his head. Paws his the floor as his claws scratched with annoying taps on the tile. It had been a while since Jungkook saw Jimin shift like this, and even newer from this angle in his shadow.

“Head down to the basement door in my building. It’s close to shift hours, so we may have an opening to get down undetected if we hurry.” Yoongi instructed Jimin as he just growled lightly and with Yoongi flipping open the door to the room, Jimin ran out. Taking off down the hall, Jungkook could feel the air rushing past due to Jimin’s speed.

Jungkook was almost dizzy from the jarring new mode of transport. Jimin’s hellhound speed made his normal humanly stroll seem deplorably slow. He skidded to a four-pawed stop, one that unconsciously made the dragon surge forward while Yoongi remained unresponsive; he was far too use to this. His claws padded backward as he hid around the corner in the shadows. His black fur acting as the perfect camouflage.

“This is problematic,” Jimin lowly mumbled. “The changing of staff is tighter than expected.” Two men stood at the basement door made of dark wood with a label marked Restricted Area. Yoongi grumbled, rubbing his temples with his thumb and forefinger. Jungkook looked at him as he sighed, dropping his hand.

“Okay, Jimin,” Yoongi started as the hellhound looked down at his dark shadow. “Come down here and I’ll slither us inside.”

“Are you sure? You’re not used to transporting more than yourself and one other. Will one more body exhaust you?” He lifted his hound head up back to the guards- one leaving as his shift ended. “I could just barrel into him and force my way down.”

Jungkook choked. Wasn’t he the one who was opposed to this plan? Now he was volunteering to plow into some sad sap just doing his job. And out of nowhere to boot.

“No,” Yoongi denied. “I can handle it. I have more magic power than that, you know this. Now, get down here, Pup.” Jimin obeyed. Laying down, he relaxed as his shadow lifted like small arms. Wrapping around his body, he began sinking into the blackness as the shadow arms pulled him down.

Yoongi’s eye glowed a bright green as his magic sucked Jimin’s hound body inside the shadow with Jungkook and himself. Soon, the hound was falling out of blackness somewhere above them and landing on all fours at his master’s side. Jimin’s tail wrapped around Yoongi’s wrist.

“Use some of my energy so you don’t push yourself,” he offered. Yoongi didn’t argue and just complied. Yoongi may be the Master in the pair's relationship, but arguing with a pushy familiar and just plain stubborn attitude of Park Jimin was more exhausting than magic could ever be.

As Jungkook watched the pair work as one, he felt a wave of pure envy wash over him. He clenched his hand into a fist; trying not to remind himself of how much he missed you. Or how much your presence- or lack thereof- affected him in the long run.

Just like Yoongi said he would do, Jungkook soon felt the shadow move again. Oddly enough, traveling up the walls and along with the shadows of the ceiling and dipping into corners felt like falling down a canyon before experiencing weightlessness. Yoongi’s eyes still remained their magic active emerald as Jimin stood diligently at his side- feeding energy into him.

It seemed almost flawless as Yoongi slithered the trio along the shadows before slipping beneath the door where cool air seeped out at the ankles. Halfway down the staircase, Jimin detached himself from Yoongi before bracing himself to leap straight up and out of the shadow as if he burst through a black puddle. Even shaking his body around to ruffle his pitch-black fur.

“I’ll take us the rest of the way; I’ll follow his scent,” Jimin announced, finishing his trip down the stairs before hitting a hard, concrete bottom. A single long hall stretched to both sides. Empty, iron-barred cells littered the walls. Jimin’s paw steps echoed due to his long claws in the narrow, underground basement of the academy. It was no joke, it truly was a prison; no wonder the academy forbade student access. It was eerie and even for a school of supernaturals, most might find the atmosphere too thick with unease. It could be a challenge to handle.

Eventually, Jimin’s steps faltered a moment before he bit back an unconscious growl.

“This is far enough,” Yoongi instructed before grabbing Jungkook’s arm and hurling him up like he weighed nothing. Jimin jumped out of the way of Jungkook’s white hospital scrub body as it burst up and through the shadow. The dragon groaned as Yoongi gracefully climbed out. The polar opposite of the dizzy heap of a dragon who was picking himself up off the concrete floor.

“You couldn’t have just lifted me out?!” Jungkook fussed as Yoongi just crossed his arms, Jimin remained as a hound at his side. Yoongi just walked past him to a cell, eyes shining for a moment before a lock click echoed down the hall. He turned to Jungkook, the cell door now ajar. “Is he?” His voice faltered and failed as he kicked himself into gear. Bursting through the iron door he threw himself inside.

Fixing his hunched posture and spinning on his heel to his right, he fixed his sight into a fierce glare. There, sat in a pathetic heap with stone-magic repellant cuffs on his ankles and wrists, sat Zaros. Sitting in torn and tattered clothes, stripped of his shoes. He looked so, absolutely pathetic. Jungkook’s lips rose to bare his teeth, his dragon peeking out in the form of raised fangs.

Fangs extended, eyes changing, scales rippling onto his cheeks. He rushed to Zaros’s front, squatting to grab his collar. Nearly ripping the fabric of the already worn out shirt of his, he lifted the grown man up so his neck tilted so Jungkook could look into his blank disgusting eyes. No one even jumped an inch to calm Jungkook’s rising anger. Jimin and Yoongi stood at the cell’s door, eyeing him- refusing to interfere. It was safe to say Zaros really had this coming in due time.

Jungkook snarled and growled as he just stared at the powerless heap of a man. There was no resemblance of the man Jungkook knew from before with enough pride to power a powerplant. That almighty, egotistical pride was deflated and his cheeks were sunken in with heavy bags under his eyes. Magic deficiency sure has taken its tole- he deserved it though. He yanked him a fraction higher, finally seeming to get his attention.

“Alright, bastard,” he snarled, “you’re going to tell me what the hell happened after you struck. Me. Down.” His grinding teeth enunciated his final words before he threw the feeble warlock stripped of all back against the cell’s concrete wall. Jungkook’s breath was running short due to his anger and he had no intention of even trying to calm down yet.

Zaros, however, remained a silent form. With a burst of heat, Jungkook’s breath hissed with steam as fire rested on his tongue from his lungs. The fire began to flick at the tips of his hair, wisping around. Jimin watched his friend with worry and something not too far from pity.

His rage was alive because of his loneliness.

He saw Zaros’s eyes flick up towards the dragon, something seemed to finally grab his attention. Yoongi’s eyebrow raised- he had been down here many times without Jimin’s knowledge when he followed his father. Zaros had been a motionless statue ever since he was found back then, this tiny motion of interest seemed to put Yoongi on edge.

“Heh,” was the small sound that escaped Zaros’s mouth. He seemed to regain some of his previous cocky nature as he sat up straighter than before and looked up at Jungkook. “You look exactly like you did before.” Jungkook silently pressed him for answers; the heat rolling off his body in violent waves spoke for him when it came to intimidation.

The two of them stared at each other for longer than they both realized without actually speaking.

“You didn’t come all the way here under the assumption that I know where that witch ran off to, did you?” Jungkook’s fingers curled into fists as his claws dug into his palm at the tone of Zaros’s voice. The warlock shifted his posture, lounging back as he lifted his cuffed, left arm. “Where ever she ended up, she got what she deserved for what she’s done.”

Jungkook slammed his foot into the center of the warlock’s chest. His heel dug into his chest as Jungkook pushed steady, calm anger into it. Blood leaked from the punctures in his own palm from his claws, dripping onto the concrete cell floor. His eyes were wide like his consciousness slipped away and was letting his anger work his body for him instead.

“What does that mean?” Jungkook’s voice was low, monotone and eerie. He was close to grabbing the man’s face in his bloody palm and lighting it on fire. It was a loud bark and a black ribbon of shadow that stopped his outstretched hand that called him back to his right mind. He looked over his shoulder to an eye-glowing Yoongi and an on guard Jimin hound.

The shadow ribbon extended from Yoongi’s shadow, lifting off the ground to tie tightly around the dragon’s wrist. It tightened when Jungkook tried to struggle against it. Jimin barked again, glaring at Jungkook with blood-red eyes. A warning to control himself. It was the realization that if Jimin needed to step in Jungkook would be on the floor in seconds that calmed him down back into rational thought. He’s been beaten by Jimin before, he didn’t want to make the same mistake and make that memory reoccur in reality.

“The quickest way to get us caught is to be irrational,” Yoongi warned. Jungkook lifted his foot from Zaros’s chest- although reluctantly. He let the shadow around his wrist pull him back and away from the disable warlock who was trying to hide the fact he had to regain the breath Jungkook stomped out of him. “We need to go back to your room before anyone notices we left. Our time here is up,” Yoongi told him as he dragged him backward and eventually out of the cell.

The iron cell door slammed shut, the sound echoing in the concrete halls of nothingness, leaving the warlock to sit in the same silence they found him in. With each step Jungkook took back down the hall, he felt angerier. Zaros clearly knew something, but he couldn’t get out of him what it was. He didn’t have enough time and Zaros didn’t seem to care enough about anything anymore. Jungkook doubt he’d get any answers even if he threatened his life- something Jungkook was tempted to try.

By the time Jungkook slipped back into Jimin’s shadow and joined Yoongi who took both hellhound and dragon back to Jungkook’s room and he returned to his bed, he felt like he lost more ground instead of gaining any. Jimin and Yoongi left him that afternoon after his regular treatment, letting him sit in another day of hospital bruting.

XXX

It was a particularly strong clap of thunder coupled with a brilliant flash of lightning from outside Jungkook’s hospital window that woke him up in a huff. Flinching to clutch his hospital blanket, he shot up as the rattling in the window calmed back down as the thunder faded. Rain pelted against the window in harsh drops as the wind moaned in heavy words. He was breathing heavily as he looked outside into the black world.

Looking at the clock hanging on the wall it was 2:03 in the morning. He took deep breaths to steady himself as he pushed the blankets down and kicked them off, swinging his legs over the bedside. It suddenly got too stuffy for him in the room as he stood up and padded to the window.

Placing his hand on the glass, it chilled his palm as he felt it rattle and watched the storm blowing outside. Trees with thin trunks bent to the wind as the taller, stronger tree’s bustled like loud pom-poms with their leafy branches. It would be a mess in the courtyard come the end of the storm.

Jungkook shivered at the storm, an action he hadn’t done before. Storms don’t scare him, yet he shook like he was terrified. The next bolt of lightning made him jump away from the window and the crack of thunder that followed quickly after made him drop to his knees and cover his ears. A small whine coming out of his mouth- he wasn’t sure what was going on.

When the thunder roll died for the second time, he slowly uncovered his ears and stayed kneeling on the floor. He was stuck between the emotions of being calm and terrified of the storm outside and all it did was cause so much confusion in his head. He had never been afraid of storms, so why was he now?!

He widened his eyes as a thought came into his head. He lifted his head up to the window, mouth open in silent words as an idea as to what was going on came to him. He wasn’t sure, but he hoped so much he was right about his hunch. He watched as another bolt of bright, white lightning lit up the night sky as the thunder rolled afterward. He shakily stood to his bare feet as he came to stand in front of the window again, putting his left hand against the glass once more. He could see his reflection in the glass before he looked at his bare wrist.

What if he was torn between these feelings because one of them is yours? What if the connection between you and him wasn’t really gone?

He folded his hand into a light fist as he pushed his forehead against the glass and shut his eyes. He took deep breaths as a shiver racked through his body again- one that he was convincing himself wasn’t actually his.

“Come on,” he muttered to himself so quietly that the wind could sweep the words away. “Please, give me something,” he pleaded. The next lightning strike was the loudest by far as Jungkook’s eyes shot open at the crackling sound. The lightning had struck the courtyard ground in a blinding white flash that caused him to shut his eyes immediately again before the mighty thunder that followed mimicked an earthquake’s power.

In that bright light that lasted one moment and with the thunder that roared loud enough to shake the building, Jugnkook swore he saw something behind his eyelids. He dropped to the floor completely this time, falling back onto his ass as he stared up at the window bewildered. After that, the storm seemed to calm and before long it was just another rain shower. Jungkook wasn’t sure how long he sat on the floor of his room, just staring up at the window’s glass- purely stunned.

It was long enough, however, that he only came to when someone shook his shoulder to get his attention. Jimin and Yoongi had already come into his room when he whipped his head around so see the time. 7am already.

Jungkook looked at the ground he sat on, wondering where the time went or if he had been imagining the whole thing. Did that storm happen? Or did he just dream it all up and sleepwalk around for hours in his room?

Whatever happened, he cut off the questions Jimin was asking- ones Jungkook hadn’t been listening to- by grabbing Jimin’s arm, his hand shaking as he got the hound’s attention.

“I,” he started before clearing his throat, “I think I know where Y/n is,” he finished. The picture of a stone chair on an island painted behind each blink of his eyes.

Young and Jimin both took sharp intakes of breath; their bodies freezing in place. Jimin had been hopeful for too long, so he just shook his head- with things so grim he was starting to slip. Nothing had happened these past six months despite people’s efforts. Why would he get excited because Jungkook said something? No, he’d stay grounded and try to calm the dragon down. Young I just watched the two as Jimin’s disbelief coiled in his master’s chest.

“Jungkook,” Jimin began to argue as he tried to lift the dazed former familiar off the ground. Jungkook just held around Jimin’s arm, shaking his head.

“No, no wait! Jimin, please you have to trust me. Hear me out, I can find Y/n. I-I know I can!” Jungkook’s voice pleaded with guilt as he knew this would put even more stress on his best friend. He just needed Jimin to hear him out. He quickly glanced at Yoongi, silently asking for help.

“Jimin,” Yoongi sternly called. The hound looked over his shoulder. “Just hear him out.” Jimin relented, sighing as he let Jungkook pull him to his knees, getting eye to eye on the hospital floor.

Jimin had yielded due to Yoongi’s command. Jungkook breathed, finally getting their attention. He wouldn’t hesitate to give away his secret place if it meant you were there too.

“There’s,” he starts, “this place that only I know about. I took Y/n there once. It’s undiscovered because something stops it from being found. I don’t know what or how, but Y/n and I are the only ones who know where it is. I think,” he stuttered, “I think she might be there.”

“Jungkook, you need to understand that you’re not connected to Y/n anymore.” Jimin tried to calmly reason with Jungkook. What would happen if, at this secret place, Y/n wasn’t there? Jimin wasn’t sure Jungkook could take that. Jungkook just shook his head, letting go of Jimin’s arm to hold around his own wrist.

“No, no, listen to me! I-I’m afraid of storms,” Jungkook blurted out. Jimin knew that was a lie. Jungkook could soar through the sky in the middle of a lightning storm without batting an eye. “Last night, that storm scared me to the point I was on my knees, Jimin.”

“Jungkook, you’re not afraid of storms.”

“I know, but I was scared last night anyways!”

Jimin tried talking some sense into his friend when from behind him, Yoongi finally spoke up again.

“Y/n hates storms,” he announced. Jimin and Jungkook looked at the warlock. “Lightning terrifies her.”

“I knew it,” Jungkook mumbled. He looked at the wrist he held, the bare wrist he wished wasn’t bare before he looked back up again. “I know that terror I felt wasn’t mine. I know it was Y/n’s. That’s why I’m so sure I can find her.”

It was silent for a time. Jungkook trying to persuade the two into helping. He knew Jimin was caring for him in his own way, trying to not let Jungkook hurt himself emotionally any further by getting his hopes too high. Yoongi stood in thought, the unwritten standing leader of the trio of wicked creatures.

Whatever Yoongi decided, Jimin would obey without a doubt. Jungkook could only hope he decided to trust Junkook’s words and gut instinct. The hunch he knew had to right. Yoongi sighed, something that made Jungkook perk up the smallest bit. The warlock looked at the dragon, still slumped down on the floor.

“Are you able to shift at all?” He asked.

“Yes, I can. There’s been no problem with shifting back and forth. It’s just as easy as it was before.”

“How soon can you be ready?”

Jimin looked at his master. “What?” He asked, bewildered that no one was listening to him. Jungkook smirked, coming out of his self-pity mindset for but a moment.

“How soon can you bring me a set of my own damn clothes?” He countered back.

“What?!” Jimin shrieked as Yoongi and Jungkook ignored his cries of protest. Once again, ever the worrier about outcomes possibly going south.

“Tonight then. If you’re sleeping, you’re at fault when I throw you out of your bed against the floor, snake.” Jungkook didn’t even try correcting him on what reptile he was, too caught up in the idea that he would finally be leaving this hospital room. He’d get outside and he’d get to the mountain cave. He’d get to you, even if everything stood in his way- he’d plow right the hell through it.

“Make sure to get some good clothes. I want to make a good impression on Y/n when I see her,” he teased, more to ease his own erratic heart as Yoongi just chuckled, crossing his arms as Jimin shot to his feet. He opened his mouth to argue, but something in his gut told him it wasn’t worth it. He’d have a better time winning an argument with a salad. So, he just sighed- signing himself on board of the train wreck to come.

The trio stayed quiet in the hospital room nearly all morning and well into the afternoon, planning it all out. Yoongi would go back to Jungkook’s room and snag a pair of pants for him- forgoing a shirt seeing as he had a better chance of traveling undetected as a half shifted dragon-man and not a full scale, giant dragon. He didn’t want to ruin another shirt by tearing wing holes into the back. He feared for what shoes he’d bring his way, but he had no choice but to just trust him. Jungkook did ask for one of his hoodies to bring along to wrap around his waist.

Who knows, maybe you would need something to cover up with.

It was mid-afternoon when Jungkook ushered them off, playing to the nurses and doctors that he was tired and wanted to rest. He did try at least. He tried sleeping through the afternoon so he would have energy into the night to get to the cave- but sleep was hard to come by. His chest was so tight and his throat constricted at the idea of finally seeing you again after all this time. It was like his body knew you’d been away for over half a year now.

That is far, far too long. He bit into his lip to keep his emotions in check as he squeezed his eyes shut, trying it will some sort of rest onto himself. A small power nap was all he accomplished- however anytime someone came into his room, he’d play as if he were sleeping to avoid any confrontation or conversation. Conversing energy is all he cared about right now.

XXX

11:46pm was when Jungkook sprung out of bed and flipped on a lamp nearby. His hospital room was dark, not even the moon shining tonight- being covered by clouds. The shadow he cast with his body on the wall gave perfect entrance to Yoongi, who was now walking out of it. Jimin bounded out of the wall beside him- already in hound form. Yoongi held a drawstring bag over his shoulder before he tossed it to the dragon.

“Hurry and change, we’ve gotta get you out before someone sees the lamplight on and checks on you,” Yoongi whispered. Jungkook nodded, not wasting any more time. He practically tore his scrubs off, tossing them on the bed behind him as he changed. A pair of black pants and a giant, pink hoodie. Lord knows how far back in Jungkook’s closet Yoongi had to dig for that.

If Jungkook wasn’t a dragon who wasn’t able to be cold, he’d probably be shivering in the chilly hospital room. Just jeans, some boots and a hoodie around his waist. He was glad Yoongi remembered to not bring a shirt. He stuffed his scrubs back into the bag his clothes were in and shoved it under his bed.

Jimin had been standing at the closed door, listening intently to make sure the coast stayed clear while Jungkook changed. Yoongi stood in the corner against the wall, waiting for the dragon’s all clear to get rolling.

Jungkook pulled the belt through the loops of his jeans before fastening it. He spun around to Yoongi, arms wide.

“How do I look?” He asked, the excitement bleeding into his tone.

“Like an exhibitionist,” the warlock deadpanned. “If you’re ready, let’s go.” Yoongi pushed off the wall, stepping forward. He snatched Jungkook’s bicep as he called Jimin back to the shadow they had come out of. Eyes glowing green, Yoongi shoved Jungkook into the shadow, through the wall as Jimin jumped in after him. Yoongi bursting the bulb of the lamp- instead of just flicking the lamp off- was stepping into his shadow just as a nurse rushed into the room. Finding it empty with lightbulb shards on the floor.

Traveling in Yoongi’s shadow was easier than the last time Jungkook had done it. Perhaps it was because he had you on his mind instead of anything else. Yoongi slithered along walls and ceilings, zigzagging the stairwells before he was pulling the dragon up and out of the floor of the roof, Jimin following. The wind whipped along the rooftop, the breeze smells like earth as Jungkook took a deep breath.

“It’s perfect flight conditions,” he muttered. It seemed like mother nature was on his side after all- even if the storm was a fit of hers. Or maybe, that storm was another message from mother nature to aid him still. If mother nature was real, after all.

“I hear footsteps from the lower floors,” Jimin piped up. “It won’t be long before they check the roof for us,” he warned.

Jungkook looked at the two of them. Jimin had been his best friend for a long time, and only recently- or he guessed not to recently given the time pass- he had decided to befriend Yoongi. Along with you. He smiled to them, wide in all his shirtless glory as his wings spread from his back and his scales encroached on his cheeks. His eyes glowed in the darkness, a contract to Yoongi’s glowing emerald eyes.

“Thanks, guys,” he spoke over the wind.

“Bring Y/n back and then I’ll accept your thanks. Until then, get going Snake-boy,” Yoongi retorted with crossed arms as Jimin shook his hound head. He looked up, somehow portraying a sort of smile in his canine features. Jungkook laughed as he walked to the edge of the building, looking down to see the small specs of people running around- probably looking for him. He was a big part of the Zaros case after all- being involved with the man’s daughter.

He took a few steps back before he rushed the edge, taking a leap and his wings hit the wind. The updraft lifted him up before he was flying off, the cover of darkness and trees hiding him until he was able to fly high enough and out of the city. His sights set on the path to the mountain cave he knew so well.

XXX

Jungkook lost track of time as he eventually could make out the outline of the mountain in the dark distance. He flew higher, the air thinning out just as it always did when he went far above the clouds. He was eventually zooming through the cave opening before the cave stopped and dropped, following the downward cavern into the place of the secret place he’s been to so many times before. Something felt off to him though.

The lower he went into the cavern, the feeling in his gut twisted and a gust of cold air started hitting his fiery skin. He hadn’t ever remembered the cave being cold before? Was it just him being paranoid? The opening to the cave came into sight as he could see the light of it nearing. He folded his wings, allowing his body to fall faster as he plunged downward.

He wasn’t paranoid. The moment his body passed the threshold of the opening in the cavern, he instinctively covered his face with his arms, his wings flying open again in a panic because his eyes were covered and the ground wasn’t seen. A blast of cold hit him again as he finally was able to uncover his face and reopen his clamped eyes.

His mouth opened at the sight of the cave as his brows knitted and a look of distress painted his face. His cavern was no longer the warm, floral cave he had known for years. The trees weren’t blossoming and the waterfall wasn’t flowing. Everything was still and everything was dead.

The trees were bare, the noises of the creatures who used to live there were silent and long gone, the waterfall had dried up and the lake of water was frozen over. The wind whipped around the area in loops, unable to escape. It was like a violent winter storm desolated the area and left it as a barren wasteland of nothing.

A part of Jungkook choked. This was the place he used to heal after his mother died, and now it was like this. This was the place he finally started connecting with you too, and now it looked so terrifying to him. The warm place of comfort was cold and he wanted to run. Fly out of there and forget about it, thinking it was just a bad dream.

He knew better.

Jungkook shook it off, taking in small, cold breaths of air as he started to finally lower himself to the ground, flying towards the frozen lake. Out of everything, that stone arch and throne that sat on the small island in the lake had remained the same. The bright magic that surged through its engravings still shone just as brightly as it did when you touched it and it activated. Had it been the magic that the throne shot off that was responsible for the current state of the cave?

His feet finally his the hardened, cold stone of the island as his wings closed. His wings were freezing as they touched his back, closing up but not disappearing. He was too on edge to revert back to his human form. His wings clung to him as his scales chilled his skin- yet of course, he wasn’t cold. He couldn’t feel cold.

He walked around the island and even onto the frozen lake. Delicate steps onto the icy water as he looked at the blurred image of himself staring back at him. The ice was thick and he was confident he could run and jump on it without a problem. He wouldn’t though, something felt wrong just standing on the lake of ice. He knelt to touch the ice, squinting his eyes as his trembling fingertips.

Out of nowhere, a cloud of mist started to surround the island and lake. Jungkook shot back to his feet, his boots stomping on the ice as he whirled around. The mist was thick; a white cover of chill that blocked his sights. Any thicker and he’d have a hard time seeing two feet in front of him.

He aimlessly waved his hands in front of him, a useless attempt to fan the mist out of his view. The white cloud cover only sifted through his fingers as it chilled his warm, dragon skin. He growled, slightly annoyed. Walking, he thought he’d hit the island again, but all he found was the iced lake under his feet. The mist had him turned around and he lowly groaned as he almost stomped- but knew better.

It stopped when a pulse of magic beat behind him. It lasted just a moment, the pulse of it like a heart. Turning, he squinted, seeing something. The low light of white through the thick mist. That has to be the stone throne, he thought. He couldn’t think of anything else it could possibly be. But why would it beat with magic? As far as he knew it was something of a magic relic, yes, but that didn’t explain why it had active magic inside of it.

Sprinting towards the light and beats of magic thrumming through the ground into his feet and up his legs to vibrate into his chest he soon was taking shallow breaths as he stood in front of the throne. The light source and magic beating throne of glowing, lightning stone. He furrowed his brow as he looked down at the person sitting on that throne.

It looked like you, from the appearance to the pulsing, blighted arm. Everything about whoever it was sitting on that throne matched you to an almost unnerving degree, but something in his gut told him that regardless of how it appears, that wasn’t you. His heart didn’t jump when he saw this person- this thing. He didn’t get goosebumps, he didn’t feel like dropping to his knees in relief, he didn’t feel like shouting and forcing you awake to scold you. He just felt- wrong looking at this doppelganger of you.

Though he knew that this thing wasn’t you, he couldn’t stop his mouth from opening and his voice leaving as if he were truly speaking to you.

“Wake up,” he spoke. Not cold, not stern, not soft-- just ordinarily. Even when he knew that this wasn’t you, it didn’t stop the gasp he gave when the doppelganger of yours opened its eyes with an easy, smooth motion. Jungkook’s mouth opened in a light breath before he shut it again, tempted to look away from the doppelganger. The black, empty eyes of this imposter made him miss your true eyes.

He took a deep breath, keeping himself together before he looked straight back into the empty void of its eyes.

“I know you are a spell,” he started, his fist opening and closing slowly in anxiety. “Y/n- the real Y/n, told me once about a mirage spell cast through mist. I know you are not real and you are not her, but-” he cut himself off. His fist clenched shut at his side, his arm tensing. “I have so many things I’ve realized so suddenly and I need to tell her the truth. Please,” he took a small step towards the copy. “Please, can you tell me where she is. I know she’s here- she must be.”

The doppelganger looked up at him with creased brows and their mouth open in a pitiful pout. If those empty, black eyes were true eyes, he was sure he’d fall to his knees and collapse. If this copy hadn’t lacked your eyes, he would have crumbled long ago.

Jungkook watched as the copy started to move, standing weakly on its two feet as it stumbled closer to Jungkook’s chest. The copy looked up at him without breaking- what would be- eye contact as it reached out and grabbed his left hand. Jungkook unconsciously wrapped his hand around the hand that reached out and squeezed.

“Please,” he pleaded once again in a whisper as thin as the mist. The copy finally broke eye contact as it turned to the right and lifted it’s free arm and pointed back out onto the lake. Jungkook turned to follow the copy’s finger. He looked back, “is she there?” The copy only nodded to Jungkook’s question before dropping its arm and releasing his hand- Jungkook almost missing the warmth.

Jungkook started back out without thinking- when he looked back to thank the copy, it was gone. Disappearing back into the mist. Jungkook walked along the icy lake for longer than he liked before he felt like perhaps the copy had lied to him. He hadn’t seen you at all, not along the lake anywhere. He stood in place looking around in the slightly thinning mist, frustration lacing his facial features as he started running his hand through his hair.

What if you really weren’t here? What if that feeling he had was wrong? He started to feel sick- he felt like he’d completely break if you weren’t here. He felt his mind spinning when he felt a small tremor under his feet.

He looked down at the ice and he squinted his eyes. Beneath him it felt like before when magic pulsed leading him to the stone throne, but now it felt like it was coming from beneath the ice. He jumped and almost lifted himself into the air and off the ice when an echoing crack filled the air. Beneath him now, between his feet was one solid crack in the ice that lead forward.

Whatever it was that caused it, Jungkook didn’t know- all he knew is that he was running down the trail it left without thought. The crack lead to a large, omnidirectional crack in the ice as Jungkook dropped to his knees and palms, peering inside the ice. His eyes narrowed before he saw something beneath the surface. His left wrist began to sting and he was punching through the ice before he could properly think about his actions.

His tight fist that licked with flames burst through the sheet of ice and his hand was plunged into the freezing water of the lake. He pulled his arm out before he was gripping around the open break and started stripping away at more ice. He pulled the crack open into a wide hole before he fell to his chest on the ice as he reached his arm fully into the hole, fishing around inside.

His eyes bugged when his fingers brushed against something inside the dark water. He leaned further into the lake, his entire shoulder submerged and ready and willing to dive completely inside if need be. He was soon wrapping his hand around something before he was scrunching up onto his knees and pulling up.

He choked and his eyes stung when the wrist and hand of whoever he had grabbed under the water breached the lake’s surface. He moved to his feet, crouching as he pulled and hoisted your cold, wet body out of the water and onto the lake. He fell back onto his rear as he pulled you to his chest and fell onto his back.

He was still for a moment. The idea of you laying on his chest, wet and cold, didn’t seem like reality to him. He stared glossy-eyed up into the mist that was navigable now before he sprung up again.

You were unconscious as he moved to roll you off his chest and onto the sheet of ice. His mouth opened and a choked whimper came out of his lips as he saw the state of you. You weren’t injured or cut, your chest still just barely moved and he could only assume that you had not drowned simply because this lake was known for its healing properties- as you told him before. It could not drown anything.

His fingers traced your torn shirt and exposed collar bone all the way to your left shoulder. He wanted to hold the hand that was infected with that blight of yours, the start of your curse, but he could not.

For the left arm that was once infected with lightning was no longer there.

Jungkook panicked, unable to think straight. Your arm was gone, your left arm was taken away from you and you didn’t have it. You had no left arm! He fell back onto his heels as he ran his hands through his hair and looked you up and down, making sure no other limbs had gone missing. Other than your arm, you were whole- a small relief.

Jungkook shook his head, slapping his cheeks to slap some sense into him. Your breathing was shallow and your body began to tremor with shivers. You had to be freezing. He leaned over you, shaking your shoulders as you lay on the ice.

“Y/n, Y/n! Wake up! Dammit- I’m not playing around. Open your eyes and talk to me! Y/n!” His voice broke, the tears he held in glossed over his eyes had begun to drop one by one onto your cheeks. His nose tinted pink as his brows creased down. His fingers shook as he tried to wake you, his fingernails digging bluntly into your skin- not that you could complain about it being unconscious and unresponsive. “Y/n, please- just this once listen to me,” he whispered.

He slumped onto the ice as he rested his hands on your shoulders and his head on your chest. Your breast supported his cheek as he heard your heart thump softly beneath his ear. The only reassurance he seemed he would be granted. He pushed his nose into your chest, your clothes and skin cold and wet before he sprung up, remembering he had a bright, pink hoodie around his waist.

He released you and raised to his knees and untied the hoodie before he looked at your torn shirt. It would only be uncomfortable and a risk of a cold if you kept wearing it. It was torn and ruined anyways so Jungkook tore open the fabric before he pulled it off you. Being a decent person, he kept your bra on you as he lifted your torso up and started scrunching up the hoodie and pulling it over your head. Lifting your one arm into the sleeves was a challenge before he was pulling it to settle around your hips. He didn’t lay you back onto the ice, instead, he just held you again.

“Hey,” he started speaking, “why did you do that?” He asked, knowing he wouldn’t get any sort of answer back. “I was content on being your familiar for the rest of my life; I thought you knew that?” He held you closer to rest his head on yours, he could feel the weakness start gripping his body, the turmoil he’s been through emotionally finally starting to take hold. “I was ready to stay with you until I stopped existing, I wanted to be yours.”

He could have imagined it, but he swore he felt you twitch just then. He thought he felt your body convulse just slightly, but he didn’t want to play it off as a trick of the mind. That small movement had him gearing up to leave. The mist had all but faded now, the solemn state of his once beautiful cavern escape clear and visible again as he picked you from the lake’s surface. He hiked you up his chest and held you so you wouldn’t risk falling as his wings extended from his back.

Your cold cheek fell on his bare shoulder as he looked at you sleeping. Yes, you were sleeping. That is all. He took a small jump, his wings flapping once as his toes brushed the ice before he started flying higher- slowly as to not discomfort you. Making it up through the cavern and out of the mountain he stopped above the clouds and turned to look at it.

“I’m not sure if I’ll ever return here again,” he spoke to the mountain as if it were a living being. Perhaps the mountain had a spirit and it could hear him, he did not know. Something in his chest told him that he didn’t need to come back to that cave any more. The bandage that covered the wound of his past was taken off and the remedy was found. He looked back down at you. “I found who I need, so I don’t need to come back again,” he looked back up. “Goodbye,” he bid as he turned and flew off, returning back to the campus where Yoongi and Jimin were waiting,

Jungkook nearly collapsed onto the roof. His feet hit the concrete before his knee buckled and he toppled forward with you in his arms. He felt dizzy and heavy as he held you in front of him in a daze.

“Jimin,” he lightly spoke- a sorry excuse for a call. “Yoongi, I’m here,” he whispered again. His body was heavy, too much going on too quickly. “We’re,” he said, cradling you as he fell to his side, his arm pillowing under your head, “we’re here. Y/n, she needs help,” he coughed before his eyes began to feel too heavy.

He vaguely heard a loud banging in the distance behind him before he heard the stomping of feet. He thought he heard someone yelling at him, but he couldn’t tell anymore. He just decided to deal with it all later when he woke up, so he just let his eyes fall shut with you in his arms.

XXX

When Jungkook woke up next, he shot up in his bed. He gasped as he gripped his covers as he looked around the room. Next to his bed sat Jimin who had jumped to pull his knees up in his chair at Jungkook’s sudden outburst. Jungkook blinked over at him more confused than ever.

“What? Where?” Jungkook spoke, groaning as he rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms.

Jimin settled back down, as he planted his feet back on the tile floors. “Yoongi and I heard your wings when you came back. We took you from the roof back down here for treatment. The doctors were really mad at us, even Parrish dug into Yoongi about it.” Jimin told the dragon. Jimin lifted the apple in his hand, half-eaten, as he took another crunch out of it. Jungkook looked around his room, the bag he hid under his bed now out on a chair with the clothes he wore out that night.

He looked down at his scrubs as he sighed, slouching back in his bed. Jimin kept shifting his eyes back towards him. Jungkook rose a brow at his friend, sitting back up.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” He questioned.

“Uh, well, just-” Jimin rubbed his neck with his free hand. “Do you feel any different?” Jungkook shook his head as Jimin looked at his feet, tapping the toes of his boots together. “I didn’t actually think you’d really bring her back, you know?” He admitted as Jungkook remained silent. “Sorry for doubting you, I was just afraid of getting my hopes up.” Jungkook huffed as he smiled. He got out of bed, grunting as he walked to his friend.

“I know,” he stood in front of his friend as he put his hand on his head. Jimin was older, yet he let himself be comforted by the dragon as he sat in his own relief. Jungkook moved back to sit on his bed as he talked with Jimin a bit longer. It was then when he looked around and down at Jimin’s shadow. He pointed downwards, “Yoongi isn’t in your shadow, is he?”

Jimin shook his head. “No, he’s with Y/n in her room right now.” Jungkook tensed at that. Jimin was quick to quell the uneasiness that Jungkook let leak onto his face. “She’s alright- well aside from the lack of one of her arms,” he whispered before he cleared his throat. “Parrish said she hasn’t suffered any long-lasting side effects, she’s just pushed her magic limit way too far so she’s exhausted.”

“Is there a reason why she lost her arm,” Jungkook coldly asked.

“I can answer that for you,” a new voice cut in. Jungkook turned around when Parrish walked into his room, shutting the door behind him. His lab coat rested on his shoulders as it fluttered behind his knees when he walked in. He walked around the bed and promptly slapped the back of Jungkook’s head with his clipboard. Jungkook hissed as he held his head. “That’s for sneaking off and getting my son involved,” he scolded as Jungkook pouted. Jimin already had his helping of a scolding for aiding in Jungkook’s runoff, not to mention the lashing Yoongi got as Parrish’s son. “However, I am grateful to you for bringing my daughter back.”

Jungkook looked up at Parrish. Y/n lived with Parrish and Yoongi so long they were practically a family, it was no doubt Parrish saw her as his daughter. Jungkook nodded, his eyes stung- but he held it in. He wouldn’t cry in front of Parrish.

“Is she alright?” Jungkook asked as Parrish pulled up another chair and sat beside Jimin in front of the dragon as he set his clipboard aside. He folded his hand in front of him, resting them on his lap.

“She’ll recover without a problem, her magic was almost at zero, but she’ll bounce back,” he calmly spoke. “As to your previous question about her arm, she lost it when she took Zaros’s magic away.” Jungkook blinked as Jimin looked away, awkwardly taking another bite of his apple before the air ate away at it and turned it brown.

“What?”

“I said before that Zaros had his power seal away, but that wasn’t quite correct. In reality, he won’t be able to use magic again because it was taken out of him. Y/n took it away.”

“But, she couldn’t have- how is that even possible?!”

“Anything is possible, that’s why it’s magic. It makes things that seem unlikely, likely. I can only assume that when you were attacked by Zaros and she was left to face him, she found out a way to take his magic from him out of sheer panic. It was probably on nothing but rage and impulse, but Zaros was a very powerful warlock. Though, of course even with magic, nothing is free.” Parrish looked at Jungkook as the dragon curled his fingers into a fist, trying to contain his anger towards Zaros. Jimin also looked at the dragon as he got up, finishing his apple and tossing it into the bin before he sat beside Jungkook.

“Can a C-ranked witch really be capable of that?” Jimin asked.

“It’s possible. It’s not uncommon for magic to spike when the user’s life is threatened. Not only did Y/n protect herself, but she protected Jungkook as well. When she took his magic from him, she had to give something equal in return. So, the fates decided to take the arm that was filled with his magic as payment for her actions.” Parrish took his clipboard back into his lap as he took the pen in his pocket and clicked it.

He scratched and wrote and circled things on his papers as he flipped through them. Before long, his eyes scanned them once more before he replaced the pen back into his pocket and then presented the clipboard to Jungkook. The dragon took it with a raised brow.

“Even if it is grim, the loss of her arm may be a good thing.” Jungkook read the papers as Jimin looked over his friend’s shoulder, reading the best he could with a stretched neck. Parrish sat with his hands folded again on his lap as the two read.

“I don’t understand, so when she lost her arm, it helped?” Jungkook questioned aloud as Jimin started smiling before looking back and forth between Parrish and the papers he had just finished scribbling on.

“When her arm was severed from her body, the infection went with it. Y/n is no longer blighted.” Parrish solidified. Jungkook was ready to open his mouth again as Jimin grabbed his arm, holding it in excitement when the door to Jungkook’s medical room was slammed open.

“Doctor, I apologize for barging in, but Y/n is starting to wake up,” a female doctor announced. Jungkook dropped the clipboard as he sprung to his feet, beating even Parrish to rise. He ignored the shouting of Jimin and Parrish behind him as well as the doctor’s before he was pushing his way out the door into the hall. He could follow her scent he knew so well.

Jungkook ran through the halls, even down a flight of stairs before his nose led him to a doorway. He could smell your scent behind the door as well as Yoongi’s inside. He heard the sounds of all sort of machines he knew was helping you recover and the sound of someone else talking inside. Jungkook took breath before he was flinging the door open and rushing inside.

Yoongi stood over your bedside, staring down at you, holding your hand as you were hooked up to a machine used to help replenish magic energy. Yoongi’s eyes were swollen and Jungkook would poke fun at him any other time than now. Jungkook rushed over, bending over the opposite side of your bed as you slept. He peered down at you, your brows scrunched together.

Yoongi wasn’t all that shocked to see Jungkook, in fact, he was shocked he hadn’t seen him burst through the door earlier than now. Yoongi’s grip on your only hand was strong. Jungkook’s breath shuddered as Parrish and Jimin soon ran into the room behind the dragon who tore out of his own room a moment ago. Yoongi stepped away from you, letting your hand go to let Parrish get closer to you.

Jungkook hadn’t moved, his palms on your bed’s mattress as he stared at you without blinking. He waited and he stood absolutely still before he felt his breath leave him in one fell swoop when your eyelashes fluttered. Your eyelids twitched before they slid slowly open just a crack.

“Y/n?” Jungkook whispered as your eyes opened further. Your neck moved your head slowly to face the voice that called you. Your lips moved, but it took a few tries before a voice finally came out.

“Jun..g..kook?” Your voice was scratchy before you erupted into a fit of coughs. Jungkook jumped, panicky as he walked up closer to your head and cradled your cheek in his hand. He ran his thumb over your skin as you heaved, trying to gain your breath back.

“Hey, breathe. It’s okay, you’re okay,” he said. Voice cracking as a tear fell from his eye. He didn’t know where the tear came from and he didn’t mean to shed it, it just came out on its own. He sniffled before he felt his knees give and he found himself eye to eye with you as he knelt at your bedside. He buried his face into your mattress as his shoulders shook.

“Jungkook?” Your voice was stronger that time as he just shook his head, trying to signal to you he was alright. He was holding in too much and now here it was all spilling out in one, pathetic, giant heep. Jimin ran to Yoongi’s side who was just barely holding it together as Parrish worked on getting you removed from the machines you didn’t need any longer now that you were awake.

You reached up with your arm to hold onto Jungkook’s hand that held your cheek as you nearly choked when you wanted to lift your other arm, but it wasn’t there. You could feel the end of your arm just off your shoulder. You vaguely remember the pain of it bursting and igniting before it all went blurry. Parrish worked, Jimin and Yoongi held themselves together with the best they could at the foot of your bed as Jungkook kept his face hidden beside you, weeping.

XXX

You weren’t sure how much time passed before Parrish started talking to you about what to do and what not to do because you were recovering. He ran you through the fact that you did lose your left arm and that it had been close to seven months since you had gone missing. He told you that you had somehow taken Zaros’s ability to use magic- the result being your missing arm. He gave you the best run down he could without overwhelming you.

Jungkook sat on the side of your bed the entire time. He held your right hand as much as he could. When Parrish needed your arm, Jungkook released your hand and then took it right back when Parrish finished. Yoongi was quick to chew you out- but the tears glossing his eyes told the reality that he was just relieved you were back. Jimin wept loud and proud as he let it all out and he slumped into a tired mess before Yoongi took him out to get some rest at his dorm.

It was starting to tick further into the evening when Parrish excused himself, telling Jungkook to return back to his own hospital room soon. Jungkook just nodded, being left alone with you now. He wanted to mirror Yoongi and chew you out, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He tinkered around with your fingers as he counted each finger. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 and then back down 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. His eyes were swollen as he still sniffed every now and then.

You curled your lips over your teeth as you licked them nervously. You weren’t sure what to say- you were very much aware that you had most definitely placed a sleeping sleep on Jungkook back before you disappeared and you were sure he didn’t take too well to that. He was as silent as you and the silence wasn’t comfortable at all; it was suffocating and stagnant.

You cleared your throat lightly as you lay on your back, staring at the ceiling.

“Um, Jungkook?” You voiced, met with nothing. He stayed quiet, still playing with your hand and still staring down at the mattress. You inwardly sighed as you tried again. “Jungkook?” Still nothing. “Are you angry with me?” You lightly asked, knowing he would more than likely say yes. You prepared for the burst of angry outbursts, but they never came.

Instead, he just slumped onto your bed beside you. You yelped as he dropped his torso to lay beside you, his face beside your left shoulder. His legs still hung off the bed as his toes just barely brushed the tile floor. He sighed as you remained quiet again.

“I want to yell at you,” Jungkook finally spoke. You knew that, but hearing him admit it still stung. “I wanna yell and scream at you for being so, so stupid.” He brought your arm over your chest to push your knuckles against his warm cheek. “I think Yoongi did it for me though, so I won’t,” he whispered.

“Jungkook, listen-”

“Did you not want me to be your familiar that much?” He choked. His throat felt clogged like he was going to cry again. He was starting to get sick and tired of crying. He hadn’t cried like this in so long, it was actually starting to annoy him.

“What?”

“It’s the only thing I can think of when I remember you broke our contract,” he murmured. “You put me to sleep, you took away our contract, you ran off and you got hurt through it all. I can’t understand anything and you didn’t even explain it before you acted. You didn’t talk to me, you just acted and ran. The only thing I can do is think you hated our contract so much you didn’t want to talk to me about it.”

You grunted as you tried to sit up, but with your only arm being held over your chest and in Jungkook’s hand, you had to rely on your abdominal muscles which happen to be as strong as straw at the moment. You groaned as you lifted your shoulders. Jungkook gasped as he shot himself up and dropped your hand, pushing his palm on your back to help you up.

He had you sitting up, slouching before you shifted to face him. You lifted your chin to rest on his shoulder as you pushed the top of your head into his cheek. Your arm slinging over his shoulder as your fingers ran along his spine.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized. Jungkook shifted to sit on your bed, his knees on either side of your hips. He pushed his hand on the back of your head as his other stayed glued on the small of your back. You could feel his heartbeat calm in his chest. “You know I didn’t hate anything about our contract. I’ve always been happy you were my familiar, even when you rejected me before I got infected. I acted the way I did because I felt so guilty. I took your life from you and I felt like you were just forcing yourself to stay beside me because you couldn’t get out of it. I didn’t mean to hurt you, you know that.”

“You’re a jerk,” he whined, pushing his nose into your hair. You nodded.

“I know.”

“I mean, you’re just awful.”

“I know.”

“Selfish and hardheaded.”

“I know.”

“But even if you’re a jerk, I still don’t want to be anyone else’s familiar,” he admits. You pull your head from his shoulder where it rested to look at him for the first time in the eyes. You half expected him to have a look of pity and anguish on his face, but you were taken aback when the look you were faced with was one of bold determination. “I will not accept anyone else as my master, and I will not be anyone else’s familiar. It’s you, Y/n, or no one else.”

Your cheeks flushed at his confession. The look in his eyes told you that he meant every word. Jungkook shifted, his bent knees moving to stretch out before curling around the back of your hips. He grabbed your hips as he lifted you up. You held his shoulder as you squealed before you were sat back down on his crossed legs, your legs on either side of his waist. His fingers laced together at the small of your back, his brows furrowed as he pushed his forehead to yours.

“Tell me I can be your familiar again,” he told you. “I won’t let you go until I’m yours again,” he added. Your cheeks flared up as your hand fell from his shoulder to his chest. You could feel his heart thumping under your fingertips and behind his hospital shirt. You never even got to ask him if he was alright after everything, he didn’t give you enough time. He just jumped right into his own task without stopping- as per usual.

“I- Jungkook,” you tried interrupting him.

“I’m serious. Tell me or I’m not moving and neither are you,” he confirmed by tightening his arms around your hips, pushing his fingers into your back further. You could feel his breath on your face and shivers ran up your spine as his fingers stayed to hold you in place. He was serious it seemed.

“Are you sure you really want me?” You asked meekly, trying to move your head away from his and try and at least mask the red that started piling up on your cheeks. He was being way too bold. “You could easily have any other witch or warlock that isn’t nose high in family problems with only one arm,” you pouted. Jungkook cracked a smile before he leaned forward and placed a small kiss on the corner of your lips.

Frozen, you jumped but didn’t move- not like you could anyway. His lips on your skin were warm and his stone face finally softened before he leaned back and bonked his forehead against you with a small, almost comical knock. He giggled as he looked at you with galaxies in his eyes. His ears were red and you swore you saw small flames flick off his skin. Was that his way of blushing?

“I thought I said I didn’t want anyone else, family baggage or not. So what if you lost an arm? I’ve got two more for you to use, so I don’t see the problem.” You felt a small tingling in your right arm as you sat with him, talking as he held you hostage in his lap. Giggling in your face after backing you into a corner with the surge of boldness you hadn’t seen in so long.

“You’re positive you’d be okay with me as your master? I may not be able to break the contract again if you decide you hate me one day.”

“I couldn’t be more positive. I don’t think I could bring myself to hate you now even if I tried. There’s a reason I woke up on my own from the dream you put me in. I woke up because you weren’t there, so what’s the point if you aren’t with me here in the end?”

You wiggled to gain as much space as you could from him- that wasn’t much. Still on his lap, you pull your hand from his chest as you curled your fingers and extended your pinky. “Alright then, we promise on it.” You held your pinky in front of you. “As your previous master and as your future master as well, I hereby order that you become my familiar again, Jeon Jungkook.” You commanded.

He quickly released one of his hands from your back before he curled his own pinky with yours. His hand was as warm as his lips were before he was giddily smiling. He felt something like a new kind of spark in his chest after the promise was finished. He let go of your finger and brought his other hand to join together under your jaw. You jumped when he cradled your face and smiled before leaning to push his lips against yours in a proper kiss.

You're not sure what happened, but as he kissed you your arm felt hot and his left hand felt warmer and warmer against your cheek. You could feel him smile against your lips as you soon pushed against him, giving your own smile back. It felt like a breeze blew by the two of you as you sat in the warmth of his dragon skin before he pulled away from you- as giddy as a child.

You gasped when you saw him and his eyebrows shot up.

“What is it?” He asked as he moved his hands to hold around your neck gently. You just blinked at him, your face reddening. “What is it?!” He asked again, a chuckle in his voice as you leaned back from him and looked around. Wiggling around, you saw a small circle mirror beside your bed and reached for it. You grabbed it, flopping ungracefully along your mattress that made Jungkook chuckle. He reached over you, grabbing it instead after seeing you struggle with not being used to only having one arm to grab things with.

He placed the small mirror in your hand before you were settling back in front of him, climbing back onto his lap before turning the mirror around and showing him his own reflection. His eyes went wide before he was leaning towards the mirror and grabbing it from your hand.

“What the?!” The reflection that looked back at him wasn’t the reflection he had seen not that long ago. His brown hair was gone and his eyes had changed as well.

His dragon traits had slipped out without him knowing and the scales that were once dark and ashy on his cheeks were now a soft rose. His hair was no longer that dark brown you had teased him about but an ash pink that seemed to spike at the ends. His golden eyes were dotted with lavender- just like when he was hypnotized before. His fangs were longer and even his claws felt sharper than they were before.

He gasped again when he saw the glimpse of a tattoo under the sleeve of his scrub on his left arm. He set the mirror down before he pulled the sleeve up. The tattoo was so much different than the one before. It wasn’t just a simple wrapped tattoo that curled his wrist. No- this one was much more elaborate. It sat on the top of his wrist, curled into his palm and extended up his arm to his elbow. Curled with ink of a light shade of white his new contract symbol decorated his forearm.

Jungkook looked up at you who was admiring his familiar mark.

“I didn’t even perform a magic spell, I was just making that promise so that when I did cast it again you wouldn’t back out!” You admitted. “How did the contact finalize without the incantation?”

“Nevermind that,” Jungkook told you before setting the mirror completely off to the side. He grabbed your covered right arm. “You have to have a tattoo again too, right? What does it look like?” He pulled your sleeve up but didn’t see anything on your forearm. His brow raised and his eyes moved to look at you but stopped at seeing something peeking under your scrub around your collar bone.

He let go of your arm and pulled the collar of your shirt to the side to expose your shoulder and pulled it down to reveal more of your chest. The embarrassment you would feel from so much exposure wasn’t registering at the moment, instead you were focused on the reflection of the symbols that matched Jungkook’s arm engraved in white ink on your chest and shoulder in his wide eyes.

“It’s beautiful,” he murmured. He looked up at you, fingers tracing the ink. “Is this mark really mine? And is this one,” he motioned to his arm, “really yours?” He asked. You nodded. They were identical marks just in different places. He smiled, his eyes watering before he lowered his head and placed his lips on your shoulder over the mark. “Thank you,” he whispered against your skin. His rose hair brushing your cheek as his scales chilled the skin it pushed against on your neck.

You felt him smile into your shoulder as he smushed his cheek into your skin, rubbing his cheek on you like some pet would. You giggled as he brought his arms around your waist to hug you and sway you back and forth on his lap. Your hand in his hair.

“Thank you so much,” he sang, deciding to sit with you a little longer before going to spread the news of the contract revival between the two of you. That and Jungkook wasn’t ready to face the wrath of Yoongi when he inevitably bursts out that he had kissed you at least twice.

XXX

A week passed and Jungkook was finally discharged and allowed to go back to his dorm. Of course once he settled in and cleaned up a bit- Jimin had been keeping the place dust free ever since Jungkook fell asleep- he was changing into new clothes and going back to school.

There wasn’t a hallway or classroom he could go into without being bombarded with questions. People asking about his new hair color or the fact that his brown eyes were a shade brighter now. When he would transform in class the awes and ridiculous gawking over his ash pink scales and crimson wings never inflated his ego more. People complimented his white tattoo and asked questions about his master.

He was always happy to talk about you if you were brought up. He would gush and talk about how much you went through to overcome everything that threatened to push you backward. His fellow Shifter’s hadn’t seen him so animated in talking about anything before. Jimin also had a hand in the skyrocketing popularity seeing as he was close with the duo.

Yoongi didn’t take to the spike of attention however. Anytime someone came at him with a question or a demand of a story about it all, he could immediately fade into the shadows of the walls or floors. Or if he was really feeling cornered, he’d enchant a ribbon bomb that spiraled around his body before exploding with a cloud of harmless dust that allowed him an escape route.

It turns out that when you and Jungkook sat together and promised another contract, your heartbeats synced and your emotional waves magnified to the point an incantation wasn’t needed. Your moment of solitude and confessions was enough for magic to take action on its own and form a True Contract.

The white ink that was stamped on your bodies was going to be there for the rest of your lives and was now the official symbol of your and Jungkook’s life long contract as Master and Familiar. Of course, it wasn’t just that- no. Jungkook still smiled at the memory of you stuttering over your own words.

You actually had the gall to ask him if he had feelings for you that extended past friendship and contracts. After sticking to you like glue and kissing you more times than he could count, you still had to ask if he loved you? He had called you stupid before he followed it up with another kiss of him saying that if he wasn’t already your boyfriend, he would sit you on his lap and trap you again until he was.

Jungkook was sat in class, bored out of his mind. His palm pushed into his cheek as his arms were exposed with his short-sleeved tee. The weather outside was chilly, not that it mattered to him. His pink hair sat shaggily on his head, oversleeping leading to him rolling out of bed, throwing on what he could find quickly and running out the door.

His textbook was propped open with his hand, his pen tapping mindlessly on the pages as the professor droned on and on about something or another. Jimin who sat beside him just rolled his eyes. This was the fourth time Jimin had caught Jungkook’s mind wandering off, he figured bringing his attention back to the lesson at hand a fourth time wouldn’t accomplish anything anymore.

When the lesson finished, Jungkook yawned, stretching as he packed away his book and tossed his pen to get lost in his bag. Jimin packed neatly as he threw his bag over his shoulder, already feeling Yoongi’s shadow pull at him from outside the classroom. Sure enough, when he turned he saw the shadow warlock standing lazily in the doorway.

Jungkook didn’t miss the way Jimin's face momentarily heated at Yoongi’s presence. The dragon smirked as he nudged the hound. His eyebrows wiggled as Jimin snapped at him to knock it off, his face flushing before he stood up, leaving Jungkook a laughing heap at his desk.

Jimin was such an open book.

Leaving the class with Yoongi and Jimin, they headed towards Jungkook’s locker to place his things inside before shifting lessons. Once again drilling the basics of shifting in and out of full form. He had just thrown his bag into his locker and slammed it shut when he smelt your scent not too far from him.

His ears twitched as he looked around and sure enough, you came round the corner with Parrish behind you. You still hadn’t been discharged from the hospital wing yet, so seeing you walking around in your scrubs at school spiked his attention. He was quick to forget everything around him and run towards you.

“Y/n!” He shouted. You blinked, looking at the dragon coming towards you in a jog before he was in front of you. You looked up at him, his pink hair a mess. “What are you doing here? You should be resting right now.”

“I gave her permission, don’t worry,” Parrish spoke from behind you. “Pix had something she wanted to do today, so I let her come back to school with me as a chaperone.”

“Something you wanted to do?” Jungkook looked back to you from Parrish as you nodded. “What is it? You seem nervous,” Jungkook told you. Reaching out to grab your hand instinctively. He felt his heartbeat harsher at the feeling of your nerves in his chest.

“I’m going to go see my dad,” you told him softly. Jungkook’s brows immediately furrowed.

“No,” he denied. “You can’t go see that person.”

“Jungkook,” you sighed as you almost stamped your feet. “I have to.”

“No, you don’t. You can go the rest of your life without seeing that miserable bastard ever again.” Jungkook almost snarled just speaking about Zaros.

“I’ve already made up my mind,” you told him. He wasn’t going to sway you on this and he could tell. He was trying to win an argument he had no chance of winning as he sighed defeated. You ran your thumb over his palm. “I have Uncle Parrish with me, it’s not like I’ll be alone.”

Parrish looked at the two of you before he crossed his arms.

“I’ll provide a suitable note of absence for Jungkook if he wants to come with us.” You looked over your shoulder at the coat-clad doctor. Jungkook didn’t hesitate for a moment before he nodded, taking a step closer to you.

“I’ll go,” he told him.

“What, Jungkook you have class!” You argued. He just shook his head at you. He didn’t care, this was more important than drills he’s been forced to do a bazillion other times before. There was no point in trying to make him give in. Jungkook had called Jimin over to tell him that he’s skipping out on shifting lessons and to tell the professor that he was with you and Parrish.

Yoongi wasn’t too thrilled about you going to see Zaros, but it wasn’t his decision to make. He just bit his tongue and bore it.

Jimin and Yoongi walked off leaving the three of you together before Parrish began to lead you both to the door that leads down below to the long cement halls Jungkook hand snuck off to before. Jungkook could feel your hand tighten around his own as Parrish led you both to the door and down the stairs. The doctor stopped when the stairs ended and stood off to the side. You looked at him over your shoulder.

“I’ll stay here and let you both talk to him privately. As much as I should, I think it’s important that you both do this without my extended supervision.” Jungkook held your hand tightly in his as you nodded to your uncle. You took a quiet breath before Jungkook was walking first, lightly pulling you behind him down the hall. Your empty left sleeve swaying beside you.

It was silent for a moment before you looked at the dragon.

“You seem to know where you’re going,” you told him.

“Yoongi and Jimin snuck me down here once,” he admitted without much thought and a small shrug. “Plus, I can smell him.” He sneered. Heightened senses must be awful down in such a sealed off hall. Just concrete and the one hostage held down below. Before long the two of you stood before the cell that held the very core of all the problems you have been forced to bear for so long.

Jungkook wasn’t sure what spell you used so quickly to unlatch the lock to the cell, but it was soon sliding open as you took a breath. With the door open and the slumped, pathetic body of your father in front of you again, you froze.

The last time he was in front of you, he ruined so much. He hurt Jungkook, the scar on the dragon’s back would never fade because of this man. He put a blight on your arm and then you ended up losing that very arm in an attempt to stop his ugly tirade of power. He took your childhood from you, your happiness, your life and all the smiles you could’ve had growing up. Now, here he was helpless and weak at your feet.

Jungkook felt you waver. Truthfully, he wanted to slam that cell door closed, scope you up and run out of these halls back up above and away from him for good. However, he knew he couldn’t. This was your way of getting something close to closure. He wasn’t sure what exactly you were looking to get out of trying to talk to Zaros, but he was with you. He was beside you and that’s all that mattered to him now.

“Wake up old man,” Jungkook hissed, plumes of fire blooming from his mouth. His rose hair standing on end, spiking at the tips just as they did the first time his hair changed due to the sudden contract renewal and the magic that surged out of his blood.

Zaros mumbled before his body twitched and the shoulders of his that were slouched forwards started to rise and straighten out. Lifting his body his eyes, narrow and as cold as ever, landed on Jungkook and you standing in his lonely cell.

His dead, unforgiving eyes scanned over you so quickly you nearly cowered in fear. Even magicless, this man- your father- terrified you. Jungkook held your hand tightly as he pushed his arm behind you to keep you steady.

“Taking so much magic power out of my body, I’m shocked you didn’t die,” Zaros spit at you. He took into account the empty left sleeve of your scrub that swayed. He almost cracked a sick smile. “It seems as though you got what you deserved however.” Jungkook could feel the shivers run up your spine at your father’s voice. Even as he is now, he looks down on you, looks at you with hate and spite. Your teeth almost chatter at the sheer coldness of his voice and eyes.

You didn’t know what you were expecting to happen. Just because his magic is gone, it wasn’t going to turn him into a new person. If at all, he hates you more now than ever before. You stripped the man’s pride from his very core, leaving him as a simple human husk. He had pinned every failure on you and now you had taken his magic. You knew there was no way he could be redeemed and there was no way he could love you.

“I hate you,” you softly spoke, your eyes down at the floor of his cell. Staring at his feet and legs. Could you not lift your eyes to speak face to face even now? “Everything you’ve done to me and to everyone I care about, I can’t forgive you for a single thing.”

“I do not care for your forgiveness, dear daughter,” Zaros spitefully spit. Your eyes widened at his tone. He cloaked it all in thick loathing. You took a breath. It was now or never, and you had to get it all out now. You lifted your head, your eyes locking with the warlocks and you almost instinctively turned away.

“I’ve made a new contract with my familiar. He will stay by my side for the rest of his life- like it or not. Our bond is exactly what you and my mother had all those years ago.” Zaros brow twitched, his eyes narrowing. “I don’t know if you truly loved my mother or not, but I love my familiar with my whole soul and I’ve learned a lot from everything you didn’t teach me. The things you taught me were cold and sorrowful lessons, but I will take those into stride. I will loathe you until I die and I will never see you as my father.”

You released Jungkook’s hand and stepped into Zaros’s cell, your hand curled into a fist.

“I do not regret being born anymore. I have a family now. I have Yoongi and Parrish and Jimin. I have Jungkook with me and my days of trying to meet your impossible expectations are finally over. I came here to say goodbye and to take what’s mine back with me. I will end your reign and the name of ours that is so noble will die with you.”

“What are you-” he started to growl at you before his mouth was clamped shut. Your eyes shone with magic as a white thread pinned his mouth shut. He was frozen in place, small white threads keeping him pinned to his spot on the cell floor. You walked closer to him as you knelt in front of him.

“I will not succeed you and I will not live in that house. I will clear it all out of people and have it demolished. I will tear your empire down brick by brick while you are transported from cell to cell in prison to rot as a human criminal. Now, give me back what is mine. The only thing I can take that belonged to mother that she entrusted me to that you stole.” You reached forwards one at a time and removed the set of red, teardrop earrings from each of your father’s ears.

These ruby red earrings were an heirloom of your mother’s family you had come to learn in the past and every time you saw your father wearing them you would grow angry. They were yours and you knew your mother wanted you to wear them one day. That day would be today and nothing was stopping you anymore.

The seething glare your father gave you as you removed the last of his pride from him was scorching. You were sure he could feel your fingertips tremble against his ears as you took the jewels from them, but you couldn’t let him have the satisfaction.

Jungkook remained in the cell’s open doorway, waiting patiently for you. The small puffs of fire that came from his lungs with each exhale were a warning to Zaros who watched the dragon over your shoulder as you worked. If he tried to pull any funny shit, Jungkook would burn him into a pile of ashes without hesitation.

You soon stood back to your feet, the earrings safe in your palm as your white threads released him as he slumped in place, his mouth opening to let out the air trapped inside. You stood up and for once in your life, you were the one looking down on him. You felt your chest rise as you let your fist fall to your side, your mother’s earrings safe in your hand.

“I will never see you again and I will be sure to have you escorted to a prison that’s just as disgusting as you are.” You both glared at one another before you turned your back. The first and last time you ever felt safe showing your back to your father because of the way Jungkook watched him. Jungkook’s reflexes were faster than any dirty trick your father could think of pulling.

The dragon was quick to slam the door shut and burn the metal into place as he hissed at your father from the safety of outside when you were beside him again. Jungkook placed his hand on the small of your back, ready to lead you out. You stopped in your steps as you looked back once more at your father for the last time.

Your eyes stung, you weren’t sure why, however. You didn’t feel remorse or regret or sorrow. However, the stinging in your eyes was relentless.

“I guess this is goodbye, daddy.” You whispered as you turned and let Jungkook lead you back down the hall to Parrish. By the time you got to him, you were already crying again. Jungkook holding your head to his neck as you sobbed, your mother’s earrings in your hand that you held by your cheek.

XXX

Another week passed and soon you were discharged and back to school. Readjusting was harder than you originally thought it would be. Studying and doing magic was a whole new experience after a nearly 7-month hiatus of sleeping and then losing an arm on top of which. You had to relearn a lot of what you already knew, but you didn’t mind. Resparking your love for magic is what made you a talented Spellcaster anyways.

When you returned, Jungkook would be caught hissing and glaring at Elias any time he saw him in the halls of the buildings. Of course, the prideful gargoyle never did apologize for the shit he put you through, but you decided to put it behind you- Jungkook wouldn’t though. He decided to stay petty about it.

When Zaros was finally relocated to a proper prison, Jungkook was sure to keep you away from the group of men taking him away to put that bastard where he belonged. He wasn’t going to let you see him again if he could help it. Then, finally things seemed to settle into place.

Yoongi and Jimin took care of each other. Parrish worked hard as always and was always welcome to you and Jungkook as well as his son and Jimin. Yoongi and Jimin also had a few things they had kept from the group until Parrish pried it out of them and the burning bright, yellow matching insignias on their skin was enough to make you giddy for their future. You often made time to visit Parrish’s home when school allowed.

Jungkook had once again taken you back to his home to see his sister and father, to which they both had very extreme reactions to his physical appearance change- although positive ones. His father was proud of the familiar Jungkook had become and his sister had to battle with her brother over who was going to share a room with you.

It was the one night in the countryside that the two of you sat out in the open air, remembering the flourishing cavern in the mountain and talking about everything that’s happened so far that Jungkook felt truly healed. You told him that he helped you in more ways than you could verbalize- however Jungkook was sure that you healed him more than he helped you.

He was finally himself after so long of being only half the man named Jeon Jungkook. He found the rest of him through you and when you gifted him with one of the two ruby earrings to wear in his ear. He knew that he would want to spend the rest of his life healed next to you. His earring shining the brilliant red shade that matched yours and he knew that somehow both your mother and his were happy and proud of the children they never got to finish raising.

Jungkook moved to kiss your cheek as you sat in front of him in the middle of the forest he took you to with the glowing, hybrid dragonflies. You looked over your shoulder at him, a brow raised and a smile on your face.

“What was that for?”

He just smiled, plopping his chin on your shoulder and pushing his nose into your cheek affectionately. “I just wanted to kiss you,” he sang. You chuckled at him as you continued to play with the dragonflies. He watched you with a smile. “Hey,” he called to get your attention as you hummed at him. “I love you.”

You turned and pecked his forehead, his favorite kind of kiss. “I love you too, my dragon.”

-END-

pls pls pls! lmk what you all thought of this. I have to write the epilogue yet, but this is my biggest accomplishment when it comes to a series finale!

@tamedandscripted @syubcandy @cencoroil @kathrynwynterbourne @fireflower90 @bluegreenguppyfish @queen-pharaoh-hatshepsut @mygukandonly @ms-bookdragon @leemarkeurii @seaofsunbeams @astronomyturtle @v-reallife @shubaaa @loudcomputerpoetry @glitterdustbxnny @namelesshil @taeshuworld @kaitsubaki @kookabble @enthusiastt @namjoonsslutakakoreanmanswhore @karissassirak @bunnyboyenthusiast @ladyartemesia @killcomet @kookoo-kachoo @missmidnightmasquerade

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lanonima · 4 years ago

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First review of the new year! I also decided that once I hit twenty, I'll start a new graph because this one is getting pretty crowded. There's plenty of open space, but I'm not likely to read stuff in that open space so…

Anyway, my review of Copper Coins:

Romantic - Fucky is not how risque a work is but rather my opinion of the attitude/quality of the main relationship, the way the characters interact with respect to one another. I like a lot of stuff in fiction but if you’re easily made uncomfortable, stay towards the top half.

Easy reading - Plot-heavy is how I personally consider the plot’s intricacy and successful implementation, regardless of the author’s intention.

Copper Coins

Author: Mu Su Li

Quality: 5

Enjoyment: 4

Comments: Oof. I hate, absolutely hate, saying the phrase "show don't tell" about novels because it has to do with screenwriting and doesn't really apply to novels all that much but damn. This book was so surface level. I did not feel a single emotion the entire time. It actually reminded me a little bit of Nan Chan, and retroactively made me like that book better because I would definitely rather reread that than this. Not saying it's a bad book, I'm sure it's fine, and if you liked Nan Chan and want a relationship with a similar dynamic and are less of a bitch than I am, you will probably like this one too. It just doesn't have enough emotional depth to be entertaining to me.

Would I read it again: No, and I won't read anything else by this author either.

The reviews of things I previously read are below the cut.

Mo Dao Zu Shi

Author: MXTX

Quality: 9.5

Enjoyment: 10

Comments: I have a huge emotional connection to this novel. There are some weak parts, the tension isn’t quite even, she’s pretty terrible at erotic scenes and not great at fight scenes…but that being said, I love the characters and some of the plot points really ripped my heart out. This is a novel that’s really driven by the characters so if you’re a character-focused person like me, definitely look into it (as if we all don’t already know it lmao). I really, really love this story. Every single adaptation of it has also been great, but the novel is still my favorite. It was my introduction to xianxia novels too, so you can say it changed my life!

Would I read it again: I’ve already read it twice, and consumed every adaptation (sometimes also multiple times)

Scum Villain’s Self-Saving System

Author: MXTX

Quality: 6

Enjoyment: 5

Comments: I’m not much of one for comedy and, as I discovered, not really into system novels either. Clearly weaker than MXTX’s later work, many of the characters are somewhat bland, she hasn’t quite found her groove yet. It’s not my style but the fandom is hilarious and the fans constantly produce content that I actually do find entertaining so overall I still have some fond feelings for this one, even if not for the source material.

Would I read it again: I found a different translation and am willing to try again in the future, I’m also willing to watch the donghua. But I can’t guarantee I’ll like it any more than previously.

Tian Guan Ci Fu

Author: MXTX

Quality: 10

Enjoyment: 10

Comments: I love this book…but not as much as I love Mo Dao Zu Shi. I think the plot is somewhat typical, however the characters are great once again (though maybe slightly less deep than MDZS), and her use of thematic repetition and foreshadowing are killer. Actually, I liked this book more the second time around because it just hits differently. Definitely the best of MXTX’s couples, they are so soft and sweet. Very long, but worth it.

Would I read it again: I already have, was personally translating the manhua before I hurt my arms, and am eagerly awaiting the donghua this fall!

The Villain’s White Lotus Halo

Author: A Big Roll of Toilet Paper

Quality: 10

Enjoyment: 10

Comments: Fuck, I love this one so much…..even though it’s also a system novel. But that part is in it so rarely that it reads more like pure fantasy. I love the characters, I love the plot, I love the way the relationship is developing. Oh yeah, the translation isn’t even complete but I already purchased not only the original from JJWXC but also the print edition. I’ve even drawn fanart for it, which is so unlike me. Every time a chapter comes out, I’m ruined for the rest of the day, I can’t think about anything else. Good fight scenes, which is uncommon. My favorite danmei novel so far.

Would I read it again: I fully intend to once the translation is complete, and also plan to read it in Chinese later (I’ve already read certain parts in Chinese hahaha but not the whole thing)

2Ha (Husky and his White Cat Shizun)

Author: Meatbun Doesn’t Eat Meat

Quality: 8

Enjoyment: 10

Comments: 2Ha is not for the faint of heart, it’s very horny, and violent, and has a lot of questionable content. However I love it so much. The story and characters are great, Meatbun really has me by the heart. The writing is a little more on the casual side but it hardly matters because the story is so great. Good fight scenes. Chu Wanning is like, the ultimate Me™ character, I hate how much I adore him. If you read this, just go into it knowing that it’s a long emotional journey, the characters are very dynamic and there’s a lot of character development.

Would I read it again: Same as the above, I plan a reread when the translation is done and have read parts in Chinese and might read the whole thing again later. Cautiously eager about the up-coming live action and donghua.

Di Wang Gong Lue

Author: Yu Xiao Lanshan

Quality: 2

Enjoyment: 9

Comments: This is one of the most terribly written things I’ve ever read, but I’m a character girl and the characters and ways they interact fucking kill me. I’m constantly entertained….although I don’t think this is actually supposed to be a comedy. If I were going to treat myself and like, take a bubble bath and read something that made me laugh, this is exactly the sort of trashy romance I would want to read. Technically a political intrigue story but it’s so abrupt and full of holes, are any of us reading it for the actual plot? The donghua is on Youtube, I watched it first and recommend others to do the same. If you can handle that, you can handle the book because it’s exactly the same in quality, just gayer. I do love the main couple a lot, the set-up surrounding the relationship is great, and the side characters are also really fun.

Would I read it again: Probably not, but I’m still having fun with it. I watched the donghua and read a bit of the manhua as well, which has very cute art and is probably my favorite version of the story.

Liu Yao

Author: Priest

Quality: 6

Enjoyment: 7.5

Comments: I really struggled getting into this one, it took me about 25 chapters to get invested. Initially I had rated it a 6 in enjoyment but after careful thought, I realized that even though it was so hard for me, it probably is my favorite Priest novel and I really do love the main couple so much. Her side characters also seem to be slightly stronger than usual in this one. Decent plot, not too much or too little. It seems really chill to me, doesn’t provoke much of an emotional reaction but I do think it’s very sweet, which is nice sometimes too.

Would I read it again: No, but I think (?) it’s supposed to get some kind of tv adaptation (drama or donghua, not sure), and if that happens, I’ll watch it.

Didn’t Know the General was Female

Author: Rong Qing

Quality: 4

Enjoyment: 6

Comments: Not the greatest thing I’ve ever read, but cute. It’s short, and a little lesbian fluff is never a bad thing. Writing is a bit weak and the plot is basic, but the characters are enjoyable and I liked it overall.

Would I read it again: No.

Wrong Way to a Demon Sect Leader

Author: Yi Zhi Dayan

Quality: 4

Enjoyment: 7

Comments: Again, not the greatest in writing or plot, it’s a bit shallow. But I found the idea of it to be entertaining, and actually liked it more than I would have assumed. It’s fairly short and cute, like a good summer beach read.

Would I read it again: Probably not, but possibly, if the stars align.

Female General and Eldest Princess

Author: Please Don’t Laugh

Quality: 7

Enjoyment: 6

Comments: A very good first effort, but the writing is a bit weak. It’s slow to start and I don’t think the political plotline is spectacularly strong. Some things were left unexplained, and her sense of battle tactics and fight-writing were very confusing, definitely room for improvement. I don’t think it’s as good as people say, but she writes with the air of someone who will continue to improve. And also, a lesbian author writing lesbian stories so that’s a plus. Overall I enjoyed the experience, this story is definitely worth a read.

Would I read it again: Maybe, but probably not.

Sha Po Lang

Author: Priest

Quality: 7

Enjoyment: 7

Comments: Originally I rated this one higher, but on later thought I realized that I actually enjoyed Liu Yao more. I personally have issues with the way Priest writes, and this book showed a lot of them. Characters were okay, I did like the main couple, but side characters were weak as usual. The plot is pretty good, though not great, and I think some of the pacing is off. Some descriptions were confusing, but that could be a translation issue. Overall, still a pretty good political drama, but I would say that of the three I read, this was the Priest novel with the least impact on me.

Would I read it again: No. But I will watch the live action if it ever gets made.

Guardian

Author: Priest

Quality: 6

Enjoyment: 5

Comments: I love Shen Wei and Zhao Yunlan, thought the plot was interesting, and there were some enjoyable moments. But it has all the problems I usually have with Priest in addition to some choices that offend me as a queer reader. I spent about 75% of the time reading while pissed off. And actually the fact that it had a happy ending kinda bummed me out because I love a good tragedy. Overall, I can only give it an average score. If you like Priest, you’ll like this one too. I’m not a tv person but I binged the hell out of the live action, I really loved it, so I was sort of disappointed that the source material didn’t seem as strong as I had assumed.

Would I read it again: No, but I will happily watch the live action again some day.

Jing Wei Qing Shang

Author: Please Don’t Laugh

Quality: 9.8

Enjoyment: 10

Comments: I have to start off by saying: damn girl. The improvement evident in this book is absolutely insane. A few minor issues prevent me from giving it a 10 out of 10 – her transitions are still extremely abrupt, the ending is slightly weak and some plot points remain unresolved, and her use of narrative repetition is too heavy-handed for my taste. Other than that, this book leaves me almost speechless. Very similar to Female General and Eldest Princess, there are many similar themes and events. But while I thought FGEP was fairly cute, I like this one way better. If you like angst, political intrigue, and lesbians, you should definitely read this book. I have no doubt that Please Don’t Laugh will continue to improve in the future, and I really look forward to following her career.

Would I read it again: 100%, I absolutely intend to read this again sometime in the future. It’s very long and very dense but delightful and ultimately worth it.

Fox Demon Cultivation Manual

Author: Feng Ge Qie Xing

Quality: 8

Enjoyment: 10

Comments: This was a delightful romp. I had expected it to be somewhat silly and was pleasantly surprised. It was heavy enough to be engaging but light enough to be an easy read, with multiple spots that made me literally laugh out loud which does not happen often. This is apparently just one book in a series of same universe novels, and a lighter-hearted one at that. I would be interested to read the others because I found the world pretty engaging, and I do want to know what became of the other characters. Overall I found it very fun and very cute, I read it in four days so that says something. On the downside, the link for chapter 9 is broken. But skipping a chapter doesn’t seem to have affected the experience of the novel as a whole.

Would I read it again: Yeah I think I would be willing to read this again someday. If it gets adapted I would also consume adaptations, in addition to being interested in the other connected works.

Golden Stage

Author: Cang Wu Bin Bai

Quality: 6

Enjoyment: 7

Comments: This one has some Sha Po Lang vibes, but the characters have more depth and chemistry. The word ‘more’ here is extremely relative because it’s still pretty shallow. I honestly liked them both, I liked the relationship and the psuedo-rude way that they flirt entertained me. As for the plot…ehhhh. It tried. There were things that worked, but in general the plot seemed disjointed from the characters and there were a few things that had no business being there and just muddied the waters. It’s not bad necessarily, it’s just not very smooth. There are better political intrigues to read if that’s what you want. But if you just want some sugar-sweet fluff with a backdrop of drama, then this one is perfect. My favorite scene was probably the flashback to the first few times they met, absolutely fantastic.

Would I read it again: Nah.

Nan Chan

Author: Tang Jiuqing

Quality: 8

Enjoyment: 6

Comments: This one is kind of weird because it’s definitely competent, it’s well-written and has a fairly in-depth plot, but I just didn’t really enjoy it all that much? I never got emotionally attached to any of the characters, and I didn’t even really get the relationship buildup. I understand what the author is going for with it of course, but it didn’t necessarily make a lot of sense… Or rather it seems like some bits in the middle were just missing, there’s good buildup in the beginning and in the end but how they got from point A to point B was kind of not explored to my satisfaction. I did really like the flashback to the past, I thought that storyline was all pretty interesting. The big bad was kind of disappointing to me as well though. In general, I think this is a really good book with a lot of skill behind it but it’s just not really my thing.

Would I read it again: No.

#book reviews #Copper Coins #lano reads danmei #lano reads baihe

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arcticdementor · 4 years ago

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I was a pre-teen in the seventies, which means that long before I hit the jaded age of fourteen when older men tried to use it to get me to peel off clothes, I was used to hearing “we’re all naked under clothes.” (Later on I greatly regretted most of these idiots hadn’t read Heinlein so I couldn’t say “nul program.” So instead I had to say things like “We’re also all clean under our dirt, so I see you don’t intend to shower ever again.”)

There were other just as crazy aphorisms that passed for “deep thought.” I’m honestly not sure what caused this, whether it was more people than ever being pushed to higher ed they weren’t really qualified for, but that made them want to sound “intellectual” or that the Soviets were diligently working with their wrenches to take apart the ability to think of the new generation. Or perhaps for whatever reason mass media and TV just encouraged a ridiculous wave of aphorisms that not only didn’t mean much but that aimed to destroy rather than build habits, patterns and ways of life that led to success.

You know, crazy stuff like “What difference does a piece of paper make to whether we’re married?” (Other than meeting potential obligations to potential children, and getting the buy in of both sets of inlaws and recognition of society that protects well…. mostly the woman who puts more biological investment in the relationship, none, really.) And “If it feels good do it!” and– Well, a lot of you are old enough to have heard all this cr*p growing up. And the younger ones, trust me, the current spate of crazy is well anchored in a barrage of crazy — to my certain knowledge — from the sixties and seventies.

I fell for some of them too. The unflappable Miss Almeida was not unflappable when this stuff came at her from someone she respected. So for a long time I bought my brother’s “romance is the opium of womanhood” long before I realized where the origin of that nugget came from, or that my brother — never having been a woman — was in fact assuming that without having romantic notions to encourage her to care about attachment and feelings, young women would be as “free” and sexually available as men wish they’d be. Of course now we know that’s the rankest and most absolute bull excreta, and that in fact women have — surprise! It’s not like we evolved to be the caretakers of children or anything — a different set of sex related hormones that encourage attachment to sexual partners and incidentally children.

But the excreta of “pseudo-profound-social statements is now everywhere, and yesterday I was hit in close proximity by two bits of crazy. And suddenly it hit me “And what is the alternative, precisely?”

…

Look, all of human civilization has been an attempt to suppress inter-personal violence, or at least keep it within bounds that don’t prevent us from assembling in numbers larger than clan or tribe. Almost any reading of the records of older cities will quickly come to the conclusion that people used to be a lot more interpersonally violent. They just were. Even in early modern England, well…. Let’s say men died young because they fought over the most stupid things.

And that was already a state-nation, where people identified with the nation was though it were a race, and had not only forgotten their early tribal affiliations but their micro-kingdoms (the regional association, which given travel in that time probably had a lot of genetic backing) before it was unified into “England.” So the fights were rarely tribal or regional (though there were family feuds.)

…

But we are built on a template of great apes, and the remains we find of hominins and other man-tribes show that their lifestyle was in fact close to that of great apes everywhere. And do you know what you call a baby chimp found by a genetically unrelated band? Snack.

So, sure, let’s assume that education — public or not — is a way for a culturally dominant “elite” to suppress generalized violence.

What is the alternative?

The left is assuming violence is justified and on their side, because of course their idea of social dominance, and the model they implement is to take control and rob everyone. But throughout history they are an exception, in fact. Even the “bad old kings” were trying to do the best they could for their tribe or micro nation. They often screwed up and followed their own desires, because human, but the idea of noblesse oblige is very very old in humanity. And most people at least try (Unless they’re all ‘et up with Marxism and self-righteousness, because bullsh*t means never having to say you’re sorry.)

Instead let’s look at it as meaning what it says “education” (by which we can mean everything we do to tame the toddler-beast and up through specific knowledge of how to get ahead in life) is a way to suppress inter-personal violence.

Well, yes. And we’re all naked under our clothes. And wearing clothes isn’t natural, maaaaan.

But what is the alternative? The civilizational process of mankind, from band to clan, from clan to city, from city to nation, accomplishing things that could only be accomplished by many people cooperating without violence is a process of suppressing unnecessary violence and waste of human life.

…

In the same way, later, while doing my instapundit link rounds, I saw an article about how 2 + 2 is colonial thinking imposed on non-white populations, and are alien and evil, compared to their native ways of knowing.

After I got my eyes from under the sofa, I took a deep breath and asked “What’s the alternative?”

Because, you know, I’ve heard this before, but I never thought about precisely what their nonsense would entail.

Sure, we’re giving up the internal combustion engine, bridges, anything better built than a hut made of rough stones, and probably — let’s be honest — crops. The horrendous thing is that this might be completely acceptable to them, since they don’t realize what supports their ability to live in relative comfort.

Let’s instead explore what this means at the interpersonal level and how much eschewing simple math would make living with other human beings impossible.

…

Humans have partly got this far, and now enjoy untold prosperity which had practically eliminated famine (until of course the covidiocy starved the third world) because “colonial thinking” defeated that of isolated tribes.

Or perhaps more cogently: those who won a clash between two populations generally (there are exceptions, like Greece and Rome and to an extent India and Great Britain, and perhaps to an extent America and Japan) imposed their mode of life on the defeated. Though they might culturally appropriate that which was worthy in the culture of the defeated.

…

Is 2 +2 a colonial way of thinking? Oh, probably. But that was probably way back when the colonization of the homo sap by the Neanderthal (culturally, that is. Well, that seems to have been the direction) occurred, because we have trade going that far back, and trade can’t survive without counting.

In fact, even though the concept of zero is also fairly sophisticated, we’ve come across very few tribes that don’t have a concept of counting, or a concept of numbers over 5, and those are usually highly isolated and tiny tribes. Because arithmetic is a darn useful skill, as is everything we’ve built on it from accounting to architecture.

And what’s the alternative? People walking around “Sensing” the numbers? Be real. That’s not native to anyone but the crazier tribes of Homos New Agicus, a tribe who uses cannabis in such vast quantities they’re sure to become extinct.

The alternative is never “death or cake.”

When idiots run around with blunt aphorisms, demanding you dismantle civilization, ask them what their alternative is. And stop them when they start talking of rainbows and unicorn farts, and ask them the exchange rate of the unicorn fart to the rainbow. Because if it’s a civilization, we have to know.

You want to eschew controls over violence? Basic arithmetic? Clothes?

Well, sure. I believe you’re ultimately free to do what you want, as long as you pay the price.

You’re free to take all your clothes off, and take off to the forest with your buddies, where you can live as though 2 plus 2 equals 20, or potato, or chicken.

We don’t care. Heck, you probably won’t live long, but if you do, you’ll be a fascinating ethnology-experiment.

What you won’t be and can’t be is able to shame us out of living our lives as civilized human beings, who have enough to eat and can trade a known quantity for a known quantity. Because you know, there really is no alternative. Not an alternative that allows humanity to survive.

And if you hate humanity enough you don’t want us to survive, I have an easy solution: You go first. After which the existence or non-existence of humanity stops being your problem.

#sarah a hoyt

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ashes-and-ashes · 5 years ago

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Malfoy Manor

Draco forces himself not to slouch. His back hurts - he’s been standing for almost 2 hours, unmoving and rigid, his neck stiff and sore. His cloak is excruciatingly heavy as well, dragging his shoulders back and gathering in a midnight pool at his feet. He swallows, forces himself to lift his chin higher, winces at the soft scrape of buckles against buckles.

Beside him, he can see his father’s nostrils flare. There’s a soft pop and suddenly Draco’s leg burns, where Lucius’ stinging jinx had hit him. He grits his teeth - the pricks made him want to claw at his skin, though he knew that he had to stay still.

He’s still not sure why he’s here, dressed in his formal robes, eyes bleary from the utter lack of sleep. If it wasn’t for his parents standing next to him he would have guessed it was some sort of punishment - once Voldemort petrified him and left him completely immobilized for a solid 24 hours, until his legs were cramping and his feet were numb. He had apparated almost immediately after to Grimmauld, where Harry had covered his aching legs in hot towels, rubbed the blood back into unfeeling feet.

With a curse Draco quickly wipes his mind of the memory. He never knew when Voldemort would arrive, would pry into his head with mental blades of steel. He almost never let himself think of Harry in the Manor, never let himself remember who he really was.

His feet burn. Draco clenches his fists at his side - the bite of his nails against flesh calms his racing heartbeat. His mother paces up and down the drawing room restlessly, his father tapping the cane at his feet. Draco shifts his eyes towards the huge clock at his side - he was supposed to see Harry in an hour and at this rate he wasn’t even sure he could get a message to him -

There’s a harsh banging on the front door; Narcissa was out of her chair in an instant, wand in her hand as she strode through the hallway and out of sight.

He couldn’t hear what she was saying, could only hear her high, clear voice in contrast with the low gutteral tones of whoever was on the other side. Draco fingers his wand, every muscle in his body tense.

Finally Narcissa turns her head. There was a gleam of something Draco had not seen in a very long time - excitement perhaps, or hope, combined with the harsh, tense set of her mouth. There’s a commotion in the hallway then Narcissa was leading them in.

“What’s this?” Lucius drawls. Draco almost cringes at the noise, the arrogant, careless sneer lacing every word. He had spent years trying to perfect it, the utter indifference in his tone, remorseless and flat.

Narcissa looks up at him. “They say they’ve got Potter.”

Draco’s blood goes cold. He’s not sure if he’s breathing - the room swims around him, his heart suddenly slamming in his chest. He swallows hard, trying so hard to pull those walls up, that mask of stone over his face. Please, he thinks. Not Harry. Please.

“Draco, come here,” Narcissa calls and Draco has no choice but to obey.

Every step feels like a lifetime, his life crumbling around him. He’s sick, with fear and guilt and it can’t be Harry, it’s not Harry -

He turns the corner. There’s Greyback in the corner - Draco notes the yellowed claws and matted hair. Greyback bares his teeth - Draco tries to his face neutral and judging by the flash of anger in Greyback’s eyes he’s succeeded. There are a few crumpled bodies on the floor and he can’t look let it be someone else, someone random Muggle -

Disgust fills him as he thinks the words but he can’t muster up any regret. He’d do it - he’d lie through his teeth, doom these 3 people to torture and death, do anything to protect Harry. Hell he’d kill them himself if that’s what it took. He’s already killed so many, tuned out their screams and their pleads, watched their bodies crumple on the floor and he’d do it again in a heartbeat. He stares at them - their heads are bowed, hands tied behind their back.

“Well boy?” Greyback says, and yanks on one of the prisoner’s hair. He don’t make a sound, his head falling back easily and -

The air rushes out of Draco’s lungs; he clamps down hard, almost choking with the horror that overtook him. Harry stares back at him, his face swollen and mutilated, blood gushing from cuts on his face. It looked like he had been struck with a jinx at close range - Draco can tell by the red burn mark on his cheek. He grits his teeth - every bone in his body screamed for him to run, to grab Harry and apparate, save him from the torture he knew was coming.

Harry’s eyes flash, and Draco realizes he’s let the mask drop. He quickly pulls it up, aranging his face into a neutral expression, the sort of face you’d give a stranger.

As if Harry was a stranger. As if he wasn’t the only reason Draco was alive, spying on his own family in a brutal war. As if they hadn’t spent so many days, so many nights, kisses and touches and hands through hair and Draco was going to burst out of his skin.

Greyback moves behind the other two figures; he stiffens as he recognizes the faces of Weasley and Granger. Hermione can’t stifle the moan she made as Greyback pulled at her hair - Ron thrashes violently at his bonds, groaning as one of the Death Eaters kicks him hard in the stomach. Harry’s eyes gleam - he’s shaking, Draco realizes, shaking with that utter rage and fury no doubt coursing through his veins.

“Well Draco?” Lucius says from behind him. “Is it? Is it Harry Potter?”

The words dance at the tip of his tongue - No. No it isn’t. I’ve never seen them before in my life. Let them go. He takes a deep breath, about to say it -

Harry shakes his head. It’s tiny, almost imperceptible, the barest movement. Draco blinks and Harry raises a single brow.

And he knows. He knows Harry so well now that he practically can read his mind. Don’t, Harry was saying. Keep your cover.

Draco wants to scream. His cover. Because if he refused, if he pretended he didn’t know them -

They’d find out eventually. All it would take was some healing potions for the swelling to go down - then they’d have them. There was no hope in hell that the Snatchers would let them go, not when they had seen their faces. A few hours and then Voldemort would come and Draco would be fucked and so would the Order. He wouldn’t be able to give them information anymore - they’d be on their own and he’d be strung up next to Harry, listening to him scream.

“I can’t - “ he says. His voice breaks; he prays no one heard. “I can’t be sure.”

He can practically feel Lucius’ rage pouring off him and Draco knows to expect a beating later that night. “But look at him carefully, look! Come closer! Draco, if we’re the ones who hand Potter over to the Dark Lord then everything will be forgiven - “

Grayback says something sharply but Draco can’t hear him over the pounding in his head. His eyes are locked on Harry’s, bright green despite the swelling, still so bright and fierce and determined. He swallows, hard; Harry raises a single brow.

We’ll be okay, he mouths, the same words he always says. The night Draco got the Mark, the night Draco started spying, the first time Draco had tortured someone and the first time he had killed someone. We’ll be okay.

“Draco,” Lucius says, voice full of that burning rage. “Come here and look properly. What do you think?”

Draco swallows and nods. He leans over Harry, the swollen skin and blood. This close he can hear Harry’s breathing, the same even rhythm that he’s fallen asleep to so many nights before. His hands brush Harry’s, hidden under the robe; Harry grasps his finger and squeezes, so hard that Draco thinks he’s broken skin before letting go.

“I don’t know,” Draco says. He forces himself to memorize Harry’s face before turning away, mind racing. “I don’t know.”

#drarry #drarry angst #drarry fanfic #draco malfoy #harry potter #draco malfoy angst #harry potter angst #draco malfoy fanfic #harry potter fanfic #draco malfoy x harry potter #harry potter x draco malfoy #hermione granger #ron weasley #lucius malfoy #narcissa malfoy #deathly hallows

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sirsharp-a · 4 years ago

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huron lore ; gender norms hcs.

To start off, there is true equality in Huron, given that it’s one of the most peaceful places in all of the Aphanta region ( there is a reason for this but it’s a spoiler for later arcs, so I can’t go into it-- rest assured it isn’t because all huros are just perfect people and are never bad lmao ). Its crime rates are extremely low and its hate crimes are almost none.

For this reason, there’s also no bullshit double standards. If a man hits a woman, she is well within her right to hit him back; if a woman raises a hand to a man, he is perfectly within his right to defend himself. It doesn’t even come into QUESTION whether he/she deserved it, because in Huron, you get what you give, and you receive things in line with how you behave. Men and women are investigated equally when domestic disputes arise, and under Kuro’s lead, there have been no ‘extra’ measures taken against men. Under previous Sheriffs leads’, there have been unfair investigations against men.

There aren’t really specific gender roles in Huron aside from that women give birth and men don’t, hence women are considered to be more ‘nurturing’. That being said, mothers and fathers responsibilities are split fifty-fifty, and it’s just as likely to see a stay-at-home dad as it is to see a businesswoman.

Both men and women are very hands-on, so are similar in terms of strength/endurance ( though men are typically a little higher up there, it’s just Biology-- but it backfires on them, for reasons implied below ).

It’s also more common for women to be perpetrators whenever violent crimes do arise, because a lot of Huron’s crimes are to do with sexual misconduct and child abuse.

As good a job as Kuro does on the crime-busting front, he doesn’t account for the entirety of the judicial system; there is some unfair bs that happens, particularly to men, when you get further up the chain.

#🞮 — 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐓. ❜ ( HEADCANONS. )#lore *

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wkemeup · 5 years ago

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Guiding Light (5)

summary: It was supposed to be a simple mission. Get the intel and go home. Until everything goes wrong and you’re taken captive by Hydra and now, Bucky can’t breathe without you. Not until he brings you home. If he even can. pairing: bucky x reader chapter word count: 7.9k warnings: torture, angst™, a fluffy flashback bc it’s seriously needed 🖤series masterlist // series playlist

O N E M O N T H L A T E R

Bucky was covered in sweat. Blood dripped from the gash on his forehead and an awful pain in his left thigh from where a knife was currently embedded into the muscle. He let out a guttural shout, shoving the Hydra agent back several feet and straight through the wall, leaving a gaping hole in the foundation as particles of dust and drywall clouded around him.

The agent groaned, turning onto his stomach and attempted to crawl away, hands scrambling on the concrete, but Bucky was too quick, stalking over him with a quick yank to the knife buried in his leg and tossed it across the room. He reached down and grabbed a tight grip of the man’s collar, heaving the agent to his feet, then higher still as he held him off the ground. The man’s feet kicked at the air.

“Where is she?!”

“I don’t know what you’re—"

“Don’t fucking lie to me!” Bucky howled, shaking the agent as his hands grasped at Bucky’s left wrist, nails scratching over metal plates. Bucky slammed the agent against what was left of the wall. “Tell me where she is or I’ll end your pathetic little li-”

“Bucky!” Steve shouted as he emerged through the hole in the wall, holstering his weapon.

Bucky shot Steve a glare, turning back to the agent and pressing the grip of his hand around the man’s neck, watching as he started to turn red. It was satisfying to watch him squirm.

Steve groaned, half-jogging towards Bucky until he stood over his shoulder.

“Buck, stop it,” Steve demanded, voice stern though he didn’t make a move to force Bucky to stand down. “We need him for information. You kill him and he’s useless to us.”

“He’s pretty useless right now,” Bucky countered, pressing harder on the agent’s windpipe.

“We don’t know that for sure,” Steve warned, cautious eyes glancing over his friend. “We’ll bring him back with us and interrogate him. He might know something, even if he doesn’t realize it.”

Bucky growled, eyes narrowing on the man as his skin began to turn a light shade of blue, lips gasping for breath, eyes bulging, and then, Bucky released his grip. The agent fell to the floor, coughing and retching as he struggled to find air. Bucky rolled his eyes in disgust, stepping away just as Sam rushed in to restrain the agent on the floor.

As Bucky made his way through the hole in the wall, blood dripping from the open wound in his thigh, Steve put his hand on his shoulder, a soft touch though it brought Bucky to a cold stop.

“I don’t like what this is doing to you, Buck.”

Bucky shook his head, the flattened expression seemingly permanent on his features. “I left this one alive for you, Steve. That should be good enough.”

Without bothering to wait for the speech Steve usually gave at the end of every raid about how Bucky was coming dangerously close to winter soldier territory and how he should take a break from missions for a few days, Bucky pushed his way out of the room and towards the quinjet. There wasn’t a chance in hell he’d sit out another mission, not until they brought you home. He didn’t care if he fell right back into the cold, dark shell he barely existed in in the years before you came into his life. He'd put himself through the chair before he gave up on you. Consequences be damned.

The ride back to the compound was filled with the same uncomfortable silence it usually carried. With Steve attending to the pilot’s seat and Sam guarding the Hydra agent they had taken prisoner, Natasha swung her legs around the seat ahead of Bucky, eyeing him carefully as he kept his stare hardened on the flicker of the altitude light on the dashboard.

He could feel her eyes on him, studying him, and he curled his hands around the arm rests.

“Steve’s got a point, you know,” Nat said, leaning her right shoulder against the backrest of the seat. “Don’t think Y/n would like what all this is doing to you, either.”

Bucky gritted his teeth. “Y/n is being held captive by the people who tore me apart from the inside out. She knows what they could do to her and she'd want me to do whatever the hell it took to bring her home.”

Nat sighed, gaze dropping for a moment as her eyes flickered over to your empty seat, the one next to Bucky. “She wouldn’t want you to lose yourself in the process, James.”

She was right. Bucky knew as much. From his first mission back in the field following the clearance from his therapist and Dr. Cho, he’d been different; more aggressive, too quick to shoot on sight, a cold hollowness in his chest with every base they raided only to come up empty.

He was a far cry from the man you knew. The one who smiled often and teased you about the pillow crease marks on your cheeks in the morning and learned how to make banana bread just because he overheard you mention just once in passing how much you loved it. He lost his quick-witted jokes with Sam and flinched away from Steve’s touch. You’d be disappointed in him for closing up so easily without you around.

Bucky clenched his jaw, turning back to Natasha. “Yeah, well Y/n isn’t here, is she?”

Nat stared back at him, firm features on her face, though a sadness lingered being her eyes. She nodded carefully because there was nothing left to say and turned back around in her seat. Bucky felt no relief.

Hours later as the team debarked the jet, Tony was waiting at the edge of the hanger, arms crossed over his chest and a desolate look upon his face. Bucky could already fell the tightness in his chest, knowing exactly what that look meant.

“We got another tape,” Tony said flatly. Steve and Sam exchanged a worried glance and Bucky could feel the entire team’s eyes on him, searching for a reaction they wouldn’t find. He was too numb for that now. Tony gestured for everyone to follow him back into the compound.

“How many does this put us at, Tony?” Steve asked as they made their way to the living room on the eleventh floor.

“Five,” Bucky replied, interjecting before Tony could answer. Sam cursed under his breath.

Since the first video was played on live television, different news networks across the country had started to receive a new tape once a week.

The second time you appeared on the television, looking worse than the first with the infection on your cheek spreading in angry red veins down your face, and dark purple bruising under your eye, Bucky had been out on a run.

He’d returned to find the entire team gathered around the television in the living room. Nat’s hand pressed over her mouth. Steve pacing back and forth as he stole quick glances at the screen. Sam gritting his teeth, arms crossed over his chest. Tony sitting on the very edge of the couch, hands clasped, head dropped.

You’d been forced deliver some bullshit line about how Hydra was the real hero of the attack in D.C. and how SHIELD was an enemy of the people. You looked like you had taken a fresh beating before that recording and Bucky knew you had tried to resist reading those cue cards, but Hydra has an exceptional way of making even the strongest of wills cave. He was familiar with it himself and he was thankful you did, if it spared you even an ounce of pain.

Tony was somehow able to get a hold of the third video before it aired and he did everything in his power to keep the news network from releasing it. It was shock value, ratings, just to have your face on their screen, broken and beaten, reciting from cue cards with a voice so raspy Bucky could barely stand hearing it without tears welling behind his eyes. You swayed in the seat as you spoke, barely able to keep yourself upright. This time, Hydra had you talk about their technological advancements, how they were surpassing SHIELD in strategy and resources. Steve was taking notes.

The media started to speculate after that; throwing around commentary aimlessly about whether you were a traitor to the state or if you had been a double agent all this time. They had debates about if resources should be spent to find you at all, given the state of your appearance and the apparent ‘obvious’ fact that you’d given Hydra information on US defense programs. Bucky had nearly thrown an entire chair at the TV when he heard that. Even daytime talk shows and late-night hosts were talking about it, giving their two cents as if their opinion mattered.

The fourth video had been the worst. They didn’t bother with cue cards, or with strapping you to a chair. Instead, the entire three minute and forty-six second video was just a man in a black mask beating you. You were too weak, your muscles too deteriorated and brain too foggy to fight back. Blood splattered onto the camera lens when the final hit took you down, knocking you out cold.

Sam nearly lost his mind, calling down to the network himself for them to cut the feed to the damn video, questioning how they could even air something as graphic and violent as that. It always came back to the same answer: ratings.

The man in the mask, the same voice Bucky recognized from the first video, had said that this was a punishment for you as he held your unconscious body up for the camera to see. For what, Bucky didn’t know. He supposed it didn’t matter. He had gripped the edge of the counter so tight it broke into pieces in his hands.

Forty-five days you’ve been held captive by Hydra by the time the fifth video came in. Forty-five days.

Bucky knew exactly the kinds of horrors you would face. He knew they would beat you and starve you and torture you until you lost your will to live. He didn’t dare let himself imagine you like he had once been; crying and begging, so fucking afraid and cringing from every touch because pain was all he came to know. He didn’t want to imagine you as anything other than the impossibly sweet, bubbly, endearing woman that pulled him from the cold edge of darkness, the woman he came to love.

“This aired while you guys were somewhere over the Atlantic,” Tony said, turning the TV on and setting up the recorded segment. This time, a man sat behind the anchor’s desk, dark brown hair coiffed away from his face and a navy-blue suit. He was scribing with a pen as he spoke, keeping his hands busy.

“--received yet another recorded tape from members of the terrorist group known as Hydra,” the man stated as an image of your face appeared on the screen beside him. It was a still from the previous video, blood covering your face. Bucky cringed.

“This time, the tape had been left at our studio headquarters in Los Angeles. The random drop offs seem to be the culprit's main tactic in evading the police who have attempted to apprehend whoever is behind these recording.”

The anchor sighed. “Please be advised that what you are about to see may be graphic and difficult to watch.”

The warning that always proceeded these videos.

They didn’t have to show this. They didn’t have to put your pain and torture on display for millions to witness, but they did anyway. For what? Ratings? They were feeding into what Hydra wanted. To create fear and distrust amongst the people, to see their hero beaten and broken while the Avengers did nothing to save her.

Bucky felt sick.

The screen switched to the same dark room they usually filmed these videos in and sure enough, there you were, gazing at the camera under heavy lids, purple bruises and features gaunt. Bucky gripped at the edge of the couch as he leaned against it for support, dropping his head for only a second to catch his breath. Steve’s hand rested on his shoulder and Bucky took as much strength as his friend was offering and faced the television again.

You swallowed, eyes glazing over as you struggled to read from the cards. There was a clench in your jaw, a sniffle, and Bucky realized suddenly you were trying to keep yourself from crying. You glanced over at someone behind the camera, pleading, begging, and you closed your eyes shut at whatever his response was. A tear slipped down the side of your face. Defeated.

Bucky bit down so hard on his cheek he tasted blood.

“Bucky,” you choked out and his stomach plummeted, all eyes in the room turning to him, “they know you’ll-- you’ll be watching this and they have a message for you.”

You let out a shaky breath, hands curling against the arm rest, finger nails long been ripped from you, red angry skin in its place. Licking at your lips you shook your head subtly, so carefully that Bucky almost missed it, like you were trying to send him a sign beyond what your captors would notice. A tear passed over the dried blood caked on your cheek.

“This is—this is because of you.”

Then, your restraints were released and you were being thrown from the chair, body slammed against the wall with such force you let out a pained cried as you struggled to grab onto the arm holding you in place. A tall figure, muscular build, with that same black mask covering his face he wore in every video thus far, wrapped his hand around your neck.

Bucky clenched his hands, arms trembling, helpless, because there was nothing he could do. This had already happened. You’d already been beaten, already uttered his name in that helpless cry, all while he was completely unaware. It was only a recording. He couldn’t save you from what had already happened.

The man pulled you towards him, only to slam you against the wall again. When your face turned blue, he tossed your body carelessly across the room. You heaved through raspy breaths, desperate to find air and you tried to crawl away. The fear in your eyes was enough to break Bucky in two.

Then, the screen turned black.

“What the hell!” Bucky shouted, rushing towards the television, searching for the power button only to find it did nothing as he pressed it. He whipped around to face Stark. “What did you do!?”

“You don’t need to see that,” Tony replied calmly and Bucky nearly released a feral growl as he attempted to charge at Stark before Steve came up behind him and held him back.

Tony stood his head. “There’s nothing else in that video beside that asshole beating Y/n unconscious. Again. They’re doing it to torture you, Barnes.”

“So, let them!” Bucky shouted, struggling against Steve’s grip. He slammed Steve’s back against the television, though it did nothing to release his grip.

“I’ve seen the whole thing,” Tony snapped, shouting over the struggle between the super soldiers. “It’s ugly and I know for a fact Y/n wouldn’t want you to watch it. Its only purpose is to mess with you, don’t you get that? You saw how hard she was fighting even having to read that damn card! We all know you’d only use it as fuel to punish yourself again and again for her being where she is and I’m sick of it! Y/n would be pissed as hell that you’ve been so willing to jump right back into Winter Soldier mode at the first excuse you got!”

“Watch it, Tony!” Steve warned and Bucky threw himself from Steve’s hold.

To everyone’s surprise, even as Tony activated the extension of his suit on his hand from the pieces in his watch, as Sam and Nat readied themselves for a fight, Bucky remained completely still. Chest panting, hands clenching into painful grips at his side. A lull came over and everyone relaxed. Everyone but Bucky.

“What’s happening to Y/n is not your fault, Barnes,” Tony pressed and Bucky kept his gaze focused on the floorboards. “We all know that you did everything you could to save her that day. But Y/n is strong. Her body may be weak right now but her mind isn’t. She’s strong and she’ll survive this. Just... don’t be a different person when she gets back.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, looking up to Tony who was disarming the iron man armor on his hand. Tony was never someone Bucky expected to get along with, not after the history they shared, and he was okay with that. So, for Tony Stark, the man who Bucky deprived of his parents, to show him concern, to some him even some level of compassion, was too much.

He turned on his heels and left the room, disregarding his name as it was called.

***

“Let me talk to him.”

Forty-seven days since you’d been taken and Bucky stood outside of the interrogation room in the sub-ground level of the compound. Behind the thick layer of the one-way mirror, Bucky observed the agent he nearly beat to death in the abandoned Hydra base in Germany sitting smugly at the center of the room. The agent that now had an identity after FRIDAY was able to run facial recognition.

His name was Cal Jennings, a mid-level agent with a Hydra security clearance high enough to know more than what he said. Dried blood caked on his upper lip from where Natasha had broken his nose on day one of her interrogation. He wasn’t the same fearful mess he had been when Bucky had his hands on him. It was a front, a ploy, to lure Bucky into killing another one of their agents before they could be interrogated for information.

Jennings sat alone, arms tied behind his back, as he stared at the mirror. If Bucky didn’t know this was a one-way mirror, he would have thought Jennings was looking right at him.

“You know I can’t allow that, Buck,” Steve replied to his request as he turned away from the window to face his friend. “He knows something and--”

“That’s exactly why you need to send me in, Steve,” Bucky countered, growing desperate. “I can get it out of him. You know I can.” Steve hesitated, clearly thinking and Bucky continued, “If he knows anything about where Y/n is... Please, Stevie.”

Steve sighed, his shoulders slumping and he gave a slow nod.

Before Steve could change his mind, Bucky pushed his way out the door and into the hallway. The fluorescents were brighter out there, enough that he had to squint to avoid the harsh influx of light to his eyes. A few more steps and he was at the door. Right hand reached out and touched the cold metal of the knob, unclicking the locks until it swung open.

Jennings didn’t so much as turn in Bucky’s direction as he stepped into the room. The door slammed shut behind him.

Bucky studied Jennings, searching for weaknesses he’d been trained to locate in his Hydra days; fresh wounds to exploit, the slight dip of a bone broken years ago he could re-snap, the flicker of eyes to a vulnerable position. Jennings gave him nothing, kept his stare straight ahead on the mirror, admiring his own reflection, but Hydra had trained Bucky well. He would find something to make Jennings talk. He always did.

“I’m only going to ask this once,” Bucky grumbled, pacing around the room in slow, calculated steps, “where is she?”

Jennings chuckled and it made Bucky’s blood boil. “I thought I was... what did you say... ‘useless?’”

“An act,” Bucky spat, circling around the back of Jennings’ chair. “You wanted me to kill you so you wouldn’t have to sit where you are now. You knew what you would face if we brought you in alive and you cowered away.”

Jennings smirked, meeting Bucky’s eye in the mirror. “You think very highly of yourself, Soldat.”

Bucky flinched at the name, a chill sweeping through his spine. Jennings pursed his lips, taking note of the curl of Bucky’s hand at it clenched into a fist.

“Tell me, Soldat,” Jennings taunted, “does your whore know everything about your past with us? Does she know how many you’ve killed? How many civilians have been caught in the crossfire? Does she know how much you enjoyed it?”

He paused, snickering as he glared over at Bucky with a kind of disgust and amusement all mixed in one, eager to watch the former soldier fall apart at the mere mention of your name. Jennings smirked.

“Does your girl know she’s fucking a monster?”

A growl ripped through Bucky’s chest and his left hand was suddenly wrapped around Jennings’ throat. Pressing hard against his vocal cords, Jennings still managed to chuckle through the gasps of air.

It didn’t matter that he’d never touched you like that, that he’d never had the chance to so much as tell you how he felt, let alone show you in such a way. The very idea of this man talking about you like that, the clear picture in his head as his licked his lips even with Bucky’s hand wrapped tight around his neck, drew a burning rage from somewhere dark, deep within Bucky’s chest.

A hand slammed against the one-way mirror from the observation room; Steve’s warning to back off. Bucky released Jennings with a grunt.

Heavy coughs and a snicker under his breath, Jennings only seemed to grin wider at Bucky’s reaction. “Touchy...”

“Where is she?” Bucky demanded, voice low, even, and restraining the rage festering under the surface.

“Who?”

“You know the fuck who, asshole.”

“Oh,” Jennings feigned realization. A short shrug of his shoulders and then, “Agent Y/l/n?”

Bucky took in a breath that was hot in his lungs. He folded the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows, exposing the cold metal of his left forward. Jennings laughed to himself.

“I remember her. Liked the way that stealth suit of hers clung to her ass,” Jennings jeered, shooting Bucky a watchful stare from the reflection of the mirror, waiting for him to break. Bucky clenched his jaw, curling his hands back into fists to keep them off of the man’s face.

“Enough,” Bucky spat. “Where is she?”

"You know, I see why you’re upset, Soldat. You know exactly what we will do to her because you’ve experienced it yourself,” Jennings said, too calmly, too arrogantly to stir up anything but a paralyzing dread in Bucky’s stomach. “You know that we’ll ruin her. You know we’ll rip her apart from the inside out. We’ll break her down so she becomes something so unrecognizable you’d wish we had killed her!”

Jennings yanked on his bindings, almost feral, and Bucky suddenly couldn’t move.

“She’s been beaten and tortured and mutilated just like you were!” Jennings continued with a malice in his voice Bucky had only heard in his decades under Hydra’s hold. “You won’t find her in time. You won’t save her. She’ll die in that cell the way you were supposed to! You’re never going to see her again!”

It was too much, the blood boiling in his veins, the pulsing in his head blinding his vision, and Bucky could hardly feel the ground beneath his feet. Jennings watched him from the mirror as Bucky stood in the back corner of the room, eyes on the floor, struggling to get ahold of himself and Jennings began to laugh, a sick kind of sound that only seemed to worsen the trembling in his hands.

“Tell me where she is!” Bucky yelled out, punching his fist against the wall enough to break off fragments of the concrete wall behind his knuckles. Jennings shrugged, unaffected.

“Why would I do that?” he sneered, a vicious grin curling up his thin lips. “It’s so fun to see the infamous Winter Soldier, the man who has killed presidents and taken out entire governments single handedly, reduced to a lovesick, pathetic little man over some cheap, worthless whor--”

Bucky’s fist collided with the side Jennings’ face, enough for blood to splatter from the sick curve of his grin to the pavement below. But he didn’t let up. No, he swung again, this time with the hard metal of his left fist and Jennings’ chair, bolted to the ground, lifted from the hinges and crashed to the floor on its side. Bucky couldn’t hear Steve as he pounded on the glass, warning him, not as he threw punch after punch into Jennings’ side, his face, his gut, as he grabbed a hold of Jennings’ leg and twisted until something popped and Jennings let out a scream.

Steve and Sam barreled into the room, arms snaking around Bucky to hull him off, blood dripping off of his knuckles as he shook Sam off easily, shoving Steve back against the mirror causing it to crack. Bucky charged back to the ground, grabbing a firm grip of Jennings’ collar, forcing him to meet his eye, even under layers of blood on his face and the swelling already forming over his features.

“I won’t ask again!” Bucky roared, fist held high, ready to strike, “Where is she?!”

Steve and Sam froze behind Bucky as Jennings began to snicker, blood sleeping out from behind his lips, pooling over his chin. He spat a thick glob of it to the floor, teeth red as he jeered up at Bucky.

“You will never find her, Soldat,” Jennings slurred through the blood pooled in his mouth. “Your final punishment is what we will do to her and she will never be the same.”

Bucky dropped his grip, stumbling back and Jennings collapsed to the ground. Sam rushed forward, hulling Jennings’ chair back on its legs and pressed his fingers to Jennings’ pulse. A sigh of relief as he looked back at Steve, a nod, and Bucky nearly fell to the ground. Steve’s strong arms snaked under Bucky’s and yanked him to his feet before his knees could buckle under him.

“You got this?” Steve asked Sam, nodding at Jennings whose chin was draped to his chest, knocked out cold.

“Yeah I can handle this piece of shit,” Sam grumbled back, resting his hands on his hips. He glanced back at Buck as he hung in Steve’s grip. “Get him out of here.”

Bucky allowed Steve to assist him out of the room, just long enough to regain strength in his legs, and he waved him off carefully, giving him an appreciative nod. Steve didn’t say anything, but he walked Bucky the entire way to the elevator. For good reason, Bucky assumed. He would have tried to sneak back into the interrogation room for another shot at Jennings if he thought Steve wouldn’t be able to stop him.

“You’re not thinking straight, Buck,” Steve said as they approached the elevator. He pressed the single button and it illuminated under his touch.

“Never really could without her,” Bucky shrugged.

“That’s not true. You’ve done so well and, sure, Y/n has been a huge help in your recovery and you’ve only gotten better since you guys have been, um... close,” Steve said awkwardly, scratching at the back of his head, “but, you can still be you without her. You’re strong enough for that.”

“What if I don’t want to be?” Bucky sighed dejectedly.

The elevator dinged as the doors opened, though Bucky didn’t move. He stared at the small scratches on the metal shine of the wall, tiny imperfections. An ache sat and festered in Bucky’s chest, like a boulder holding weight on his lungs, only able to alleviate when you were beside him.

“Please, don’t say that,” Steve exhaled sadly. “We all know what she means to you and I know this is killing you but... you’ll survive this, Buck. We’ll bring her home, you hear me?”

“It’s just, I...” Bucky let out a heavy breath, turning to his oldest friend as his clenched his jaw, trying to stop the lump building in his throat, “I love her, Steve, and... and I’m-- I’m afraid it’s the reason they’re doing this to her.”

The doors began to close and Steve stuck his hand out to hold them against the frame. Bucky stepped inside, pressing his lips into a thin line. It was the most he could manage. Steve only stared at him, trying to find the right words to say even if there were none. The doors tried to close again but Steve kept them open.

“We’ll bring her home, Buck,” he said again, though the hesitancy in his voice betrayed him.

“Okay,” Bucky sighed, unable to tear his eyes away from the ground. He wasn’t sure if he believed that anymore.

The doors rang out and attempted to close a third time and Steve let his hand fall away, stepping back into the hall. There was nothing left to say.

***

Bucky didn’t know how he ended up at the door to your room, but there he was. It was quiet on the floor. With Steve and Sam still in the sub-level interrogating Jennings and Natasha spending most of her time training, the private quarters were largely unoccupied. You shared a floor with Bucky, Sam, and Wanda, though Wanda has been off in Wakanda for the last few months working with Shuri and Vision on controlling her abilities.

Bucky wondered if Stark had assigned him to this floor on purpose, with his room just a few feet away from yours. He could have thrown Bucky into a floor all his own, secluded, away from everyone else, just because he could, as some frankly reasonable punishment for what he did to Stark’s parents, though, he must have figured Bucky would have preferred that. And yet, being so close to you, running into you every morning felt almost like fate.

Slowly, he twisted the knob to your door, cool under his touch, and stepped inside. The window was open, curtains flowing softly with the breeze as it swept through the room. Chills ran up Bucky’s spine and he crossed the room to close the window. As he turned around, he spotted your workout clothes from that morning still tossed over the edge of your bed, sneakers kicked off by the bathroom, and the hanger your stealth suit lying on the floor by the door.

It was untouched, like you were never gone, like it hadn’t been forty-seven days since he last saw you.

Bucky swallowed back the bile in his throat, glancing down at his right hand as he sat on the edge of your bed. His knuckles were covered in blood, red angry marks and broken skin upon his fist.

He closed his eyes and tried to bring himself back to the first time you had helped clean the wounds on his skin. Dr. Cho was busy tending to Steve’s injuries, with Sam closely next in line, and Bucky only had superficial cuts, ones he insisted would heal overnight, but you wouldn’t accept that.

You dragged him up to your room, demanded he sit on your bed, and you grabbed the first aid kit from your nightstand. He couldn’t quite tell if you were angry or just determined with that thin little crease forming on your forehead as you worked bringing a twist to his stomach. You didn’t say a word as you disinfected the open wounds on his hand or when he hissed at the alcohol on his skin. You didn’t warn him to be careful next time because you knew it would happen again. It was his job, after all.

Soft, careful touches as you wrapped his hand in gauze, offering him a sweet smile as you told him he was good as new like you actually believed that. It was one of the memories he held onto tightest. Just the ease with which you touched him, like he wasn’t made of broken fragments, like he was something whole. It was the first time he considered that you might be right.

Bucky stood and rounded the corner of your bed, pulling out the drawer of your nightstand. Sitting on top, just as he remembered, was the first aid kit. He pulled it from the drawer and set it on the bed, popping open the lid and grabbing the supplies he would need. He did his best to clean the mess on his hand, all the while knowing that you’d have done a better job because you always handled him with the kind of care he never gave himself.

After his hand was wrapped and the sting of the alcohol was fresh on his skin, he moved to set the kit back into the drawer when something caught his attention.

Carefully, he slipped his left hand into the drawer and pulled out a single polaroid. It took him a moment to recognize where it was from, but the moment he did, the memory came flooding back.

Bucky always liked running; the feel of the air sweeping through his hair, the burn in his lungs, the sore ache of his legs. It let him focus on something other than the thoughts rummaging in his mind. It gave him an opportunity to just... be.

You were on his left, a slight pant in your breath, and Bucky was cautious to take note of when it sounded like you were struggling to hold the pace for his sake and he’d slow down enough that you wouldn’t notice and your breaths came in a little easier. Then, he’d speed up when he thought you were ready again.

Seven miles around the property; the path twisting through the back field where the recruits did their field training, behind the lake, and through a section of the forest which helped to seclude the compound. It was a beautiful view, if Bucky was being honest. Upstate New York in the fall just as the leaves were turning colors, some crunching under his sneakers as he ran. The air was crisp in his lungs, cool on his skin.

It had been a while since he felt so relaxed. You had a habit of bringing that out in him. It had become part of his routine, getting up in the morning and throwing on shorts and a crew neck, tying his sneakers at the kitchen table as he waited for you to emerge from your room; that genuine look of surprise that always seemed to morph into something like relief as you spotted him.

Even after he warmed up a little, letting himself find his voice around you and reluctantly agreeing to follow you into the middle of Brooklyn, he still found himself incredibly nervous. It was foreign for him to feel such a way, like a heat could form in his cheeks if you asked him the right question and the sweat that lined in his right hand as you stood close to him without thinking much of it.

You were starting to breath too hard beside him, face burning red and sweat dripping down from your hairline, and Bucky slowly pulled to a stop. There was only a half mile back to the main building from here, and he figured you could use a cool down to stretch your muscles anyway.

You paused, leaning over and resting your hands on your knees as you tried to catch your breath. You stole a quick glance up at Bucky, who was only watching you carefully. His heartrate was hardly elevated, hair dry and hanging by his shoulders, breaths even.

“You’re insufferable. You know that?” you teased with a growing smile, wiping your forearm across your hairline and shaking the excess sweat out into the grass. “Why even bother coming on these runs with me if they clearly do nothing for you?”

“I never said they did nothing for me,” Bucky replied softly, eyes squinting from the sun as he looked back up at the compound.

These runs may not challenge him physically, but they still had purpose. It got him out of his room and dressed in the morning. It got him using his body again for something other than destruction and survival. It got him pumping the blood back into his veins and out into the fresh air, something Steve had been trying to accomplish with him unsuccessfully in the month before he met you. It got him more time with you.

These runs were something Bucky looked forward to. It had been a while since he had something like that.

You narrowed your eyes on him, a purse of your lips as you studied him for a tell you wouldn’t find. A short laugh as you shook your head and exhaled, “ok fine! Run at a mortal's pace then, super soldier.”

Bucky chuckled under his breath as you started to walk back along the path, watching as you shot him a teasing smirk over your shoulder and he jogged a few paces to catch up to you. He always felt better by your side, even if he wasn’t ready to admit it.

It was a slow walk up to the back entrance, with you stretching your arms behind you until they cracked, pulling a wince out of Bucky you found to be rather hilarious. You complained about your sore muscles and teased Bucky about his unfair advantage, all while tossing him those smiles that made his stomach weak.

He pushed a few steps ahead to grab the door for you as you walked back inside, giving him a casual salute as you passed by, causing him to chuckle softly.

“So, what are your plans this morning?” you asked off-handedly, like you genuinely believed he might have something on his schedule other than secluding himself to his room. You grabbed a water bottle from the kitchen and tossed one to him over the counter. He caught it easily in his left hand.

“Super busy,” Bucky shrugged as he twisted off the cap. “Thought I’d head back into the city and walk around for a while. Maybe see if Sam wanted to meet me at one of those coffee joints with cats hanging around and buy a novelty shirt from Times Square.”

“Wow, Buck, that’s--” you started, a little taken back and surprised at his answer. Though, when Bucky tried to suppress a laugh as he took a swig from the water bottle, you pouted, putting your hands on your hips. “You’re not going to the city.”

“No, I’m not,” Bucky confirmed with a slight shake in his head. “I’m a little shocked you thought I’d go anywhere with birdbrain, let alone back into the city.”

“Oh, it’s not entirely unrealistic! You had a good time when we went to Brooklyn last month, didn’t you?”

Bucky nodded, “yeah, but I was with you, wasn’t I? Different situation entirely.”

“Is it?” you asked curiously, the teasing nature absent from your voice and Bucky realized the implications of what he said. You were watching him too carefully, with a hopefulness behind your eyes that caught Bucky entirely off guard.

“Oh, well, I meant that, um,” Bucky stumbled over his words, his throat suddenly feeling dry, “I just... I don’t know... I’m more comfortable around you. I guess.”

Your lips slowly curved into the widest smile Bucky had ever seen, which was a feat within itself knowing you. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, think so,” Bucky replied with a nervous laugh and you punched the air like you had just crossed the finish line of a marathon. The anxiety faded away as he watched you grin at him, like you had been hoping for this all along. He let himself laugh.

“Good! Well that means you’re free then,” you quipped, rushing from behind the counter and grabbing a hold of the wrist on his left hand, like it wasn’t made of metal, like it wasn’t something lethal, and tugged him towards your room. “Come on! I’ve got something I wanna show you.”

Bucky couldn’t help the smile pressing up on his cheeks as he followed you down the hall, your delicate fingers still wrapped around metal. He found himself fixated on it, so perplexed how you could touch this piece of him so casually, like it wasn’t something to fear, something to be disgusted by.

You pushed open the door to your room and shoved him teasingly to sit on the flood at the end of your bed. He watched as you raced around the room, grabbing a few books off the shelves and your laptop from the desk. You took a seat next to him, folding your legs under you and your shoulder brushed his.

“Prepare to get educated, Barnes.”

You showed him a few of the books he recognized from the trip to Brooklyn, ones you purchased after you had insisted he catch up on what he had missed. After careful consideration, you placed two of the five books on his lap, explaining the synopses and instructed him to pick one. He had just finished To Kill a Mockingbird, his first choice on the list you gave him. Of the two you laid out for him, he chose Fahrenheit 451. You, of course, got a kick out of that because it was Steve’s favorite on the list you had provided when you first met him as well.

Bucky couldn’t help the pang of jealousy at the thought of anyone else sharing these kinds of moments with you, curled up one the floor by your bed, rustling through old books, as you typed away on your laptop. Though, with the way you were stealing glances at him every few minutes, lip caught between your teeth as you typed away, it was easy to forget about anything but you and this moment.

"What are you doing?” Bucky asked as he glanced over the back cover of the book, flipping through the worn pages.

“Making you a playlist,” you replied, eyes still glued to your screen as you clicked and dragged songs over into a folder on the left side. “Your education doesn’t stop with books, Bucky! I’ve got a whole plan here. Music. Movies. Television. Food. Theater. Tourist traps.”

“Of course,” Bucky laughed, the very idea of spending more time with you like this making his stomach pleasantly weak. You grinned back at him and set the laptop in the space between you, clicking play on the first song of the playlist. Bucky narrowed his eyes. “You’re done already?”

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” you shrugged and Bucky’s lips curved up into a smile, wondering when you had decided to put the first song on the list and what moments made you think of him, what melodies or lyrics reminded you of him enough to put them together in a playlist. You shoved his shoulder, pointing to the laptop. “Listen!”

Bucky pressed his lips together, nodding as he stilled himself. The soft strum of the guitar filled the room, accompanied by what sounded like an old grainy texture he’d find on tracks from his time, only this sounded more like waves coming in along a beach. Then, a man’s voice came through the static and the acoustic strumming, soft, comforting, joined by the delicate pulsing rhythm of a tambourine.

‘Been traveling these wide roads for so long.

My heart’s been far from you

Ten-thousand miles gone’

Bucky sat back against the frame of your bed, letting the soft tones of the music relax in his muscles and carry away the thoughts in his head. He listened as the harmonies sang over the chorus, the familiar sound, the new sound, the somewhere in between, until it eventually slowed and a woman’s voice came through, lulling Bucky into a calm he could only drop his guard to find next to you.

The voices began to fade and tambourine chimed one last time, and you reached out and pressed pause before the next song could play, carefully looking to him for his reaction. Bucky didn’t know how you had come to learn him so well in the few months since he met you, how you had managed to get him to open up, even if in small careful steps, how you could possibly find a song that reminded him so much of his youth but ushered in a new era at the same time.

It was perfect. It was his new favorite song. He wanted to hear it twenty times over as long as you’d sit next to him.

“Do you like it?” you asked nervously, glancing back at the screen. “There’s others, too. I just thought, maybe you’d--”

“Play again, will ya?” Bucky interjected, smiling at you softly, enough for you to return it eagerly as a relief relaxed over your features. You nodded and restarted the song. The strum of the guitar filled the room again.

Bucky didn’t even notice you pull a camera from under your bed as he listened to the calming melodies of the song. You scooted an inch or so closer to him, enough that your hip touched his and Bucky sucked in a careful breath. You held the camera out at the end of your arm, lens facing you.

“Smile, Buck,” you requested, nodding to the camera when he shot you a confused look.

Bucky watched as you turned back to the camera, smiling as you leaned your head on his shoulder. He couldn’t imagine how easily it was for you to be so close to him, to want to be, after all that he’d done. You treated him with a kindness he never thought he’d see again. He decided he’d do just about anything you asked of him.

So, he took a deep breath, turning to the lens and allowing the smallest of smiles to curve on the edges of his lips, his head tilting until it rested on the crown of your head, soft waves under the subtle of his jaw.

The flash clicked and a square film printed out from the bottom of the camera. You pulled it out carefully and blew it on delicately. It was dark and Bucky could hardly tell if he was even in the image or not.

“It’ll develop, don’t worry,” you said with a wink. “In the meantime, I’ve got more songs for you. Get ready to be blown away.”

Bucky chuckled, settling in for the rest of the day if you wanted, resting his back on your bed and playing with the fibers of the carpet under his palm. Your thigh was still pressed up to his and you made no effort to move away. Bucky found he didn’t mind at all.

Three years later and you kept it all this time.

Bucky held the polaroid in his hand, gripped so tightly between his fingers it startled to crinkle in the corner. The curve of your smile, the lines by your eyes as you grinned for the camera, curling up against him. An innocence in his own eyes he hardly even recognized.

You changed him, pulled him from the darkness, helped him find his own footing to step into the light.

Bucky pressed the photo to his chest, tears welling in his eyes as a lump choked in the back of his throat. He didn't know if he could survive without you, without his light.

He didn’t know if he wanted to.

-------

If you didn’t notice up at the top, I’ve made an official playlist for this series! It has the one in the memory, some songs that will pop up later, plus just some stuff that inspired me as I wrote and songs that just complete the vibe of this fic. Check it out if you’re interested! 💕I am also working on one for The Witness and an upcoming mini series 🌸

feedback is always appreciated! 💖

tags 👟@sweetheartbarnes / @musiclover1263 / @pies-wands-and-more / @buckygrantbarnes / @mywinterwolf / @breatheeagainnnn / @jewelofwinter / @panic-naran / @fairislesheets / @kaliforniacoastalteens / @captain-hammer-of-asgard / @daydreamsquad / @deanssweetheart / @maybesomedaytho / @montypythonsholysnail / @saharzek / @jillybeaner13 / @chubby-dumplin / @searchingforbucky / @alohafromhell1 / @tabalugax / @shesalatesh / @whyamidoingthistomyselfhelp / @aliensbecameourstyle / @bucksgoat / @serpensortiaaa / @trash-rats-unite / @hungry-pasta / @nervosaa / @lbuck121/ @get0verit / @obama-mia / @imsoft-barnes / @this-broken-band-girl / @michelehansel / @itz-kira / @forever157 / @grey-water-colors / @sebastianstan-posts / @sarcastic-and-cool / @no-clue-whats-happenin / @capsgrl / @happyeyesandsunshine / @slithredn / @13sunken-ships13

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #marvel #bucky barnes x female reader #guiding light

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stenbrozier · 5 years ago

Text

Addict (Teen!Richie Tozier x Reader)

Warnings: drug use/abuse (cigarettes, alcohol, weed), mentions of dead parents + drug overdoses, mentions of rape (not in detail), religious themes (Christianity), angst, violent outbursts, swearing, cute and caring Richie Tozier

Aged up to 17 !!!

Based off the song Using by Sorority Noise

A/N: I needed to write this because I’ve been grappling with nicotine withdrawal and writing is the one way that I can really release this energy. I’m sorry if this offends anyone in anyway. I just really needed an outlet, especially while I’m stuck at home during this quarantine. This is my longest one yet, so I hope you guys enjoy it.

——————————————————————————

The moment (Y/N) took a puff of Beverly’s cigarette for the first time, she was hooked. It was nice to have something to hold onto, something to fall back on when everything felt like it was going to shit. After her first cigarette, she asked Bev to get her smokes whenever she was getting herself some because (Y/N) didn’t have the balls to flirt with that creep like Beverly did. She couldn’t just waltz up to Mr. Keene and say that she was getting them for her parents because she didn’t have any parents to get them for. She lived with her aunt and uncle, and everyone knew that they were the most Christian, drug repelling household in all of Derry. They would berate her friends if they walked into the house smelling even faintly of alcohol, weed, or cigarettes, especially if it was Richie. Richie smoked weed all the time but always had to change before he went to pick up (Y/N); however, that didn’t stop him from having a natural drug scent. They had been best friends the majority of their lives, ever since she had moved in next door when they were 7. Her aunt and uncle loved him, loved the way he handled her and helped her through life if she needed it, but they despised the fact that he did drugs. What they didn’t know, was that she did them with him.

Richie would sneak into her room, usually at 1am, and would drag her out of bed to go on walks with him. These walks consisted of smoking cigs or weed, occasionally getting drunk off of a bottle of wine. Richie introduced her to alcohol, and it was something else she started to rely on. Richie noticed how bad she was getting after that. She would go to parties just for the sake of getting drunk, and Richie started to worry every time she got too drunk. Something else that was worrying him was how quickly she finished a pack of cigarettes. Bev would get her a pack, and she’d finish it within a day or two. (Y/N) was a chain smoker; it was very hard to catch her without a cigarette in her mouth. The only time she didn’t smoke was when she was within a 100 feet of her house or inside it, but once she couldn’t see it anymore when they were walking to school or to hang out with the losers, she would light up cigarette after cigarette. Richie tried multiple times to talk to her about it, but she just shrugged it off, saying that it wasn’t as big of a problem as he said it was.

“I don’t smoke all that often,” she would say defensively. “Fucking, come on, Rich. You smoke, too.” She rolled her eyes at him whenever he brought it up. He did his best to talk to Bev, but she would just shrug her shoulders.

“I only buy her one pack a week,” Bev said, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s not my fault she smokes it so fast.”

“You need to stop buying her cigarettes,” Richie whispered back, seeing that (Y/N) was walking towards them. “She’s getting bad, and she’s going to keep abusing it unless you stop supplying.” Beverly sighed, smiling at her best friend as she stopped in front of them, wrapping her in a hug. (Y/N) handed Bev a $10 as she pulled away, asking her to get her the “usual.” Richie knocked into Bev’s shoulder, her glaring at him as he went around to (Y/N). He wrapped my around her waist and she smiled up at him. They’d always been touchy; it wasn’t something that bothered them. They were both touch starved growing up, and they needed that person that would give them that physical attention. It just so happened that they had found each other.

“Don’t...don’t you think you should try smoking weed a bit more,” Bev asked, trying to persuade (Y/N) away from the nicotine. “It’s better for your lungs, anyways. I-I mean not completely, but at least it’s not all nicotine and chemicals and shit.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes, pushing away from Richie because she knew he was behind her questioning.

“I’m fine,” (Y/N) said, kicking her feet along the pavement. “I’m already a few years in anyway. I might as well keep smoking. Besides, you smoke, too. Don’t be a hypocrite, Bevvy.” She shrugged her shoulders, pulling her backpack straps up higher. “Hey! Did you guys hear about Greta’s party tonight? I think I’m gonna go.” Richie gulped, moving swiftly towards the girl and wrapping her in his arms again.

“I’ll-I’ll go with you,” he mumbled, rubbing his hand down her arm. She shrugged looking over at Bev. Bev shook her head and held her hand out.

“Ben wanted to have a movie night,” she answered simply. “Maybe Eds and Stanley will go with you guys.”

“No,” (Y/N) shook her head, “Bill and Mike might though.” She thumped Richie’s head with her pointer finger, a few of his curls shaking from the impact. “We should invite them to the quarry.” Richie shook his head rapidly, which caused Bev to raise her eyebrows.

“Why can’t they come to the quarry,” she asked suggestively as she stuffed the $10 bill into her back pocket. Richie stammered, looking at (Y/N) for help.

“It’s kind of our thing,” (Y/N) said. She freed herself from Richie’s death hold, booping his nose when he frowned. “We go and get high most days. Sometimes we just talk. It’s our time. It’s personal.” She looked over at Richie, who was staring at her with a small smile. “I’m sorry I even suggested it.” She whispered the apology to him, and he nodded, looking over at Bev.

“We’ll see you at the usual time Monday night,” he asked, throwing up finger guns. The Losers usually met at the clubhouse on Mondays and Thursdays. They didn’t have a lot of classes together anymore, so that was their time to catch up and just talk. She nodded back at them, shooting back finger guns, laughing as she ran off to meet Ben at the bike rack. Richie unwrapped his arm from (Y/N)‘s shoulder, reaching his bent elbow out to her with a dramatic bow. She laughed, wrapping her hands in the crook of his elbow and they walked off the quarry.

“Are you sure you want to come to the party with me tonight,” the girl asked. Richie shrugged, looking down at her as they crossed over the rickety Kissing Bridge, ducking under a few trees to get out to the sandy, faux beach that was the quarry. They sat down on the big rock wall, and (Y/N) sighed in content when the sun hit her face. Richie laughed at her, taking his backpack off and sitting down next to her. “You never answered my question.” Richie furrowed his eyebrows at her as he turned his head to look at her.

“What question?” He knew exactly what question; he was just trying to avoid it. In all honesty, he hated going to parties with (Y/N). She always got wasted and left him by himself, and yeah, he liked to drink, but not by himself and not while babysitting his best friend.

“Do you have a problem accompanying me to Greta’s later?” Richie looked over at her, sighing before moving to lay on his side and prop himself on his elbow to look down at her.

“I hate going to parties,” Richie said calmly. “Especially with you, and it’s not because I don’t like you anymore or anything. It’s just...” he thought for a moment, “I’m tired of you walking off and getting wasted and I have to clean you up.” (Y/N) scoffed at him, sitting up as she scooted off the rock. “Don’t get upset. I have the right to hate when you get drunk!” (Y/N) sniffled, tears threatening to fall.

“You know parties are the only time I can let loose,” she responded, her voice getting caught in her throat. “I get wasted because it’s fun, Rich. I never asked you to be my babysitter.” Richie stood up, throwing his arms up in the air.

“You get wasted every single weekend,” he yelled, causing her to flinch slightly. She could tell he was getting pissed off, and she hated when he got angry. He became a bitch, and it wasn’t something that she wanted to see. She made him mad once when they were 14 and he didn’t speak to her for weeks; this was all over her missing one of their quarry meetings because she promised Bev she’d help her dye her hair. “I have to babysit you cause no one else will! No one cares enough, not even you! You’re always getting drunk and it pisses me off. I hate seeing you risk yourself to cirrhosis because of how much you drink!”

“Richie, I’m in perfectly good health!” (Y/N) grabbed her backpack, slinging it over her shoulder. “How much I smoke and how wasted I get doesn’t fucking concern you.”

“Yes, it does,” he said angrily, jabbing his finger at her. “It concerns me because you’re all I have. You’re the only person that I know will be there forever and you...you’re killing yourself! At this rate, you’re gonna get lung or liver cancer before you’re 35! Hell, maybe fucking both!” She tried to walk away, but he grabbed her arm. “I’m not done. I love you, (Y/N), okay? I-I’ve loved you forever and-“ (Y/N) ripped her arm away from him, looking him up and down with tears streaming down her face.

“If you loved me, you’d let me do what I want to do ,” she spat at him. She could feel the tears streaming down her face, soaking her shirt collar. Actually, it wasn’t her shirt at all. It was one of Richie’s shirts that she’d stolen and cropped, but it didn’t matter anymore. She thought about it for a second, looking down at the band that was on it: The Cure. She sighed, looking back up Richie who was grabbing his backpack, too. “I’m going to ask Bill to come with me, instead. Show up if you want, but don’t try confessing your love for me unless you’ll let me be me.”

“Darling, come on,” Richie said, the high pitched nature of his voice scaring him. “Don’t do this. If you don’t love me, just say it.” (Y/N) turned away from him, taking in a deep breath.

“I never said I didn’t love you back,” she whispered. “Just don’t tell me what to do and then think I’m gonna kiss you and throw away every other thing I love to make you happy.” She started walking up the steep hill that separated the quarry from the street. “I’ll see you Monday.” Richie watched as she walked away, and he followed her. He tried to catch up with her but she ran off, too fast for him to catch. He sighed, banging his fist on the splintering wood of the Kissing Bridge.

“Fuck,” he screamed as he started punching the shit out of the bridge, splintering his knuckles and making them bleed.

———————————

(Y/N) got to her house, slamming the door shut and marching over the phone. She had all of the Losers’ numbers memorized, so she quickly dialed Bill. Mrs. Denbrough picked up, and they had a conversation about school as she waited for her son to come down and grab the phone. Mrs. Denbrough said a quick farewell as Bill slipped onto the phone.

“H-hey,” he said and (Y/N) could practically hear the smile in his voice. The two didn’t hang out all too often anymore; they were honestly the most distant out of the group, but that didn’t stop them from loving one another unconditionally. “Do you n-need something?” (Y/N) laughed, rolling her eyes.

“Wanna go to Greta’s with me,” she asked as she twirled the phone cord. “Richie’s being a dick and he’s decided that he doesn’t like getting wasted with me anymore.” She heard Bill sigh and let out a small chuckle.

“W-what time does it st-start? I have b-baseball practice in the m-mor-morning.” (Y/N) sighed, scuffing her shoes against the wooden floor of her uncle’s house as she thought. She shrugged as if he could see her.

“I don’t know. 8ish? But I can always ask Eddie,” she said, taking on a reassuring tone. She hated taking Eds to parties but loved it all the same. It was very difficult to get him to let loose, but when he did, he was the life of the party. “Actually, don’t worry about it. You focus on baseball. Love you, Billy.”

“L-love you, too, (Y/N).” The line went dead and (Y/N) started to dial in Eddie’s phone number. She was prepared for Sonia, since she barely let Eddie touch the phone, and was pleasantly surprised when she heard Eddie’s voice saying a soft greeting.

“Eds! You’ve got to come to Greta’s with me,” (Y/N) yelled. “Pretty please?” She did a pouty lip, more to allow Eddie to hear the desperation in her voice. She heard him sigh, and the sigh felt as if it was in remorse.

“I-I’d love to, but...why can’t you just go with Richie? Trouble in paradise,” he asked mockingly. “Listen, I’ll come by and we’ll talk, and if after we talk you still want to get wasted, we’ll go.” (Y/N) scoffed.

“There is no paradise to have trouble in,” she said defensively. “Besides, the conversation will all be done in vain, Kaspbrak. I always want to get wasted.” Eddie laughed on the other side of the phone, shaking his head.

“Fine. I’ll be over in like 45 minutes so you can get ready for the party with company.” Eddie regretted telling her that the moment he did. He didn’t want (Y/N) to drink anymore, but he wanted her to be happy. Maybe he could convince her to drink a little less tonight and not blackout like she normally did.

“Okay, Eds,” she replied sweetly. “Door will be unlocked, so just walk in. I’ll probably be in my room.” He made a noise in response and then the line went dead. (Y/N) sighed, walking up to her room. She looked out her window and noticed Richie’s blinds were close, so she closed hers as well.

——————————-

“Richard, you have to watch what you punch,” Maggie said to him sternly, taking the set of tweezers back to his knuckles to pull out the last few splinters. “I know you were upset, but you don’t have to punch things. Don’t worry, she’ll come around.” Richie scoffed and rolled his eyes, his mother lightly bopping his head to the side when he did. “Go wash off your hand and we’ll bandage it.” She ushered him to stand up, pushing him lightly over to the kitchen sink as she went to the bathroom done the hall for bandages. He sighed, taking the hand soap and putting it on his left hand, rubbing the soapy water over his blood covered right hand. The soap made him cringe, it stinging his cuts a bit. He finished washing it, taking a paper towel and dabbing them to dry them off. Maggie came back with the bandages, going over the him and wrapping them around his knuckles. She secured the antiseptic wrap, giving him a soft kiss on the hand.

“I think I’m going to go to a party tonight,” Richie said softly. “(Y/N)’s mad at me and I-I don’t want her to get too drunk.” Maggie nodded, waving for him to follow her in the living room. They say on the cough and Richie tucked his legs underneath him, feeling his mom’s head on his shoulder.

“Just don’t do anything stupid,” she said, sitting up and kissing his temple. “I’m going to go get things for dinner. Do you need anything?” Richie shrugged.

“More Gatorade?” Richie drank Gatorades all the time. They were packed with sugar and sodium; however, they miraculously calmed him down and made him sit still for once. He looked up at his mom with a small smile on his face, and she pinched his cheeks. She nodded, grabbing her jacket and purse from the coat hanger. She checked her purse for her keys, and she opened the door, ready to leave. “The blue ones!”

“I know, honey,” she replied softly. “I love you.” She walked out the door before Richie had the chance to say it back, but he would’ve been cut off my the phone ringing anyway.

“Hello,” he said, expecting (Y/N) on the line.

“Hey, Rich.” He sighed, disappointed. It was Eddie. “What happened between you and (Y/N)?” He furrowed his brows. She asked Eds to go with him? Damn, she really didn’t want him there.

“She’s pissed I don’t support her chain smoking and excessive alcohol consumption,” Richie replied flatly. “Did she ask you to go with her?” He could practically hear Eddie, nodding a soft sniffle coming from his end.

“Yeah, I’m leaving in a few minutes to help her get ready for the party. You should show up, let her know you still care.” Richie tapped his fingers against the phone, no doubt causing a hollow sound to go through to Eddie’s side.

“I was going to,” Richie said sarcastically. “I also, might’ve, sorta confessed my feelings to her as she was screaming at me to “not control her”, so I need to make up for that.”

“Jesus, fuck, Rich,” Eddie mumbled on the other end. “We’ll talk more tonight. I’ve gotta get to your girlfriend’s house. See you later.”

“She’s not-“ The line went dead before Richie finished. He sighed. “-my girlfriend.” He hung the phone up, marching up to his room to see that there was little light coming in. He shrugged, thinking his mom must’ve dusted the blinds. He opened up his curtain, bringing the blinds up to see that (Y/N)’s were closed. Richie rubbed his hand across his face. They always left their blinds open, no matter how mad they were at one another. She must’ve been pissed.

——————————

Eddie walked into (Y/N)’s house, and he marched up the stairs. He saw that her door was slightly ajar and she was laying out outfits on her bed. He walked in, her hand waving him over.

“Light blue dress with my white Converses or black jeans and one of Richie’s cropped shirts with Docs?” She looked up at him to see him biting his lip, tilting his head to the side to closely examine the outfits. He noticed a blue mark on the white cropped shirt and he pointed it out.

“Is that marker or paint? Get a different shirt you’re not wearing one with a stain on it.” Eddie walked to the closet when she did, looking at all the shirts she had. He noticed a faded olive green top with bell sleeves and he took it down from the rack. “I think this one with the jeans and the white Converses.” He shoved it at her. (Y/N) looked at it, nodding before taking off her shirt and throwing it into her hamper. She slipped the shirt on, going back out into her room to put on the jeans. Once she slipped on the jeans, Eddie looked at her with his head tilted side ways.

“Why are you looking at me like that,” she said, furrowing her eyebrows and frantically looking at her self in her body length mirror.

“Tuck in the front, fix your hair, put on some mascara and lip gloss,” he said bluntly. Eddie ended it with smile and (Y/N) went over and ruffled his hair.

“Thanks for being blunt, love,” she sighed. She dramatically rolled her head around on your neck and sat down at the bench in front of her vanity. “Love my quintessential gay best friend.” She laughed and Eddie rolled his eyes.

“I’m not gay, you bitch,” Eddie said, sitting down on her bed. “But I am pretty sure that you should try to make things better with Richie again. I called him earlier and he was a little bit of a mess. He sounded like he was in pain, I don’t know why.” (Y/N) sighed, finishing up her mascara before she turned around to look at Eddie.

“He closed his blinds, Eds,” (Y/N) shrieked. When Eddie just looked at her weird she sighed. “It means he’s pissed. We never close blinds without talking about it first.” Eddie snickered and (Y/N) shot him a death glare.

“Love birds,” he said, making it sound like a song. (Y/N) rolled her eyes, turning back to her mirror to tussle her hair and make it lay flatter on her shoulders. After a few seconds of changing its position, she sighed and walked over to her desk to grab a hair tie. As she put her hair into a bun, Eddie started talking to her again. “He’s not pissed at you. He’s pissed at what you do. There’s a difference.” (Y/N) scoffed.

“I can do what I want Eds and he just needs to realize it.” She pulled some baby hairs out of the front of her bun, watching as they framed her face and blew from the slight breeze her fan was giving her. “We should eat before. You wanna go to the pizza shop in town for dinner?” Eddie shrugged and thought before shaking his head ‘no.’

“Let’s go to the diner,” Eddie said. “We can at least get healthier food there to combat all the alcohol you’re going to drink tonight.” (Y/N) slipped on her shoes and threw the bird up at Eddie, causing him to laugh. “And don’t forget your lip gloss.” She shoved him out the door, grabbing her purse and shutting her bedroom door behind them.

—————————

After the diner, they walked over the Greta’s and all (Y/N) had in mind was beer. She wondered if Greta had gotten the good kind this time, the craft beer that came from a local brewery in Bangor, or if she got the shitty beer from the grocery store in town. (Y/N) also thought about Richie. He confessed his love to her, which was horrifying enough. She always tried to push her feelings of him away because she knew that they’d got unrequited, but she was quite wrong. He told her he was in love with her, and it made her regret walking away from him. But she wanted to get drunk and he didn’t understand that. Eddie talked her through it at dinner and revealed Richie was going to apologize at the party, or so that’s why it seemed like he was going to do when Eddie called him earlier.

“He isn’t mad at you, babe,” Eddie had said. “He’s mad at himself for letting your alcohol and drug issues get this bad.” (Y/N) didn’t think they were bad. Sure, she smoked too much and got high too often, but she didn’t get drunk more than once or twice a month, tops. She shook her head, looking down at the streets, which were now illuminated with the orange glow of the street lights.

“I’ll be okay,” (Y/N) said slightly above a whisper. She said it more to her self than Eddie, but she looked up to see his eyebrows raised and a major side eye. (Y/N) grabbed his hand, dragging him down the street, causing him to fumble with his fanny pack to make sure the zipper was closed so that nothing would fall out. When they got to the Keene household, there were a few cars already parked out front and they could hear music coming from inside. (Y/N) jumped up and down slightly with a little squeal and Eddie rolled his eyes, smiling slightly at his best friend. They walked into the house and Greta greeted them, pursing her lips together and turning around when she saw who it was. Greta liked (Y/N), but she knew that with (Y/N) came Eddie, the Trashmouth, and the rest of their nerdy friends. They didn’t ruin the parties, though. In fact, their drunk asses made them more fun, so it was whatever. (Y/N) made a b-line towards the kitchen, smiling when she saw vodka and whiskey as an option, too. She grabbed a cup, pouring and taking three shots of vodka while Eddie watched awkwardly from the side, tapping his fingers on the granite counter.

“You drinking already,” said a deep voice from behind them. (Y/N) turned around to see Ryan, a kid who was in her science class. He was the second best baseball player on the high school’s team, trailing behind Bill who already had 7 scholarships as a junior. Ryan had 4 and was extremely popular. (Y/N) smirked a little, shrugging her shoulders as she looked at Eddie and raised her eyebrows a few times. She grabbed a beer from the cooler, the good kind, and opened it with the ring in her finger.

“It’s a party, what else am I supposed to do,” she replied with a hint of over sweetness in her voice. Eddie noticed and smiled dramatically at Ryan before dragging the girl away from him and out into the backyard, where people were smoking weed and jumping into the pool. “Eds!” (Y/N) whined as she looked back into the house through the big windows, seeing Ryan grabbing a red SOLO cup and pouring whiskey into it.

“We should wait for Richie somewhere by ourselves,” Eddie replied, dragging her over to a bench swing that Greta had in her backyard. “We’ll just sit here and wait.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes, standing up and going back to the house. Eddie quickly got up, tripping as the bench swung back and made him slip on the grass. When he caught up to her, she was talking with Ryan in the living room. The party had gotten exceptionally more crowded in such a short amount of time, and he stood on his tiptoes to look over the crowd and at the front door for Richie. When his eyes met the closed door, he sighed and walked over to the kitchen, grabbing himself a SOLO cup. He looked at the drinks, ultimately deciding he’d make something (Y/N/N) taught him: a Cape Cod. He poured about three shots of vodka into the cup and then topped it off with cranberry juice. Eddie took a sip of it, grimacing when he tasted how strong the vodka was. As he poured more cranberry juice in, he heard heavy footsteps coming into the kitchen.

“‘Sup Eds,” Richie said softly, clapping his hand on his shoulder. “Why’s (Y/N/N) not with you?” Eddie took another sip of his drink and pointed out towards the living room, seeing the jock she was with heads over everyone else. Richie followed Eddie’s eyes and cursed under his breath. “I-I’m gonna go talk to her.” Richie shoved through the crowd, making his way towards the two. He appeared behind Ryan, causing your too furrow your eyebrows as Ryan yelled over the music about college or drugs or something. You tapped Ryan’s shoulder and pointed to the kitchen, silently letting him know you were “getting another drink.” You looked at Richie disdainfully and sighed when you heard his footsteps following you. Eddie smiled at you, glad to see you were okay.

“What the fuck, Rich,” you yelled, stomping your foot on the ground. “I thought I told you to leave me be.” He reached out to grab your arm, but you yanked it away, taking a long swing of your beer and finishing it off. You abandoned it on the counter, walking around Eds to get a SOLO cup.

“What happened to the one you had literally half an hour ago?” Eddie asked, scoffing as you shrugged at opened the green apple flavored Smirnoff that caught your eye. Richie took it right out of your hand, capping it and holding it above your head.

“No more.” He grabbed your hand, sticking the bottle back on the counter behind you as he dragged you out of the kitchen.

“Richie I’ve barely had anything,” you whined, stumbling over your feet as you got pulled into the hallway that lead to the front door. Eddie followed close behind, taking tiny sips of his drink as he helped Richie push you out of the house. “What the fuck! You guys are no fun.” You crossed your arms, allowing Richie to shove you into the passenger’s seat of his beat up Buick Regal. Eddie hopped in the back. When Richie got into the driver’s seat, you smacked his arm out of rage, tears welling up in your eyes. He started the car and pulled off the street, taking a few turns to get to Eddie’s house.

“If you need help with her, call me,” Eddie said quietly to Richie before reaching around front and giving (Y/N) a kiss on the forehead. “I love you, (Y/N/N).” You sighed in response, squishing yourself into a ball and moving closer to the window. He quickly got out of the car, closing the door and running up to his house. Richie drove up into the intersection, making a left and heading towards where Mike lived, to the farmland.

“Home’s right, dumbass,” you spat softly, rolling your eyes as he kept straight ahead. You looked down at his hands on the wheels, and through the dim streetlights, you could see that his hands were extremely white and wrapped in bandages. Usually, they had a pinkish tone to them, but all traces of that were gone. The bandages were stained a little with blood, so you figured he punched the shit out of some wall. He was mad. Richie was angrier than you had ever seen him, and you hadn’t even looked at his face yet. Tears stung your eyes when you saw the familiar dip in the trees that lead down into the quarry. He parked his car right at the top of the hill, getting out without a word. You got out, too, following him down into the quarry. When you got there, you saw him sit down on the rock and put his head in his hands. You came and sat next to him, folding in on yourself by wrapping your hands around your knees which were pulled up to your chest.

“I told you I didn’t want you to go to that party,” Richie whispered. He ran his hands up into his hair, the curls falling over his forehead when he violently slammed his hands down on his lap. He looked over at you, a scowl on his face and tears in his eyes. “That guy was going to get you drunk and fuck you. He was going to fuck you, and you were going to let him.”

“Richie, I would’ve said no,” you said defensively. “One, my standards aren’t that low, and two, I wouldn’t want him to touch me while I was sob-“ Richie scoffed, shaking his head.

“You were on your way to being wasted as soon as I got there, darling.” He stood up, kicking the small rocks that lines the big boulders. “He was going to rape you. I could see it.” You looked down at your hands without answering, feeling tears well up in your eyes. “You can’t ever go to party without me again. I have to protect you.” You started crying, sobs racking your body as you wiped your eyes in your sleeves.

“Says the one who told me he didn’t care what I did not even 6 hours ago,” you yelled, pointing at him as tears continued to fall down your face. “You’re a piece of shit! Ya know that, Richie? You want to help people, but then you just trample over everything they love, including people.” Richie furrowed his eyebrows, confused at the end of her statement.

“People? I’ve never purposely hurt someone in my whole li-“ (Y/N) pointed to his knuckles.

“What did you do?” (Y/N) asked, sniffling as she tried to calm herself down. “You punched the shit out of something, I can tell that much. I just don’t want you hurt.” Richie sighed, sitting down next to the girl who looked so small compared to the rocks and big trees behind her that were faintly highlighted by the moonlight.

“Now you understand,” Richie responded calmly. “I don’t want you hurt. Drinking hurts you. Smoking hurts you.”

“You know why I do it,” (Y/N) interrupted. “It makes me forget, drinking especially. I hate thinking of them so much. They’ve been gone for years, but I can’t stop thinking about them. So, I try to destroy my mind enough to forget for a little while.” Richie hesitantly put an arm around her, and when she melted into him, he pulled her closer and kissed the top of her head.

“I don’t understand that,” Richie answered. “But I can tell you that drinking and smoking is just going to get you closer to where they were. They were so addicted they died, babe. Died.” He shoved his face into your hair, sniffling as he held you super tight for a few seconds while he paused. When he pulled away, he brought one of his hands up to your cheek. “I-I can’t have you dying on me.” You looked up at Richie, tears falling down his face as he stared into your eyes. You leant up closer to him, bringing his face down to yours and kissing him on the lips. He was taken by surprise and pulled away immediately, a confused expression on his face.

“A-are you okay,” you questioned. “I shouldn’t have kissed you, I’m sorry. You just...earlier you told me that you loved me and I love you too and I thought I’d kiss you because-because this is a meaningful moment and-“ Richie planted his lips back into yours, causing you to melt into him. After a few seconds, he pulled away and rubbed his thumb over your cheekbone as he smiled at you.

“I love you too much to lose you,” he said softly. “I-I don’t care you smoke or drink...just-just don’t get excessive, okay? That’s my worst fear, honestly, you becoming an alcoholic or dying of lung cancer.” You snickered a little, Richie look at you in confusion.

“I’ll take it easier, ya goof.” You wrapped your arms around his torso and you stuffed your face in his neck. “Whenever I go to a party, I’ll make sure you protect me from all of the big, scary guys.” Richie laughed at that, and he ended up having to pull away to catch his breath.

“I’ll do my best, princess,” he said back, his laughing fit still leaving his body. “I will definitely do my best.”

#it imagines #richie tozier smut #richie tozier #richie tozier headcanons #richie tozier x reader #bill denbrough #stanley uris #eddie kaspbrak #beverly marsh #ben hanscom #mike hanlon #masterlist

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the-goddess-of-mischief-writing · 4 years ago

Text

Two halves become one whole {8}

Chapter summary; You’re hours away from the party. A sleepless night and tear stained cheeks stops you from being physically, neither emotionally, ready to go there. But somehow a certain billionaire, a sister and a brother makes you pay it a visit.

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Chapter 8/9

Word count; 4.565

Warnings; hinting angst, caring Steve (the main warning for this whole series)

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing

A/N: I can’t get enough of a caring Steve or the tension between Bucky and reader, so you’ll continue to get both. Putting the translation for the Russian word here.

идиот= idiot

SERIES MASTERLIST

“Are you serious?” Steve barked at Bucky as soon as he couldn’t see you anymore. The blonde's eyes were wide, the disappointment in them evident.

“Are you asking me that? I could ask you the same thing about choosing her”, he snapped back, one arm shooting out to violently point the way you’d gone. He was angry, fuming at both you and Steve. However, somewhere inside himself, something urged him to calm down.

“Yes, I’m asking you that! And your question isn't valid because you damn well already know the answer", Steve answered, taking a step closer to the brunette as he continued. "I chose her because she’s the only one who could help you. Not only because she's the sole one in the team knowing how to handle a situation like this. But also as she has endured similar things as you", he saw how Steve's chest heaved while his eyes burned into him. It was a long time ago he had looked this upset. All because of you.

The look in his friend's eyes hurled him back into the memory he wanted to erase from his mind, but never could. He had come here in hopes of finding Steve, to talk about something concerning you. However, he hadn't only found his friend as he hoped, but you as well.

He had stopped on the threshold of the room the moment Steve had pulled you in for a hug. The way you had welcomed his embrace by burying your face in his chest, made a pang shoot through his own. He recognised the familiar thought he believed he buried resurfacing. Were you a couple? He would've mulled over the question he got proved opposite many times already if it wasn't for your movement.

It was small, almost unnoticeable, but still, he had seen it. Your body trembled. He remembers how his heart had tugged at the scene and understood that something must've worried you enough for Steve to try and soothe you. He was about to walk forward to comfort you as well, like you'd done so many times to him, but was halted when he heard a conversation between the two of you begin.

“What did I say, Rogers”.

“I’m sorry”, Bucky had seen Steve look down on the crown of your head, before looking up and blinking a few times. He knew his friends just blinked away a few tears. “You're not going to tell him I guess”, the statement had intrigued him, but further so did the scene beyond the two of you. It had been a simple flicker of his gaze that made him notice. By the station you had chosen in the shooting range, he saw a gun on the table. Looking over your shoulder, he curiously observed the dolls. However, the moment his eyes landed on the scene, his eyebrows flew up. There was a neat hole in the bullseye part of the target.

“Honestly, never. Never if he doesn't ask directly about. It wouldn't do anything good for him, neither me", it was your answer to Steve's question that pulled his attention back to you. Your words had made his mind reel and the first question that had surfaced was, did you speak about him?

Though Bucky had tried brushing past the question, it was one move from his blonde friend that had made him realise you did. Steve had glanced on the weapon behind you, then to the targets and after that, his embrace had tightened.

“Then it’s good I ask perhaps”, he hadn't been able to stop the words from leaving him. The moments afterwards, he had witnessed you jump away from Steve.

“I-I...”, he wanted to believe he was wrong, but the look on both you and Steve's faces screamed the opposite. Despite this, Bucky had felt the need to give you a final chance to prove him wrong.

It was that decision that had carried him forwards, towards the open weapons department on the wall. He hadn't looked at you, though now in the aftermath he perhaps should've. Maybe it would've stopped him from picking the two guns most familiar to him. Stopped him from walking to the shooting range. Stopped him from ordering you to shoot. But he had felt the need to know.

And had gotten to know. As soon as Steve tried stepping in to defend you, but you had taken the guns from him regardless, he knew. It was too familiar. The way his friend had tried to argue for you as he had done for Bucky many times as well. How you had handled the weapons, with a learned profession.

The realisation hit him even before you began to shoot and had made him take a few steps back. He almost hadn't noticed he leaned against the wall, while metal fingers scraped against it.

The image was fresh on his frontal lobe, the way you had focused when squatting down to stabilise the rifle. He still sensed the strangeness he had felt when seeing you use a weapon so differently than him. But it hadn't mattered, because you had moved as one with the gun.

The only remembrance Bucky had of a small hope was when you had picked up the pistol. Your grip shuffled out of unfamiliarity, making your first shot come much later than earlier. But in the end, it didn't matter. Bullseye. Bullseye. Bullseye.

Before he even had registered he moved, he felt his fingers clench into a fist, one which in return slammed into the wall. Despite his then newfound anger, he had noticed your shooting halted in a jerk as you spun towards him. As soon as your gaze met his, he saw your eyes widen and fingers reflexively flick on the safety, before you dropped the gun. It landed with a dull thud from the small distance it had fallen.

“What are you?” He felt the word ring in his head as venomously now when he thought back at them, as they'd done when he said them aloud. “Assassin? Hitman?…”, he had seen the quick flex of your jaw, along the tip of your head and your quiver in your lip before you bit down on them. “So hitman it is”.

“This is why I didn’t tell, it isn’t relevant”, he hadn’t expected your outburst, but now when thinking back on the event, he should've.

“Ain’t relevant?” The wince he had seen your body, most possibly, unconsciously make at the volume from his voice had made Steve snap out from his bystander role.

“Buck, she’s a former one. There’s a reason she is on the team, she hasn’t done it for many years”, he had heard Steves voice, filled with what he now afterwards could distinguish as hope, probably hope for him to calm down. But at the time he hadn't been able to do that. The betrayal he felt, both whether your sentiment had been out of care, pity or an order. And because you had withheld the fact of your true nature.

“So your help was that also fake?!”

“I didn’t lie about my degree thank you very much!” The way you had defended yourself, perhaps rightfully so, had made him ready to snarl a response at you. However, his words had died on his tongue when he heard the soft words leaving you on your exhale. “I cared Bucky, I still do…”, there was an explosion in his chest by the way you said it, he still could feel the traces if.

It had felt like pure happiness spreading through him, but instead of lingering in that feeling, he had closed it off. He had stubbornly wanted to believe what you said, but doubt and anger made him reluctant. It was in the shadow of those feeling his next words formed.

“How much can you truly care, you’re a paid murderer”, he meant them, but at the same time, he hadn't. His conflicting feelings made him unsure how to react when he had witnessed something break in you. But from fury, he didn’t want to take it back even if his conscience yelled him to do it. Something he wished he now had listened to.

“We are the same kind. We both are murderers. The only difference is that I got paid and you didn’t”, your voice was high pitched and even though tears had formed you raised your head higher, not letting them fall. “I-I didn’t want to do it in the beginning, for fuck sake!” He remembers how you'd glance at Steve and that was the moment he understood his friend somehow convinced you to do this, to help him.

“I only did it because Steve saved me, no matter what I did. So I only found it fair I would repay him with saving you”, Steve had saved you, he didn’t know how but his friend was the cause of you standing before him. It was in that second the blonde man had stepped before you, shielding you almost entirely from him.

“You shouldn’t have done it”, the words tasted bitter even now when thinking back on them. But truth to be told, his sentence wouldn't have ended there. He had wanted to say, you shouldn’t have made him trust you, fall for you, only to show him this, but his voice had died.

“Sometimes the only one able to understand is the one that suffered the same fucking thing, James Barnes”, your use of his full name, something you had never uttered before, somehow carved the deepest wound in his chest.

“Didn’t you say you trusted me?” Steve hauled him back from his memory by his question. In the absence of his mind, Bucky noticed his friend had come closer than before.

Looking at the blonde, he knew he asked the question to make him think about the first time he had met you. Already then he had felt calm with you, despite back then he had been wary of why. He also remembers that he had said he trusted Steve but...

“I never said I trusted her”, it was more that he spoke the end of his thoughts aloud, rather than actually meaning them. However, it seemed the blonde man didn't notice this.

“Jesus!” Steve cursed, throwing his hands up in the air. “Step down from your high horse and see past your anger, without her you wouldn’t be able to have gotten this good”, he tried reasoning and Bucky knew he was right, but the only reason he behaved as he did was because he knew. He knew he wasn’t only angry on Steve and you, but on himself as well. For how he acted, for how he hurt you. Because of this tug of war of feelings, he said one thing, and continuously meant another.

“I have every right to be upset, she lied”, he believed it, he genuinely did. But with the disappointing look that Steve gave him, Bucky wished it wasn't the case.

“She did it for you...”, Steve halted himself by taking a deep breath while rubbing a hand over his face. “Don’t you see it? She’s done all of this for you. To a beginning, she may have done it because I asked for it. But, believe me, for once if any time now, that she wouldn’t have continued if she didn’t care for you”, Steve looked at him and for the first time, Bucky didn’t have anything to say. His anger still boiled, but he didn’t know if he had a good enough reason for it anymore, so he turned and walked out.

You’d looked forward to the party tonight, now you didn’t. Last night you had cried yourself dry, the memory of Bucky's confrontation on repeat throughout the whole night. You guessed, however, that your exhaustion of the event eventually had knocked you out. Albeit given a few hours of sleep, it felt like you hadn't rested at all when waking up in the morning. Your body felt heavy, mind occupied along with tears always present in your eyes.

It was purely because of your state, both physical and mental, you didn't dare exit your room. You wondered if your teammates missed your presence, although as the donation gala was tonight, you guessed they only thought you prepared for that.

Remembering the cause of your problem, you glared at the grey bag shielding the dress. It fault like it taunted you, where it was draped over your couch, and you debated on whether you should throw it out of the window or not.

“Y/N I thought I should…”, you were snapped out of your thoughts by Tony's voice and in shock, you looked at the billionaire who now stood in the opening of your door. His voice had died down, like his steps, as soon as he noticed you. His brows pulled together as he saw you sit on your bed, seconds away from crying. “Hey, what is it?” His voice had gone soft, much less boisterous than when he entered.

It was as if refraining from making a remark and preferably showing his gentler side, something that didn't often happen, made you break. You looked away from him to try and hide your tears, but it seemed he already had seen them. You heard him come closer, but not until he crouched down in front of you could you see him.

“Sweetheart, what happened?” He took your hands in his, while his brown eyes tried finding what was wrong by studying your features. You felt muted to his stare, thus as soon as his question was asked, a picture of Bucky resurfaced. It was from the moment he realised what you had kept form him. Seeing the sheer look of anger and loathing painting his features in the memory, made whatever answer you would've given come out as a sob.

Quickly you saw how your vision got blurry and how droplets started to fall down your cheeks. Bothered by your reaction in front of the billionaire, you began to furiously wipe your tears away. It was not until Tony, similar to what Steve had done many times, swept you in for a hug you stopped. You had never received more than a friendly side-hug from him, so for a moment, you were taken aback by his unusual action.

“Tell me what happened”, at the same time he urged you to speak, he pressed you closer to him. It was the little shift that made you came back to your senses and wrapped your arms around him. “Is this why we haven’t seen your beautiful face around?” You couldn’t help the small, but in Tony’s eyes, miserable smile that spread on your lips.

“It’s Bucky…”, your voice let you down as another sob bubbled up in your throat, but you saw the lightbulb go off over his head when he figured it out.

Tony's brows furrowed when he really saw the distress you were in and what had caused it. He didn’t know you like Steve, the two of you practically seen as siblings by the team, but he knew the essential things. By the looks of it, something had gone wrong yesterday. There weren't many things that could elicit this reaction from you, which instantly made him realise what it implied. Bucky must've gotten to know what everyone else already did.

“So, that’s why mister spangle left in a fury yesterday", although Tony's chuckle was light and you knew he tried to make you feel better, the mention of Steve didn’t help. You hadn’t met him, or rather, he hadn’t come to visit you afterwards. You didn’t know what to believe, but something must’ve happened between the two soldiers after your and Bucky's confrontation. And if trusting the billionaire's words, neither had that ended well.

“I know it ain’t easy sweetheart, but trust me we’ll solve this”, Tony reassured you. “Especially if Barnes wants to stay”, a laugh escaped you, but it was more out of fear. You wanted him to stay, whatever he felt towards you at the moment, you couldn’t deny how you felt for Bucky. “I wanted to ask you about tonight, go over things a final time, but it seems I chose the worst time for it”, Tony murmured and you broke away from his embrace. You wiped away your final tears and took a deep breath before looking at him.

“It’s fine, I’m able to talk about it”, you tried saying confidently, a smile on your face.

“Ah, a beautiful smile at last”, Tony joked which made you chuckle.

“Don’t say that I don’t want Pepper after me”.

“And there’s the Y/N I know”, he cheerfully pointed out, which you only shook your head to.

What occupied your time for the next thirty minutes was exactly that, a final walkthrough of the evening. You discussed the events before the donations. The usual time for paparazzi to grab their pictures, but also for people to mingle around. It was not until later on in the evening, Tony would announce the surprise, the donations. He told you he had received confirmation that the representatives from the chosen organisations would attain. Much like everybody else, the associates were unknowing of the true intentions of the party. Therefore, the donations would come as a complete surprise. After the main event, the evening would simply proceed as it liked, which you from experience knew meant quite a few interviews for Tony.

“I don’t think there’s much more to go through by this point. If you don’t want me to hang around for longer?”

“It’s okay Tony, I think I’ll be able to handle myself until the party starts”, you smiled towards him, thankful he’d been here with you.

“Well then, just in case you forget I’ll send Nat here to get fixed with you”, he stood up before his expression changed into one of recognition. “I don’t even think I would be able to stop her when she gets to know”.

“You don’t need to tell her”, you very well knew how she could get when things like this happened.

“You know as good as me that I won’t be able to hide it from her”, you simply chuckled to what he said before bidding him goodbye.

As promised, or expected, a few hours before the party started, a knock came on your door. With a little lighter tone to your steps, you headed to the door to open it for Nat. However, you hadn't even been able to open it fully before a flurry of red hair stalked into your room.

“What doesn’t that идиот understand?" You hadn’t thought about the rather hard-knocking moments earlier, although the intensity of the word you didn’t miss. Despite not knowing any Russian, you knew she cursed him, having similar sounding words thrown your way during training.

“Hi to you too”, you said to her while closing the door. It seemed she didn't bother to greet you back, as you started walking over to where she stood,

“I’m glad we bought this dress, will at least make his sorry ass feel a bit remorseful”, you huffed out a chuckled to what she said, but not without a shake of your head.

“Don’t blame him, you would feel the same”.

“I blame him fully”, she began, before turning around. It was then, when meeting her gaze, you noticed her irritation. “I stand by what I said before this happened, regardless of how much you believe it, you were the defining piece in getting the man back. But he didn’t deserve it, by the looks of it”, she huffed the last thing out.

“Oh Nat...”, you hugged her, not knowing if her words actually helped, but you felt touched by them.

“Come on now, we’ll get you fixed up and try to enjoy tonight, it’s about you no matter what Stark does in your favour”, she held you on arm-lengths distance, a smile adorning her lips while she said it.

“I’m happy he’s taking the spotlight, he does it better than me”, you chuckled.

“That’s just what you believe”, the redhead answered while packing up your dress, placing it on a hanger.

Despite the stubborn arguing about who should get fixed first, you had won in the end. And by winning, you meant taking Nat by surprise and pushing her down in the chair to start with. From the moment she had been forced to admit defeat, things had fallen into a much calmer moment. You curled her hair while she busied herself by doing her makeup. Though you didn't complain, because she was the better one out of the two of you surrounding that, you questioned how the hell she could do it whilst you made her hair. 'Some can do it from the beginning' her answer had been, to which you threatened her to be quiet by saying you accidentally would burn her with the curling iron.

When you and Nat finally switched places, you felt untroubled as your heavy chest had become lighter. You would almost call it therapeutic, the way she combed your hair and put makeup on your face. However, when she said 'if you begin to cry now, the makeup will be ruined' you burst out laughing, the feeling of it being therapeutic gone. However, in the end, things had gone swiftly.

“Simple but elegant”, she stated, as she tapped your shoulder for you to examine your looks. As you opened your eyes, you immediately remember why you enjoyed Tony's parties.

“Right as you are”, you agreed.

“Go on and put on the dress now, then this”, she handed you the glossed lipstick she had grabbed from the table before shooing you away to fetch your dress and change. You chuckled at her, though a last pointed look from where she stood in her own fixed up glory, made you hurry into the bathroom.

While inside, you took your time to admire the work Nat had done with your hair and face. You would certainly not have been able to do such handiwork yourself, even if you had some skill. It was while carefully slipping into your dress, scared of destroying the garment with your makeup, you heard Nat’s voice from outside.

“She ain’t ready mister”, something ignited in your chest and you hurried to sip up the dress. Although, the moment you stepped into the main room, you knew it had been a hopeless thought that Bucky would've been the one standing at your door. Despite that, you couldn’t deny the slight disappointment when you saw blonde hair instead of brown.

“I’m ready, so speak for yourself”, you hid your feelings behind the remark when walking further into the room. It was when hearing your voice Nat turned to look at you, closely followed by Steve. A smirk pulled on the spy's lips, but it wasn’t her reaction which attracted your attention.

“Would you look at that”, his praise had been followed up by a whistle.

“Stop that, you’re gonna make a girl blush”, you waved your hand at the soldier who looked you up and down.

“Looking like that I have every right to”, a bashful smile followed and you could indeed feel your body heat up by Steves comment, as you came to stand with your teammates.

“Oh shush”, you lightly hit his arm, though as you began to draw your hand back, you were startled by Steve grasping it. Quizzically you peered up at him.

“I wanted to talk to you, before heading down”, he said. It was the slight narrow between his brows, the almost excusing tone before he even began, that made you understand what it was about. It was about Bucky.

“I leave you two to it then. See you there”, Nat understood the hint and walked out the door.

Although the door was kept open, both you and Steve stood inside your room. You looked at him, Tony had indeed gotten a good tailor for him. And Bucky. He’d chosen to wear a darker grey suit, white undershirt, a pair of shoes a shade slightly darker than the set itself. After doing this once over, you looked up at his face, the sad look more visible since Nat left you.

“You look good Steve, you’ll get some nice photos with the press”, you smiled, but he didn’t return it.

“Y/N don’t try and hide it”, he said and you felt your own smile drop, as well as your head. A sigh left you when you turned around, about to fetch your heels standing on the coffee table. Nonetheless, a gentle grip on your hand made you turn.

“I’m just going to get my heels if you don’t want me to go barefoot”, a smile twitched in the corner of his mouth and he let you go. While you turned around, he looked after you.

“Do you know he didn’t mean everything he said?” Steve noticed you gripped the heels tightly while sitting down on the couch.

“It sounded like he did”, you huffed sharply. Nevertheless your heated replay, Steve noticed your fingers trembled when you fastened the heels and how you chewed on your lip.

“The way you bite away your lipstick says otherwise”, he pointed it out and earned a look from you. However, the heat in it quickly faded.

“Steve, I don’t know if I’m able to do this”, you had thought back to why you were nervous from the beginning, the donation. That, together with Bucky knowing your past, seemed to crush you. You saw how Steve moved in the corner of your eye and looked up to watch him. It wasn't until he squatted down before you, his pants only letting him do so until a point where it looked mildly uncomfortable, your gaze stopped wandering and instead met his.

“I know you will, you’ve done it before”, he saw a protest was about to come, so he swiftly continued. “There’s a reason I’m here. First I’m sorry I haven’t come here to see you, I’ve been busy trying to get the fool to admit”, he sighed shaking his head before continuing “I wanted you to know that he understands he has done wrong, his stubborn ass just doesn’t want to confess it yet. He argues he has a reason to be angry…”

“And he does”, you cut him off, while glancing away momentarily. With a few blinks, a measure to avoid crying, you looked back to Steve, noticing he waited for your eyes to find his again before continuing.

“But at the same time, he knows he has no right to be. How you treated him is something he can’t see past, no matter how blind he is”, you laughed softly and at the sound, Steves sweet smile came forth. “So go and enjoy the night which happens because of you”, he urged softly and you shook your head, a smile adorning your face despite it.

“Sure, but I’ll do it merely so your pants don’t break, they weren’t made for squatting”.

“If that makes you come, then fine”, he laughed at your comment and raised himself from his position. Standing up, he offered you his arm and you couldn't but help but smile appreciatively at him.

Forever taglist: @flowerchild1216 @haven-in-writing @krystallynx @lancsnerd @thejamesoldier

Series taglist: @buckysforeverprincess

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