#god i hope we get a sequel SO BADLY

[whattadroid]

once again thinking about andy !!!

[skzdarlings]

sharing a bed ; seungmin ; sequel

masterlist.

original one-shot.

pairing: kim seungmin/reader content info: sexual content. enemies2lovers. sequel to sharing a bed one-shot linked above. morning afters. running from feelings. making reader jealous. confrontation with a creep and light violence. sexual content includes blow-jobs, hand jobs, strap-on blowjobs, 69ing, rimming, pegging, light choking. some brat seungmin and sort of brat tamer reader (kinda just likes the brat lol). word count: 7k.

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Kim Seungmin, the perpetual thorn in your side and ache in your head, is torturing you. 

Not the fun kind of torture, either.   You had your fill of that two nights ago when a silly scheme resulted in a horny happenstance and you let yourself get carried away.  Your careful control not only slipped, but fell right into the hands of someone you once disliked. 

It left you befuddled in the light of the day, when you woke to Seungmin curled around you, his cheek pressing into your bicep and his leg hooked around yours.  Not to mention his morning wood digging into your hip.  It surfaced memories of the pretty and unexpected piercing you found there, how your idea of this guy was so so wrong.  And it made you wonder what else you were wrong about, and all the ways this burgeoning something could go wrong in turn.   Your thoughts spiralled. 

You were no longer handcuffed, so you slipped out of bed and walked right out the front door.  You hoped a walk through the brisk winter morning would help clear your mind.  It did, but only momentarily.  When you got back to the vacation house and ran into Seungmin, you fumbled.  Badly.  You meant to be pragmatic but came across dismissive.  Something about how last night was the only night.  Something about how you were bad at commitments.  Something about being better off friends. 

Seungmin was silent the whole time, letting you ramble like an idiot.  Then his eyes narrowed and he laughed.  It was an airy, unpleasant, and derisive sound.    

“Trust me,” he said.  “We will never be friends.” 

“Well, fine,” you said, bristling despite the fact you were the one rejecting him.  What did you care if he hated you again?  You didn’t.  You shouldn’t.  “Good.”

It was not good.  Saying it left a sour taste in your mouth and a pit in your stomach. 

And despite it all, your stupid horny hindbrain did not relent, purring like a kitten when Seungmin gave you a judgemental once-over and scoffed.   You could not help but remember the very different noises he made last night, again and again, in your hands and mouth, from your actions and words. 

You will never look at him the same way again.  You have no idea how to move forward, but you know you can never go back.  Pretending nothing happened will not work for once.   

It freaks you out.  You are usually good at shucking attachments.  His cold acceptance should not have hurt.  What did you care?  This vacation would end and you would go back to your own lives, right?   So you let Seungmin shove past you.  He ignored you for the rest of the day.  When he started an argument later, causing everyone else to groan, you replied like always, but it was half-hearted at best.   

Oh god, you think now, rubbing the bridge of your nose, I can’t start thinking with my damn heart. 

Emotional attachments and long-term romantic liaisons never turn out well.  You cut a dashing figure but your many flaws eventually find their way to the surface.  It is not worth the inevitable heartbreak when someone sees under the charming mask to the real you.   

Rather than suffer later, you are suffering now, brooding over a beer while doing your damnest to not look across the bar.  You know you will not like what you see. 

You and your friends only have a couple more nights at the vacation lodge, so you all went down to the nearby resort to drink and dance and enjoy a fun night out. 

You are not having any fun, of course.  You are sitting on a bar stool, all alone at the counter, in your signature leather jacket as you hunch over your drink and glare at nothing in particular. 

Seungmin, on the other hand, is suddenly a dazzling socializer rather than an obnoxious stuck-up jerk like he used to be.  You expected him to sit in a corner, making snarky remarks all night, but instead he has been moving from person to person, flirting with anything that breathes. 

He is also wearing an obscene pair of jeans.  No one else in the friend group seemed to notice, not a single eye so much as twitching in his direction, but you noticed.  Oh, yeah, you fucking noticed.  The second he came bounding the stairs, swinging on a stupid baggy letterman jacket like the twerpy little prep he is.  His dark hair neatly combed, bangs swept off his forehead, brightening his gaze. 

The jeans.  The stupid fucking jeans.  Straight-cut denim that has absolutely no business cupping his ass the way it does.  And why does he have such a nice ass anyway?  It also has no business looking that way. 

Kim Seungmin.  What a nightmare. 

You take a swig of beer and glare at the wall.  You tell yourself not to look at him.  He is probably leaning over some equally prissy knob and offering to buy them a glass of milk or whatever people like them drink. 

So, no.  You will not give him the satisfaction.  It is no coincidence that in all the time you have known him, Seungmin has never  been flirtatious or promiscuous, but the second you turn him down he is slobbering all over anything that moves. 

You will not let him get to you.  You will not look at him.  You will not react. 

Except he is already getting to you.  So you look over.  You react. 

“For fuck’s sake,” you grumble, abandoning your beer and stomping down from your stool. 

Seungmin is huddled in a booth with some colossal bitch of a man.  You recognize him from the other night, remembering how much time he spent harassing the bar staff.  Seungmin doesn’t know that.  He might be your enemy – or whatever – but you are not gonna leave the guy with that kind of jerk.  And you are not secretly thrilled that you are justified in storming over there, drawing up to the table with all the aggression that has been building inside you. 

You slap a hand on the table, bringing their attention to you.  Seungmin gives you a once-over, then smiles that stupid smile of his, all boxy and puppyish, like you are the funniest punchline to the funniest joke in the world.  There was a time you used to fantasize about swiping that smile off his mouth.  You are still thinking about occupying his mouth, just not like that. 

“Move along,” you say to the creep. 

“Excuse me?” 

He is already drunk.  You can smell it as much as see it.  Seungmin is looking very smug and you start to feel like he picked this guy on purpose. 

Seungmin drives you crazy, he really does.  One second he is all good boy, the next he is purposefully throwing himself at a creep just to get a rise out of you.  You feel like he would take a running leap off the mountainside if he was inclined to a prove a point to someone.  He is fearless and ridiculous and you want to hate him.  You want him to be the boring two-dimensional snob you thought he was.  You have no idea what to do with the complicated man in front of you. 

That’s a lie, you think, meeting his gaze.  You know exactly what to do with him.

You swear his eyes are twinkling.  He slouches back comfortably, arms crossed. 

“I told you once,” you say, tearing your gaze from him to look at the creep.  “Now move along.” 

“Try me.” 

The guy was only bothering women and seems uninterested in Seungmin so you suspect he just wants to piss you off, but then he puts a hand on him anyway, grabbing Seungmin by the arm so suddenly that it surprises him. 

Before Seungmin can shake him off, you snatch the guy by his wrist and twist.  He yelps, struggling to wrestle his arm back from your iron grip.  You slam him against the back of the booth. 

“Touch him again,” you say, “and I will break your hand.  You wanna try me?”

He opens his mouth, no doubt to spew some smelly rejoinder, but you don’t stick around for it.  You grab Seungmin by the elbow and yank him out of the booth.  You drag him away. 

“Excuse me,” Seungmin says, not politely, ripping his arm back.  “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I think I’m saving your dumb ass from getting felt up by every creep on this mountain.” 

“Meh-meh-meh,” he mocks, dodging when you reach for him again.  “I’m having fun.  I don’t need you to do anything.  It’s not like you’d really care if something happened to me.  Bad,” he smirks, “or good.” 

He knows he has you cornered.  You might have the physicality over him, but he is holding this entire scene in his hands.  You can only rub your jaw and shake your head, trying and failing to remember how to act indifferent. 

He has the tiniest drop of cream on his upper lip, leftover from the sugary abomination someone bought him.    

You say nothing in reply to his deliberate antagonizing.  You plant one hand on your hip and reach for him with the other.   When he tries to dodge, you grab him by the shoulder, firmly putting him in place.  He does not move the second time, standing still while you wipe a thumb across the sugary residual. 

Then you push at his bottom lip, press down, flicking your thumb so it bounces back.  His stare is unwavering.  He is not the blushing type, but he noticeably swallows. 

“Come on,” you say, zipping up your jacket.  “We’re leaving.  Now.” 

“What if I don’t want to?” he asks. 

You grab the back of his neck and drag him right up against you. 

“I didn’t ask,” you say.   

“Friends don’t get to make demands, dumbass,” he says, sneering the word friends.  He does not wriggle away, but he does not fully surrender either.  He meets your stare head-on, unmoving and unintimidated. 

He is going to make you say it.  He is not going to let you act sexy and charm your way out of it.  He is going to stand in this bar with your hand uselessly holding his neck until you do.   

“Fine,” you say.  You exhale.  “I’m sorry.  I’m sorry I said all that dumb shit.  I’m a moron.”

“Yes,” he says.  “You are.” 

“I didn’t think it would matter that much anyway.”

“Because you aren’t the romantic type,” he says dryly. 

“Because I didn’t think you’d care,” you admit.  “You don’t like me and we don’t get along anyway.  I just—”  You finally drop your hand, waving at nothing and looking away.  You can feel him glaring at you.  “Look, I suck, I get it.  Believe me, I know all the ways I suck.  I figured I’d spare us the mess when you figured that out so I just walked away while it was still good.”

“You’re an even bigger idiot than I thought,” he says.  He is still frowning at you.  “I already know how much you suck.  It was the first thing I noticed, you arrogant, womanizing ass.”

“Hey now…”     

“You’re vulgar and loud and, for someone without a dick, you think with it constantly.”  

 “I… don’t…”  You do.

“And for some reason even though you are the biggest idiot and the worst person I have ever met,” he says, still glaring, “I still like something about you.  Because even though you’re determined to not let anyone see your good side, unfortunately you have one.  Even though it’s buried so deep you have to walk into hell to find it.” 

It did not really occur to you that Seungmin has already seen your worst qualities.  Because you did not get along, you never felt a need to hide those attributes.  Inadvertently, you have been more open and honest with this annoyingly handsome brat than anyone else you have ever known.

You cannot help the smile tugging at your lips.  Seungmin rolls his eyes. 

“You’re hopeless,” he says, shaking his head as he shoves past you.  “Take me home, idiot, before I come to my senses.”   

You turn to follow him, only to get bopped on the nose when he shoves a pointed finger in your face. 

“If you even think about acting like a moron in the morning,” he says, “I will kill you and make it look like an accident.” 

You draw a cross over your heart and nod.  He huffs in aggravation, turning on his heel and stomping outside. 

“You’re the worst,” he says.  He swings open the door and stomps into the snowy night, seemingly unbothered by the fluffy bits of snow swirling around his face.  He just swings up his hood and marches through the downy white carpet.  “You better make this worth my while,” he says. 

Your eyes are on his ass in those jeans, thinking about how you very much will be making it worth his while.  You look up when he keeps grumbling to himself, a marked sign he is maybe more nervous than he is letting on.  You remember his stubbornness before his eventual acquiescence, the way he hid his face at his most vulnerable moments. 

You might be in the habit of ducking out the door, but he deflects just as much with his wit.

You hurry your pace, catching up to him.  He is still muttering to himself, head down, a soft layer of snow dusting his jacket and hood.  It must be all over your head but you hardly feel the cold.  Your mind is on warmth, that stupid heart of yours suddenly flooded with it. 

You want this to be good for him, even if he would never outright ask for you to be kind.  It is all the more reason to make sure you are.  You really were such an idiot. 

Your grip is firm but not rough, hand curling protectively over his shoulder.  This touch invites more than demands. 

He stops in place, looking at you with a wary glare.  It disappears when you swoop in.  His hood falls as you tug him close.  He goes without protest, lips parting under yours with a claiming so heated that the cold does not stand a chance against you. 

You try to keep it romantic, a rare act of restraint on your part, but the supposed good boy drags the zipper of your coat down, down, down, then grabs your belt and tugs.  You stumble, uncharacteristically shaky, gasping against his lips when he grinds his knuckles against the zip of your jeans. 

“Tsk,” he says, lips still brushing yours.  “Not prepared.” 

“I was planning on sitting around feeling sorry for myself,” you say, with a helpless laugh despite his teasing.  You grab his wandering hand, leading it away from your crotch.  You are eternally grateful your dick is the kind you can leave in your sock drawer, because resisting him right now would have been impossible otherwise.     

“Trust me,” you say.  “I’ll make up for it.”

“Fine,” he says.  “I will.  You better not let me down.”  He looks at you when he says this, as close to imploring as Seungmin ever does. 

You feel the weight of that trust.  You nod, swallowing, looking at his lips, full and pink from the hard press of your kiss.  You lean in for more when he abruptly zips your coat again, all the way up to your chin so he smacks your jaw. 

“Come on then,” he says with that mean little laugh as he scampers away, grinning at you.  “Are you gonna prove it or not?” 

It is a short drive back to the cabin, and a torturous one to boot.  Not because Seungmin touches you, but because he doesn’t, and he won’t let you touch him either.  You try to put a hand on his knee but every attempt is rebuffed.  All you get is that cheeky grin or a glare, then a mere flick of his wrist as he brushes you away like lint.

Somehow it is more maddening than a direct touch.  You can feel him everywhere just by his proximity.  He even jumps out of the car before you unbuckle your seatbelt.  He is inside the cabin before you reach the door. 

You are panting from the sprint up the driveway, trying to keep up, not entirely convinced he won’t play you for a sucker and run right out the back door.  It would be like Seungmin to make you chase him up the mountainside.  You wouldn’t blame him for making you prove yourself, considering what an ass you were. 

But he is waiting inside the cabin.  Everyone else is out for the night and should be gone for hours.  When you close the door, sealing out the cold and the world, this cabin feels flush with more heat than you know what to do with. 

You do not hesitate. The tantalizing promise of more is like a touch on its own, heightened by his stubborn refusal to give you anything easily.  It makes catching him that much more satisfying, that soft sound all the sweeter when you pull him into your arms and finally steal that kiss. 

His skin is cool from the weather but his mouth is warm, the kiss searing hot.  He digs his blunt nails into the arms of your jacket, pressing the whole length of his hard body against yours. 

You remember his unexpectedly tender places, how just a faint stroke behind his ear will have him curling into you, how looping some hair around your fingers and tugging will deepen the rumbling sound that spills past his lips.  

You unzip his coat while kissing, licking into him while he scrambles to help strip.  The coat hits the floor in a damp heap.  You separate for just a moment, giving him the chance to tug his hoodie up and off.  You toss your own jacket over the nearby couch, then hook your fingers into his belt loops and pull him close.  

His hair is in an endearing state of dishevelment and he looks flushed from the rush of warmth after the chill.  Just looking at him like this has you throbbing.  You try to imagine telling the old you that you would feel that way, that the annoying friend-of-a-friend who mutually hated your guts would be looking at you like he wants to devour you and let you return the favour. 

You can’t imagine believing it.  Now it feels completely natural, letting him walk you backwards until your back hits the wall and his chest is pressed to yours, rising and falling with the quickness of his breath. 

He is looking aside, contemplatively.  You cup his jaw and draw him back to you, unable to resist a breathless laugh when he nips at your fingers.  You do not shy away or let go, and that seems to placate him.  He practically melts against you, your hand curving around the shape of his cheek, lowering to curl gently around the side of his neck.

“We should go upstairs,” you say.  The stairs are right beside you, but somehow the bedroom seems too far.  

Impossibly, ridiculously far, when Seungmin flicks some hair out of his eyes and looks at you intensely. 

“Don’t you want me on my knees?”  he asks. 

Your response is not a real word, just a rough sound.  He smirks, but is still flushed and a little shaky as he sinks onto his knees.  He gets your belt open, tugs it free, and tosses it to the side.  The sight of him licking his lips has you seeing stars before he even leans in. 

You brush some of his hair back, looking down at his face as he focusses on unzipping your jeans.  He has the fly down when you catch your breath and your senses. 

You gather the hair at his nape in your fist and tug, firm and sharp.  His mouth falls open and his breath stutters, eyes so dark and lips so wet and plush that you are tempted to drive his face right between your legs, where is obviously offering to be. 

But that’s not how you want to do this, not yet.   You move from his hair to his neck, wrapping your hand around his throat and watching his eyelashes flutter with surprise.  There is always a breath of panic in that surprise, adrenaline fueling the flood of desire that follows.  He is visibly hard, straining in those sinful jeans, breathing harder as you none-too-nicely push him down onto the stairs. 

“What are you doing,” he says, though it sounds like less like a question than acceptance.  Continue, waving his hand like a prince on silk sheets even though he is sprawled on his back on the staircase.    

“Making it worth your while,” you say.  He is not wearing a belt because these jeans are made for his body, snug and perfect and fitted everywhere, so it is just a matter of unbuttoning—

Oof. 

He plants his foot on your chest like last time, pushing you back.  He blinks innocently.    

“Shoes first,” he says. 

You smile, though it less playful than predatory, a promise in the flash of your teeth.   You nonetheless obey his silly whim as you tug off one shoe than the other.  It leaves a damp patch on your shirt which he remarks on.   You roll your eyes but tug your shirt off, sports bra following. 

The second time you push him down, you are even less nice.  You gather his hands in yours and pin them above his head, holding him there when he squirms ineffectively. 

“You’re kind of a brat,” you say, yanking his zipper down.  “Anyone ever tell you that?”

“You,” he says, panting around the word.  “Jerk.” 

You laugh, then cover his mouth with yours, swallowing the moan that takes him by surprise.  His hips buck towards you when you reach into those jeans to take him in hand.  He wriggles in your hold, arms straining while his hips lift toward you for more, following the snapping rhythm of your hand.  You trace the dick piercings that caught you by surprise last time, the metal smooth under your rolling thumb. 

You only release him when you duck down, tasting for yourself, relishing in the sounds that spill out of him.  He claws at your bare shoulder, spreading his legs to make room for you to lay between them.  His head falls back, resting on the step above while you work him in your mouth. 

“I’m—I’m—”  His voice gets lighter, breathier, his orgasm hitting him all at once.  He throws an arm over his face instinctively, head thrown back, hips lifting.  It catches you by surprise, making you choke just a bit, but he is already coming so you ride it out.   

He is still twitching when he finishes, gasping behind his arm when you roll a thumb around his piercing again.  When he hisses, knees jerking, you let go. 

Knowing him better than you ever thought you would, you move, stretching out alongside him.  You tug him into your arms and he goes without hesitation, burying his face in your neck.  You snake a hand under his shirt, stroking his back affectionately. 

Once more, you are genuinely endeavouring to be sweet. 

Once more, he shoves his hand down your pants. 

“Hello—”  It is all you manage before he is touching you, finding all that wet desire and rubbing a little haphazardly.  It makes you laugh and you grab his wrist, slowing him down.  “Easy,” you say, showing him a better pace.  “Just like that is good.” 

He learns quickly.  It was the same last time.  Every idea you introduced, he contemplated, experimented, then excelled.  With just a nudge now, he skillfully obliges.  He is breathing hard against your throat, pressed so close to your whole body, his fingers finding all your secrets and working them out.  You slide a hand down his backside, squeezing a handful of his ass.  The sound he makes has you coming faster than usual.

He puts his hand on your thigh, then lifts his head and grins at you.  

“I’m still winning,” he says.

“It’s still not a contest,” you reply, quirking an eyebrow. 

“It is,” he says.  “And I’m winning.” 

“I see.”

You scoop him into your arms and cart him up the stairs.  He situates himself by the time you reach the bedroom, legs around your waist and arms around your shoulder.   

“Still winning?” you ask. 

“Obviously,” he replies. 

You shake your head and sigh but with no real animosity, just like his smirk is more playful than vicious.  You still whole-heartedly believe he is capable of catching you off guard, so you are prepared for the brat switch to flip at the slightest provocation. 

You drop him onto the bed with a gentle thump, then cross your arms and look down at him. 

“Can I leave you unsupervised for two minutes while I get my dick?” you ask. 

“I don’t know,” he says, blinking innocently.  “Can you?” 

“Probably not,” you say, but retreat nonetheless.   Your equipment is in your travel bag.  You left it behind when you went to the bar because you were not in the mood for a hook-up, which should have been the first sign you were hopeless.  You were already in waters far too deep when you tried reaching for that shitty life preserver.  Learning to swim is not easy but infinitely more rewarding. 

You change into packing boxers and tuck your toy into it, buttoning up the pocket.  You grab some lube and a towel, then walk back to his bedroom, certain that he has somehow caused trouble in the five minutes it took to do all that. 

He’d naked.  Of course he is.  Sitting where you left him, perched on the edge of the bed, but his clothes are folded in a pile on the dresser and he has nothing but a bedsheet pulled over his lap.  He is not wearing his usual cheeky expression, though, and you are about to ask if something is wrong.  Then he says, “I’ve never done this before.” 

“Oh,” you say.  “That’s fine.”  It is the unthinking response, automatic as the admission is not too surprising.  You live in a world where strap-ons and gender games are the norm, so sometimes you forget that most people consider it inherently kinky or an anomaly.  A lot of men are new to it.  Seungmin didn’t even know what was packing was when you first mentioned it. 

But then he says, “Any of it.” 

And you say, “Huh?” 

“I’ve never done,” he says slowly, “any of this.” 

“Any.”

“Any.”

It takes a long minute to compute.  You think about his clumsy touches and experiments followed by his quick learning.  Unabashed and unjudgmental regardless of what he encountered.  Testing and figuring himself out just as much as you. 

“Oh,” you say.  Then, “Oh.  Fucking shit.  I’m such an asshole.” 

Because that was his first time doing anything with someone, and you just walked out the door without a word the next morning. 

He does not look upset about it anymore.  In fact, he laughs, though he tries to hold it back.  It turns into a snort he barely catches, amused eyes gazing up at you. 

“Yeah,” he says.  “You are.  We already knew that.” 

“I really, I just—” 

“Can you shut up and come take my virginity before I get beatified for involuntary chastity?”

“But you’re so fucking hot,” you blurt. 

It is obviously not the retort he anticipated, because he blushes profusely, which is not the response you expected. 

He clears his throat and looks away, rolling his eyes to compensate for the obvious vulnerability. 

“Thanks,” he says.  “Stating the obvious.  I’m also picky.  And apparently I scare people.”

“Scare them?” you ask, quirking an eyebrow.  “Who’d be scared of you?”

“Evidently not you,” he says.  His tone is snarky but he looks at you, up and down, and the look is a thoughtful one.  “Not ever.” 

Agh.  There’s that heart again, pounding away.  Who knew that thing could race so fast. 

“Well,” you say, finally putting the bottle and towel on the bedside table.  “That is their loss.  Not everyone is built for chasing luxury, I guess.” 

“Luxury,” he says with another snort, grinning despite himself.  “I’m high-end,” he says it like a fact, not a question.

“Naturally,” you say, approaching where he is sitting. 

“I’m going to be honest,” he says, eyes wandering your body before landing on your face.  “I thought you were going to be weird and egotistical about being with a virgin.” 

It suddenly pings in your head that you are his first, that there is a certain responsibility that comes with that.  That the wrong person could make this terrible for him.  That you want to make sure it feels better than anything he could dream.  These thoughts are completely and truly unselfish. 

And there is one admittedly egotistical and selfish thought, of making him irrevocably yours with one really good fuck. 

He glares when he sees the look on your face, his lips pursed, though a breath of a laugh escapes nonetheless. 

“Wow!” he says.  “You’re a pig, go away.”

“No, no, I’m not, I swear!” you say, laughing. 

He laughs too but shakes his head, pushing you away when you reach for him.  “No way,” he says.  “You and your ego.  Gross.” 

“Please, I promise,” you say, getting on your knees and lacing your hands together like a praying supplicant.  “I’ll be so normal,” you say.  “I have no ego at all.”

“You’re the worst,” he says dryly. 

“Yeah, but…”  You wiggle your eyebrows at him.  “You kinda like me anyway, right?” 

It is a more vulnerable question than you thought it would be.  It prompts him to look at you, really look at you, before he huffs and rolls his eyes. 

“Unfortunately,” he says. 

You giggle and he swats your head. 

“Are we just going to sit here all night and look at each other?” he asks, crossing his arms. 

“No, no, of course not,” you say.  You get back on your feet, standing bedside so you are looming over him. 

“What are we doing then?” he asks.   

“Well, you know what we’re doing,” you say, laughing when he rolls his eyes and huffs again. 

You reach out, cupping his face in both your hands and guiding him to look up at you.  Your heartbeat hammers away not only in your chest but everywhere else, a rapid current of heat that thunders most prominently between your legs as shiny dark eyes gaze up at you amorously from such a suggestive vantage.  

“First, before anything else, this.”  You speak in a lower voice, watching his spine straighten as the sound.  You run your thumb across his bottom lip like you did earlier, except this time it is a bruised pink from kissing.  It really makes you feel like that extra weight in your boxers is coming to life, connected to you intimately, ready and wanting as you are.  Especially when you tug on that bottom lip, when he leans towards your hand like he needs it, needs you. 

“Now,” you say. “Now I want you on your knees.” 

There is a sharp intake of breath before he nods, subtly, then shifts.  The sheets falls away from his lap, revealing he is already half-hard again.  There are goosebumps along his skin, from his nudity and the chill or just anticipation. 

Last time, he needed almost no direction.  He followed his own instinct, logically deducing that the part of the toy you could feel was the part at the base, closest to your body.  He uses his usual deductions when unbuttoning your boxers, taking a second to first press the base of the toy against you before leaning back and opening his mouth. 

It is not easy to come like this, but you are so worked up that it might happen.  It does not matter if you do.  It is not always about chasing the perfect orgasm.  This time, it is touch and sensuality.  He lets you teach him, rather than stampeding like last time.  You wonder if his heart is pounding given how red the tips of his ears are, blood rushing everywhere in a hurry.  You hold his face and slide back and forth, taking your time getting wet, both yourself and the toy, pushing him a little further each time. 

When his mouth is full and he blinks slowly, contently, every bratty remark and combative tone far from his mind, you smile and tug his hair.  He moans and you push a little more, gliding back and forward again. 

“You’re a fast learner,” you say.  “Bet you could get used to this.” 

It is a testing tease, to great success if the returned moan is anything to go by.  He squeezes his eyes shut and starts touching himself, finally moving his head instead of letting you guide him.  Before he gets too lost in the rhythm, you ease him back.  You smile and rub your thumb across his shiny lips as he blinks up at you.    

“Come here,” you say, and kiss him. 

He falls into the kiss, arms wrapping around you as you lay down with him.  He is eager in the searching heat of the kiss, long and deep and hungry.   You get on your back and pull him on top of you, give him one more drawn-out kiss with a filthy wet lick into his mouth, then smile. 

“Turn around,” you say.  “Keep going.”

It takes him a second to work out what you mean, but he really is a fast learner.  Soon he is laying on top of you, face where it was before, mouth wrapping around the end of your dick and his fingers searching beneath it to stroke you directly. 

You snatch the lube off the table and wet your fingers then him, taking it slow and easy, using your mouth and spit then more lube until everything is slippery and he gives in so easily into you.  He is breathing hard down between your legs, resting his cheek on your thigh and no longer using his mouth on you.  His eyes are closed and his hips are rocking, focussed on the sensations that you are certain are overwhelming him. 

You move him around, at which point he comes to attention, looking back at you.  This is the quietest he has ever been, all the action in his heart as you expected; you can feel it racing when you touch his chest.  

You lay him down in front of you, sidling up behind him.  You lay a hand on the wildly fluttering race of his pulse, throat cupped in your palm.  You turn his face to kiss him, your wet hand stroking your wet dick.  You probably should have thrown that towel down before getting started.  The sheets are a mess already. 

“Ugh, hurry up,” he says, reaching back to smack your thigh.  “You’re the worst.  I hate you.” 

You laugh.  Oh well.  No time to worry about bedsheets.  You give his throat a gentle squeeze and smile at the noise he makes, strained and needy, his hips rearing back into you. 

“What?” you ask, sliding the toy down his backside.  “You want something?”

“I will bury you in the mountain pass,” he says.  “They’ll think it was a skiing accident.  And that you got mauled by a bear.  And eaten by wolves.  And—”

To be honest, having him distracted and rambling is for the best.  It means he is more relaxed, not so focussed when you finally start pushing in.  Of course, he feels it pretty fast, and instinctively rebels.  You stop clutching his throat and hold an arm across his chest instead, holding him protectively and kissing that sweet spot behind his ear.  His groaning turns into a whine. 

“Okay?” you ask. 

“Gonna kill you,” he says. 

“That a yes?”

“Yes.” 

“Thank you.”  You hook a hand under his leg and pull it up, giving yourself leverage, then fuck into him completely.  His whine turns to a sharp yelp, hand scrabbling against the arm on his chest.  You let him catch his breath and adjust.  “Still okay?” 

“It’s weird,” he says. 

“Bad weird?”

“No,” he says.  “It’s… it’s good.  It’s just…”  You move a little and his whole body clenches then loosens.  He makes a strangled noise but softens in your arms, though his nails have dug a pretty picture into your skin.  You are surprised he hasn’t drawn blood.  “Ugh,” he says.  “It’s so wet.  I feel like a river rafting ride.”

“Not… what most people usually say… but okay…” 

“I’m… not… most people.”

“No,” you say, kissing that spot again and finally moving your hips.  “You’re not.” 

You are not sure if his little sound of submission is in response to your actions or your words, but with it he seems to all at once open to you.  You find a rhythm, holding his hand when his fingers search for yours on his chest.  He ends up biting your arm, which you should have seen coming, but it’s fine because you leave a visible bite mark on his neck in return. 

At that he gets into it, meeting the pace you set, altering it to what he wants.  It is a good thing the house is empty because you are not quiet at all.  If your fooling around was enough to send an aggravated Minho storming after you, then this probably would have led to him burning the cabin down. 

The thought makes you snicker, which makes Seungmin ask what is so funny, so you tell him then he laughs too. 

“Ugh, stop making me laugh,” he says. 

“You can laugh while making love,” you say, kissing his neck.  “It’s okay.” 

That does not make him laugh but it does make him sigh.  “Making love, huh,” he says dryly.  “That doesn’t sound like you.”

“It didn’t,” you say, finding another sweet spot that has his whole body rearing into yours.  “I guess I’m a fast learner too.”

“Ew, you’re so annoying,” he says, but squeezes your fingers in his hand. 

“I think you’re not getting fucked right if you’re still this bratty,” you say playfully, prompting him to roll his eyes. 

“What are you gonna do about it?  Make love at me?  Sap.” 

You laugh, kiss his neck, then move away to roll him onto his back.  He wriggles a bit, surprised with the change and sudden emptiness.  His legs part easily when you move between them, but you still snap, “Spread.  Good.”  Because it makes him swallow hard, his dark eyes sparkling and his mouth bruised, hair mussed and body flushed.  He is already a fucked out sight, but he wants more, and you give it. 

You snap your hips together and fuck into him.  This time you do hold his throat, gently, not repressing air but showing control.  He holds your forearm with both hands, his face scrunching up, eyes closed as he focusses in that intense way of his.  He breathes hard, makes sweet sounds, and not a single antagonistic or bratty word leaves his pretty mouth. 

“I think I’m finally winning,” you tease, to which he just makes a hiccupping sound of pleasure.  “Yeah, that’s right.” 

You hold his ridiculously pretty dick and give it the expert treatment it deserves.  The combination of sensations has him throwing his head back, clawing your arm as you work him in your head.  You cannot feel the end of the toy, but there is a magic in this kind of fucking, and when he comes and he clutches your arm and he screams your name, when the muscles in his abdomen clench and you know he is feeling sensation in every part of his body, you can feel him wrapped around you, wholly and completely, like you could feel him when he wasn’t even touching you at all. 

He writhes almost desperately as you keep touching him until he can’t take it anymore, then you ease him down and pull back. 

“Good?” you ask, sitting back, looking down at him, blissfully fucked out and dishevelled. 

“Yes,” he murmurs.  “I won. Again.” 

“Gonna need to supply me with that rubric one of these days,” you say. 

“Meh-meh-meh,” is the half-hearted retort, delving to a sleepy sigh. 

 “Gotta take care of yourself before you go to sleep,” you say, though you have a feeling it’s a losing battle, his eyelids already heavy. 

“That’s what you’re for,” he grumbles. 

That damn heart really does have a mind of its own.  It has clearly decided to make its presence known whenever it damn well pleases. 

You run your fingers through his messy hair, smiling when he blinks up at you. 

You tidy him up then scoop him into your arms to carry him to your bed, because that one is not a filthy sex nest.  He wakes a little on the journey.  And when you lay down and pull a sheet up, he rolls towards you and throws an arm and a leg around you, pinning you to the bed. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say.  “I promise.”

“Good,” he says.  “You’re too stupid to be out there on your own.” 

You laugh in spite of yourself, shaking your head, but you put an arm around him and nod. 

“You’re right,” you say. 

“Of course I am.”  He snuggles in close and sighs.  “Now go the fuck to sleep.  Your dick is in the sink so you have no excuse.  Good night.”  

“Good night,” you say with a laugh. 

I think I won too, you almost say, but decide let him believe he is the only winner for now, because he is already falling asleep with his head on your shoulder.   

You can tell him in the morning. 

[hopeymchope]

Watching the "Life is Strange" fandom tear itself apart, or: The pitfall of sequelizing choice-driven game narratives

"Double Exposure" has arrived, bringing us the long-awaited return of Max Caulfield.

SUPER MAX!

Sadly, it seems the LiS fandom is now positively tearing itself apart over this much-awaited return to a beloved protagonist. I guess that's not too surprising, given how I've certainly had really negative experiences with this fandom in the past, but THIS is a case where the uproar is being caused by the developers of the new game itself failing to understand their audience SO BADLY that they inflict what might be a mortal wound on their own franchise.

Understandably, this is how the fans are reacting.

Background:

For a decent plurality of people the triple punch of the original LiS, the subsequent "Before the Storm" prequel AND the Max-and-Chloe comic book series made it hard to accept the idea of the series moving on from the Arcadia Bay characters. It felt like it had BECOME about those characters by focusing on them for so damn long. And I was, at one point, one of those people — much to LiS Fandom Tumblr's hatred. I got a fair share of nastygrams over that. (Don't worry; that's not the only thing I got hate for. I also didn't ship Pricefield, which is a massive sin in these parts. :P)

But by the time "True Colors" rolled around? I'd quite warmed to the idea! I was comfortable with leaving them to their vague future of whatever, and only occasionally having surprise appearances from some supporting players. I thought that was cool. Because let's face it: Making a direct sequel to a game based around player choices is HARD. (We will swing back to that.)

.......evidently, however, most gamers did not think that was cool.

PICTURED: Protagonists that most fans of LiS1 didn't bother to get to know.

It's no secret by now that the return to Max is less driven by creative forces and more by financial ones. LiS 2 sold markedly less than the original AND its prequel... and True Colors sold worse still, putting the series in a dire place. We don't have any sales numbers, mind you, because god forbid a game publisher/developer actually tell us about their sales. So MAYBE this is just another case of Square Enix having absurd sales expectations. Either way, the end result is that Deck Nine, who have become the stewards of the franchise, went back to the Caulfield well in an attempt to salvage not only the franchise but also their own business. Furthermore? The new game, "Double Exposure," ends with the tease of MORE adventures with our familiar LiS1 characters. They're clearly hoping that not only will this return them to success, but that they'll get to keep on ridin' that success.

The promise of a third adventure is kind of frustrating but also tantalizing. It means we're going to continue tormenting these characters, but it also means we could potentially course-correct on the hot mess they've gotten themselves into.

So let's talk about the elephant in the room: How Double Exposure deals with the possible endings of the original LiS... or more accurately, how it DOESN'T.

(Spoiler Cut for both the original LiS and the early parts of Double Exposure)

The Situation Today (or: How Do You Deal with So Many Possibilities?)

In Life is Strange — the original — you can either direct Max to get romantically involved with her friend Chloe or direct her to romance Warren, the geeky guy crushing on her, OR you could do neither one of those and just blow them all off. And at the end of the adventure? You can either choose to save Chloe's life (sacrificing the town of Arcadia Bay and potentially many of its citizens in the process) or rewind to the start of the game and let Chloe die, effectively erasing most of the narrative you experienced.

There are other choices that can have lasting impacts to the game, too, but none that really affect where Double Exposure brings us. Me? I also opted to either leave Max single or have her romance Warren, because I always felt like Max and Chloe were an oil-and-water combination that made no sense as a couple. But there's no denying that most of the fandom FELL IN LOVE with Max and Chloe, aka "Pricefield." (To the point that NOT being a fan of "Pricefield" is apparently worthy of harrassment. Click my "Ask" button to send hate mail!) That ship is also a core component of the entire comic book sequel series that follows on from the "sacrifice Arcadia Bay" ending!

So Deck Nine decided that the Pricefield fandom was so powerful, that they had to acknowledge it in the new sequel. And THAT'S a good choice! In "Double Exposure," you can indicate that either Chloe died because you chose to sacrifice her, OR you can indicate that you saved her and you guys got together.

So, first red flag: There is no option to save Chloe AND not also have Max get romantically involved with her. This is the first sign thing aren't going to go how we'd like. I don't think it would've been hard at all to offer dialogue options that indicated they WEREN'T in that kind of relationship. I realize Deck Nine isn't dealing with BioWare-on-Mass-Effect-3-level budgeting, but I'm not asking for much! It could've literally changed some text details you can unlock and maybe a couple lines here and there, THAT'S FUCKING IT.

But that's not the part most people are gonna be pissed about, because they're going to be much MORE upset that, if you DID save Chloe? Then GET THIS:

Chloe ultimately dumped Max. The girl who sacrified a whole town for her. YEAH.

And it's been years, seemingly, since they've been in touch.

Oh, and Chloe has gotten tight 'n flirty with fucking Veronica since then. Y'know... the queen bully/bitch of the first game? Who can largely be held responsible for what happens to Kate? THAT Veronica. (Some people online even report that Chloe and Veronica might in a relationship?!)

HO-HO-HO-LEE SHIT. Now THAT is a series of fucking fandom-burning choices if there ever were any

Of ALL the people who could've survived the storm in Arcadia Bay... this fucking bitch?!

Making matters even WORSE is that, for the first time in the franchise, the latest game in this narrative-driven choice-based adventure only has one ending. You are funnelled to a singular conclusion no matter what you do! Your choices don't matter much! HOORAY!

...........given that they're teasing future adventures with Max, though, I'm sure this is a logical business decision that makes such sequels easier to develop.

Do I think Deck Nine could've handled this better? Well, yeah. I realize that high-school relationships don't often weather the test of time, but MAX DESTROYED A TOWN AND PRESUMABLY LET HUNDREDS DIE TO SAVE CHLOE'S LIFE. That's gonna leave a major mark on their bond. And I don't think it would've been that hard to have Chloe and Max in a long-distance relationship that keeps Chloe out of the picture for this adventure and severely limits how much she's referenced so that it's easier to write a single cohesive narrative. Doesn't sound hard to me, anyway.

But that doesn't mean I think anyone should really be going after Deck Nine's staff for this. YES, somebody somewhere clearly fucked up along the way, but game development takes hundreds of people, and there's no telling what kind of trickle-down decisions led to where we wound up. Besides... given that Deck Nine is dealing with a Hail-Mary throw to try and save the franchise, I wouldn't be surprised if they had a much lower budget this time around than in the last entry. So it would make sense if this game only has one ending AND only acknowledges so many choices from the original game because they just... didn't have the funding to write and program all the variations we'd prefer to see. :(

Sadly, it DOES seem like this mess is resulting in harrassment and threats directed towards the Deck Nine crew. This was brought up by one of the lead creators of the original, who did note that DontNod wasn't involved with this game — and this kind of thing is exactly why he never wanted to do a direct sequel to the original. Nevertheless, he did condemn the harrassment. PLEASE don't be like this, people. (But then, what do I expect from a fandom that i've always found to be FULL of harrassment and hatred... ?)

At this point, am I going to play Double Exposure? Well HELL YES. In spite of everything I've outlined herein, I ABSOLUTELY want to see Max again and go on another adventure with her. I am a sucker-ass consumer, and their cynical ploy to get my money has succeeded.

But I think this is the best attitude to take:

If you picked "Sacrifice Arcadia Bay/Save Chloe" at the end of the first game and are a staunch Pricefield shipper, then your sequel is in the comics. I've read two volumes of them - they're really good! There's six volumes in total — TONS of narrative to soak yourself in Max's ongoing adventures with Chloe and their ship.

If you picked "Sacrifice Chloe/Save Arcadia Bay" at the end of the first game, Double Exposure is your sequel. It's about Max moving on from the tragedy and guilt of her past, it lets her find new romantic options... it just fits.

If you picked anything else (like saving Chloe but NOT wanting to romance her)... well, maybe your sequel will still exist in some form one day. Probably best to go to fanfic for now, though.

Good luck out there. Try to have fun with the games, and try to stay safe.

And try not to harrass people for their writing OR shipping preferences. :P

[pocket-lad]

CH 1- A Few Important Details

She faced down Human Beans. She faced down dinosaurs. What crazy thing could the world possibly throw at Adelaide next? Try another borrower and an adventure far beyond the walls.

A sequel to Only a Couple Days & Growing Pains. This work is going to be quite a bit different than previous stories, mostly because it's not directly based on a movie. I hope you enjoy!!

Masterpost ● Next

“Oh my God,” Adelaide breathed. She was really staring at a real-life borrower. She hadn’t seen anyone her size in over a decade!

Years seemed to pass in the silence between them, but the new person broke it first. “Come on!” she whispered urgently. “Are you crazy? There’s three whole Beans in that room!”

Adelaide sputtered. Where could she even start?

“What were you doing in there?”

“I, uh…I thought I saw…a mouse,” Adelaide half-lied.

The woman was pretty. She had wildly curly black hair and dark skin. Her big eyes were the color of chocolate, and she stood only slightly taller than Adelaide. “Well, they won’t be asleep forever,” she said. “What’s your name?”

“Adelaide.”

“Adelaide, I’m Ollie.”

“Do you live here?” Duh. Of course she lives here.

“Yeah, and I’ve never seen you around before. Where’d you even come from?” Ollie’s tone of voice wasn’t exactly suspicious. Hesitant, maybe.

“I just got here today.” It wasn’t technically a lie.

“I assume you plan on staying, then?”

“I’m not sure,” Adelaide admitted. It didn’t escape her mind that Ian and Sarah were getting serious. She always assumed it would either end badly or Sarah would move to Texas. She never considered that Ian would want to move here, but now that she was forced to think about it, she wasn’t so sure.

“Well, we have a place for you if you do.”

“Oh, thanks!” God, Adelaide forgot what it was like to be a borrower around other borrowers. They always helped those in need and always welcomed others with open doors, no questions asked. They had to stick together in such a large world.

“We should hurry while they’re still asleep. I’ll show you where the best food is, but really, you can find stuff pretty much anywhere. This Bean is super messy.” 

Adelaide laughed, remembering the way she pointed out the cluttered apartment straight to Sarah’s face. “Let’s go.” Ollie said, and she roughly guided Adelaide toward her thread that hung from the kitchen counter.

Adelaide blinked as all of the information sunk in. Ollie was a borrower. She lived in Sarah’s house. She was in the middle of borrowing. She didn’t know that the humans were friendly and she didn’t know that Adelaide regularly interacted with them. Adelaide decided she wanted to keep it that way for the time being, because honestly, she missed this. She missed the camaraderie, she even missed the thrill a little bit. Maybe it was selfish, but she played along anyway.

“You go up first,” Ollie said.

“I’m probably gonna be pretty slow,” Adelaide admitted, holding up her mess of a hand.

“Holy shit, what happened?!”

“I fell on it when Ia- when a Bean…” She closed her mouth. Less is more .

“Oh my God, that must have been terrible. I’m so sorry…” Ollie looked pitifully at Adelaide’s hand. Morbid curiosity nearly made her ask for details, but she respected her privacy, and now was not the time. “You should still go first. I don’t want to leave you stranded on the floor. Better to stick together.”

Guilt crept up on Adelaide. She wasn’t exactly lying, but whatever she was doing, it didn’t feel good. She felt like she was betraying Ollie’s trust. Ollie didn’t know her, and yet she was risking her life for her.

“Okay,” she said. She prepared herself to start climbing, but the sound of something massive shifting around stopped her in her tracks. Somebody was awake. This was about to go downhill very fast.

Ollie heard it too. “Change of plans,” she said, immediately dislodging her hook and coiling it around her arm.

Footsteps rumbled in the distance, but they were rapidly approaching. It may have been a vast distance for the borrowers to traverse, but they both knew it would take a Bean mere seconds to cross from the couch to the kitchen. They had no time. Adelaide would be surprised if they made it out of this one without being noticed.

Ollie took off, but looked back to see Adelaide rooted in place. She assumed the new borrower was in shock, or was simply too scared to move. She couldn’t imagine what happened to make a Bean crush her hand, but it couldn’t have been anything good. Regardless, they had to keep moving. Ollie sprinted back to grab Adelaide’s good hand and dragged her along.

***

Ian’s eyes cracked open at the sound of voices…Voices? Plural?

Shaking the grogginess off, he stretched and slowly inched toward the kitchen. He would have heard somebody come in, right? And the voice sounded too quiet to be human, which meant…

***

They weren’t going to make it. Ollie stopped and pulled out her knife. “Go without me. Just around the corner, there’s a hole that leads into the wall. Wait for me there, and if I don’t make it back…well, I’ll make it back.” She gave Adelaide a cocky smile, but her nervous eyes betrayed her.

Adelaide still didn’t move. She couldn’t leave Ollie to deal with this on her own, especially when it was almost definitely Ian headed their way.

“Go, stupid!” Ollie yelled, shoving Adelaide as hard as she could.

Adelaide, unprepared, fell to the ground.

***

Ian had just looked over the edge of the table in time to see two people, both around three inches tall, standing down on the floor. One was Adelaide. The other had just shoved Adelaide - hard - and brandished a knife.

Ian quickly bent down and snatched this new borrower up. With his other hand, he gently scooped Adelaide off the floor.

***

“Nonononononono,” Adelaide mumbled. This was going so wrong so fast. What sealed the deal was Ian’s inexplicable and frankly idiotic decision to reach for them both.

She braced herself like she usually did, but had no time to warn Ollie. She couldn’t even see what he was doing to Ollie from her vantage point, but she felt her own body slide into his warm palm and could only hope he was being as gentle with her.

Adelaide fought against Ian on principle. Obviously it was useless. She flew through the air and could only focus on keeping her hand from getting hurt worse.

When the movement ended, she found herself on the kitchen table. Looking around, no sign of Ollie. Then she looked up. Her jaw dropped.

Ollie was stuck in Ian’s fist, fighting for her life. Ian had taken her knife and set it down on the table beside Adelaide, and he knew to keep the new borrower angled away so she couldn’t bite him.

Adelaide didn’t think about how, if for some reason, Ian wanted to hurt another borrower, he knew exactly how to do so because of his experience with her. She thought back to all the times she explicitly told him what not to do, told him all the things that made her uncomfortable, not thinking for even a second that Ian would use this information to take advantage of a smaller being. This was her fault.

“Put her down!” Adelaide yelled, running up to Ian’s other hand that rested on the table. She kicked at it repeatedly to knock some sense into him.

“What’s going on?” he asked defensively. 

“Ian, she’s scared! Put her down! Now!”

“She pushed you!”

“She was saving me from you!”

Ian realized his mistake. In his attempt to protect his friend, he may have just scarred another borrower for life. Slowly, he set the girl down.

As soon as Ian’s hand opened, Ollie leapt away, scooping up her knife and pointing it up at him. “Adelaide, get behind me.” It sounded like she heard none of their conversation, too occupied with escaping.

Adelaide blinked but did as she was told. Ian regarded them both with utter confusion plastered across his giant face. He wasn’t often confused, and he certainly didn’t like it.

“Let us go,” Ollie demanded. The confidence in her voice was impressive. Only Adelaide could hear the slight falter in it.

“Um…okay,” Ian said, but he didn’t move. Adelaide knew this meant he was going to stay hands off and just observe, let them do whatever they wanted, but since he still sat there, it looked like he was still holding them captive. For all Ollie knew, he would just grab them when they attempted to escape.

“Yeah, let us go!” Adelaide echoed in support. She guessed she was keeping up the charade, then. She just hoped Ian would play along.

He didn’t say anything, but his brow furrowed. Adelaide sent him a look that said to just go with it and that she’d explain later. She knew her face was small and distant to him and therefore hard to read, but she was pretty sure he got the point.

Ollie didn’t take her eyes off Ian, but she whispered to Adelaide. “He doesn’t live here. I think he’s partnered with the Bean who does live here, which means we’ve probably got more incoming. Watch your back.”

Adelaide checked behind her, but as far as she could tell, Sarah and Kelly were still fast asleep.

It also turned out that Ian did not get her point. In fact, he interpreted it all wrong.

“Ahh, I’m uh…I’m going to get you!” he said half-heartedly, wiggling his fingers and smirking at how ridiculous his attempt at being the evil Bean sounded.

Ollie was more than confused. Was this some kind of game? His words indicated mal intent, but he didn’t sound very sincere.

Adelaide closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She looked Ian in the eye and shook her head, hoping that maybe he would get it this time.

Ian corrected himself. “Oh, um…what’s your name?” he asked the new borrower, but his tone was asking Adelaide if that was the right thing to say.

Ollie flinched when he looked at her. “I’m warning you,” she said, ignoring his question and raising her knife a little higher.

“That’s a - that’s a weird name…Warning me? For what?” This new borrower was obviously sacred, but she obviously wasn't in any danger, either. It was hard not to tease her, and it was even harder to keep a straight face.

“I’ll stab you.” Ollie said seriously. Her hand started to shake. Adelaide felt horrible.

“I see why you guys get along,” Ian chuckled. They were both so unnecessarily violent.

“No!” Adelaide blurted.

Ollie whipped her head back to Adelaide, a sudden spark of betrayal piling on top of her confusion, but she didn’t want to keep her attention off the Bean too long.

“What’d you want me to do?” Ian asked Adelaide, too impatient to play this game. He wanted to know what was going on. He wanted to know who this new person was. He hated being in the dark.

Ollie continued to look back and forth between them. She was suddenly very suspicious of Adelaide, so she repeatedly moved her knife from Ian to Adelaide and back. She wasn’t taking any chances.

“Do not point that at her,” Ian warned. He sat up a bit straighter, ready to protect his friend.

Ollie's knife dipped.

“Ian, don’t,” Adelaide said harshly. He was not going to threaten Ollie. She was just defending herself.

“I’m serious,” he said.

“So am I!”

“What’s going on?” Ollie yelled. The quick rise and fall of her chest indicated that a panic attack was fast approaching.

“Okay,” Adelaide held out her hands placatingly and slowly approached the trembling borrower. “Ollie, you’re safe. This is Ian. He’s my friend.”

“Bullshit,” Ollie spat.

“He is. I know you don’t believe me. I wouldn’t believe myself, either, if I hadn’t spent the past couple years with him.”

As Adelaide approached, Ollie backed up. Her eyes darted around, trying to find some sense of reality to latch onto. A borrower and a Bean? Friends? She backed toward the edge of the table, and Ian instinctively held his hand out behind her, just in case she fell.

Ollie sensed the massive presence and turned around. She screamed at the sight of a towering, enormous hand looming above and stumbled backwards towards Adelaide. That hand was going to grab her. It was going to take her away. Or it would crush her. She’d never see her family again.

Adelaide grabbed the woman’s shoulders, which made her jump. Ollie turned around again , feeling backed into a corner. There was nowhere to go.

“What? You’re - you’re his pet or something? You lure people out of the walls so Beans can snatch them up? Is that it?”

“God, no!” Adelaide said, sick even at the idea of such a thing. She realized that she wasn’t going to get anywhere with Ian hovering. “Ian, can you go literally anywhere else right now?”

Ian looked like he wanted to protest, but just shrugged and pushed his chair out from the table.

Ollie jumped and gripped her knife tighter at the sound of the chair scraping against the floor.

Ian sauntered over to the corner of the kitchen and leaned back against the counter with his arms crossed, watching the interaction from afar. Adelaide rolled her eyes. This wasn’t what she wanted, but it was as good as she was going to get.

Ollie watched with wide eyes. Adelaide just told the Bean what to do! And he listened!

Adelaide set her knife down on the table and kicked it away, showing she meant no harm. She hoped that wouldn’t backfire.

“Ollie, I never lied to you. I just…I left out some pretty important details,” she laughed. Ollie did not reciprocate. “I’m not his pet. We’re friends. His name is Ian-” (Ian waved) “-and he would never hurt you-”

“Then let me go,” Ollie interrupted. It seemed as though none of Adelaide’s words made it through to her. Hell, she could barely look at her, too distracted by the looming Bean.

“Okay,” Adelaide sighed. She wasn’t going to stop the borrower from leaving, but she was severely disappointed.

Ollie secured her hook on the table and turned to climb down, eyes never leaving Ian. If Adelaide was telling the truth, then the Bean wouldn’t stop her. Hopefully.

Adelaide dug her hook out as well. “Let me walk you to-”

“No,” Ollie said forcefully. She couldn’t deal with this right now. She needed time to think. And she certainly wasn’t going to let this borrower know where her home was, where her family was. Not when said borrower was allied with a Bean.

Adelaide froze in her tracks as her heart sank. She blew it. The first time she’d seen a borrower in over a decade and she blew it. All she could do was stand there and watch Ollie’s progress. She didn’t move even after the woman disappeared into the walls, using the entrance Adelaide happened upon earlier.

Small quakes on the surface of the table and the sound of shifting fabric signaled Ian’s approach. Only when he laid a finger on her shoulder did she move, shrugging him off and turning toward him. “Back off!” she shouted.

Ian was taken aback by the outburst. “Della-”

Adelaide ignored him, marching toward the edge of the table. She collected her knife, readied her hook, and started to climb down.

“Hey, maybe you shouldn’t-” Ian started, but was cut off by a very angry look from Adelaide, daring him to finish that sentence. Maybe you shouldn’t climb with your broken hand. He sighed. Both of them knew this was a bad idea, she knew this was a bad idea, which was what irritated him so much. She was going to hurt herself because she didn’t want him telling her what to do.

Adelaide tried to take deep breaths as she lowered herself down. She squeezed the thread with her legs and used her right hand to stabilize herself. Then, very slowly, eased the pressure of her legs, letting herself slide in a semi-controlled manner to the ground.

Silently, she coiled up her hook and shoved it back in her bag. She stomped over to the hole she watched Ollie disappear into. Adelaide’s intentions weren’t super clear even to herself, but she justified it as wanting cover. Or wanting a sense of familiarity. Something like that. Definitely not following Ollie.

“Della,” Ian called after her again. “Della!”

“What?!” Adelaide exploded, whipping around. She wavered a little when she had to look up at a skyscraper of a person, but she held her ground. Why were Bean’s heads always just a little higher than she thought? It was as if they grew a foot on purpose each time, just to intimidate her.

“Calm down, let’s talk about this… Uh, forgive me for being curious but there’s a whole - a whole new person on the floor sticking a, um, a knife at you. Perhaps maybe-”

Adelaide cut him off. “I want to be alone.”

Ian paused. “What?”

Oh. That wasn’t a clarifying ‘what’. He legitimately did not hear her, which felt like a real kick in the head. As if she didn’t already feel small, standing on the ground no taller than his ankles. “I said I want to be alone.”

Ian bit his tongue. “Okay.”

Adelaide took off toward the walls, running as fast as she could. Ian didn’t move the whole time, but she could feel his eyes tracking her. As soon as she made it inside, she collapsed into a seated position, catching her breath. God, Ian could be so thick sometimes!

Adelaide sat there for an indeterminate amount of time. She was right - she really did need the comfort of the walls. It had only been a couple days, but it felt like years had passed since she was in the walls back home. While these ones were not the same, they would suffice. As long as she had cover over her head and darkness to conceal herself, she would be fine. And there was the added bonus of cleanliness, thanks to the borrower(s?) who already lived there.

Adelaide said she wanted to wander the walls. Well, there was no time like the present. She hoisted herself up, dusted herself off, and began her journey into the unknown.

.

Next

[chaotic-goodsir]

For day 2 of this Hatchetverse series thing, here's part of the sequel to You Could Call This Luck that I've been trying and failing to finish. Turns out plotting a thing about time travel with multiple POVs and timelines is hard.

To avoid confusion: in this particular timeline, (most of) the events of the musicals didn't happen. Time Bastard did, though, because we all know Ted can't catch a break.

(Also sorry for the long post - I don't usually post fic like this directly to Tumblr, but since this is unfinished I didn't want to put it on Ao3 just yet)

*

Pete Lauter sits at the desk in his science classroom at Hatchetfield High School, trying to finish the last of the week's marking. His eyes are dry from staring at his tablet screen, and the hum of the heating units is starting to get on his nerves. His students' lab reports all blend into one after a while - most of them are clearly written by AI. Getting teenagers to write anything as unexciting as a lab report on their own these days is almost impossible. He's not sure why the school still requires it, but then who is he, a mere teacher, to question the relevance of the national curriculum? Only the guy who sees first-hand how badly it works for his students.

Pete doesn't hate his job, most of the time, but it can get exhausting. This particular evening, he's ready to go home, heat up yesterday's leftovers - maybe make a hot chocolate, why not? - and enjoy the Friday-night peace and quiet. Theo will be out somewhere with his friends, and Steph's away on highly-classified work business. It's the perfect time to finally start that sci-fi novel that's been sitting on his bedside table for weeks. He's craving some decent, interesting writing that isn't the work of a teenager or a robot.

Sounds like a plan, he thinks, saving the report he's been working through and switching the tablet to sleep mode. He'll get the last of the marking done on Sunday night. For now it's future-Pete's problem.

He pulls on his jacket - his favourite, the one with the elbow patches that Steph bought for him last Christmas - and is about to pack the tablet away when the screen blinks into life again.

Ruth Fleming's icon (a photo from her honeymoon in Europe, Ruth and her wife smiling in front of a clear blue sky) flashes onto the screen. It's no surprise that she's still at work - drama club starts in an hour, and she has rehearsals to direct. Pete sighs and taps the icon, hoping she isn't about to ask him to help out again.

'Hey Ruth,' he says. 'I was just about to head home - do you need something?'

Ruth sounds a little out of breath, the way she always does when she's anxious.

'Pete, thank god you're still here. You need to come to the north wing staffroom, now. It's your son.'

Pete freezes. 'Theo?'

'Of course it's Theo. Do you have another son? Look, I don't wanna worry you, but he's hurt. You should come quick.'

'What do you mean, hurt?' Pete asks, panic rising. What is Theo even doing in school, on a Friday night? Something stupid and dangerous, clearly, if he's managed to hurt himself.

Pete swings his backpack onto one shoulder, carrying the tablet in his free hand as he rushes out of the room. He doesn't bother to lock the classroom door.

'How badly? Like, ambulance bad?'

'I don't know. I don't think so. But he's talking crazy.'

He's talking, Pete thinks, okay. He feels bad for thinking it, but he's not 100% convinced this isn't just Theo pulling a prank. He wouldn't put it past his son to do this kind of thing for attention. Theo Lauter is a lot of things, but a well-adjusted teenager doesn't seem to be one of them, no matter what Pete and Steph try.

Ruth knows that, of course, and the worry in her voice is making Pete worry too. She'd see through a typical Theo prank pretty easily. Which means this is probably real.

'I'm on my way.' He tells Ruth. 'I'll be five minutes.'

He hangs up and races down the corridor, cutting through the courtyard to get to the North Wing. The staffroom is upstairs, in the English and Languages corridor. When he gets there, the door is wedged open. Ruth is by the sofa, trying to comfort a teenage boy who looks a lot like his son.

But there's no sign of Theo's trademark denim jacket or band t-shirt. This kid is wearing a white shirt, suspenders, and bowtie, all stained with - Pete realises in horror - a concerning amount of blood. Instead of Theo's ponytail, this kid has his hair down, shoulder length, pinned back to keep it out of his face. And this kid is wearing glasses, with a crack across one lens.

Theo has his mother's eyesight. He's never needed glasses in his life.

Either Theo's pranks have reached a whole new level of elaborate, or this is not Pete's son at all. This kid looks more like-

Well, he looks more like him. Like Pete himself, when he was 25 years younger.

Not for the first time, Pete considers that he really needs to move his family out of Hatchetfield. Only in this messed-up town would something like that even be a possibility.

The kid notices him standing in the doorway, and his eyes go wide behind his cracked glasses. Then he says something that disproves neither the actual-time-travel theory nor the Theo-pulling-a-prank one, but spooks Pete either way.

'...Ted?'

*

Agent Stephanie Lauter is in a highly classified meeting at the PIEP HQ when the smartwatch around her wrist starts to buzz.

She glances at it, annoyed, and sees her husband's icon blinking at her. Pete knows she's busy today. He wouldn't call unless it was something urgent. He's one of the only contacts who can call her through the HQ's high tech digital barrier system.

Maybe it's just an accident. She swipes the icon away. If it's urgent, he'll call back.

She waits for a pause in General Lee's presentation, then raises a hand.

'I'm sorry, sir. My husband is trying to call me - I think it's urgent.'

'Well, you had better take it then,' Lee says, with his characteristic earnestness. No matter the situation, the old General has a way of always seeming that he knows more than anyone else about what's going on. It's a little disconcerting.

He waves towards the door. 'Good luck, Agent Lauter. I hope your family are all safe and well.'

She thanks him, apologises again, and leaves quickly. Outside the meeting room, a security guard in a bulletproof vest watches her pace anxiously up and down the corridor as she returns Pete's call.

'Steph,' he says when he picks up. There's an anxious note in his voice that she does not like the sound of. 'Sorry, I know you're at work. Are you busy right now?'

'It's fine,' she says. 'What's wrong?'

'It's Theo,' Pete says, then pauses. 'Well, no, it's not Theo. At least he says he's not, and I think he's telling the truth. I... I don't really know how to explain this, Steph. It's gonna sound crazy.'

'Breathe, babe,' Steph says, because Pete is talking at about a hundred miles an hour now. 'I work for PIEP. I can cope with crazy.'

'Okay.' Pete says, taking a breath. 'Okay.'

'Is Theo alright?'

'Yeah. At least I hope so. He's at his friends, probably. I'm at school, and there's a kid here that looks like him. Ruth thought it was Theo, and he's covered in blood - not hurt, thank god, just covered in it - so she called me. But it's not. Not Theo, I mean.'

'What? Who is it?'

'I think it's me.'

To anyone else, in any other context, those words wouldn't make sense. Pete is a 41 year old man, and their son is 16. It would be insane to mistake one for the other. Not to mention that Pete is Pete. This kid that's shown up covered in blood can't possibly also be him. One person can't possibly be in two places at once.

But in Hatchetfield, anything is possible. And then, on top of that, there's the Spankoffski Effect.

Steph has often wished she could tell Pete more about the work she does for PIEP. About the data that shows his brother Ted's disappearance, back in 2019, wasn't just an unexplained tragedy but a large-scale temporal incident affecting multiple universes. Pete doesn't even know that there are multiple universes. It would probably break his little nerd heart if he knew she wasn't telling him.

Nor does Pete know about how, the day she told the now-retired General MacNamara that she and Pete were engaged, his congratulations came with a warning:

'By all means, marry a Spankoffski if you wish, Miss Lauter. But a word of advice. I'd strongly suggest you don't take that name, and don't give it to your children.'

When she asked him why, he'd told her that was classified. It wasn't until she graduated from training that she first heard about the Spankoffski Effect, and put two and two together.

In every timeline known to PIEP researchers, something with the power to sever a person from the flow of time itself has an interest in - no, more like an obsession with - Pete's brother, and possibly his entire family.

She's not sure she could tell her husband that part even if she had clearance.

And now Pete's younger self has appeared at the school where he teaches. Steph does not like the sound of that at all.

'You're sure it's not Theo pulling a prank? I wouldn't put it past him.'

'If it is, he deserves an oscar. And this kid has my phone, Steph. From years ago. With my medical alert details, everything. I don't think Theo would go that far.'

Probably not, no, but she wants to be absolutely sure. 'Have you called Theo? Checked where he is?'

'Shit,' Pete says, then catches himself for swearing in front of a student. 'I mean, uh, shoot, no. I should have done that.'

She tries adding Theo to the call they're already on. The line rings out, so she tries again. No answer.

'Steph, if you're calling him, I can't hear it ringing. I don't think this kid has Theo's watch.'

A message appears on Steph's watch screen:

< Fuck off, mom, I'm busy :) >

'Well,' She says, wondering briefly about nature and nurture and whether it's some failure of parenting that turned her son into such a little shit, 'our son just messaged me. Unless he can do that with only his mind, I don't think he's with you.'

'Okay,' Pete says. Then, 'shit.' He doesn't catch himself this time.

Shit is right, Steph thinks. 'Wait there. Keep the kid calm. Stay calm yourself, okay? I'll come to you.'

She doesn't tell him she's planning to bring PIEP agents with her, but he's probably figured that out already.

'Aren't you in DC?'

'Yeah, so you'll have to hold out for a few hours. Anything weird happens - anything else weird - you call me straight away, okay?'

'Okay. Yeah. Love you.'

'Love you too.'

Steph hangs up. She pinches the bridge of her nose with one hand and groans, wondering why she never had the sense to move her family out of Hatchetfield.

Would that have helped, though? If something from the Black and White is after Pete, couldn't it find him anywhere, if it wanted to?

The security guard is staring at her.

'Everything okay, ma'am?'

'Yeah,' she says. 'I'm fine. Just - don't ever marry a Spankoffski, no matter how cute he is.'

The guard blinks, clearly baffled.

'Um... right.'

[hollywoodxwhore]

Ours | Chapter 18

Colson x Presley (Original Female Character)

Synopsis: Presley and Colson fell in love accidentally, but they were meant to be. Now that all the obstacles have been removed, they're moving in together in LA. Now, they have all the time in the world for Colson to teach Presley all of the things he knows. This fic is the sequel to Mine, which can be found in my masterlist!

Warnings/Content: A little more angst but it's wrapping up I promise, mentions of suicide, mentions of panic attacks, mentions of not eating due to mental health issues, smut (18+), oral sex (f receiving), desperate sex, col coming in his pants, swearing, squirting, fluffy sweet aftercare

This is the final chapter of Ours (excluding the epilogue but it's super short) and I'm so grateful for everyone's love and feedback for this series. If you don't already know, there will be a third part and I'm so excited to write it. I hope you all love it!

Presley

I can’t believe I lost it that badly. 

I sleep for hours on Colson’s chest. When I wake up, he’s asleep, too, and I study his face, memorizing his features over and over again. The tightness in my chest is not normal. This is not just depression or anxiety. This is something deeper, and that really scares me. 

I wish like hell that it was easy to move past it, but how am I ever supposed to let go of the fact that if I hadn’t left Colson, he would never have put the wheels in motion to kill himself? How can he say it isn’t my fault – how can anyone say that? I know they’d all blame me if Colson had gone through with it. I can see it now – everyone trying to be sensitive at the funeral, but someone would lose it, point their finger at me, and say, “She’s the reason he killed himself!” 

God, I don’t want to have another panic attack. I’m already so weak and exhausted from the first one. My entire body hurts, my head throbbing. I haven’t eaten anything today, nor have I had any water, and I feel like almost every physical need anyone could have is plaguing me right now. 

But I can’t let go of my husband.

My mouth is so dry that I can barely breathe. My stomach twists with nausea, an ironic reaction to hunger, and my bladder is so full that it hurts. But despite all this, despite knowing my water bottle is right there on the table, that a toilet is right around the corner, I can’t get off of Colson. Jesus. Am I going to piss myself lying here because I’m so attached? Get it together, I say to myself, and even though it makes my blood pressure hike, I extricate myself from Colson’s arms. 

After emptying my bladder, I chug down half of my water bottle before taking a breath, and then I drink the rest of it. Colson starts to stir as I drink. He blinks his eyes open and then looks down at himself, eyes widening a little with worry when he doesn’t see me. He snaps his head over and relaxes as soon as he sees me. “Hey,” he rasps sleepily. 

“Hey,” I say, voice small. 

“Did you get some sleep?” he asks. He looks so endearing and adorable right now, his bleached hair all fluffy from sleep, his long eyelashes shadowing tired eyes. 

I nod. “Yeah. I’m starving, though,” I admit.

Guilt crosses Colson’s features for a millisecond. “You haven’t been eating,” he remarks, almost as if he’s just now realizing it himself. With that, he hops off the couch and lifts me into his arms. I can’t help but smile a little, wrapping my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck like a koala bear. 

Colson sets me on the countertop and pecks my lips softly before turning to open the fridge. “What sounds good?” 

I’m weirdly relaxed, despite what happened earlier. I’m not hiding anything from Colson anymore, and that in and of itself is a relief. “Anything,” I say.

Colson nods. “Got it.” 

Colson makes me crispy chicken cutlets, a salad, and garlic mashed potatoes. I’m shocked by how much I’m actually able to eat – two full plates. The food is incredible and I feel so much better after eating. We eat on the floor in the living room with a candle lit, passing a joint back and forth. We talk about everything but the bad shit, and before I know it, Col has me laughing and smiling. For the first time in forever, it finally feels like us again. Our journey is far from over, but what I do know is that I don’t have to do it alone. 

The next day, I sleep in. I wake up to the sound of Colson’s voice. He’s on the phone, clearly trying to be quiet, but I know he’s still in our bedroom because he didn’t want to leave me. 

“Thank you. Alright, bye,” he says, ending the phone call. He glances over at me and when he sees I’m awake, he comes over and crawls back into bed. “Hi, love,” he murmurs, wrapping around me.

“Hey,” I say, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. “Who was that?”

“My psychiatrist,” he says. “We’re going to go see her today and get you some help, okay?” His voice is gentle and so kind, and even though it's a little scary, I relax. 

“You’ll be with me, right?” I ask.

Colson nods, nuzzling into my shoulder. “Of course. I’m not going anywhere.”

We’re quiet for a moment and then I roll over in his arms and look up at him. He wears nothing but a pair of boxer briefs that hug his butt perfectly. I haven’t felt desire since the first day he came home, but all at once, it rushes in so intensely that I feel a little dizzy with it. Using my legs, I pull his thigh between mine. Colson arches a brow but lets me pull him closer.

“Baby?” he questions. He doesn’t need to, though. He knows me well enough to know exactly what I want. His throat bobs as he swallows. “Are you sure?”

I nod, suddenly feeling absolutely desperate for him. “I miss you,” I say quietly. “Just want to be close to you.”

“Don’t do it because you think it’s what I want,” he murmurs, tucking my hair behind my ear. “Just holding you is enough for me.”

Boldly, I slip my hand between our bodies and grip his cock, already hardening in his boxers. I arch a brow, smirking just a little. His words definitely don’t match his body’s reaction. “Well, it’s not enough for me,” I say, and with that, my husband’s eyes darken. I can see the moment when he gives in. 

“Then get on your back,” he says. I do as I’m told and Colson instantly disappears beneath the blankets. I let out a shaky breath in anticipation of what’s coming. Colson slips between my thighs, big hands lifting each one over his shoulder at a time. I fell asleep in a big t-shirt of his and no panties, and when he notices, the breath he lets out is so warm it makes me shiver.

I lift the blankets to look down at him and his eyes lock on mine, his pupils so wide the iris is almost invisible. He brings his gaze to my pussy and bites his lip as he studies me. When his thumb lightly brushes over my clit, my hips twitch and Colson chuckles low. “Sensitive,” he murmurs, and then he presses a kiss to the crease between my thigh and my pussy. I hold a whimper in my throat as my legs start to tremble with anticipation. Just having him between my legs has me so aroused that I’m sure I’m already wet.

Colson presses a tender kiss to my clit, sweet and loving, and the gesture makes my breath catch in my throat. His eyelashes flutter as his eyes close, and the next kiss is open-mouthed and wet and hot, as are the ones that follow. Just his kisses can undo me, can make me so wet that it ruins my panties, and when he kisses between my legs, it heightens the experience tenfold. Sparks fly, electricity zinging through my body at the sensations his talented mouth can bring.

When my husband moans with my pussy in his mouth, my spine arches off the bed and my hands fist the sheets, effectively dropping the blanket. I can't see him anymore so I scramble to push the comforter out of the way. The morning sunlight peeks around the curtains, illuminating his white-blonde hair and eyelashes. He is a devil that looks like an angel when he takes care of me and I don’t think I’ll ever get over the way he affects me.

I gasp when Colson’s hands brace beneath my thighs and shove them up, lifting my lower half off the bed. His dark eyes lock on mine as he moves his tongue lower, swiping over everything before returning to my clit. I tense up, a little surprised. We’ve of course had anal, but he’s never had his mouth anywhere near my ass. I never saw the appeal; why do that when I have a much more sensitive clit right there? But it’s so erotic and almost…forbidden and it takes my breath away. Colson repeats his motions, moaning against me before his tongue lands on my clit and twists around it in circles.

“H-holy fuck,” I choke out, shoulders lifting off the bed in response to the pleasure. My stomach is rock hard with tension, so hard that I’m starting to tremble. Colson can’t stop moaning against my pussy and the vibrations are making me see stars. The room heats and my vision starts to flutter around the edges. I’m practically hyperventilating as he has his way with me, showing me just how perfectly he can use his mouth.

Half of me wants to beg him to put his fingers inside me, but I’m curious to see if he can actually get me to come without putting anything inside of me. If he can do it with just his mouth. As his plush lips close around my swollen clit and suck as his tongue continues to work, my stomach starts to knot up, telling me that, yes, my husband can make me come with just his mouth.

“Cols,” I practically wheeze, grabbing a handful of his hair. “Holy shit, baby, ‘mgonna come.” My words slur together; I’m drunk with pleasure as my pussy starts to clench around nothing. My heart races and I let my head fall onto the pillow as tingles creep up my spine and my stomach ties itself in such a tight knot that it almost hurts. And then, the knot explodes in my belly as I let it all go.

My body moves erratically beneath his mouth, even as his hands hold my hips down. I sob at the pleasure, hips twitching upwards as my clit throbs on his tongue. I’m just starting to come down when Colson comes up, slotting himself between my legs. He presses his clothed cock to my aching clit and grinds forward. I look up at his face and notice how tightly his brow is knitted together. His lips are parted as he pants and the way he ruts against me is so familiar that I reach down and grab his ass to help work him towards his own rapture.

“Fuckfuckfuuuuuck,” he chokes out. “Baby–” I watch his face, reveling in his unabashed pleasure as he comes from nothing other than giving me head and a little bit of grinding. It will never not shock me how I, some girl who was a virgin less than a year ago, can get Machine Gun Kelly, a well-known sex god, to come in his pants. And I love every fucking second of it.

Colson relaxes on top of me, our hearts fluttering against each other, and then he lifts his head to kiss me hard, so hard that my pussy already aches for him again. “I’m not done, I promise,” he breathes. “Just couldn’t help it. Your taste, your sounds, fuck.” His words melt into a moan. “Love you so fuckin’ much.”

“Get on your back,” I say, touching his cheek. Colson’s eyes sparkle. He loves when I ride him and I love it just as much, but I’ve got something else in store for him. I’ve been doing my research, or at least I was before everything went to shit. There’s something I’ve been wanting to try forever and now I finally have that chance.

I drop my shirt to the floor and help him out of his boxer briefs, and for a second, I’m tempted to slip my hand into his boxers, to feel what I did to him. Jesus, Colson has made me filthy. I drop the soiled boxers onto the floor and climb over top of him. There’s still cum on his tip and smeared slightly on his belly, and my eyes darken. I can’t help myself, moving down his body to lick up the leftover spend from his skin. Colson shudders and moans and his cock twitches, already hard again. 

He reaches for me and I come up, but then I turn around. “Holy fuck,” Colson says when he realizes what I’m doing. I smirk as I crawl over his body and position his cock at my entrance. It’s a little difficult to situate at first; I’m so used to the way he fits perfectly when I’m riding him the other way. Reverse cowgirl is more difficult than it looks but I’ll do it for Col. 

With his help, I finally sink down on him, and while it isn’t the most comfortable position for me, I don’t care. Because Colson’s hands have a bruising grip on my hips and he’s already moaning shamelessly behind me. I tip my head back, letting my long hair graze his chest, and he grips onto it, tugging. I moan at the slight roughness and try to move, but it’s tough, until Colson bends his knees, giving me his thighs to use for leverage. 

When I start to grind back and forth, Colson curses loudly. “Th-that’s it, baby, h-holy fuck,” he says shakily. “So good, Pres. so fucking – oh shit – perfect.” 

I love how powerful I feel, unwinding my man the way I am. “Colson,” I moan as pleasure starts to creep in. I won’t be able to come like this, but that’s okay. 

After a few minutes, Colson slows my motions, and I look back at him over my shoulder. He grins at me. “As much as I love this, I want to see your face,” he confesses, and I melt a little as I lift myself off of him and turn around. But instead of letting me ride him, Colson flips our bodies over and settles his weight onto me. With a slow grind of his hips, his cock slides back inside of me until it’s home. His hands slide beneath my ass and squeeze, pulling me closer to him, and with his eyes on mine, he starts fucking me hard.

Pleasure rushes in so fast that I can’t stop the moans bubbling out of me. I can feel myself getting wetter around him as he pounds into me, our skin slapping together. “Colson,” I whimper. “Fuck, baby–”

“Yeah,” Colson grits out, squeezing my ass even harder. “Fuck, I love you. So good to me.” He presses kisses along my collarbone and over my shoulder. My eyes are practically crossed at this point, the pleasure so overwhelming in the best way.

“H-harder,” I manage to choke out, because I know he can go harder. He lets go of my ass and lifts up a little, planting his hands beside my head. He brings his legs up and bends them, sliding them beneath my thighs, and then he starts to fuck me at lightning speed. “Oh god,” I wail, digging my nails into his shoulders as he absolutely pounds into me. I’m going to feel this later and I love every second. 

He keeps up his rapid pace but manages to get a hand between us to play with my clit, and that’s what sends me over the edge. A scream rips from my throat as I come so hard that I swear to god I black out for a second. It’s the best orgasm I’ve had in a long time, and Colson always makes me come hard. With that, Colson flips me over, lifts my hips, and slams back inside me. I scream again, squirting all over his cock and thighs, and Colson growls, “Fuck yes.”

I’m practically drooling on the bed at this point, Colson's hands being the only things keeping my hips up. “I’m close,” he manages. “Fuck, Presley, oh my god–” He thrusts four more times, slamming his hips against my ass, and then he seizes up with a gasp as he buries himself as deep as he can possibly go, painting my insides white. His orgasm triggers one more of my own, and that’s it – my legs give out and I splay on the bed helplessly, unashamedly. 

Colson stays flush against me for a few moments as we both come down, breathing hard and sweating. “Christ. That was fucking amazing,” he says, voice gravelly as he kisses my shoulder.

“Yes it was,” I croak, my walls still fluttering around him. When he pulls out, I can’t help but whine, and instantly, his cum trickles out of me. I shiver at the feeling and Colson moans, sitting back on his heels to watch it happen. He drags two fingers over my pussy and I hiss in overstimulation. 

“Sorry,” he rasps, pulling his hand back. “Shower?”

“Shower,” I say weakly, reaching for him. 

In the shower, Colson is pure love and care and safety. He hums while he washes every inch of my body with loving, gentle touches, and I let him. He washes himself quickly and steps out of the shower first, holding up a warm towel for me. He wraps me up in it and hugs me tightly, pressing a long kiss to the top of my head. He takes his time drying me off, too, looking up at me with love in his eyes. I let myself be cared for; we both know I need it right now. 

When we’re both dry, Colson scoops me up and carries me back to bed. “Your appointment is in about an hour and a half,” he says. “Will you get dressed while I make you something to eat?”

I hesitate. I’m scared of him leaving the room, leaving me alone. His expression softens and he thumbs my cheek. “Let’s both get dressed and go to the kitchen together,” he says. I nod gratefully. I’m sitting on the bed and he’s standing, but I reach for him. He hugs me, wrapping long arms around my body, and I slide mine around his neck, holding him close. “I love you, Presley,” he murmurs. 

“I love you too, Colson,” I mumble against his neck, closing my eyes. After a few moments, I let him go and he smiles softly at me. We both get dressed and head to the kitchen where Colson lifts me onto the countertop and presses a kiss to my nose. I can’t help but giggle and he winks at me as he turns to the fridge for food.

As my husband makes us breakfast, I feel a wave of calmness wash through me. Everything is going to be okay. Colson is going to make sure of that.

Taglist: @triplexdoublex@jaxbreaker@mgklove99xx@jinx-on-mars-19xx@iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker@anonymousme86@whiteleoqueen@feroniakutenpuu@hxllywoodwhxree

[therealslimshakespeare]

my dearest darlingest marina i need you to know you have broken me quite thoroughly and i might never ever forgive you for it as long as we both shall live ! ❣️

to clarify- ive been saving "let's fall out of love" to read later ever since you posted it cuz i didn't feel ready- didn't think i was emotionally stable enough to read it then. well, tonight ive been clearing out my list of unread fics from last year aND GODDAMN WAS I EVER RIGHT ABOUT THAT.!!!

started getting all weepy and shaky before that first courthouse bathroom conversation and i didn't ever stop 😭 sobbed so hard and for so long at the unfairness of it all (for both of them !) i gave myself an asthma attack and had to stop reading.. what really broke me was e's bittersweet and somewhat detached realization on the courthouse steps that all their kids had flocked to laney during the divorce. couldn't stop thinking abt how badly i would've wanted to tell jesse off for being sharp to his daddy, and the knowledge that elaine COULDN'T, that it wasn't quite over yet and she still had to save face for a bit longer despite how much it killed them both, despite being the only person who could truly understand just how deep elvis was hurting right then and having been the one who'd made a whole life out of loving him hard.......... the idea of him resigning himself to having lost that forever (false) and her having to go against everything in her nature to let him ache a while longer,, oh it just shattered my spirit to bits right then and there. oh god im gonna start crying again just thinking about how lonely they both made each other 💔💔💔

im literally inconsolable, even with the reasoning behind it/ knowing how it ends beforehand, and having those future timeline fics to fall back on did nOT SAVE ME like . dear GOD woman how is that even possible?!?? if i had any shred of humanity left in my body id wax poetic for three more paragraphs abt how that speaks to your truly absolutely outstanding talent as an author and worldbuilder, but alas i think i cried out everything that was keeping me sane sometime in the last half hour and now i have to go lie facedown on the floor in my hallway and die abt it all instead 👍 fantastic work as always i love all your work so much forever etc etc 💗💗💗💗💗💗💗

ps: it took me the better part of an hour to type all this out since ive lost the water content of approxinately a small ocean w my tears and am doing physically poorly in response 🫠🫠 so thanks for ur patience in this trying time 😔🙏

I spun around in circles upon reading this like my poor coon dog when she had a stroke -jovially of course. Like this is the stuff every writer dreams of getting for feedback but holy smokes, your talent for screaming? Beyond my wildest dreams. I’ve always told you how much I appreciate your time and enthusiasm to tell your thoughts Mary Hope, and now is no exception. My babe and co-author @elvisabutler deserves the pleasure of reading what we’ve wrought, as well. I’ll be halving all your medical and psychiatric expenses with her. 😏

Tbh, despite knowing both imminent and longterm reconciliation was to happen after this segment, we were just as cut up about tearing them apart as you were to read it. In fact, it was worse than all the lead up fics where the passive aggressive accumulation of grievances came across as hurts but ultimately only aggravations. This is just…PAIN. Funny how what was untenable before a tragedy suddenly appears to have been idyllic after it. Anyways.

Thank you for reading, here’s some Kleenex, albuterol and do know the sequel to this divorce is in drafts, so not finished AT ALL but it is in the works.

Not that it’ll hurt much less than this one. 😈

[huffle-dork]

A Surprise for a Glitch

Some hope for y’all- Alt’s Villain Arc won’t be forever :)

This is a sequel to Another Birthday but this time happy!!

Masterpost | More Swapboys

The bell on the door of the bakery chimed quietly as a young brunette man opened the door and then turned back to quietly thank the baker behind his hand stitched mask.

The door shut behind him as Alt Brody stood in front of the shop and smiled at the goods he bought. A green and blue chocolate cupcake. Perfect for a little birthday treat.

Something rustled in his backpack and soon a fluffy head popped out and meows loudly. Glitches had gotten so much bigger in the past year- the days of her hiding in Alt’s jacket were pretty much over. He laughed and pet her head. She was still a runt and pretty small for a 1 year old cat, but she was perfect for Alt.

“Good job hiding out for so long, girl~ I know all those things probably smelled so good!” He chuckled as he pushed his finger towards her and the black kitten rubbed her face against it with a loud purr. “We can share some treats when we get home tonight.”

He thought for a second of putting the cupcake in his bag- but Glitches was a little food thief. He didn’t trust her. So he adjusted his backpack and started walking down the street, pulling on his headphones to listen to some music.

As he walked- he thought about where he was this last year. Alone on that rooftop- still learning basic spells, convinced he could change the past. Now- he didn’t need to worry about that anymore. He had his friends back, his brother and… things had been good.

He was still feeling guilt and shame for becoming Impulse- but that was something he could fix… probably.

Today wasn't the day to think about that though. Just for today, he was determined not to worry and stew in his own thoughts too much. He did not need another night of drinking that Chase had to save him from…

Though god- going out for a night at a pub would be so fun. He’d gone with Henrik a few times but- maybe things had still been too hectic since they last saw Magnificent…

After all- Alt couldn’t even see his friends today… They all said they were busy. Chase had a patrol and intel of a bust to keep an eye on. Henrik had rehearsals, Jackie had his kids- think there was something at the school or something-, Dr. J had his patients… then going home to his kid.

Alt had hoped so badly that this was a day they could make free though. But, he didn’t push it. Hell, he didn’t even tell anyone it was his birthday. In his head- he was convinced the others still needed space from him. He just… had to take it slow- rebuild some stuff.

But, that didn’t make having another birthday alone not totally suck.

He sighed heavily and studied his cupcake again, then looked out towards the roofs of the skyscrapers around him. Despite the circumstances last year… sharing a cupcake on the rooftop with Glitches wasn't a bad tradition to start.

He smiled a bit to himself and then looked back at Glitches, “Which building looks good to you, Glitz? You can choose this time!”

Glitches mrrmphed and tilted her head, looking around at the buildings.

But, before Alt can try to interpret or make sense of Glitches’s movements, Alt’s phone suddenly started to ring. He blinks and then fishes out his phone. It’s… Jackie? Didn’t his kids have stuff tonight.

He swiped the screen and answered, “Hey? Jackie?”

“Alt! Oh thank god I caught you!”

Why did he sound so distressed?

Alt’s instincts were on high alert, his muscles tensing, his body glitching ever so slightly. “Jackie? What’s wrong?”

“Y-You gotta get over to my apartment quick, dude!” It was really hard to tell if Jackie was panicked or… laughing? “There’s s-something-!”

Then, the line went dead.

Alt’s heart stopped. There’s no way- Magnificent wasn’t going after them already was he?? Or maybe some enemy of Bro had found Jackie and his kids? There was no time to speculate! He had to go help!

Alt tried to picture Jackie’s apartment, then sprinted into an alley so he could glitch out of sight. He threw his cupcake in his bag and whispered a warning to Glitches before he disappeared in a quick zap of light.

He re-appeared right outside of Jackie’s flat’s door. He tried to listen for any signs of trouble but- it was completely silent. The glitch paled- that was probably bad.

Taking a quick breath and bracing himself, Alt bust open the door.

There was something glowing in front of him and he braced himself, lighting blue green magic at his fingers. Then, his eyes widened as he realized-

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY ALT!”

All his friends were in front of him. Chase was smiling warmly, out of his hero costume for once and dressed comfy. Henny was grinning brightly at him, and in his hands was a lit birthday cake. Jackie was laughing, hoisting up a giggling and excited Kelsie. And Dr. J was smiling softly, beaming at the sight of the younger brody.

Alt felt his breath leave him. “W… What…?”

“It is a surprises party, stürmisch!” Henrik exclaims excitedly, “Have you also not have one before? I did not even have many birthday parties in mein time! This is so exciting, ja???”

“Alright Hen, maybe tone it down just a smidge,” Chase laughed, patting his shoulder. He smiled at his brother.

“Hi Alt! Hiii! Happy Birthday!!” Kelsie squealed excitedly. Jackie laughs and looks at Alt apologetically, “Sorry I lied to ya, dude- Wasn’t sure you’d come if I didn’t make it seem serious! And this lil munchkin almost gave me away!” He bounces the kid on his shoulders, causing her to scream laugh and cling to his head.

“H…How… did you you…?” Alt was still staring in slight shock, voice quiet. “I… I didn’t even-”

“Chase told us,” Dr. J chuckled then gave Alt a playful scold, “Did you really think we’d let you spend your first birthday with us all alone?”

Alt flushed, messing with his hair, “I… I dunno what… i thought…”

A fuzzy bundle poked back through Alt’s open bag and mewled loudly. Kelsie gasped and scrambled to get off Jackie’s shoulders. “GLITCHESSS!”

“Come out of the hall and close your mouth Alt!” Chase called, “The wax is gonna get all over your cake bro!”

Alt glitches slightly and then hurriedly glitches to be at the table as Henrik sets down the cake. He looks wide-eyed as the rest of his friends gathered around the table, smiling at him. It was almost overwhelming. But it was also… really really nice.

Then, Alt winced, “...you’re not gonna sing, are you?”

“Well- now we’re not,” Jackie laughed good naturedly.

Chase comes up beside him, lightly touching his shoulder and then gestures towards the candles. “Go on, lil bro! Make a wish!”

Alt blinked owlishly at the cake. He glitched a bit in nervousness. He… he didn’t know what to wish for.

But, that was good wasn’t it? For once in his life… he had everything he wanted. He smiles and then blows out the candles, listening to his friends cheer with a happy and warm heart.

The others were quick to shower Alt in presents, overwhelming the glitch even more. Dr. J had gotten him so many new clothes, shaking his head as he spied Alt’s favorite joggers that were on the verge of falling apart. Henrik got him a halloween black cat squishmallow, very excited he found something that looked like Glitches. The kitten in question had claimed it as a bed pretty soon, so it was clear it was a great success. Kelsie had drawn him a lovely picture of him and her together, with Glitches too of course!

And Jackie and Chase had pitched in together to get something big, Alt’s own switch. They even managed to get one that was his favorite colors, green, blue and black.

Jackie clapped him on the back and grins, “Didn’t know what games you’d want so tomorrow we can go to the shop and getcha whatever you want! On Chase, of course.”

Chase crossed his arms and smiled, but had some of that hero authority in his voice. “Granted- you return any switches that you’ve stolen-”

Alt flushed and then pouted at Chase, “Man c’mon!”

“Alt-” Chase’s tone got even more serious and the glitch pouted more. Chase rolls his eyes, “You can’t even use the stolen ones! One, you always complain the games are crap- or the system is glitched and two You try to charge them with your magic but you just end up passing out!”

The glitch gasped and then pointed incredulously at Chase, “Hey! I told you that in confidence during a very drunken stupor! How dare you use that against me!”

The rest of the party laughed at the brothers’ antics, going to help themselves to cake.

Chase pulls Alt in to give him a noogie, making Alt glitch in protest. But then, Chase hugs him tight and for a second it sounds like he’s choked up. “... Happy Birthday Anti… its good to have you back.”

Now, Alt has tears in his eyes and he’s still for a second in Chase’s arms, taking in his words. Then, he nudges him hard in the chest and glitches away while cackling. Chase shouts out and then tries to wrestle his cheeky little brother to the ground. Alt laughed with his whole chest, and the others looked at each other with happy grins. Chase grinned wide. This felt just like they were kids again!

The boys wrestled, cake was had, games were played. And the night ended with the boys all asleep on the couch, some Halloween movie on in the background. Alt pet a sleeping glitches as he leaned back and smiled at the ceiling.

Damn… this really felt like home.

[frombeyondtheblackhole]

In the 100 years series, if you could add one character NOT from DSMP OR HERMITCRAFT, to join in this swapping madness, like people from Empires smp, Rats smp, etc.- who would it be? Why? Would they go to HERMITCRAFT or Dsmp? And who would you want this person to interact with?

I hope I'm not berating you with questions, this has been on my mind for a long time and I need to know-

Ooooh. This isn't even theoretical at this point XD I have plans for a sequel series after all the swapping plot stuff is over that includes all the third life series characters, and maybe some Origins characters but I'm not as sure about that. XD There is also Mumza. And Taurtis from Evo smp. I'm not going to say too much more because of spoilers XD but yeah, XD

If I was to pick a character to introduce earlier than I already plan on doing, then it would probably be Jimmy because I am a sucker for the canary symbolism XD. My first thought was to put him on Hermitcraft, but that is too obvious XD Instead, it would be interesting to see just how badly the omen of death would react to a place like the DSMP. It would be interesting to see him interact with Philza (the angel of death) and Techno (The blood god's Chosen one), Though the death they promise isn't the same as the death the DSMP promises. Philza and Techno promise a death of the self, a loss of identity and freedom but not the permanent embrace of limbo. It would also be interesting to see him interact with Tommy and Dream, two people soaked in blood and trauma, the kind that is permanent and gruesome and pointless. The kind that Jimmy's canary heart sings about.

___

Jimmy looked at the masked man in front of him. His shoulders slumped in on himself, and he hugged his arms close. He wore a clean white sweater over a black turtleneck and patched and grass-stained Cargo pants that seemed just a bit too baggy to have been his. His white sneakers were stained with something dark and brown; Jimmy felt nauseous. He hoped it was just dirt... it didn't look like dirt. Jimmy quickly looked up at the man's face, the porcelain mask with the cracked smile. And the man's own mouth, the only thing visible below the mask. The man gave him a forced smile that showed teeth.

"Welcome to the DSMP, I'm Dream. I hope we can get along."

Jimmy shuddered and wanted to pull back. Something about this man made him feel sick. He was skinny and malnourished, and covered in scars. Yet, he still felt very wrong. When he looked at him, Jimmy felt like he was being watched, evaluated, and dissected with the man's invisible eyes. That mask; so much like the one the watchers wore.

Jimmy couldn't decide if he wanted to run or be sick. Instead, he just froze.

"You ok there, man? Cat got your tongue?" Dream chuckled. His grin got wider.

In that moment Jimmy knew; Dream was the cat.

___

[Notes: This is not canon. It's just a bit of fun. and a bit of a sneak peek at Dream. This would have taken place after the hermits break Dream out of prison. Jimmy had just "swapped" and was found by Dream and the Hermits.]

[thrilling-oneway]

I need to know your feelings about love live 2 global

SIF2 was a mistake.

God I have a lot of feelings about it. This is probably going to get rambly as hell.

Even if SIF2 kinda sucked I had still planned on getting EN just because I want to play a LL game again (i don't really understand linklike's gameplay so I'm hoping someone makes a guide now that SIF is dead in a ditch). I'm... probably not going to bother now. Maybe I'll get it to play some charts, maybe not now i've just remembered how much storage it takes as well.

Announcing your game's EOS date in the same tweet as announcing the launch month (not even a date) is insane. What the hell even. Like, this is genuinely such a PR disaster that it broke containment so badly. LL became talked about worldwide and... relevant, i guess, for the first time in years. We got on saved you a click. We got on gamesradar. Head in hands.

Like, I get why they're still launching it. Obviously staff have worked their asses off for over a year on this to the point they already had to push it back, and suddenly scrapping that plus telling fans who'd waited a year for this that they weren't even getting it is a bit shit. You can tell the only reason they're releasing it is because of this, because there's no reason for it to outlive the JP server.

I have no doubt that this was dumped on EN staff last minute. They retweeted the JP shutdown notice to the EN account for crying out loud. This wasn't meant to happen it clearly was JP staff deciding the game was failing and pulling the plug.

Even from the JP side of things it was a very last minute decision LIKE COME ON. Wien and Tomari were added last month and their only UR cards are their fucking birthday cards. That's it the event schedules have been released ahead of time they aren't getting more URs. They're having to release Shizuku, Kinako, You and Maki's URs early bc the game didn't even live to their birthdays. This wasn't meant to happen.

Not even just on EN side but SIF as a series dying is a massive thing. Like sure we still have Paradise and SIFAC wai wai, but Paradise is. well... and Waiwai is actually decent but outdated and doesn't receive updates because there's nothing to port bc they don't do SIFAC anymore. SIF dying also means u's is actually proper dead now. Like. yeah no more u's aside from the occasional LLdays illustration and annual new years stream (we don't even get thanksgiving fes anymore god). We're not gonna get N girl content anymore either bro it's so over for LL.

SIF1 was outdated and probably should've had a sequel game released that was still a similar enough game (aka not sifas) just updated to get with the times. Honestly to this day I still think SIF had the best F2P accessibility out of any game, as well as the best team building system (bc. well it actually had one like you actually had to strategically build your teams). If SIF2 wanted to be good all it had to do was add L2D (and like ACTUAL L2D not what they did in SIF2 where they slightly animated the sprites), update the gacha animation, give us cards closer to the quality of SIFAS (or even better bandori or proseka), and add 3DMV or something. Literally just make SIF1 with proseka/bandori features. You don't even have to make the story better because it isn't even canon. And what we got was SIF1 with better UI and card art, and everything else was worse including the gameplay because they broke sliders.

The fact they shut down the original game for this, and possibly even SIFAS. It's insane how poorly this was managed. Saw a tweet earlier about how fucked up it is how Nijigaku have several songs based on in-game stories from both SIFAS and SIF2 and both of them are just. Lost media ig now. Even SIF1 stories are lost media because no where archived them. God that's so fucked actually like so much content just gone forever. EVEN OFFICIAL NOVEL TRANSLATIONS WERE IN SIF1 AND THEY'RE JUST GONE.

It's insane to think that the best LL rhythm game now is an outdated PS4 arcade port (the best game is actually linklike but it's not really much a rhythm game). Other than that there's * checks notes * Tokimeki RunRuns, Blaze in the Deep Blue, Numazu in the Mirage, and the upcoming Niji game. None of which are rhythm games.

I saw some people discussing that maybe that cross-unit live that's bringing back saint snow will have a new game announcement and while I doubt SIF3 i honestly kinda hope there's something coming with that concert. Even if it's a fucking bandori/prsk reskin or even SIFAS2 I don't care I just want to have faith in this franchise because it means a lot to me.

Sasuga staff-san /neg

[inu-yasha]

i dont think a reboot of inuyasha is necessary to be honest, i think the anime added some cool stuff. like the tsubaki episodes are cooler in the anime actually, and a lot of the filler eps are fun/cute (i like episode 98 and that one mirsan filler with the guy that wants to marry her). i feel like people would still prefer the original even if a panel-by-panel adaptation of the manga was made... a remake would show the manga's flaws.

Anon,

I understand your position, but it's your opinion which I respect. I personally would like a reboot, and it wouldn't stop someone from returning to the old series and fillers. Fillers are irrelevant to the story, so for me they are indifferent. But if you like it, that's cool.

I don't understand why you don't want a reboot so badly? After all, Kikyou could get justice, and her character finally respect and her relationship with Inuyasha as it should be, I want nothing else for Kikyou but justice.

I even heard from a friend that the author of YashaHime is trying to humiliate InuKik, so please … Kikyou deserves the best and justice and respect for her character, and she has become an "enemy" in the whole fandom. Kikyou has been the most hated character for years and that will not change because the anime shows her in a really bad light and her relationship with inuyasha, and kagome and inukag show the best light.

Let it show manga flaws, is Rumiko a god? No, she's human, she makes mistakes like any normal person, there may be some things you don't like or like about her work, there are mistakes, but at least Kikyou and InuKik are portrayed so sweetly and overall Kikyou is a really DIFFERENT character than 2000s anime.

I really haven't met a manga yet that I couldn't complain about. The author makes mistakes, but he shows his vision and fantasy in the work. I really appreciate what Rumiko did in Inuyasha. Rumiko allowed Kikyou to calm down, and her relationship with Inuyasha showed that hate cannot overcome their love, and Naraku cannot stand between them no matter how much he wants to.

If we's talking about flaws…

Here is an unfinished hand, and the line is really really ugly, here is an flaw. You know who worked on the first episodes of the old series?

The first drawings and episodes were drawn by Director Inuyasha, who misunderstood Kikyou literally considered her "nemesis", Kagome a woman of "light".

Animators can publish and produce such things, but a manga that has flaws like any manga can't be? cause is good for Kikyou is unnecessary because Kikyou is portrayed so much better in the manga and shows her tender soul, and her relationship with Inuyasha is really full of love.

The improvement of Kikyou's personality and her relationship with inuyasha is part of what I'd like to see, there's more.

Even the lines of characters such as Naraku have been changed to show that the InuKik never had serious feelings for each other, while the manga shows the opposite.

They managed to introduce Kikyou's original personality in "the final act", so we could do a whole remake.

i feel like people would still prefer the original even if a panel-by-panel adaptation of the manga was made…

How do you know that? If you prefer the anime, fine over the manga, and if others think like you, fine too. Everyone has their own taste and watch what they want, but I'm sure a lot of people would like a reboot.

Sure, there's a good chance it will, but do I care? I don't care about it. Even the Japanese complained that inuyasha's production director didn't understand her character, so at least Kikyou fans would be happy justice for Kikyou and her relationship with Inuyasha.

I've seen many before yashahime want a reboot with improved characters, and we got this thing called a "sequel" So a lot of people were hoping for a reboot too.

My impression from your reboot questions.

You don't think a reboot is okay, but why do I get the feeling you're trying to convince me of your point and try to argue it in a way to make me change my mind? And are you really that afraid that Kikyou might be loved more in the fandom and her relationship with Inuyasha? The hate would be less, possibly it could be, because more people will watch the anime than they will read the manga.

Kikyou is hated more than Naraku who ruined her life and others… after all… it's really sad that a villain who is responsible for so much misery is more liked than his victim. Yes, the director did a great job. he was able to make Kikyou hated and SHE IS STILL for so many years.

[spidine]

The State of Questlines

As a big quest liker one update I always like to see is a continuation of a classic unresolved questline. There are a few continuations that would be easy backports but i also think just as many backports would be big missed opportunities. TIME TO EXAMINE THESE QUESTLINES FOR THEIR VALUE AND WHERE TO TAKE THEM.

Cave Goblins/Chosen Commander

This one is pretty easy to accept backport, the cave goblin line is a fan favorite and Chosen Commander is pretty well liked. However I personally like cave goblins SO MUCH that I hope to see Chosen Commander expanded to see additions to Dorgesh-Kaan, nothing too crazy, maybe a slayer monster with a decent drop added to the caves. Chosen Commander also needs some rewrites, the plot point that Bandos makes Zanik murder a racist REALLY HARD and that's bad actually is dumb. Kill Sigmund's ass queen. God forbid a woman do anything.

It's just very 2000's Marvel movie ass writing, I'd put up with it but I think we could do better. Have Grubfoot get possessed instead, seeing him kill someone WOULD be out of character and alarming.

Glouphrie/Arposandra

Path of Glouphrie was literally 2 weeks from being in the 07 backup. But perhaps its a good thing it's not in osrs because it's honestly not very good which is a shame because the story surrounding it and Arposandra has intrigued me since I was a kid. A hostile gnome faction outside of just the rogue Glouph could be used as a launch platform for more quests, bosses, challenging content, and areas. As an added bonus it would be unique to osrs, since rs3 has also only eluded to the area with the last relevant quest being Prisoner of Glouphrie in 2011. I honestly think this would be a great thread to pick up with a continued questline.

Fremennik

Fremennik Exiles was a 10/10 quest and it's time we got a sequel and I know just where to go. I think we're close to finishing off the Fremennik storyline but it's not time for the Grandmaster quite yet, so what I'm suggesting is a two part finale; Ragnarok 1 and 2.

In part 1 we head to a new area; Acheron, the long teased frozen wasteland. This area would be ruled by an empire of Ice Trolls, patrolled by dangerous Penguins, populated with imposing mammoths, and covered with unique skilling opportunities. Plenty of people have already suggested adding this area and my ideas aren't unique from theirs but I think a new "hostile" region similar to morytania or the desert could be a cool.

Then in part 2 we get the Grandmaster conclusion to the story, I don't have anything specifically in mind for this.

Fairy Tale

Zanaris is a pretty iconic part of osrs to me but I aside from the great tools they unlock the fairy tale quests themselves have always been sort of minor. I think one last Master quest to tie up this storyline would be nice, but that's all I want. I do think it'd be cool if we got to see more Fairy Dragons though, maybe they can drop Dragon Battlestaves.

Dwarf Questline

We need the Hand Cannon in osrs now more than ever, a weapon that performs off of Firemaking would be such a good fun addition.

Forgiveness of a Chaos Dwarf would honestly probably work as a backport if any files of it exist in osrs but I just don't really think the dwarf questline needs 3 more quests like in rs3. I like seeing old questlines but I prefer to see them get wrapped up rather than stretched out, so few quests get added these days that I don't really wanna wait on more than 2. One thing I do wanna see get tied up though is Between a Rock, that quest is a favorite and the weird matter demon we meet is never really brought up again, I wanna know more about that so badly.

Cold War

Cold War is a very good, funny, 2000's internet ass quest and I wanna see a follow up so bad. I think Hunt for Red Raktober could receive a backport but after that I think it should receive a close out quest after you complete after Ragnarok part 1.

Desert/Menaphos

This one has just started up again recently and I'm pretty pleased with all the lore and character progression surrounding it. I don't think we'll see more of this questline for a bit though, the next quest in the questline is shaping up to be a "Sins of the Father" sized introduction to Menaphos and I really hope that Menaphos is a big rich city with lots of detail and stuff to do similar to Priffdinas.

Kourend

Obviously there's not much to reference here since it's completely osrs original and it's a questline I hope they carry on for a while. Kingdom Divided teased the introduction of Valimore so I think the next few quests in the questline will begin to introduce that kingdom. I hope we get to see Zeah populated with some more Twisted Tales before we go to the next big step in the story.

White Knights/Sea Slug

This is a questline we could probably leave running forever since It doesn't exactly have a defined end of any kind. One thing that I would like to see concluded in a sequel quest however would be the Sea Slug questline, even just an intermediate follow up would sate my curiosity. Something I would like to see brought back to the storyline would be more Black Knights, maybe after Slug Strikes Back Camelot and Temple Knights can team up for a big Black Knight Master Quest.

Myreque

This questline is basically just waiting around for its Grandmaster finale anyday. I don't think Morytania really needs any new content so I think the next quest should just be one last big face off with drakan.

Pirate

I really like the Pirate quests and hope to see a sequel to Great Brain Robbery. Rocking Out could be a pretty easy backport but I don't have much in mind here after that. The pirate story doesn't need a big Grandmaster quest but the south east sea could probably use a few more cool islands with puffins.

[mochimellowd]

I loooove hearing what other people make of the Devil ending other than "Arasaka won bad!" I love takes on Goro's motives and thoughts because we don't know what's really in that guy's head... The "never cross paths" phone call is what I am referring to. It drives me up a wall and back that it's absent from the final release yet still sitting there.

Within that phone call, Takemura says, "I hope you will shape your own destiny." Oh lord of GOD i have. thoughts.

This after V tells him "You got no idea how sweet it is to be free." Takemura seems to at least understand what V is saying. Not to the point that he does anything about it, he's chosen and V's chosen.

The line from the call reads to me as a message of good will yes, but also acts in favor of the overarching message of choice. Takemura chooses where his loyalties lie and V chooses where theirs does.

To me, it feels like him also demonstrating to V that he understands what is most important to them at the end of the day. In a world which V's time was running short up until getting the relic removed, the time of which he became acquainted with V, now V gets to shape their own path. It's bittersweet.

As many endings as you can clear blind it's so much more rewarding ��� at least for me. A sequel with Takemura has to be in the cards it just has to be CDPR knows people want that guy so bad we cross our fingers and hope and pray

I want so badly for a good ending for them dear lord

Finished CP with the Devil ending the first time, long essay full of Spoilers about how heartbroken it makes me feel

I'm 3 years late, probably, as I bought and played the game only now to be sure it's more polished.

I went in blind, as I had avoided spoilers about the story and game, and the game drew me in immediately.

Especially Takemura really grew on me. In the beginning I didn't take him seriously and didn't pay so much attention, found his parade leaping plan ridiculous and he reminded me of an annoying fatherly coworker. Someone you ask a question and he immediately assumes you can't count to 3 and explains it to you beginning from how life evolved.

Don't even know when or how it happened, but after the mission where you sabotage the wagon, I thought I'd romance Takemura and this, when I believed it was still possible, was the most fun I had in the whole game. I was doing side quests to buy expensive clothes for our next meeting, and then his messages popped up where you can ask him to have dinner and he ghosts, and I was really looking forward how this all would develop.

Well, plot twist, it didn't. At least not how I wished it would.

As we all know, the game is really immersive, so when I had Hellman and he got all cocky about the negative diagnosis, when Takemura entered the room, I felt actual relief. Thank God you're here.

It was a no brainer to go back and save Takemura. And the fact he leaves V hanging and disappears upset me for a whole week. I kept doing sidequests and calling him from time to time to see if anything had changed, but no. So I decided to check out the endings so I could read stuff about the game without fearing spoilers.

Since I had zero interest in interacting with Panam or Judy, I didn't do their quests and went straight for Hanako.

You can't believe how happy I was when I learned that Takemura would pick V up and MAN HE LOOKED CRISP in that white suit. Then when he rolls his eyes on Hellman and defends V. The moment where V tells him to ghost and do gigs and feed cats and he declines but thanks V. The moment before where he learns Saburo did not even tell him the whole truth but it's not enough to make him change.

It was like watching a movie for the umpteenth time and you KNOW what happens and you KNOW it will end bad and it's a movie and will never change but still there's a tiny part in you that hopes this time it ends differently.

The whole episode on that space station just made me sad but then happy again when I heard Takemura's voice after all this testing nightmare. I hated how he didn't want to disclose what he was up to like a real business professional but I signed the contract and his remark to see him in Kagawa made me believe it would happen. Like a real fool. I really believed if V signs up for this thing, they will find a body for her in time so she can go back and visit Takemura in Kagawa.

It hits you differently when all you want in the game is to be with Takemura and THIS IS your romance with him. Only afterwards it slowly dawned on me that he has just said that last sentence to comfort V and maybe because he wants to believe this himself but deep down he also knows it will never happen.

I am sitting here all teary eyed and don't understand myself how much this has messed with my feelings. I didn't expect that it would hit me that hard. I also cried during Soma though which deals with similar topics and left me feeling like someone had punched me in the gut as well, BUT, Soma had the decency to add the happy ending after the gloomy one (which maybe is different because there definitely are 2 simultaneously, unlike in CP, but if CP had added a small scene where V steps out of a vehicle, sun on her face, looks around some Japanese town and sees Takemura waiting for her nearby, that would have been comforting. Siding with Takemura does not necessarily mean it is because of Takemura, maybe V just believed this would save her and she could go back to her friends afterwards, but they could have easily added another choice/check for which people did like Takemura best and give them such a scene instead of messages by people I did not care that much for like Misty and Panam and Judy)

It's not really clear to me how Takemura can be such an important person for V in this ending, as intended by the devs, accompanying V through all of it, even the boss fight, and the last human (besides the guard) you see, yet it seems to dismiss this connection at the same time, like when you can call someone important to you and he's not an option, does not send V a message after V is gone, etc. - but it FOR SURE underlines the message that his loyalty is with Arasaka and this will never change and I feel like an idiot for falling for it. I can't even be disappointed about because I knew from the beginning and Johnny had pointed it out often enough.

Love games dealing with difficult topics, just didn't expect to feel that heartbroken about how it all plays out when you decide to side with Goro.

Didn't really know what to do with my feelings than leave them here where maybe someone understands.

Thinking about playing Baldur's Gate 3 but I'm worried there will be something similar disappointing.

[heartysworld]

Gods Eye Prequel || Dad!Daemon Targaryen x Daughter! Reader x Aemond Targaryen

A/N: This is another request, I loved the idea so much that I wrote it as soon as I read the request. I hope whoever ask about this enjoys it as much as I did! Also I'd like to say sorry for any mistakes,here it is currently 3am and I'm running on my afternoon coffee, barely keeping my eyes open! Much love &lt;3

• Gods Eye Sequel

Your day started as usual, you were woken up by one of your mother's maids who helped you get ready and took you to breakfast with your family. Your older brothers were already off about their days, which left you with your father only.

"Good morning, father." You said as you entered the room.

"Good morning, little dragon. Did you sleep well?" Your father asked while sipping on his drink.

"Yes, I slept well. But I found it hard to fall asleep. I was excited about my riding lesson today. When are we leaving?" You asked. Your excitement only made your father chuckle.

Ever since you could talk the word that came out of your mouth the most was "dragon" or "draggy" as your two year old self found it easier to pronounce.

Daemon couldn't wait until the day you were finally old enough to start teaching you how to ride a dragon and take care of it. The day had finally come, your seventh birthday was just a few days ago, and that was an appropriate age to start learning.

Your dragon, Maerax, was still quite wild, but that wasn't surprising, it is her nature, after all. Every dragon rider has at least a few memories from their first dragon rides that didn't go very well.

That wasn't a reason for you to give up or fear, the opposite, it made you more ambitious to put more effort into bonding with your dragon.

You and your father made your way to the Dragonpit, where Caraxes and Maerax were already saddled, waiting for their riders.

Maerax was excited to see you, nudging you with her scales-covered body, making you laugh at the gesture. Your attention, however, was stolen by a the sight of a familiar figure watching you and your dragon from a distance. Your cousin Aemond stood near one of the entrances of the Dragonpit. He liked coming here to look at the dragons, you felt sad for him. He was a year older and still no dragon egg had hatched for him, the one placed in his crib as a babe turned into stone,while another he received as a gift for his fifth birthday hatched a wingless worm who died a few hours hater.

You picked your hand up to have at his direction,but he only ran away after seeing you had saw him.

"Are you ready,little dragon? Let's start!" Daemon called for you, catching your attention once again.

You ran to him, climbing on to the saddle on Maerax's back with his help. The first thing you needed to learn was how to control the reigns and keep your balance on the saddle. This was the most important things for a beginner.

Everything was going great, you were able to keep stable on the saddle, keep control of the reigns and even manage to lift Maerax a few feet off the ground. Maerax however seemed to be in a pricky mood today, she was very stubborn, refusing to do things the first few times. Your were starting to get annoyed when your father slipped a joke about you and her were very similar at this aspect.

You were about to try and land as smoothly as possible when Maerax spotted something that wasn't to her liking on the ground, resulting in her starting to wiggle around mid flight.

You were scared,not knowing how to react in a situation like this.

You could hear your father's voice telling you to not panic,but how could a seven year old stay calm when she's sitting on a dragon who's trying to shake her off of its body. You let out a loud scream as you felt yourself slipping away from your saddle, falling to the ground.

Your father's eyes widened, worry filling up his body as he saw you land on the ground.

He ran towards you, kneeling in front of you as he examined you for any serious injuries. Thankfully, you were not too high up in the air and the fall didn't hurt you badly. You did however ended up in your bed with your hands and knees bandaged. You've gotten them scratches pretty badly and they needed a soothing ointment to heal faster and with less pain.

"You scared me today, little dragon." Your father said as he stroked your hair while you played with one of his smaller daggers he carried around everywhere. You always were fascinated with everything you father did, while your brothers were closer to your mother you found a stronger bond with your father. Daemon was happy to have a smaller version of him, equally stubborn and ambitious.

"I am going to be okay,dad. You don't have to worry. You've said it yourself- every dragon rider has some bad experiences. Maerax is still young, she'll learn with time and so will I." You said looking up at his eyes.

A smile found its way on his face, realizing how much you really resembled him.

"You really are something else,my little love." He said. Daemon leaned to kiss your forehead before standing up from your bed, letting you rest more.

As he exited the room memories from the day you were born flooded back to his mind. A storm was raging outside while Rhaenyra was giving birth to her and Daemon's third child. Their two older sons waited for their new sibling a few rooms away, making bets on wether it would be a girl or another boy. Aegon said it would be a boy while Viserys said it would be a girl. The price for whoever son was a cake that the loser had to help make.

Their bickering was soon interrupted by their father, who entered the room with a small bundle in his arms that was moving and cooing softly.

"Is it a boy,dad? Or a girl? Or twins perhaps?!" The boys started speculating more and more with every second their questions were left unanswered.

"This, is you youngest sister, little Y/N. You have to make sure to protect her, she will need that." Daemon said. He kneeled in front of his boys, allowing them to take a look at their sister. It was a beautiful moment that he was going to remember forever, even after his death.

His thoughts were interrupted by a small head of white hair that was hiding between one of the columns of the big hallway. Aemond was waiting for the moment your dad left your room so that he could come and see if you were okay. He had seen your fall earlier and was worried about his closest friend getting hurt badly.

Daemon only smirked, leaving the young boy unbothered. He did not need another conflict between his wife and her step-mother.

You were almost asleep when you heard the door open once again. A big smile appeared on your face as you saw Aemond peek into your room wearily before entering.

You propped yourself on your pillows while he settled next to you on your bed.

"Are you fine?" He asked.

"You don't have to be worried about me. I am going to heal just fine." You answered, nudging his shoulder slightly with yours.

"I brought you something to make you feel better and heal faster so thag we could play together again soon. I know it is your favorite." Aemond said, his hand went inside on of the pockets of his jacket, taking out a white cloth that was used to cover a few of your favorite pastries.

A gasp left your mouth as you saw them. You flung yourself around Aemond's neck a quiet "thank you" being said.

" I was really worried about you today, you seemed hurt." Aemond said once again.

You couldn't contain your excitement from receiving your favorite sweets and so you quickly kissed his cheek.

The boy went quiet immediately after. Despite being older he still found it hard to communicate sometimes.

"I am thankful that you think of me, Aemond. It means you are a good friend. You're the best cousin ever!" You said.

A smile appeared on the boy's face as you munched on your pastries happily.

"And so you are. And I promise to always protect you! I won't let anything happen to my best friend, ever!" He said heroically, jumping on both his feet in the bed, making you laugh happily.

Only if any of you knew what was about to come next.

[autisticlancemcclain]

Every single day of this stupid, godforsaken roadtrip, Lance had to hold back a death joke. It was genuinely harder than being in the closet. Like, sure. When he was in the closet he had to bite his tongue every time he parked a car. He had to avert his eyes every time he saw the fucking light refract (rainbow jokes are some of his best material). Not outing yourself with a gay joke is beyond difficult, it’s true. 

But pretending he never went into the light? A whole lot harder. 

They accidentally fly through an asteroid storm the size of a sun, and Hunk panics about being about to die? The words ‘been there, done that’ were literally on their way out of his stupid, big mouth before he choked them back. Camping on a planet, and Pidge jokingly telling him to stay alive when he goes to get firewood? He’s never wanted quip back so badly in his life (well, ‘life’. Life 2.0. The second time around. The sequel. Numero dos. Holy shit, Lance needs an audience sworn to secrecy so he can get these jokes out of his system once and for all before he ruins himself).

But, Lance, you might be asking, why do you have to hold these jokes back? Aren’t they kind of funny, if not lightly concerning?

Great question! Lance is holding the jokes back because he’s a coward who’s terrified of emotional vulnerability. He’s actually less scared of death, and that’s not even an exaggeration anymore! It’s just… he’s sure his team loves him. Kinda. Mostly. But Lance has been sorta distant from his team, lately. They don’t really talk much. At first it was because of the whole Lotor, seventh-wheel situation, but now he just doesn’t feel like he has much in common with them anymore. There’s also the fact that no one really seems to want him around. 

Like, he used to consider Hunk and Pidge his closest friends. They hung out all the time, he felt like he could trust them with anything. But it’s been kind of rough, for the past few months. They don’t seem to enjoy his company, and he was sure it was just his insecurities talking for a while, but then they made plans right in front of him without including him, so. He knows when he’s not really wanted. Allura kind of goes without saying. He’s a little raw around her right now, so it’s understandable that he wants to put some distance between them. He doesn’t even know Krolia or Romelle, so he’s obviously not gonna talk about anything with them. Keith made it abundantly clear who and what was important, and Lance did not make that list. 

Shiro’s a whole other can of worms. He knows, objectively, that nothing was Shiro’s fault. Shiro hasn’t even technically been around for months. But every time he looks at him, all he can see is Shiro’s snarling face and hard eyes: 

“Stay quiet, Lance, I didn’t ask you!”

“Lance, if we wanted your opinion you’d hear about it.”

“Actually, we don’t need you for this mission, Lance. Just stay in the castle.”

There’s also the debilitating guilt he feels whenever he hears Shiro’s voice. God, Lance heard him in the astral plane, and what did he do? Nothing. Nada. Zilch. He officially has the reward for the most useless paladin in the universe. 

And usually closeness wouldn’t really stop him from jokes – he likes to be the funny one, regardless of how well he knows a group of people – but Lance knows himself well enough to realise he isn’t holding back the death jokes because he’s too uncomfortable around the team. 

He’s holding back the jokes because he’s terrified, down to the very core of him, that the team will find out about his death and they won’t care. 

Right now it’s kind of Schrodinger’s Shitty Situation. The team simultaneously knows about Lance’s death and they don’t, and Lance making a death joke is the metaphorical opening of the box. And he is way, way too scared to open that box. So it stays sealed in the back corner of his mind. So long as it’s sealed Lance can hold on to the hope that the team cares about him, at least a little. At least until he gets back to Earth and to people he knows love him, so he doesn’t feel so lonely.

[nifolution]

Forgive Me 1

Pairing: Steve Rogers / Mutant! Reader

Summary: Steve desperately wants to make everything better, but is it too little, too late?

Warnings: Angst, smut, heartbreak, jealousy, hostage situation, some fluff

A/N: This is a sequel to Dirty Secret. This is a revised copy of my oc fic. It is still written in 1st & 3rd person. 18+ only due to smut. No stealing, no reposts, no translations, no feeding to AIs. Comments, reblogs and likes are always welcome and appreciated.

Dirty Secret Masterlist Series Masterlist Main Masterlist

Chapter 1

[2 months later]

Here we go again. Seeing the familiar figure quickly duck into the alley, Bucky can only shake his head as he leaves the restaurant with his order. Every time he left the compound, Steve tried to follow him, hoping he was on his way to meet Y/N.

After securing his meal to his motorcycle, Bucky called out to Steve, “You have to stop doing this, you're not good at it.” Steve appeared out of the shadows looking weary and dejected. It was clear he hadn't been taking care of himself. His clothes wrinkled, his beard untrimmed. Bucky turned to face him, “Besides that, it's pointless. Y/N isn't even in the country anymore.”

“So you do know where she is.”

Bucky exhaled sharply, “Steve…”

The blonde suddenly found his shoes fascinating. “I need her back, Buck… I can’t believe I screwed up so badly, losing her the way I did. It still feels like a bad dream. I wish to god it was. She belongs in my arms and I don’t think I'll ever know what possessed me to push her out of them.”

“You have no one to blame but yourself for that one. You dug your own grave and packed the dirt on too.” Bucky seated himself on his bike. “She deserved more than what you gave her. It shouldn't have taken losing her for you to get over your Carter obsession.”

Steve could only nod, giving his friend a broken look. “I'll see you at home.” He turned and started back the way he came.

Bucky wasn’t sure what else to say to his friend. Things were still tense between them. Both for how Steve treated Y/N, and for shutting him out the way he did. The punk got stuck in his own head and refused help. His stubbornness was always his downfall. If he would have just talked to him, maybe he could have gotten through his thick skull earlier, before Steve destroyed everything.

Y/N’s absence was felt heavily among the team. They all missed her. Not just her getaway skills, but her friendship. She was always kind to everyone, always willing to be there, helping anyway she could. She cared for all of them and that love was missed. None of the others knew the real reason for her sudden departure. It was a hard secret to keep, but Bucky continued at her request. She didn't want any of them to look at Steve differently. After everything he put her through, she still wanted what was best for Steve. And Steve, well Steve thought Y/N was what was best for him. If only he pulled his head out of his ass sooner.

Still, Bucky couldn't help pitying his friend. He hated seeing Steve hurting so badly, but it was the punk’s own dumb actions that caused this mess. Steve was his brother, but he fucked up. Maybe some pain was due. Steve had been sullen and isolating himself since Y/N left. He hasn’t spent much time training or with the team. Bucky knows he wasn’t sleeping well because he can hear him crying most nights. He wasn’t going to bring it up though, Steve has been blowing up over small things lately. He didn’t want to tip him over that edge of grief he was precariously balanced on.

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

The weeks passing did nothing to dampen the all consuming regret Steve felt. Forgoing his morning runs, he would just lay there staring at the ceiling. Tired and drained. If anyone on the team noticed, no one said anything. He was grateful for that much. Steve was certain he’d spill the whole thing with the smallest provocation. He preferred to keep his anguish to himself. His bed felt so cold without her in it. His whole life felt cold now. As he did so many times before, Steve pulled out a yellow garment from inside his pillowcase. It was the dress Y/N left behind. Blood stains now accompanying the grass ones from Steve kissing it after Bucky beat his face in. Steve held tightly to the fabric, imagining Y/N in his arms, her lips on his, willing his heart to stop beating so it would stop hurting.

He thinks of the last time he saw her. How stunning she looked, outshining everyone at the gala. But she was on Bucky's arm, not his as she should have been. Steve wishes he would have ran up to her like he wanted to. He would have swept her off her feet, kissed her breathless and danced the night away. Instead he forced himself to pay attention to Sharon, feeling a misplaced responsibility to her. That night played on repeat in his mind. He should have done so many things. He fucked up so bad.

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

Steve had been looking for Y/N since she left. Four months later and still no lock on her. She was like a ghost. Steve would constantly beg Bucky to tell him where she was. He had yet to budge. Only confirming that she was doing okay. Bucky was torn between friends. Him and Steve were getting back to a good place in the friendship. He wanted to help, but didn’t want to break Y/N’s confidence. Although his resolve on the matter was slowly chipping away.

When Steve loved he loved hard, and permanently. Bucky could only do so much to comfort his friend. He still had trouble understanding why Steve gave into Sharon. Why even for a moment he thought he was doing the right thing. But his friend was stubborn, and dumb enough to think he could have both. That Y/N would always be there. Steve lost someone special chasing after someone he thought he once wanted. So trapped in his nostalgia to not realize what he had until it was gone. At least he saw now that he had been taking her for granted. Should have appreciated what he had enough to not betray her the way he did. However unintentional he claimed it was. Y/N didn't deserve that pain.

Bucky remained close with Y/N. She seemed better each time he talked with her. She'd been traveling the world, site seeing. Her abilities saved her a fortune in transportation and entrance fees. Hotel rooms and meals too. She'd been staying at the best hotels for free. Orbing into empty rooms and raiding the well stocked mini bars. Bucky’s stayed with her a few times. Both willing to overlook the moral ambiguity of their actions.

“Please Buck, I need to find her.”

“You can't fix everything, Steve. She doesn’t want to be found. You're bullheaded, but you must realize that by now.” Bucky was tired of having this same conversation again and again. Steve wasn’t going to give up.

“I have to try. Even if there is just the slimmest chance, I have to try.”

Bucky gave in. Walking over to the map on the wall and pointing to her last known location. The rest was up to Steve.

Steve practically jumped out of his chair. “Thank you Bucky… I promise I’m going to get my girl back.”

Within hours he arrived at his destination. It saddened him that she went to Paris alone. They were supposed to go together. He searched for her high and low, but was too late, only catching a glimpse of her. He blinked and she was gone. She moved too fast.

Steve returned to the compound, heartbroken. It wasn’t yet 3am, but he knew he wouldn’t sleep. So he decided to go for a run. He kept running till the sun came up. After passing out in bed from exhaustion, Steve awoke prepared to try to move forward. He resumed his regular routine, running on autopilot, just trying to get by. In the day he could almost convince himself he was healed. Nighttime was another story entirely. The pain bloomed anew each time he lay in his lonely and vacant bed. He'd close his eyes, knowing too well it was his own damn fault.

Chapter 2