#grabs Void blends him with angst even more

[dollvernz]

Void

Some things about this:

His ear wings are based on a Dove's wings.

Flowers on his face are Spider Lily's, the flowers at the top are Snowdrops, at the bottom are Forget-me-nots, and the ones in his hair/braids are Lantana.

Had to do a lot of research for this.

(15 nearly 16 hours spent on this)

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

Also this-

He has every disease (/j)

[riovidalupdates]

LAST GIRL STANDING - i.

part ii.

“I’m not asking you to stay. I’m asking if this was ever real?” - Wanda Maximoff

“The issue with time is that it’s endless, yet, there’s never enough. How does it fit with us?” - Rio Vidal

“You were never a priority, but you became one that I can’t lose now.” - Agatha Harkness

pairings: wanda maximoff x fem!reader, agatha harkness x fem!reader, and rio vidal x fem!reader

summary: you’ve come to learn that you can love more than one person—because you love them in different ways. the problem: they love you in one way. so, who are you in love with and who gets hurt?

warnings: cursing, angst, intimate moments but not sex, and other stuff that i'll add as time goes on.

notes: this one has been in my drafts for a long time. i did a little bit of revision and editing, but i am busy and i do want to get this story going. as it goes on I will be more efficient with the editing. it is also a college au so there is no witches or anything like that, but other works will be! enjoy! chapters will be longer and the writing will get better. It’s been awhile since I’ve actually written a story, but I’ve been working on so many other projects and I had this all planned out before I got my new job.

word count: 1.4k

・❥・

There was never a time where you ever thought you’d be losing your sanity. Months ago, you only ever known the beauty of peace, having full control over your thoughts and emotions with no consequences. Where does the chaos abruptly begin, how does it begin, and why does it begin?

Because fuck all that, why do you have to be involved in a mess that you didn’t ask for?

You stared out of your dorm window, tracing the movement of students below as they hurried between classes. The campus was alive with energy—laughter, chatter, and the constant shuffle of feet on the worn pathways—but it all felt distant to you, like watching life happen through a glass pane. From the outside, you seemed well-adjusted. A few close friends, decent grades, a knack for blending in at social events. But lately, you had begun to feel a quiet, persistent void growing inside, one that friendship, academic success, and even casual flings couldn’t quite fill.

It wasn't that you were lonely in the traditional sense. In fact, you had friends—great friends who provided the utmost support in all that you do. Natasha Romanoff from work, Kate Bishop from short-film club, Steve Rogers from gym (he was also Natasha’s boyfriend), Tony Stark who crashed into your car the first day of move-in (he paid for all damages after you punched him), and Wanda Maximoff, your best friend. Wanda had been by your side for years, a constant source of home. There was so much to your overall relationship with her that it couldn’t be replicated with the others or anyone. Even if you were to try.

But no matter how much you spent time with Wanda, she found her footing in rather quick. And while you don’t want to assume things are going well for her, you could at least tell she was happiest when she was in the arms of her obnoxious, academically skilled boyfriend, Vision. Vision who is ahead of the IT program, the captain of the golf team, and somehow Tony’s coworker at Stark’s Industries (who cares about some intellectual freak? Not you).

Anyway, it felt like there was something missing, some deeper connection you couldn’t quite grasp. Sometimes, you’d feel yourself pulling back in conversations, faking a smile here and there when noticing yourself drifting out of sync.

You sigh as you turned away from the window, grabbing your backpack, and slinging it over your shoulder. Another day of classes to get to, papers to turn in, and your typical routine to follow. It all felt so automatic, like living on autopilot.

Perhaps there was something you weren’t doing. Maybe you were actively doing something to avoid fulfilling that aspect of void?

Your phone buzzed on the desk—Wanda.

“Dinner tonight?” She asks once you pick up. “And I swear if you say no, I am going to drive to your class and drag you out myself.”

 You considered telling her no for a moment but it’s Wanda and because of that you say, “Sure. Just don’t barge in like last time. Felt like I got in trouble with my mother…”  Despite your growing sense of detachment, you couldn’t bring herself to decline. You’ve been avoiding her like the plague. She’s your best friend and has asked to hang out for the last month or so only for you to be nowhere. Questions were beginning to rise, and you weren’t ready to answer any of them.

Her laughter echoed through and you kind of forget that you were falling into a hole of emptiness. “Look, I gotta go,  I’ll see you tonight, yeah?”

“Yeah. See you, dekta.”

Dekta. It was always that.

As you made your way across campus, weaving through the throngs of students, you felt a heaviness settle in your chest. Classes, work, clubs, and repeat. How was it that you could be surrounded by people, involved in their lives, and still feel like an outsider looking in?

You loved your friends, or at least you thought you did, but lately, even that felt like a lie you told yourself. You enjoyed your courses. So what if you have to stay up until 2am for shoots and editing, you wouldn’t have done it if you didn’t enjoy it. Actually, you were late to register, and this was kind of a last minute decision.  And you were president for the short film club, but you kind of are guessing why you’re doing this all because you hate people.

The reality is, it’s to avoid facing the deeper truth: that connection, the real kind, the kind that made you feel alive and seen. Not just from relationships, courses, and social life.

Was this what your life was going to be? Always on the fringes, never fully connecting? You wanted more but didn’t know how to get it. Maybe you didn’t even know what “more” really was.

You were good at pretending everything was fine, good at putting on a show of contentment. But deep down, you knew you were waiting for something—or someone—to break through that glass pane that kept you at arm’s length from everyone around.

But until then, you’d keep going, navigating your college life as best as you could, feeling more like an observer than a participant.

・❥・

You sat across from Wanda at your usual spot in the campus dining hall, picking at her salad as Wanda animatedly recounted the latest drama involving her boyfriend, Vision. You nodded along, making the appropriate sounds of sympathy and surprise, but part of you couldn't help but tune out the problem.

“I swear, sometimes he just doesn’t listen,” Wanda continued, exasperation creeping into her voice. “Last night I..." She sighed, looking down at her food. "I told him I needed space and time to collect my thoughts about where this is going, but he kept calling and texting, so we could talk it out..."

You forced yourself back into the conversation. “Sounds like he’s not respecting your boundaries,” you offered, glancing up at Wanda. You couldn’t help the slight resentment that crept in whenever Vision came up. There was always an unspoken tension in your friendship, one that emerged whenever Wanda talked about her boyfriend.

You didn’t know exactly why you disliked him—maybe it was his arrogant demeanor, or the way he always seemed to treat Wanda as an accessory rather than an equal. She would often vent about the small ways in which he let her down, like forgetting their date plans or brushing off her opinions, but then she would always follow it up with some form of an excuse that he cares. You would just nod along, hiding the skepticism behind a supportive smile.

"Tell me about it,” Wanda huffed, shaking her head. “It's a flaw of his and when the time is right, we'll discuss it and how we can better ourselves. Enough about me though, how about you? Anything exciting that requires you to get out of that hermit crab shell of yours? Maybe with...that TA? Angus, right?"

You snickered but also couldn’t help but notice how Wanda seemed to skirt around anything serious about her relationship with Vision (what a prick). There was a glint of something—maybe uncertainty, maybe resignation—in her eyes when she spoke about him. You wondered if Wanda was just as skilled at pretending everything was fine as you were. It made you feel a little less alone, knowing you weren’t the only one hiding something.

Yet, despite your doubts about the boyfriend, you never voiced your concerns outright. The last thing you wanted was to come across as jealous or possessive. Deep down, you wondered if there was a part of you that simply didn’t want to share Wanda—a feeling you quickly buried before it could grow into something more troubling.

Your face flushed at the mention of Agatha, and you quickly took a sip of water to hide the embarrassment. “Her name is Agnes,” you mumbled, rolling your eyes for effect. So, maybe you kind of lied. Only because you didn't want Wanda to track and stalk the girl. "And she's just intriguing..."

"Intriguing, huh?” Wanda teased. “You should talk to her more. Or, you know, talk to her at all.”

“Very funny,” You shot back. “It’s not that simple.”

But maybe it was. Maybe if you could muster up the courage to actually talk to Agatha, you’d feel less like you were floating aimlessly and more like you were taking control of your own life. You could already hear Wanda’s voice in your head, encouraging you to just go for it, to not overthink it, to take a chance.

[goldsainz]

# RAFE CAMERON — L’AMOUR DE MA VIE !

MASTERLIST !

REQUEST !

001. SUMMARY !

✯ once upon a time rafe was the love of your life, now he's just somebody you knew.

002. WARNINGS !

✯ angst, cursing, drinking, probably (definitely) ooc rafe but we move.

003. NOTE !

✯ first rafe fic!!! requests are open for him so please leave any ideas you have (angst, fluff & smut) cause your girl is inspireddd l i can't tell if this is good but oh well, that's what i get for writing this late at night. leave a comment or a reblog if you liked this! (had to repost lol)

word count : 3,5k

The room felt heavier than before, all of the bodies around you made you want to crawl out of your skin and run away from the party. 

Rafe had his arm slung around a girl, her soft smile as she looked up at him made you want to puke. Or perhaps it was the alcohol. The feelings and drinks blended into each other, a concoction you were currently hating.

It was not right. Just a few months ago he was swearing his profound love for you, and now… Now he had found someone else. Someone who would fill the void you left, if there ever was one.

“Hey, there…” You heard a guy speak to your ear, his hot breath making you shudder.

“Huh?” Your brows furrow as you try to make out who’s talking to you but your vision is hazy. 

“You’re cute, wanna go outside?” The guy, who you did not recognize, smirked as he looked at you. He placed a hand on your waist, turning you around so you were right in front of him and effectively taking Rafe out of your line of sight.

The question almost made you gag, was this your life now that you were single? You hoped not.

“Why… Why would l wanna go outside?” You slurred, ignoring the feeling of being looked at. Like someone was trying to make you combust with just their gaze.

“I think you know,” he whispers, leaning in as if he were going to kiss you. 

You shook your head slightly, trying to push him away from you. “I want to go home,” 

��I can take you home,” he offered. “Or better, back to mine.” 

Suddenly, you felt someone pull you away from the guy. It didn’t take long for you to recognise the chest you were resting against, the hand grabbing your waist and the rough voice as he addressed the guy. 

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Rafe sneered at the guy, “You like taking advantage of drunk girls?”

“Hey man, didn’t know she was with you,” he said, raising his hands up as if that was the issue at hand.

“Doesn’t matter if she is,” he said harshly. “She’s drunk as fuck and you still wanted to take her back to your place.”

“Yeah, okay,” the guy rolled his eyes and started to walk away, as if he was annoyed at Rafe for pointing out his sleazy ways and cutting short his chance at a hookup.

You made a noise of protest when Rafe took his hand off your waist, which promptly made him place it back on it. Still, he wasn’t letting off on the guy. He never really did know when to back off.

“Next time I see you doing this shit I’m breaking your face!” He barked at the guy, making some heads turn at the commotion. 

“You didn’t have to do that… I’m not yours anymore,” you muttered, blinking as you tried to clear up the fog you were feeling. 

“Doesn’t matter, he was being a creep,” his voice was nicer, softer than before and it made your insides feel all fuzzy. 

You sighed, leaning more into Rafe’s chest, the smell of his cologne was so familiar, grounding you in the chaos of the party. He held you steady, and for a moment, you almost forgot where you were. Almost.

“Rafe, I’m fine,” you whispered, though your words didn’t sound as convincing as you hoped. The world still swayed slightly, and even though you hated to admit it, you needed him right now.

Rafe didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he kept his grip on you firm, his fingers pressing lightly against your waist as if reassuring himself that you were still there. The silence between you stretched, only filled by the loud music of the party and the occasional laugh of people passing by. You felt your head clear slightly, but the emotions were still a muddled mess inside you.

“I didn’t ask for your help,” you murmured, looking anywhere but at him.

“I know,” he replied simply. His voice was calm now, devoid of the anger from before, as if the guy bothering you had never existed.

You finally turned to face him, taking in the familiar features that once made your heart race but now only brought confusion. “Why are you doing this? You’re with her now.” Your voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, but the question weighed heavy between you two.

Rafe’s jaw clenched slightly as he stared ahead. “I don’t know,” he admitted after a long pause. “But I couldn’t just let him take you.”

You nodded, unsure of what to say next. The lines between you and him were so blurred now, tangled with old feelings and unspoken words. You weren’t sure if you wanted to unravel them or just let them be. 

For a long moment, the two of you just stood there, suspended in the strange in-between space—somewhere between the past and whatever this was now. The party raged on in the background, but it felt distant, like white noise. All you could focus on was Rafe and the tension hanging between you both.

“Go back to your girlfriend,” you whispered, breaking the silence between you. The feeling of his touch on you was too much to bear, it reminded you of all the reasons why you fell in love with him and all the reasons why you broke up.

Rafe’s grip on your waist loosened slightly at your words, but he didn’t let go. He was holding on, maybe out of habit, maybe out of some twisted sense of obligation. You couldn’t tell, and you weren’t quite sure you wanted to know. The weight of his touch felt heavier now, like it carried all the things left unsaid between you; the apologies he never made and the lies you told yourself to survive the breakup.

“I’m serious, Rafe,” you continued, your voice wavering, but you pushed through. “Go back to her. You’ve moved on, right? Isn’t that what this is?” You tried to sound indifferent, but your voice cracked ever so slightly and he noticed immediately.

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Is all he could muster, perhaps it was a pathetic response but it was better than nothing, right? He knew how much you hated his silence, the unspoken words and the way he pushed his feelings down. 

You stared at him, processing what he had just said. “She’s not your girlfriend?” you repeated, your voice flat, masking the confusion and the small flicker of something you didn’t want to acknowledge—hope.

Rafe shook his head slightly, his jaw tight. “No. She’s… it’s not like that.”

You let out a sharp, bitter laugh, unable to contain it. “Then what is it like, Rafe? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’ve moved on pretty easily.” You didn’t want to sound hurt, but you couldn’t help it. 

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face like he was trying to buy time. “She’s… she’s not you.”

“And yet you parade her around,” you said harshly, “What happened to never moving on?” 

Rafe winced at your words, clearly feeling the sting of them. “It’s not like that,” he repeated, his voice sounding weaker this time, as if he didn't even believe what he was saying.

You crossed your arms, trying to keep the vulnerability out of your voice, but the hurt was bubbling up, impossible to contain. “You said you’d never move on, never fall in love again because of me. But now you’re here, acting like those words never even mattered.”

It shouldn’t have shocked you that he could so easily lie, it was just who he was, but it hurt. You were always the one taking the brunt of his emotions, while he recovered seamlessly. 

“Am I just supposed to wait around for you forever?” He shot back, his voice raising slightly, “I spent weeks trying to figure out how to be okay without you, pretending like nothing happened when all I wanted was you.”

You swallowed hard, your chest tightening at his words. There was a part of you that hated hearing him admit how much he struggled, how much it had affected him.

“I didn’t ask you to wait for me, Rafe,” you said, your voice quieter now, almost broken. “I just didn’t think you’d move on so quickly.”

He looked at you, his expression softening slightly. “It wasn’t quick. It felt like forever. And none of it… none of it means anything without you.”

You opened your mouth to respond but found yourself at a loss for words. His admission hung heavy between you, like an unspoken truth you both had been avoiding. He took a step closer, his hand still resting on your waist, and you could feel the heat of his body, the familiar pull you had tried so hard to ignore.

“I don’t want her,” Rafe whispered, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear him over the music. “I don’t want anyone but you.”

Your heart raced, torn between longing and disbelief. “Rafe,” you breathed, feeling the weight of his words crash down on you. They should have felt like a lifeline, but instead, they twisted in your chest

“I don’t know if I can believe that anymore,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. “You moved on so fast. You made it look easy.”

Rafe’s gaze faltered, a flicker of hurt crossing his face. “It wasn’t easy,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion. “I tried to forget you, but I can’t. I just… I keep comparing everyone to you. No one comes close.”

You stepped back, needing to create space, even though every part of you screamed to close the distance. “But what does that matter now? You’re with her. You’re moving on,” you said, your words tinged with bitterness. “You’re here with someone else, Rafe.”

He looked down, his jaw clenched tightly as he struggled to find the right words. “She’s just a distraction. I don’t want her… I want you.”

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to breathe. “But you’re with her,” you said again, your voice shaking. “You’re making a choice by being with someone else.”

“I thought I had to move on,” he admitted, frustration and desperation mingling in his tone. “I thought that’s what you wanted. But I realized I was only fooling myself.”

Your heart raced, torn between longing and disbelief. “You thought you had to move on?” you repeated, your voice thick with emotion. “What does that even mean? You can’t just use someone else to forget me, Rafe. That’s not fair to either of us.”

He stepped closer, desperation in his eyes. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I thought maybe if I found someone new, I could forget the past. But I can’t. I keep seeing your face, hearing your laugh—it doesn’t go away.”

You shook your head, trying to process his words while feeling the hurt swell inside you. “And what about her? What about the time you spent with her?”

“It doesn’t mean anything,” he replied, his voice low. “I’ve just been pretending, trying to convince myself that I can let you go. But every time I see you, it all comes flooding back.”

His confession pierced through you like a knife, the truth of his feelings washing over you in waves. But even as you felt a flicker of hope, the bitterness of betrayal lingered. “And you think that’s enough? That you can just turn your feelings on and off like a switch?”

His expression shifted, a mix of frustration and regret shadowing his features. “I didn’t want it to be like this! I was trying to move on for both of us, but it didn’t work. I realize now that I just hurt you more.”

“Move on for both of us?” you spat, incredulity lacing your tone. “You think pretending to be happy with someone else was going to help me? You think that’s what I wanted?”

“I thought if I could just find someone else to fill the space you left—”

“Fill the space I left?” you interrupted, disbelief flooding your words. “You can’t just replace me like I’m some old shirt you’re done wearing! I was your girlfriend, your partner, and you just tossed that aside because it was easier than dealing with your feelings.”

His frustration peaked, and he clenched his fists at his sides. “You think I wanted to toss you aside?” he shot back, anger flickering in his eyes. “I didn’t know how to deal with the pain of losing you… I thought I was being strong by moving on!”

“Strong?” you repeated incredulously, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “That’s not being strong, Rafe, that’s being a coward. You couldn’t face your feelings, so you ran from them. You thought you could just fill the void with someone else, and now look where we are—arguing in the middle of a party while you cling to me like I’m your last lifeline.”

“Don’t act like you’re so innocent in this,” he countered, his voice rising with each word. “You didn’t want to fight for us either. You walked away first, remember? You made your choice, too!”

“Because I was tired of fighting a battle that was already lost!” you snapped back, frustration bubbling over. “I couldn’t keep doing this, holding onto someone who didn’t want to be held. And you—” you pointed a finger at him, your voice shaking with emotion, “you just made it worse by trying to move on without actually letting go!”

He took a deep breath, trying to rein in his anger. “You don’t understand! I was lost without you. I thought if I could find someone else, it would make me feel better. But it didn’t. All it did was remind me of how much I needed you. And now, here I am, stuck in this mess.”

You felt a rush of emotions—a mix of anger, pain, and something else that felt like desperation. “And what do you expect me to do about it? Just forget everything and take you back… You think that’s going to magically fix all the hurt you caused?”

“I don’t know!” he admitted, his voice a mixture of frustration and sadness. “I just know I can’t keep pretending that I don’t want you in my life.”

“Then stop pretending!” you shouted, your voice cutting through the noise of the party. “But don’t expect me to just jump back in like nothing happened. I need time. You’ve hurt me too much for that.”

His eyes softened, but there was still an edge of frustration there. “And how long is that going to take? Weeks? Months? What if you never come back to me?”

“Maybe I won’t!” you fired back, the truth of your words cutting deeper than you intended. “Maybe I’ll realise that I deserve better than someone who thinks they can just toy with my feelings because they’re scared.”

Rafe’s face hardened, the hurt flashing across his features quickly replaced by pride. “So that’s it then? You’re just going to give up on us?”

Your chest heaved as you tried to come up with some comeback, something that would make you seem as strong as you wished you were. But you had nothing. 

“I think it’s best if I leave,” you say after a moment of silence, fully pulling away from him and brushing a hand through your hair.

“Wait, don’t—” he started, stepping forward, but you held up a hand to stop him.

“Just let me go, Rafe,” you insisted, your voice shaking slightly. “I can’t keep doing this. This back-and-forth… it’s tearing me apart.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but the words faltered. Instead, he stood there, frustration and desperation etching deep lines on his face. “You can’t just walk away from everything we’ve been through. I thought we were better than this!”

You felt anger rise within you, fueled by the hurt that had been building since the moment you realized he’d moved on without you. “Better than what? This fucking mess where you pretend to be fine while I’m left picking up the pieces? You think that’s what love looks like?”

Rafe’s eyes flashed with something between pain and anger. “You know what? Go. Leave like you always do; it’s what you do best.”

His words cut deep, the sneer on his face making you remember all the reasons you broke up in the first place. “You think I wanted to leave? You think this is easy for me?” you shot back, voice trembling. “I didn’t choose to walk away; I was forced to because you made me feel like I didn’t matter.”

“Maybe you don’t,” he replied, bitterness dripping from his words.

“Wow,” you whisper, feeling sober than before. You don’t know if his words are from the heat of the moment, but he makes them sound so real that the idea vanishes as quickly as it came. 

The expression on his face shifts, a flash of regret crossing his features as he processes his words. He opens his mouth as if to take them back, but the damage is done. “I didn’t mean that,” he says, though the conviction in his voice is weak.

“Didn’t you?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. “Because it sure sounds like you did.”

His gaze drops to the floor, and you can see the internal battle raging within him. “I’m just—” he starts, then stops, as if he can’t find the right way to continue.

“Just what, Rafe?” you press, your heart racing as the weight of the moment settles over you. “Just trying to push me away? Because if that’s your goal, congratulations. You’ve succeeded.”

Rafe’s face hardens, and you can see the frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “That’s not fair,” he snaps, his voice sharp. “I’ve been trying to figure this out just like you. I didn’t want any of this to happen!”

“And yet here we are,” you retort, anger flaring within you.

You look at him, feeling the familiarity of fighting with him. It hurts to admit that it’s all you really know what to do, it is almost natural for you both. 

He’s not perfect, and neither are you. But together? It’s like all those imperfections amplify and nothing else matters. You can both see the other in ways no one else can, and perhaps that’s what is so scary. 

“I’m leaving,” you say, trying to calm down and gather any semblance of stability to leave this damn party. To leave Rafe, once and for all.

He doesn’t move, his eyes still locked on you, but the hurt in his expression softens the anger that once burned so brightly. “You think walking away is the answer? Just running from everything?”

“It’s the only thing I can do right now,” you reply, your voice trembling with emotion. “Every time I’m around you, I remember what it felt like when it was good, but I can’t ignore the pain anymore. It’s suffocating me.”

Rafe takes a step closer, desperation creeping into his voice. “But we can fix this! Just… just give me a chance to show you that I can be better.”

You shake your head, feeling the weight of the world on your shoulders. “You say that now, but I need more than promises. Because right now, all I see are words that lead to more hurt.”

Silence hangs between you, thick with unresolved feelings and unspoken words. You feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over. You take a shaky breath, steadying yourself. “I can’t do this anymore, Rafe. I don’t want to keep fighting for something that feels so broken.”

His expression falters, and for a moment, you see the boy you fell in love with—vulnerable, scared, and desperate to reach out. “Please,” he whispers, the vulnerability in his voice making your heart ache. “Don’t give up on us.”

But you feel your resolve harden, the anger turning into a sorrow that feels all too familiar. “I think I already have,” you admit slowly, your voice breaking.

You turn to leave, the weight of his gaze pressing on your back. Each step feels heavy, as if you’re leaving behind pieces of yourself that were once so intertwined with him. But with every step away, you can feel the suffocating fog begin to lift, the finality of your decision becoming more clear.

When you finally step out into the cool night air, a weight lift off your shoulders. You leave the warmth of the party—and him—behind. The further you walk away the more your decision settles in, bittersweet and heavy. You know you’re not perfect, and neither is he, but for the first time in a long while, you’re choosing yourself over the chaos of your past.

And that feels like a victory, however small.

[fireya-x]

they say don't open old wounds

AO3 Link (full tag list) || masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

The mask hides more than just a face; it hides a shared past, a love lost, a ghost you thought long buried.

[3,7k words]

cw: angst, smut, piv sex

they say don't open old wounds

but this is still brand new

and I've got nothing left to lose besides you

and I've already lost you once

what more could you do?

they say don't open old wounds

but I want to

PVRIS - old wounds

It had been months since you joined the 141, months of missions that pushed you to the edge, missions that forged an unexpected bond with your team. A sense of mutual respect and care for each other, a blend of professionalism and camaraderie that softened the harsh realities of the work you did. Soap was always ready with a joke, Gaz offered tactical insights and support, Price kept a watchful eye on your well-being — but Ghost… Ghost remained an enigma. Shrouded in mystery. He rarely spoke more than a grunt or a clipped command, the complete opposite to the warmth of the others.

He was the same hidden figure, strict and cold, like he had been a few years ago when you had the honour of being trained by him and Captain Price. He was a puzzle you couldn’t solve, a cipher you hadn't even intended to attempt to crack, yet the easy familiarity with which the others interacted with him, offering their vulnerabilities to someone who resembled Death himself without a second thought, left you constantly bewildered. You needed to know more. How could they trust someone implicitly who was hidden behind a mask, someone whose past remained a blank slate?

He could be anyone, a traitor in their midst, and no one would know. You shook your head, catching yourself staring yet again, your gaze tracing the lines of the thick skull sewn to his balaclava, desperately trying to find a flicker of the man beneath.

Missions blurred into weeks, then months, and the uneasy feeling just didn’t let go. You had an eye of him always, your gut telling you to, but you found something different than you were hoping for.

It began with small, almost imperceptible observations that chipped away at the carefully constructed wall of Ghost’s persona. Subtle movements, like the precise, almost ritualistic way he adjusted his gloves like he had always done; a subtle tilt of his head as he listened, mirroring his thoughtful pose from years ago. The way he favoured the knife in the strap on his left, like he had always shown off his favourite weapon to you, shown you how to use it to defend yourself if you ever had to grab it from him. The subtle shift in his breathing when under stress, something he tried to conceal but you recognized it with an unnerving familiarity.

You’d catch yourself staring, again and again, searching for something, anything, beneath that mask to prove your mind wrong — or right.

You scoffed at yourself, pushing the thoughts away. Wishful thinking. Ridiculous. Simon was gone. He is and always will be.

It was your mind playing tricks on you, you reasoned, grasping for closure. You were back in the field, surrounded by danger, by ghosts of your past. Of course, you’d see him in every shadow, hear his voice in every whisper of the wind. Your heart, starved for the his presence, filled the void with illusions.

But you couldn’t help it. The mask. A blank canvas that taunted you, allowed your mind to paint his face onto it a million times over, feeding your impossible, unrealistic hopes with the absurdity of ever seeing him again.

Then, a mission had gone sideways. A sudden ambush, a chaotic scramble for cover. Shots were exchanged, but the target was hit, the job done. But in the chaos, you’d gotten separated from the team, wandering some endless fields, unsuccessfully trying to contact anyone through the deafening static of your radio.

Suddenly, you saw him — Ghost, slumped against the rough-hewn timbers of an abandoned barn, a gash bleeding freely on his forearm beneath the torn fabric of his jacket.

Adrenaline surging, you raced towards him, your medic instincts taking over. 

Inside the barn, the air was thick with the scent of dust and hay. Ghost leaned against the bales and exhaled loudly, avoiding looking at you.

You carefully set down your rifle in the hay. “We have to wait here and hope we can contact the others. Comms are down.”

No response.

“Let me look at the wound, Lieutenant.” Not a question, but a command, softened by the implicit understanding that he couldn’t afford to ignore the wound, not now, not while still being out in the field.

You knelt beside him, your hands already moving to assess the damage. “Fuck,” he swore, the word muffled by the mask. You assumed it was the pain, but later you would understand the true reason behind the swearing.

“I'm sorry,” you murmured, your focus narrowing to the task at hand. “I’ll be as gentle as I can.” You pressed an alcohol-soaked cotton against the wound, retrieved form your medkit, your touch surprisingly steady despite the frantic beating of your heart. Even through the layers of his tactical gear, you could feel the heat radiating from his skin. Something about the feel of him, the solid weight of his body against yours as you leaned in to examine the wound, sparked a disconcerting sense of déjà vu. Stop it, you berated yourself. This is not the time.

All those times he'd been around you, he’d kept his distance, interactions brief, clipped, professional. But now, trapped with you in the suffocating silence of the barn, with nowhere to run, no excuses to offer, no escape from your touch, his carefully constructed walls seemed to crumble, inch by agonizing inch. With your hands on him, gentle and caring as they had been countless times before —

You heard the thud of his helmet hitting the ground, followed by the soft rustle of fabric as he shifted, loosening your hold on his arm. “You need to hold still, sir.”

And then you heard it. Your name. Not your call sign, not the impersonal formality of military protocol, but your name. Whispered with the same cadence like it had been in your dreams, and you were sure fatigue had finally driven you beyond sanity. 

Your blood ran cold. No. It couldn't be. He’s gone. It was impossible. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself to wake up from this nightmare. He is not here.

But when you turned, you froze. You looked at a ghost. Not the Ghost, but that ghost from your past that had haunted your every single waking moment, your dreams, your nightmares. It had been stalking you, mocking you, reminding you of a love lost and irrevocably buried. The ghost with its dirty blond hair and scarred face and hazel brown eyes.

Simon.

The man who had stolen your heart, then shattered it with his sudden, unexplained disappearance. 

A strangled sob tore through you, the sound raw with disbelief, with years of suppressed grief.

A torrent of emotions washed over you – shock, denial, a resurgence of a love you thought long buried, a burning anger at his deception, at the years of silence, of unanswered questions. “Why?” you choked out, the word laced with accusation. “Why, Simon? All this time… we were here. Together. You knew.”

He winced, his gaze dropping to his injured arm, unable to meet the intensity of your gaze.  “I… I couldn't risk it,” he murmured, the words a strained whisper. “Risk you.” 

A wave of nausea washed over you. He knew. All those stolen glances, the way you always gravitated towards him—he'd known. The realization struck you, and fury warred with the irrational surge of joy. Alive. But he chose this. Chose to hide, to let you grieve.

“The things I've done…” His voice cracked, the weight of his secrets heavy in the air. “…The things I had to do…” He met your gaze, bracing himself for the storm of your anger. “I couldn't risk you getting hurt.” A weak excuse, a pathetic justification, but the only truth he could offer. 

Shame burned in his gaze, and for a terrifying moment, he thought he’d lost you, before you even had the chance to find each other again. The anger, the hurt, the unanswered questions — he saw it all swirling within you.

“Hurt?” The word was hollow, edged with bitterness. “You left me to rot in hell for seven years, wondering if you were even alive, and you talk about hurt? You were here, Simon. You even trained me!” He flinched at the pain in your voice, a pain he inflicted. Something he deserved, not you.

You felt a flash of anger towards Price, who had kept this from you, knowing how much Simon’s disappearance wrecked you. But you also knew that Price, above all else, was loyal to his men. 

“I know what you're thinking,” he whispered. “I asked them to keep it from you. I asked them not to say my name around you… I thought… it would be easier.” He knew now how wrong he'd been. How could he not know? How selfish and misguided this attempt at keeping you safe had been. He was supposed to protect you, not hurt you. “If you’re angry, be angry at me.” He was the only one to blame. It was never up to his comrades to take this weight off his shoulders. 

Then suddenly, he closed the distance between you, and his hand, trembling, cupped your cheek. A jolt, a spark, in the desolate wasteland of his guilt. Your skin, soft and warm beneath his fingertips. A reminder of everything he’d lost. Everything he risked losing again by revealing himself.

No. Your mind screamed in protest, wanting to pull away from the unwelcome tenderness. Don't you dare forgive him. But the words remained unspoken. His thumb gently stroked your skin, a familiar caress, and a sob escaped your lips. This is wrong. He hurt you. But the voice of reason was a faint whisper against the roaring tide of longing. Your hands trembled, wanting to push him away, to distance yourself, anything but this aching tenderness. But at the same time, you wanted nothing more to feel him.

“I don’t want to be angry,” your hand found its place above his on your cheek. “Just… tell me why, Simon? Why?”

He didn't answer. He couldn't. Instead, his lips found yours, a kiss that was both a question and an answer, a desperate, hungry reconnection of two souls separated by time and circumstance. 

He knew you’d push him away, he expected it, he deserved it. But he needed this, this moment of contact, the fleeting taste of a past he had thought was lost forever. He had been dreaming of this moment for too long, torturing himself with imagined reunions, each encounter an agonizing exercise in self-control. Every time you were near, he’d shackled himself mentally, fighting the overwhelming urge to reach for you, to touch you, to scream at you that he is alive and yours, and to beg for your forgiveness.

Your lips on his were like watering a withered flower that his heart had turned into, dry and shrivelled, unable to let love close if it wasn’t yours. He’d sworn never to love again when he left, believing it was that easy, believing it was the only way to protect you.

He had hoped that each mission and kill helped to bury his heart and his emotions until there was nothing left but death. Bury the part of himself that yearned for you, that ached for your touch, and leave only the Ghost behind.

But then you were there. On his team. You stood before him, more beautiful than he remembered, your long hair braided back, your uniform hugging your curves, a vision that made his breath catch in his throat. He could have died then and there, content to simply exist in the same space as you, to breathe the same air.

And with your return, so was he, whether he wanted to or not. He was powerless against you. Simon Riley, the man who loved you, resurfaced from beneath the mask, shattering the carefully constructed illusion he'd built around himself. 

The moment he dreaded haunted his work now, and he considered running, again. Leave the team, like a dog with its tail between its legs, give up and run from his past.

But Price had promised him that he wouldn’t tell you, if he stayed. He had almost begged him not to run again, knowing his past and his pain, and somewhere, he knew Price was right. He needed them. And he realized he needed you.

From then, he cherished every moment with you together, and it pained him to be so harsh to you. But he had to be, afraid the mask would slip, literally. Conversations cut short, orders barked, the subtle flinch in your eyes when his voice cut through the air — each interaction was a battle, a constant war against the overwhelming urge to reach out, to soothe the hurt he knew he was inflicting, to pull you close and beg you to forgive him.

And now, with your hands on him, so gentle and caring, the dam had finally broken. He couldn’t bear it any longer, this agonizing distance from you.

And your lips, so sweet and so soft, like no time had passed at all, they were his salvation, his damnation, his only hope of redemption.

A sigh left your body, distorted from the sobs, and he pressed your face closer to him. He never wanted to let go anymore. Never again.

He still expected you to push him away, to be angry, to unleash your wrath upon him for abandoning you — but you didn’t. Your hands touched every single inch of skin that was exposed, and he didn’t stop you.

He was ashamed of the relief that flooded through him, ashamed of the way his body responded to your touch, ashamed that he dared to enjoy this moment, a moment that should never have existed, a moment born of his lies and his carefully constructed deceptions. Then your hands cupped his length through his jeans, and an unexpected groan escaped his lips. 

He should stop you. You should be furious. You shouldn’t be rewarding him for the years of silence, for the agonizing absence that had left a gaping wound in your life. But the moment your hand touched him through the fabric, every carefully constructed defense crumbled to dust. He was lost.

“Show me you’re real, Si,” you whispered against his jaw, your lips leaving a hot, wet trail along his stubble, your hips pressing against his thighs, the friction igniting a fire in his blood. “Show me… I need… I need to know this is real.”

How could he deny you? How could he deny himself this one moment of reckless abandon, this one chance to reclaim a piece of the past he had so carelessly thrown away?

“Are you sure?” 

He felt the zip of his jeans slide down, heard the quiet clink of his discarded weapons against the hay. He felt you nudging his thighs open, a sense of anticipation coursing through his blood like pure, electric adrenaline.

“I don’t know.” You whispered, looking up at him. Your sight was blurry from the tears, but you saw real concern in his eyes. Mixed with confusion. He had expected you to react differently, you were sure of that. 

If this was just a fever dream, a hallucination conjured by a mind desperate for solace, then so be it. You would savor every moment, every touch, every stolen kiss, before the inevitable awakening, before the cruel return to reality.

You kissed him again, your hand now firmly stroking him, the familiar texture of his skin, the throb of his arousal beneath your palm, sending a wave of heat through you. His hands found their way beneath your uniform, slowly pushing your pants down as far as your position allowed, and the catch in your breath when his touch found your centre was his undoing. The small, shuddering breath that passed through your body, an unconscious reaction to his finger as it played against your sweet spot. And he felt the blood rush to his cock, hardening it, causing it to ache with a need he hadn't felt in years.

You crawled closer onto his thighs and slowly eased yourself onto his waiting length, and that puzzle that was Ghost, the unsolvable mystery, finally clicked into place, a puzzle piece finding its perfect fit, making you both whole.

The world around you ceased to exist. It was just you and him and nothing else. The wound and blood were long forgotten. If there were enemies outside, you didn’t care. You could die right then and there, if it meant you were in your lovers arms for all eternity and beyond.

The stretch of his cock inside your sensetive walls was pure bliss, and you sighed into his neck. “There hasn’t been anyone else. Just you. Always you.” You whispered in confession, and you earned a groan in return.

“I swore to never love again,” he murmured against your hair, as he began to move inside you, slowly at first, then with increasing urgency. “And then,” a hard thrust, a gasp escaping your lips, “you were right there again. Fuck.”

Your hands gripped his shoulders, fingers digging into the worn fabric of his uniform as he moved within you. The rhythm was both familiar and achingly new, years of longing poured into every thrust. The feel of him, solid and real, chased away the ghosts of the past, the years of wondering, of imagining, of hoping. This was real. He was here.

You sobbed, a mixture of relief and the lingering sting of betrayal, and he responded with a guttural groan, burying his face in the crook of your neck. His breath, hot and ragged against your skin, mingled with incoherent apologies whispered against your ear.

“Si…” you breathed, his name a prayer, a plea, a reaffirmation of a love that had endured despite the years of silence and pain.

His hands tightened on your hips, guiding your rhythm to match his, the friction building and building. It wasn't just the physical pleasure, though it was like a white-hot fire spreading through you; it was the reconnection, the desperate need to erase the years of separation, to meld back into the person you were before he disappeared. 

“I missed you,” he groaned. “So fucking much.”

“Me too,” you whispered back, the tears you thought you'd cried out returning.

The world narrowed, shrinking down to the feel of his clothed body against yours, the heat of his breath, the relentless rhythm that was driving you both toward the edge. 

There was no pretense, no holding back. Just the raw need to be close, to reconnect, to find solace in each other's arms after so long apart, even with the limitations imposed by the circumstances.

You arched into him, the friction of clothing against skin a delicious torment, and a wave of pleasure ripped through you. His grip tightened, and his name tore from your throat as wave after wave of sensation crashed over you, shattered you, dragging you under.

He followed close behind, his release a shuddering groan against your ear, his length pulsing inside you. For a long moment, you just held each other, hearts pounding, breaths ragged, the silence broken only by the occasional shuddering sigh. It wasn’t pretty, it wasn’t poetic. It was messy, desperate, and utterly perfect.

Even as the aftershocks subsided, you kept your eyes closed, clinging to the warmth of his embrace, afraid to break the spell, terrified that opening them would erase him again, that this precious moment would dissolve into the cruel, cold reality of his absence. You felt a kiss on your forehead, a tender gesture that sent a pang of fear through you. Was he going to leave again? 

But he didn't move.

“I’m so sorry, love” he whispered, his voice ragged, breath warm against your skin. “Please… look at me.”

You opened your eyes, your gaze locking with his. Scarred skin, hazel eyes filled with remorse, but also with an unmistakable love.

He was still there.

He hadn’t disappeared.

He didn’t walk away.

“I promise,” he murmured, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, “I won't ever leave you again.”

You clung to his words, your heart swelling with a cautious hope. “Will you tell me what happened?”

He hesitated, his jaw tightening, but his eyes held yours. Watching you these past months, your strength, your resilience in the face of unimaginable danger, revealed a simple truth that would strip him of any excuses not to tell you. You were stronger than he’d given you credit for, stronger than even he had believed. You deserved the truth, no matter how dark, no matter how painful. And he would give it to you. He swore it to himself.

 “I will.”

“Bravo Six… in the blind… you… copy?” The radio crackled, a jarring intrusion into the fragile intimacy of the moment. He reached for it immediately. 

“Bravo Six, this is Ghost. We're in the blind. What's your status?” 

His voice, when he responded to Price, was still tinged with the softness you’d heard only moments before, a subtle reassurance that despite the return of the impersonal detachment, despite the mask he wore for the world, for his team, he was still there, somewhere beneath the surface.

“When we go back,” you whispered, your voice barely audible above the static of the radio, laced with a vulnerability you hadn’t intended to reveal, “…when Ghost comes back,” you corrected yourself, the words catching in your throat, “will I still have… Simon?” 

He paused, his hand hovering over the radio, his gaze locking with yours. “You, always,” he said, without any hesitation. “And I promise,” he added, his voice softening, the warmth of him breaking through, “I'll help you understand… Ghost.”

He would reveal the darkness, the secrets, the pain that had driven him to become the masked soldier. He would trust you with the broken pieces of himself, the fragments he’d kept hidden for so long. He owed you that much, if not more. 

He’d give you every little piece of him he could offer.

[shiny-kaibernyte]

Hey, I've read your Drayton writings. He's such a goofball and i like how your writings portray him. I thought of a scenario that could have gone in the indigo disk involving him and/or kieran.

After the expedition, the main character gets badly injured from shielding Kieran being hit by terapagos's tera starstorm. Kieran is crushed with crippling guilt along with Drayton who is also furious at Kieran after he heard of the news. Feeling guilty because he could have protected her if he had gone on the expedition. They see the MC with big scar on their face and feel even more guilty while the MC try to comfort both of them.

(Haha, Kieran and Drayton rivalry/jealously go brrrr)

I was wondering if you could write something for this? (Romantic feelings are somewhat implied) Thx man.

This got lost to the void or requests but I'm so glad i finally got around to doing this one! It may take me ages but i will eventually do my requests. I did notice you used she in your request, i have written this in gender neutral but if you would prefer i change it feel free to let me know and i can fix it for you.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of scaring and blood, fluff, Spoilers for the indigo disk.

Healing Scar | Drayton x reader (Hurt)

It was so dark, sounds blended together into one endless noise. Lights became shadows and your vision drew red. Blurring like a fogged up camera lens, the ground was non-existent below your frame, body numb and senses beyond recognition, all you could do was stare forward, the dancing lights and sounds soon echoing out into nothing but silence. The once red tinted vision, now black.

“Where are they Kieran? What did you do?” Someone was yelling, distressed maybe.

“Please calm yourself! There is no need to fight, this isn’t getting us anywhere!?” Another voice… calmer than the first but still loud enough to hear the words forming.

“I’m sorry! There was nothing that could have been done to stop this. You need to understand it wasn’t his fault!” More…? How many more people are around you? 

“Nothing? From what I can tell he stood there and DID NOTHING!” That voice… clearer now, closer. Drayton. Unmistakable, definitely him. 

“He was scared!  We all were, how were we supposed to know that would happen?!” Carmine, definitely her… The tinge of sarcasm in her natural tone made her voice so familiar to your ears.

“Guys stop this please! This is a hospital, you can’t yell here…” Who is this… Lacey? You were almost certain it was her, but she's so soft spoken it was hard to even tell. You could feel another person in the room… it must be Kieran, Drayton did yell his name if you remember.

“Kieran, you better star explaining what the hell happened down there or so help me i will-”

“That’s enough Drayton!” Crispin… That fire in his voice, when did he get here? Was he here the whole time? You were unsure but it was definitely him, and from the muffled bump, he must have grabbed Drayton. If only your eyes would open, or words could form, you could tell them you were okay. What was even happening?

“Drayton… perhaps you should step out for a moment, calm down a little bit.” Lacey chimed up again, voice much clearer now.

“NO!” That was loud. Even for Drayton. Seems even he realised how loud he was, if you could see the faces in the room you could guess how surprised everyone looked. “I’m sorry, I shouldn't have shouted like that, I just… I can't leave them. I want, no, need to be here when they wake up. If I leave…”

“We understand, perhaps we should all just take a moment to breathe, Kieran?” Carmine's tone had calmed significantly from what it was before, sounding almost motherly.

“Right… as much as i want to stay, i’ll leave for now.” Kieran’s voice was shaken, anger perhaps? Guilt? It was unclear.  

The sound of shuffling footsteps soon filled your ears, multiple people were leaving. A clicking sound soon cut the footsteps off when a door closed. A chair scraping sound pierced your ears. It was loud and harsh, But not as loud as Drayton’s words. “I should have been there… Why did I say no… I’m such a dumbass, if i’d just gone with you i could have… You wanted me to go so badly, to see Area zero. The sparkle in your eye, I should have just gone. I shouldn’t have left you alone…”

“shush…”

“What?” Drayton perked up, your sudden word cut through his like a knife. Whilst your eyes were closed, the sudden shadow passing through your eyelids confirmed he was now leaning over you from your left. Though his presence was known to you, words were not. That single word was all you could muster - Your eyes on the other hand finally decided to be of use to you and open. Though agonisingly slowly. “Oh thank god… You’re alive, actually alive.”

“They’re awake…?” Kieran’s voice came from the door, you could still see Drayton’s face in your view, in fact it was the first thing you saw. His eyes, scanning your features, nothing but gratitude and admiration in them, hair hanging on his face, messy and unkempt. Tears began to fill so he refused to stain your face with them. At least that was how he looked before Kieran entered the room again. Head snapping so fast he could have gotten whiplash. “I left my jacket here, are they actually awake?”

“Yes, now get out.” Drayton snapped, backing away from your vision allowing your eyes to adjust to the lights around you. 

“Can I see them?” Kieran responded quickly, as if trying to cut Drayton off. “Just for a second?”

Before Drayton could even open his mouth, with the little strength you had gained back, you grabbed the cuff of his sleeve which caused his head to snap back again. He really needs to stop doing that. “Hey… Let me help you sit up.”

He had seen the nurse adjust your bed earlier that day so you were almost laying down, so he did the same thing just sitting you up slowly instead as his arm rested on your stomach as support so you would fall in the new upright position. You could see Kieran now, he looked awful. Not physically, he didn’t have a scratch on him. Emotionally, he was defeated, there was nothing in his eyes but guilt and hate. Poor kid couldn’t even look at you, his eyes were fixed on the wall next to him, occasionally looking at Drayton who was practically staring holes straight through Kieran’s body. Turning back to Drayton, you attempt to convey to him that you want Kieran to stay, darting your eyes between him and Kieran. He got the message. 

“Kieran! They want to see you… But you really don’t need to come over, standing there, far away is fine.” Swatting him in the arm, you send your dragon boy a glare which causes him to recoil his comment and blush embarrassed. “Just kidding.”

Passing Kieran a small smile, you lift your free hand up, as Drayton grabs your other, sitting back down in the chair he had practically lept from earlier. His thumb runs gently over the back of your hand, as his attention is drawn back to the timid boy standing opposite him, now at the railing of your bed. Kieran didn't take your hand instead he just stared at your face. “I’m sorry…”

Confusion returned to you, sorry for what? He was okay, that's all that mattered to you, he wasn’t hurt from what you could see, no scratches or bruises. Bit of dirt he hadn’t cleaned and some bits of crystal dust. No wounds.

“I’m so sorry…” Kieran muttered eyes tracing your face as tears threatened to fall. He hated how vulnerable he was in this moment, he wanted to be strong but the guilt that flooded his body was too strong, a tidal wave.

Drayton used his Rotom phone to show you what Kieran was looking at. It was bad, a large scar ran from your right ear, across your cheek and nose, then ending just under your left eye. Another on your forehead doing the same thing. Only thinner but deeper than the cheek scar. Clean tho, no residual damage aside from the giant scar and a few cuts around your features. So that was why your vision turned red. Kieran couldn’t bear to see the surprise on your face, at well… seeing your face.

“Say sorry as much as you want, nothing… is gonna change what happened down there. Nothing…” Seems Drayton’s own guilt came crashing back again. The both of them were ashamed for different reasons.

Drayton for not being there with you, for turning you down and not being there to protect you. He loved you so much, more than words could describe and yet here you were. Kieran for the opposite, he went with you because he wanted to know more, to be better, stronger. To find the secret of area zero But when push came to shove, he stood there. Feet firm on the ground, unmoving as attack after attack came towards his little group. Only when your own body dove into his in a tackle, to knock him out of the way from whatever else came at you, and your blood stained his face did he finally move.

“You think I don't know that?” Kieran snapped back, fists clenched against the railing of your bed, head hung low. “Stop rubbing it in my face Drayton!”

You felt like a kid between these two, the bickering back and forth between them sounded like siblings fighting over something trivial. So you made an attempt to comfort them. Drayton was easy, all you had to do was gently squeeze his hand and send him a warm but meaningful smile and he was completely calm again. Placing a gentle kiss to the back of your hand as he gently stroked your hair.

Kieran was about to leave, turning his back to the scene in front of him only for your free hand to grab his wrist forcing him to stay, the look you gave him was subtle, but it spoke louder than any words you could say. The honesty in them, forgiveness. You didn’t blame him for any of this and you needed him to know that. If yanking him into a hug was how to do that then so be it. With an aggressive tug you pulled him into you, his head landing on your shoulder as your arm latched onto his back, handing rubbing his side reassuringly. He finally cried, hiding his face in your shoulder, his arms tightening on you. Drayton didn't say anything, instead mimicking your action to  Kieran, no snarky comment or blame-full actuation.

[evorlaah]

2SOON; (TEASER.)

PARING: Female reader, Heeseung

Synopsis: Since your breakup, Heeseung’s life has been a downward spiral of parties and regret. One night, fate brings you back together outside a bar, reopening old wounds and unresolved feelings.

WARNINGS ⚠️ : non!idolheeseung, female reader, angst, angst, angst, angst, mentions of alcohol and smoking, strong language, toxic coping mechanisms (I think that’s it 😭?)

Every night was the same for Heeseung since your breakup in February. Parties, drinks, and the burn of cigarettes down his throat had become his only source of distraction. A desperate attempt to fill the void you left behind.

“Can you give me a shot of something? I don’t care what it is.” He muttered to the bartender, voice rough and tired.

Jake who was standing nearby noticed his behavior and placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to reel him back. “Heeseung, that’s enough. We need to go home.”

Heeseung shrugged him off with a glare on his face, his frustration bubbling over. “Just one more shot, Jake. It’s not the end of the fucking world. I’m a grown-ass man.”

He snapped, the words slicing through the haze of the music and chatter.

Jakes concern lingered, but Heeseung didn’t care. “Whatever man, you can’t keep doing this stupid shit. Call me when you’re ready to go.” Jake says before walking away. Heeseung watches him leave, his figure disappearing into the crowd. He scoffed, grabbing the drink his bartender slid his way. “Heres to fucking nothing.” He said bitterly before drowning it in one swift motion.

The burn spread through his chest but wasn’t enough to drown the ache in his heart. You.

His eyes scanned the room, blurry faces and empty laughter blending together. He hated this- he hated the noise, the fake smiles, and especially himself. A memory of you flashed in his mind, your laugh so vivid it almost felt real. Heeseung blinked hard, trying to shake it off, but it only made him aware of how lost he feels without you.

He stumbled outside, the cool night air hitting his face like a slap. Leaning against the wall, he lit a cigarette with shaky hands but his lighter didn’t budge, “fuck” he said before staring up at the sky. The stars were the only constant in a life that felt like it was falling apart.

“Why do you still haunt me?” he whispered to no one, his voice cracking under the weight of the question.

“Heeseung?”

The sound of his name startled him, low and tentative, cutting through the haze of his thoughts. Heeseung turns his head.

It was you.

You stood a few feet away from him, wrapped in a leather jacket that was too big for you. It wasn’t yours. He blinked as he looked at the jacket and then back at your face unsure if he was hallucinating. “Y/n?”

You hesitated, shoving your hands into your pockets. “I..I thought it was you,” you said quietly. “Didn’t think I’d find you out here like this.”

Heeseung lets out a dry laugh, his lips curling into a bitter smirk. “Why wouldn’t I be? This is me now. I’m fucked up.”

Your eyebrow’s furrowed, the words cutting deeper than you wanted to admit, but you stayed silent.

“Nice jacket by the way.” He says before taking a cigarette from his pocket and flicking the lighter multiple times until a mini flame burns.

You glanced down at the oversized jacket that’s draped over your shoulder, your grip tightening the fabric. “It's not mine,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Heeseung smirks faltered, replaced by something unreadable. He took another drag from his cigarette, the glow illuminating his face. “Figures,” he muttered, exhaling a cloud of smoke. “Guess you moved on quicker than I thought.”

Your heart sank at his words. “It’s not like that Heeseung,” you said softy stepping closer.

He turned his head away, avoiding your gaze. “Then what is it, huh? What the fuck it’s like your haunting me. Why are you even here?.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came. The truth was, you didn’t know why you were there. Something about seeing him stumble out of the bar, looking so lost and broken, made it impossible to walk away.

“I just… I wanted to make sure you were okay,” you finally said, your voice trembling slightly.

Heeseung let out a bitter laugh, flicking the ash from his cigarette. “Yeah? Well, take a good look. This is me now. A fucking mess. You can go back and tell whoever gave you that jacket.”

His words stung, but you stood your ground. “Stop pushing people away, Heeseung. I know you’re hurting—”

“You don’t know shit Y/n!” he snapped, his voice rising as he threw the cigarette to the ground and crushed it under his shoe. “You don’t get to act like you care after you fucking left me!”

The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the faint hum of traffic in the distance. Heeseung’s chest rose and fell rapidly, his hands trembling as he ran them through his hair.

“I never stopped caring,” you finally whispered, your voice barely audible tears forming.

His head shot up, his eyes locking onto yours. For a moment, the anger in his expression faltered, replaced by something softer—something vulnerable.

But before he could respond, you took a step back, wrapping the jacket tighter around yourself. “Take care of yourself, Heeseung,” you said, your voice steady now, though your heart felt like it was in your ass.

You turned to leave, your footsteps echoing in the empty alley, and for the first time in months, Heeseung felt the weight of regret press down on him like a vice.

[sinner-as-saint]

I Am Your Fall.

Mob!Bucky x Ex-Spy!Reader

Run-through: You’re hiding from your past, in Madripoor. You did nothing wrong, other than mix dangerous business with a lot of pleasure. You couldn’t go home because... he would find you and Madripoor was the only place he didn’t do business, or had any allies or friends. But little did you know that the mob boss had finally found you after obsessively looking for you ever since you left, and left him in pieces. He didn’t want revenge, he just wanted the one thing he had hopelessly fallen in love with; who also happened to be the one who had betrayed him and hurt him more than anyone or any bullet ever did before - you. 

Themes: mob!bucky, smut, angst, fluff, Ex-Spy!Reader, slight daddy kink, guns

“The usual?” 

You nodded at the man in front of you with a faint smile as you took a seat at the bar. You kept the hood of your jacket up as you let out a quiet sigh. Moments later the bartender placed a glass half filled with whiskey and ice in front of you.

You whispered a ‘thank you’ and swirled the drink around in the glass before lifting it up to your lips and taking just the tiniest sip. You often came into this bar after work, just to feel normal again. You worked at a diner right around the corner; it was lowkey and shabby and didn’t attract many customers, neither did it pay well but you weren’t there for the money. 

Your last job, the one you had before ending up in Lowtown Madripoor, paid really well. So much so that you wouldn’t have to worry about money for a long, long time but you still had to blend in and pretend to be as normal as you could; hence the job at the diner. 

You thought of home as you took your second sip. You grew up in a nice family before joining the organization you worked for, as a spy. You let out a quiet little chuckle as you thought of how ever since you were a kid you wanted to grow up and catch bad guys. Which is exactly what you did as a spy. And you were great at your job, your organization couldn’t be prouder of your work. 

You took another sip. Everything was going great for you, until the day you were assigned to infiltrate the life of and take down the infamous mob boss, James Buchanan Barnes. The day you heard that you were being sent to him, you were excited because James was notorious for a lot of bad things. You couldn’t wait to step inside his evil lair and take him down. What you didn’t know was that you would end up finding love right where it wasn’t supposed to be. 

You felt a strange knot in your gut as you thought of him. Bucky… 

Oh you had loved him despite his mean, dark demeanor. He was a cold-hearted man to the rest of the world, but only you got to see the warmer side of him. And you fell in love, harder, faster and deeper than you ever thought you could. It got to a point where you had to choose between either betraying your organization or betraying the man who shouldn’t have fallen in love with. That’s when you ran away, far from home. Far from your work which you loved so much, and far from him. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to betray him, nor did you have the courage to tell your people that you failed in an important mission all because you fell in love with the enemy. You knew what happened to people who betrayed Bucky, you had seen it. And you also knew what happened to spies and agents who betrayed the organization you worked for. Both of those situations weren’t ones you wished to find yourself in, so in order to save yourself, you ran. 

And now here you were. 

As you took another sip of your drink, you felt the hair at the back of your neck stand up out of nowhere as a shiver ran down your spine. You were being watched. During your training you were taught to absolutely trust your gut, and if you ever got the feeling that you were being watched it meant that there was a high chance that you actually were. 

Shit. 

You set your glass down and placed the money down beside it before slowly sliding off the stool and casually walking out of the bar. You made sure your hood was still up, and you tucked your hands in your pockets. Your fingertips gently felt the hand gun you always kept with you, just in case, secured at your waist under your jacket. 

You looked around, and so far no one was following you. The streets were busy given that it was a Friday night and you were sure that you could make it home safe because no one would attack you or anything in a crowd like this. 

You lived in a modest, 2-bedroom apartment. And you always took the fire escape at the back to get into your apartment because you didn’t trust the rusty elevator at the front, nor did you ever want to run into a neighbor or anyone by taking the stairs inside the building. The fire escape was discreet and lowkey. 

You entered your living room shortly and sensed that something was off. The air was colder somehow, and you never left any windows open. Ever. You shut the door behind you, not locking it. You gently took out your gun and held it out in front of you, at the ready. You moved stealthily, quietly. You knew which spots on the wooden flooring made the most noise so you avoided those. 

Someone was in here, you could tell. The air… it smelt different the further you walked into your apartment. You didn’t switch on any lights, you checked the kitchen first. Clear. The living room. Clear. The spare room. Clear. And your heart raced as you went into your bedroom. The door which normally always remained closed, was wide open. 

You couldn’t even run. Whatever it was, whoever it was you were gonna have to face it. You stepped into your room and with whatever little light was coming through the windows, you tried to scan the room. 

“Lower your gun, babygirl. You don’t need it. I’m not gonna hurt you, and I know you don’t wanna hurt me.” 

The sound of his voice had you frozen in the spot where you stood, a few feet away from your bed. The voice came from behind you. You slowly turned around, not lowering your gun and keeping it aimed right at him. It took you a few seconds to process everything. 

You could make out his silhouette as he stood in front of one of your bedroom windows. Tall, built, his metal arm glistening. He was here. You let out a shaky breath. He was here, he found you. 

You didn’t move from the spot that you were standing on. There was a time when whenever you saw him you’d run into his arms, and despite wanting to do just that even now, you knew you couldn’t. That was back then, this was different, wasn’t it? 

He sighed before moving, walking to the other side of the room to light a table lamp. The soft, golden light illuminated the room just enough. Your heart burned as you took in his appearance; dark suit as always, shorter hair, his metal arm just as intimidating and mean as always and his pretty blue eyes - the same ones you loved, belonging to a man who eventually became the reason why you had to leave your old life behind. 

Bucky was still; calm and composed as always. He was the kind of man who had mastered the art of looking completely steady even when he wasn’t. He could have a storm inside of him, or raging flames of anger but on the outside it would never show. He was as devious and subtle as a predator, moving with the grace and elegance of a ferocious but calculated animal. 

“You seriously thought that moving across the globe and changing your hair color would keep me away from you?” He sounded like he was mocking you. “Took me about almost a year, but I found you.” He walked towards you, making you envy the way he could move so effortlessly. You couldn’t read him. His face was… blank. Void of any emotion. 

He spoke again once he stood right in front of you. “Now, you’re gonna tell me why you ran away.” 

You remained quiet. He could tell you were thinking. He could always tell, he knew you too well. You made a makeshift plan in your head. If you were to shoot him in his arm, just to injure him enough to make him lose his focus, you could grab the emergency bag you always kept under your bed and run. But you didn’t want to hurt him. 

Also, how far would you go? Knowing Bucky, if he had made it to Madripoor he probably had his men surrounding this apartment building right now; all armed and ready to fight. He probably even had people from here all the way to Hightown; which meant that even if you ran from here right now you wouldn’t be able to make it out of Madripoor. 

Like you said earlier, he had found you. There was no way to run anymore. 

“I know you’re thinking about running again.” He teased, shoving his hands in his pockets, letting you know that he had his guard down; which meant that he had thought this through. “Maybe you have an emergency bag somewhere, or you plan on shooting at me to distract me and make a run for it.” He chuckled. “Trust me, you wouldn’t make it out of this apartment, babygirl. And even if by some miracle you did, I will burn this island to the ground to find you again.” 

Despite his tone being all calm, and almost monotonous you could hear the bitterness and the evil promise in his words. He was probably angry, he felt betrayed for sure, he was also frustrated given that he mentioned having searched for you for a year, he was also probably hungry for answers. 

You still remembered that night you left. Your people at work had been pestering you to hand over information and sending you all sorts of threats if you didn’t, but you also could no longer lie and manipulate Bucky, because you loved him. So you left in the middle of the night, leaving your old life, your job, the man you loved, your family, everything behind. 

No notes, no messages, nothing. You and him had been together for a little over a year at that point. And you just snuck out of a one year relationship with no explanation. It was wrong you’d admit, and Bucky had every right to be hurt and angry. 

“Answer me. Why did you run? Why did you leave out of nowhere? And didn’t you go back to your people like the good little spy you are? Why Madripoor?” 

So he knew about your past. You could only imagine what he did to the organization you used to work for when he found them. 

“How did you find me?” You knew how much he hated it when people answered a question with another question. You were surprised when he answered instead of being even more pissed off. 

“It took a lot of people, a lot of bullets and a lot of patience to track you down.” He chuckled. “I must say, you’re good at whatever games you play. But I’m gonna need you to stop for a moment, and give me the answers I need.” He took a small step forward, reducing the distance between you and him. “Why?” 

Such a broad question, why. 

“I had to.” You gave him the most vague answer ever. 

He scoffed. “Okay, let me make this easier for you. Let’s start with, what’s your real name?” 

You almost rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t afford to let your guard down at the moment. Not when you couldn’t even figure out what he was here for. 

“You know my name.” 

Of course he did, he had moaned it so many times in bed. 

He gave you his signature smirk, the one who captured the hearts of many including yours. “I’m assuming that since you’re a spy everything which comes out of your pretty mouth is a lie. So what is your name?” 

You corrected him. “I used to be a spy. I don’t do that anymore. And I didn’t lie about my name. I didn’t lie about many things.” You looked him dead in the eyes when you said so. You wondered if he thought that you lied when you said you loved him. That was real. 

He scoffed. “I’d beg to differ.” 

“You plan on killing me?” You asked, thinking that now would be a good time to know whether or not you would be dying tonight. 

“No.” 

“Then why are you here, Bucky? Why did you look for me for a year, why are you halfway across the globe right now if you don’t plan on killing me for betraying you? What do you want?” 

“You.” 

You rolled your eyes, finally lowering your weapon. You still couldn’t read him. 

He spoke up again, “Why didn’t you lead your people to me? Why didn’t you finish your job?” 

“You might have actually done just that yourself. If you were able to find me, so could they. They probably have eyes on right now. By coming here you just-,”

He cut you off. “They don’t have eyes on you. No one does.” He answered confidently. 

“You don’t know that. You-,” 

He cut you off yet again, he smirked, “Oh I do know, babygirl. I know because I… dealt with each and every last one of them. The people you used to work for, the whole organization, it doesn’t exist anymore I made sure of that. You see, I’ve been quite busy this past year. Between dealing with your people, dealing with my own and playing hide and seek with you.” 

You froze again. Dealt with? “And how exactly did you deal with the organization?” 

“I watched it burn.” He answered, proudly. 

Oh. “You plan on doing the same with me? After your little Q and A, you’re gonna just… deal with me?” 

He fake gasped and placed his metal hand over his chest as though surprised. “I would never do that to you. You see, unlike you I didn’t lie when I said I loved you.” 

That caught you by surprise. You said nothing, pretending like that confession didn’t make your heart race. 

“I’m gonna ask one more time, why did you run?” His tone was cold. 

You scoffed. “I didn’t think you’d be understanding regarding the whole situation. If you ever found out who I was, let’s be real, you’d kill me right where I stood. And I could no longer go back to my people because they would force me to lead them to you.” 

He raised his eyebrows, then chuckled. “You protected me? What for?” 

I didn’t lie when I said I loved you either. “I didn’t want to manipulate or lie. I didn’t want to infiltrate lives and be dishonest. I didn’t want to have to live a double life any longer. I needed freedom, I needed a way out. So I came here.” You paused. “I’m not proud of what I did to you.” You added. 

You lowered your eyes once you finished talking. Bucky moved closer to you, he reached out and grabbed your chin with his metal hand, tilting your head back gently until you looked into his stormy, ocean blue eyes. You hated how you still couldn’t read him. Was he angry or no? 

“Are you lying right now?” He whispered, and smirked knowing it would piss you off. You pushed his hand away. He chuckled, leaning into your ear, his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke and it sent shivers down your spine, “Let’s play a game.” He pulled away and took a few steps back. “You love games, don’t you babygirl?” 

Your heart raced. Oh this can’t be good… 

He took some more steps back and then pulled out his gun; the shiny golden one he loved the most out of the arsenal he owned. He aimed it at you, smirking. “I’m gonna ask you some questions and as long as you answer truthfully, I won’t shoot.” 

You remained very still. You hated to admit it, but there was something so immorally powerful about him when he handled his guns. You remember back when you two were together, you could spend hours watching him clean his guns; his favorite toys he called them. Bucky always told you that he believed that weapons shouldn’t be intimidating, but the person handling them should. 

In his case, it was true. Just looking at him made your body throb for a moment. You tried not to let it show but judging by the smug look on his face you could tell that he knew exactly how you felt. 

You knew he would never shoot you.

Bucky Barnes was, afterall, a cunning man who knew how to toy with one’s head. He could have easily taken your gun away from you, could have tied you down on a chair and interrogated you until you gave in. But no, by doing this he was letting you think that you still had some control over this. He knew he had given you the chance, you could’ve easily shot him the moment you walked into the room. But you didn’t. You chose not to. And he knew that. 

You almost smirked when you put it all together. He wasn’t here for answers, because he already had them. He just wanted to hear it from you. He wanted you to verbally say it. He was here for this dark, twisted game of his. 

“Fine.” You agreed. 

He cocked his gun, the sound rang in your ears and it reminded you of the times you pretended not to know shit about guns and had him teach you how to aim. He had done so with a lot of patience and a lot of kisses. 

“How much did you tell your people about me?” He asked. 

You could tell he was easing into it. “I stopped feeding them information after the first six months. I told them it would be risky to keep meeting up with them in secrecy, and that I would soon come back with everything I can gather about you. But I never did.” 

He seemed pleased with that answer. “Of course you didn’t. Instead you ran away.” He watched you cautiously, “How many people know you’re here?” 

“No one does, except for you.” 

That was true. You couldn’t risk going back to your family, not when you were certain that the moment you stepped foot outside of Madripoor your people would find you. 

“Why Madripoor?” He asked, tilting his head to the side. “You could’ve easily hid in the country itself given your… skills.” He knew just where to poke you to make it hurt. “Then why here?” 

“Anonymity. No one knows or cares about who you are or where you come from here. Also because I knew that neither the organization nor you had any connections here whatsoever.” You paused. “Clearly I was wrong.” 

He got really serious, clenching and unclenching his jaw. “Why didn’t you just tell me the truth then? If you couldn’t trust your people at the time, why not turn to me?” 

His question made you chuckle. “I already told you, you would’ve killed me.” 

“And I already told you that I-,” he cut himself off and took a breath. “Why didn’t you trust me?” 

You stared into his eyes, looking. Searching for something you once saw in them. Love, for you. There was a time when he would look at you with nothing but adoration and love. Now he was angry, hurt, frustrated, his power challenged. 

“Because I’ve seen what you do to people who betray you. I knew how much loyalty mattered to you. And I… I couldn’t have possibly looked you in the eyes and tell you that I’ve been lying and manipulating you for a whole year, and that I was sent to take you down.” 

It hurt to say it out loud. 

“You ran because you were scared of me? Of what I would do to you if I found out?” He didn’t bother hiding the hurt. He wasn’t calm and composed anymore, he was visibly troubled. Jaws clenched, fingers tightening around his gun, eyes shooting daggers at you. “Answer me!” He raised his voice out of nowhere and you jumped. 

You lowered your gaze to the floor. In all those years, be it during training or even while on missions, you had never succumbed in any way when a weapon, no matter the size, was aimed at you. Yet now, you could feel your hands starting to shake just a little. 

“Yes. I ran because I was scared of you.” You answered, not having the courage to look up at him. 

He was quiet for four seconds - you know because you counted them - before he lowered his gun and shot at the wooden floor, several feet away from your legs. The sound made you flinch and groan, not in fear but in annoyance. He was breaking you, he was getting everything he wanted out of you. You were giving in, too easily. You hated it. 

“Liar!” He growled and walked right over to you, quickly. His eyes reflected the anger and frustration he felt inside. He placed the barrel of his gun right under your chin. The cold metal made you shiver, mainly because you still remembered that his metal arm felt the same way against your warm skin. “I said no lies.” 

He used the gun to tilt your head back, making you look up into his eyes. He spoke up again, “You ran because you love me, and you couldn’t live with yourself after betraying me. You chose not to lead your people to me, because how could you? How could you do that when you fell in love with the enemy?” Bucky chuckled, removing his gun from your chin and replacing it with his metal hand. 

He leaned in so close that when he spoke next, his lips brushed against yours. “You chose to run away rather than give them what they wanted, because they wanted my fall. You ran from me because you couldn’t admit, nor accept that you cared too much about me.” He chuckled. “You did all of this not because you were scared of me, but because you were scared of them since you had failed in a mission.” He shrugged. “That’s understandable, given you fell in love with the one they sent you to ruin.” 

Your eyes watered. He broke you, finally. He said everything you’ve been avoiding to tell yourself over this past year. And he was right about everything. You were quiet. You didn’t have anything to say to him. 

He spoke up again. “I know for a fact that you knew I would never, ever hurt you. Betrayal or no betrayal.” 

“Buck…” You whispered, your voice cracked as you held back a sob. You felt a single tear slide down your cheek. 

His hand moved from your chin, down to your waist. He pulled you closer, pressing his body to yours. The feeling of his built, taut body against yours brought back memories you weren’t sure you could ever forget. 

“Say it.” He demanded, looking down at your lips, then back into your eyes. His scent filled your senses. He was all you could, and wanted, to focus on. “Tell me I’m right. Tell me the truth you’ve been running from.” He leaned in, as though he was going for a kiss. “Tell me you love me.”

“Bucky, I…” you almost choked on another sob you couldn’t let out. You wanted to tell that you loved him. But the words wouldn’t come out. Something was stopping you; worry or fear or just guilt. 

It was guilt. 

He scoffed. “Too proud? Too self-righteous to admit that the good little spy fell in love with the bad guy?” He pressed his forehead to yours as he walked the two of you back, towards your bed. You knew what he was doing, and you didn’t stop him. “Admit it, babygirl,” he leaned in to whisper in your ear and you felt goosebumps all over your body, “Or maybe I should remind you…” 

Bucky pushed you down on your bed, and he hovered over you supporting himself with one hand while the metal one held his gun right above your face. “You’ve been a bad, bad girl lately.” He murmured, gently lowering his gun and brushing the barrel against your lips, then slowly dragged it down your skin. “Did you think you could hide from me forever?” 

He dragged the tip of his gun all the way down till your thighs, making you tremble. His eyes stared down into yours as he carelessly tossed his gun aside and brought his metal hand over to your mouth again. 

“Do you know how bad I’ve missed you?” He mumbled, tracing your mouth with his cold fingers. For a moment he forgot why he was here in the first place. 

You shivered under his touch. “I’m sorry, Bucky. I never meant to-,” 

He scoffed, cutting you off. “Shut up, babygirl.” He had a mean smirk on his face. “You’ve been bad. And what did daddy tell you about babygirls who misbehave?” His calm demeanor could fool anyone. Anyone but you. 

You knew him too well. You could tell he was burning inside, agitated. Like a wounded predator, planning his next attack. There was no escaping him now. Not that you truly wanted to. 

“They get punished.” You whispered quietly as he tugged on your bottom lip with his thumb. The simple gesture reminded you of all those times spent with him; the nights you spent in his bed, in his arms… 

He chuckled. “Exactly. Now come on, you have a lot to make up for.” He pulled away, and stood up straight at the end of your bed. “Take your clothes off. All of it.” 

The sound of his authoritative voice had your thighs clenching together to try and alleviate the sweet pain in between your legs. That tone of his was a weakness of yours, and he knew it. 

You hesitated only for a moment, but the longer he stared into your eyes the warmer your body felt, and all you wanted to do was to get rid of all that you were wearing. You took your jacket off first, followed by the long sleeved shirt underneath it. You scooted forward, sitting on the edge of the bed to take the rest of your clothes off; shoes, skirt, stockings which left you in your matching set of black underwear. 

You looked up at him, waiting for further instructions. 

“I said, all of it.” He let his eyes roam your body for a moment and then he spoke up again, “Don’t be shy baby, I’ve seen it all before, haven’t I?” 

He had done so much more than just seeing it all. You held his stare as you took your underwear off and had to fight the urge to throw it at his face just for the hell of it. 

“Good girl.” He whispered. “Now lie down, spread those legs for me. Show me what’s mine.” 

The crudeness of his words would’ve surely made you blush if you didn’t know just how vulgar and dirty he could really get, this was nothing. 

You did just as he asked. You held yourself up on your elbows, still holding his stare. Bucky eyed you like you were a warm meal and he was a starving man. There was nothing but lust and mischief in his eyes. 

“Touch yourself for me.” 

You felt your face get really hot for a moment as your heartbeats rang in your ears. “What?” The question just slipped out before you could stop yourself. 

Bucky smirked. “You heard me. Use your pretty fingers and touch yourself. I assume you thought of me each time you… tended to your needs over these past many, many months. I’m sure you missed me,” he chuckled, just as cocky as you expected him to be, “Or at least you missed having my cock buried deep inside of you. Hmm?”  

You studied his face for a moment. Your emotions were shifting; from guilt to annoyance to shame to lust. And you hated how well he had you figured out. “How do you know I haven’t had someone else tending to my needs instead?” You asked, quickly realizing that this wasn’t an ideal situation to be the brat you used to be back then. 

Bucky let out a little laugh; a hot and evil laugh. “No one will ever satisfy you like I do.” He shoved both of his hands in his pockets. “Even if you did, for some reason, fool around with someone here I assure you they won't be breathing for long.” He responded with a straight face. “You are mine. Nobody touches what’s mine and lives.” 

That speech shouldn’t have turned you on as much as it did. 

“Now come on, be a good girl and do as you’re told.” He spoke softly. “Show me how you touched yourself when I wasn’t here to take care of you.” 

Your hands moved on their own; caressing your inner thighs before placing your fingers right over your clit. The look in his eyes made your walls clench around nothing. Your lips parted and you let out a shaky breath as you toyed with your clit, smearing your wetness around before slowly rubbing down your folds and slipping past your entrance with ease given that you were dripping already. Your other hand toyed with your nipple, twisting and tugging. 

Needless to say, Bucky was hard just looking at you. 

You stared into his eyes as you gasped in pleasure as your fingers effortlessly slipped in and out of you. You whined as you fingered yourself, thinking about the last time he touched you – all those months back, on the same night that you left him. And how lovely his mouth felt against your body. Whining in need and frustration, the palm of your hands rubbed against your sensitive clit over and over again as your middle finger slipped in and out of you. 

“Bucky…” you whimpered. 

He just stood there and smirked. “Faster. And don’t you dare cum.” 

You whined, slipping your finger in and out of your wet hole rapidly. “Fuck…” Your own touch took you higher, and higher, and you were on the edge. 

“Stop.” He ordered, moving closer to you but not touching you yet. “Add another finger.” He waited until you did, whimpering as you pushed another finger in. “Good girl, now fuck your little cunt faster for me.” He leaned over and traced your lips with his cold, metal finger, his touch was agonizingly slow. He was so close, but he still wasn’t touching you like you desperately needed him to. 

You took your bottom lip in between your teeth to keep yourself from moaning too loudly. Bucky smirked when he saw how you were struggling to keep quiet. He noticed the way your body squirmed, and he knew you too well so he could tell that you were so close to coming undone. 

“Poor baby,” he cooed, “Is it hard?” he taunted, his fake concern morphing into an evil, handsome and sly smile. “Is it frustrating to not be allowed to have something you so desperately want? Hmm?” 

“Buck… please,” you whined, releasing your swollen lip from your teeth. Your body felt hot, and you needed to just let go and come undone. 

“Stop.” He ordered, shamelessly ignoring your pleas. You stopped, and pulled your hand away from in between your legs. He knelt on your bed, in between your legs. You tried to look away but he grabbed your chin before you could turn your face to the side. He stared into your eyes for a few seconds, not saying anything. Eventually he spoke up, “What do I do with you?” 

You stared at him, a thousand thoughts in your head. “You’re crazy.” You spat, hoping to rile him up. 

He just chuckled softly. “You did this to me.” He sounded bitter, and hurt. He leaned in to brush his lips against yours, making your heart race, “Thoughts of you were messing with my head for the past year.” He confessed, and you felt your heart hurt. “People think I’m cruel, clearly they haven’t had their heart broken by you.” 

You opened your mouth to say something, or maybe apologize, or perhaps you’d say something which would piss him off even more but before you could, his mouth was on yours. He kissed you with passion, but also pent up anger and frustration. He was conflicted, so were you. Both of your pride were hurt, egos bruised but your hearts still yearned for each other. Nothing could change that. 

Before you could process anything, Bucky was kissing down your body; you were a whimpering mess by the time he kissed along your inner thighs. He chuckled darkly when you let out a loud moan as he kissed your throbbing clit ever so gently. Like he used to when he was madly in love with you. 

“Your body remembers me, babygirl.” He seemed proud of that. 

You hated how you couldn’t resist him. You hated how you didn’t even try to. You melted right under his touch as his tongue gently licked down your folds. His hand found yours and he laced his metal fingers with yours while his other hand rubbed up and down your thigh as he pushed his face further into your wet core. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to look down at him, but you were sure he looked enticing with his plump, pink lips on your wet heat; your arousal dripping down his chin and coating his lips as he devoured you. You heard him growl before he bit down on the soft skin at your inner thighs to get your attention. 

“Look at me.” He mumbled. And when you didn’t obey him right away, you earned yourself a gentle smack on your thigh, which only made you squirm even more; causing you to accidentally grind against his mouth. He chuckled again. “Impatient, are we?” 

You supported yourself up on your elbows finally, and looked down at him. His handsome face in between your thighs was a sight you weren’t sure you would ever get used to. You could feel his warm breath fanning your wet skin occasionally as he stared into your eyes until you couldn’t handle the intensity of his stare. 

Bucky held your stare as he attached his lips to your core again, making you whimper in pleasure. He wasn’t planning on stopping until you beg him to. He had missed you, your taste. He had missed this; your warmth and your soft whimpers as he teased you with his tongue. 

“Do you wanna cum for me, babygirl?” He asked, before pressing his lips back against your wet folds. 

You nodded, quickly. “Yes, please…” your legs had begun shaking just a little as he took his time and dragged his tongue up and down your slit. But the way his lips lifted into a smirk gave away that his answer would only disappoint you. 

“No, you’re not allowed to cum.” He cooed, playfully. “Not so easily.” He whispered before he got back to teasing your sensitive spot with his warm and wet tongue; relishing your taste and humming in pleasure as he ate you out. He let out a little laugh, “I forgot how good you taste.” 

You moaned out loud as your back arched off the bed for just a moment, your eyes closing and your head leaning back as you felt a wave of intense pleasure wash over you. You weren’t sure how long you could take this sweet torture. Your fingers tightened around his and he chuckled against your skin. 

“What is it baby, you can’t take it? Hmm? All that sass, all those mind games and now you can’t even handle my tongue?” 

He taunted you before getting back to teasing your entrance with the tip of his tongue. Your body tingled and you felt a sweet pressure forming in between your legs. You were sure he could see the tears of frustration escaping your eyes, falling down your warm cheeks. 

“Please…” you moaned pathetically. 

He licked around your clit one last time before pulling away and kissing his way up your body again. The twisted side of him loved the way you whined when you realized he wasn’t gonna let you cum so easily. He leaned in to kiss your open mouth eventually, making you gasp and moan and forget how to breathe with just one kiss. 

When he pulled away to look at you he smiled at the mess you were. Lips swollen, and bruised with how many times you or him bit down on it. Red marks all over your neck, bite marks along your inner thigh, and your arousal dripping out of you. He quickly placed his fingers where his mouth had been earlier, teasing your clit before shoving two fingers inside of you and stroking your walls so slowly that you were losing your mind. 

“Why won’t you admit it?” he kissed along your cheek and reached your ear where he whispered, “Are you that proud? That heartless?” Judging by his tone you could tell that his emotions were wavering as well. “I searched the whole world to find you.” His fingers sped up as he spoke, your moans got more frequent and holding them back became much more difficult. “And now you’re still gonna be a stubborn, disrespectful brat?” 

The bitterness in his tone woke something inside of you. Did he not realize that you’re not exactly pleased with what you had to do? Did he not understand? Pissed, your annoyance mirroring his, you pushed his hand away and pushed him down on the bed. He wasn’t expecting it so he went down rather easily. You got on top of him, straddling his waist, ignoring the nudity, and stared down at him. 

“Enough! You can’t just walk in here and do or say whatever the fuck you want.” Your sudden outburst took him by surprise. Part of him had always loved it when you got a little aggressive. “I’m not proud of what I did. That’s why I left, the guilt was killing me. It still kills me, every single day. I haven’t had the best year of my life since I left you either. I had to leave my homeland, my family, and I… I had to leave you.” 

He remained quiet. 

“I moved to a place where I knew no one. I’ve been alone for the past year, living amongst strangers, no friends, no family, nothing! All because I couldn’t let them get to me. You were right, because if my people found me they would somehow find a way to get the information they needed and they would’ve surely taken you down. You would’ve never seen it coming.” You sniffled, realizing that you were tearing up again. 

Bucky had, surprisingly, nothing to say. You went on. 

“You want answers? There you have it then. I couldn’t just stay and watch myself become that reason for your fall. I couldn’t let that happen to you, because I love you too much. When I realized I loved you, I panicked. I ran because I didn’t know what else to do, or how to keep them away from you. And I am so sorry for what I did. I understand if you-,”

He cut your long speech off by sitting up and grabbing you just in time before you lost your balance, pressing his lips to yours. You immediately wrapped your arms around his neck and let him hold you, kiss you like he wanted to for so long. His kiss was gentle this time, careful, loving. His metal hand ran up and down your spine slowly as his other hand grabbed you and pulled you close to him by your butt.  

He slowly pulled away and his heart felt like it tore in half at the sight of your teary face. He had been so busy being heartbroken after you left that he didn’t even take a minute to consider this perspective. He was too hurt to even think properly. 

“You could’ve just told me the truth. I would’ve handled them. I would’ve done anything for you, I… I would’ve done whatever it took to keep you safe. You know that, right?” Bucky finally spoke up, sounding much more emotional than he thought he ever could. 

Truth is, before meeting you he always thought that he was incapable of love. But then you walked into his life and everything changed for the better. So when he lost you, without any explanation, he went insane. 

You sighed. “I was scared. I didn’t understand, I thought I was doing the right thing. I was hurting too. You think disappearing out of your life and leaving you behind without saying a proper goodbye was easy?” Your voice cracked as you fought back a sob. “How many times do I have to-,” 

He cut you off. Once he saw the tears accumulating along your water line again. “Okay, okay shh. I just got you back, I don’t wanna fight.” He mumbled, pressing his forehead to yours. 

You sniffled, your heart skipping a beat as his body heat wrapped around you. “I’ve missed you. Every day. I missed you so much. I couldn’t risk reaching out to you to even apologize, I was so scared. I… I didn’t…,” your sentence ended in a whisper, you didn’t know how to articulate your thoughts too well. 

He tightened his arms around you. “It’s okay, baby. Everything is fine now, I found you.” 

You were quiet for a while, enjoying his calming touch and processing all that happened since you stepped inside your apartment tonight. “Are you mad at me?” you asked, seeking to find some sort of sense in all that just happened. 

He sighed, and kissed your forehead. “I was. When I woke up the next morning after you left, I was confused, hurt. Then you didn’t show up for a couple more days and I had my people look you up, and I was told that you were a spy.” His words made you feel uneasy and ashamed of your past. “I was broken, but I never knew what a heartbreak feels like so instead all I felt was anger. But despite all of it, all I wanted was to have you back. Then I found the organization you worked for, and I made sure to destroy it. Since then I’ve been looking for you like a madman.” 

He pulled away to look at you. You managed to look up into his eyes without tearing up again. “I’m sorry.” You whispered. 

He pulled you closer. “I’m sorry too.” 

“I love you.” 

Bucky smiled at you. “Say it again.” 

You reached up and cupped his face in your hands. “I love you. I love you so much and I’m sorry. For everything. I just… I just want you back, please.” 

He leaned in for a kiss, whispering against your lips, “I’m right here, babygirl.” He gently turned to the side and laid you back down on the bed. “I’ve got you now,” he mumbled, pulling away to take his suit jacket off, then his shirt. He tossed both somewhere on the floor and bent down to kiss you again. He kissed down your neck, leisurely; taking his time on you as he unzipped his pants. 

“Buck…” you groaned as he teased you with the soft, feathery touch of his lips. He had been teasing you for so long now, you couldn’t take anymore. Your body felt burning hot again, you needed him. Bad. You needed him like you needed air. 

“Yes, baby?” He asked, kissing down your cleavage; pretending he doesn’t know that you were practically shaking in need. 

You whined, sliding your finger into his dark, soft hair. “I need you. Please, I need you. Now.” You spoke through gritted teeth by the end, tugging at the roots of his hair. 

He chuckled. “So aggressive.” He murmured, kissing up your neck until he reached your mouth. He noticed the way you had unintentionally, gradually parted your legs to accommodate him; your naked body squirming under him, your bare chest pressing up against his, your body heat mixing with his. “I’m gonna take care of you, baby…” he whispered as he lowered his underwear just enough to free his cock. He was rock hard.

You were a whimpering mess by the time he aligned his erected cock to your entrance. You instinctively spread your legs further apart to give him more room. With a slow, steady push, he inserted his length into you. You shuddered, moaning as you felt all of him filling you up. You heard his ragged breaths as he seated himself completely inside you and waited, giving your body time to adjust to him. 

He could still make you tremble in pleasure just like the first time he touched you. Bucky held back his moans and growls as he felt your warmth wrap around him so perfectly. He clenched his jaw as he relished the feeling of being inside of you, finally. 

“Is this what you needed, babygirl?” he asked, looking down at you, and gently grabbing your face, causing you to look up at him. 

You couldn’t talk given how full you were. You just stared at him with parted lips, breathing heavily. Bucky smirked, pulling out just a little before pushing back into you again. You closed your eyes and moaned, arching your back off the surface of the bed again. 

He smirked as he looked down at you. “You waited, didn’t you? You waited only for daddy to stretch you out like this. I know you didn’t let anyone touch you while I wasn’t here.” He remained still as he leaned into your ear, whispering, “The way you’re clenching around my cock right now gives it away.” He chuckled, proud. 

Your face burned. He knew you too well. 

Bucky leaned in to kiss your open mouth, shamelessly shoving his tongue past your parted lips and stroking the inside of your mouth while he began moving in and out of you. He sped up gradually, rocking his hips against yours; his hand reached up to grab your chin gently. He stared into your eyes, speeding up into you again. You gripped the bed sheets as he pounded into you. 

He stretched you out deliciously, perfectly. Filling you up and reaching all the right places as he went. He couldn’t hold back any longer, so he moaned and growled right against your mouth, clenching his jaw or occasionally biting down on your lip as he pounded into you relentlessly. 

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.” He spoke as he sped up into you again. You could whine senselessly, overwhelmed by how good he felt deep inside you. 

He leaned down to push his face into your neck as he lifted one of your legs and hooked it to his waist, pushing himself deeper inside you. “Fuck…” he moaned as you clenched hard around him. He down for a moment just to hear you moan wantonly before he sped up again, fucking you relentlessly. “You’re mine. Only mine, you hear me?” 

You nodded, or at least tried to.  

The louder you got, the closer he felt his release coming and the filthier his mouth got. “Your little cunt is mine. Only mine.” He spoke through messy kisses; growling and causing goosebumps to erupt all over your body. “Only I can fuck you like this, you hear me?” Bucky quickened his pace and pounded into you harder than before; the sounds of your skin slapping one another resonated around the modest room. 

Bucky was all you could focus on. The sound of his voice. His body pressing down on yours. His cock inside you. Your walls began to clench tighter around him. His moans, his hot breath against your cheek, his messy kisses. Just him. You had missed him so terribly, and only now did you wonder how in the world did you survive so long without him? 

He took you higher, and higher, and higher until you felt more tears escape your eyes. “Please, Buck…” you whined, begging pathetically and unable to arrange your words or your thoughts any better. “Please…” 

Your eyes were droopy in lust. His eyes were too as he stared down at you with a handsome and arrogant smirk on his face. “Please what, babygirl?” 

His pretty blue eyes put you under a trance. “Please, can I cum?” 

Bucky caressed your cheek with his knuckles, his metal hand holding him up above you. He didn’t know how he managed to survive without you all these months. He was barely living without you. He looked down at you with nothing but love and adoration in his eyes. 

“Go on, baby. Cum for me.” 

You let the pressure build inside you, before simply letting go. He didn’t slow down as you felt your orgasm wash over you, Bucky kept pounding into you as your eyes rolled back and you moaned out loud as you came. You whimpered at how he kept slamming into you even as you came, and your face burned as you felt a familiar knot forming again right at your core.

He fucked into you relentlessly. “Fuck…” He panted and groaned at how good you felt around him; wet and warm all for him. Your walls clenched around him violently and your body arched off the bed. 

You felt your second release approaching even before you could recover from the first one. Your leg around his waist was numb but you still wanted more of what he had to give. You would take whatever he gave you in that moment, given you had gone so long without him. 

You felt your mind getting foggy again. His large frame hovering above you as he fucked deeper into you, just a little more. “Cum for me again, baby.” He growled, his lips dangerously close to yours as you whined and whimpered under him. Your body trembled as you came for the second time, walls tightening around his length, gushing out around his cock while he still pounded relentlessly into you until he came as well.

You felt his thrust getting sloppy and irregular until he came to a stop and just groaned as he came violently. His warm cum filled you up and some of it trickled out of you when he carefully removed his cock from your entrance.

He collapsed on the bed beside you, catching his breath before pulling you into him. You were slightly shaking as he wrapped his arms around you, kissing your skin wherever he could, murmuring sweet nothings. 

“You okay, babe?” he asked after a few minutes of just holding you in his arms, in silence; both of you just enjoying each other’s warmth and presence. 

You nodded, placing your arm over his chest and scooting closer to him, pressing up against his side. 

You both remained quiet for a while longer. Thinking about the past, and the future. 

“Are you sure you’re not mad at me?” You asked, your brain starting to overthink again. 

Bucky sighed. “Baby I couldn’t stay mad at you even if you intentionally stabbed me through the heart and watched me bleed to death.” 

You took a second to process what he just spoke of, and you made a face at him, showing your horror and concern, which then made him laugh out loud. “You’re sick.” You muttered, placing a gentle kiss to his metal arm. The cold metal against your lips reminded of somewhere you desperately wanted to be - home. 

He shrugged, pulling you closer. “Yeah. Also cruel, devious and pure evil. But you love me nonetheless.” He teased. 

You smiled, your worn out body snuggled up against him. You felt your eyelids drooping as sleep slowly took over you. Today has been a lot. “I do.” You spoke softly. 

Bucky looked down and saw that you were slowly drifting off to sleep. He adjusted the covers so that you were well covered with the warm blankets. He tucked you in and wrapped his arms around you protectively, as though you might slip away from his grasp again. 

“I love you, babygirl. Sleep tight, we’re going home soon.” 

You didn’t respond so he figured you must have fallen asleep. While he hugged your sleeping figure, he thought back on everything you said tonight. Your biggest fear was that you might end up being the reason for his fall. But little did you know that ultimately, you had been the only reason he knew what truly falling in love was like.

[ficsnroses]

𝐓𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 - 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐜

Johnny Silverhand x female! V. 

summary : johnny holds V when she feels overwhelmed, leading to a realization. 

warnings : all fluff, some angst. very minor anxiety, nothing big! 1.7k words.

notes : felt like writing some soft johnny content after the smut fest from last week, hope you enjoy! comments and feedback appreciated. 

       Morning will come, they say; It has to.

It’s all wrong.

She’d sensed it in the air, tasted it on her tongue; known it through the uneven beat of her weary heart.

She wasn’t supposed to wind up here. It wasn’t supposed to get this fucked. A tightness stills in her chest, a dark loom, frayed grey clouds thud inside. Fear gnawed at her heart, boiled in each vein; gnawed and gnawed and gnawed. Within the deep folds of her apartment, she stands at the kitchen counter; an untouched pour of crystal water cold at her fingertip.

As if a drink would subdue, sate the tremble inside.

A grey cloud persists as she tries to blink, little by little, desperately trying to rid the blades that cut, the ones that sink into her skin with each breath.

“You know,” He begins, voice buttery, cynical. “Standing isn’t gonna do anything.” He appears often, this holographic parasite chained to her wrist. The ruins of a man who once ruled the world, now, just a speech in her ear. Someone to assure her she was still real. Still alive; or so she’d hoped-

that dagger cut the most; she wasn’t even sure she really existed. If he even did, if anything after the black really unfolded.

She wonders how she got here. How things got this way; how she let them snowball this way. Above all, above most, an epiphany rung true, a realization simmers in her veins.  

Somewhere along the way, his voice had begun to feel warm.

Began to feel like home. Somewhere through blurred lines and sour regrets, a companion he’d become. Someone to feel un-alone.

“People who want something go out and grab it.” The tone of his voice holds a deep ring, something hoarse, thick. “Get it done”. The words, syllables, vowels merely reach her fraught ears, the sounds dying as they brew in her head.

     A deep breath in, she exhales.

     A tense of hands, they fall to her sides.

     A gulp, heavy swallow in her sore throat, fingers nipping over the tense lump.

She crumbles. A mountain of a woman crumbles, feared for what would be to come.

Something churns inside her stomach, and he notices. He can feel it too, her dread, the heft in her lungs. Just the same, he hadn’t planned on being bound. Her memories blend with his, her vulnerabilities mirror. Somewhere along the way, he’d forgotten which feelings were his own. Two damned souls, filled with anger. Somewhere within the muddle, he felt it too. There was hatred, part of him thought she’d hate him forever. She’d want him gone, out of her head.

First impressions are always hard to undo. Memories don’t come and go so easily.

Yet within the muddle, he felt it too.

Companionship. The world forgot him, but she remembers. She hears, she sees. She feels the shell of a man that once was, hears him through all his rage, his hurt, his fury.

There’s good in her, he knows. He feels it in his bones.

And maybe in another lifetime, this could be something more. They could be, something more.

       Maybe in another lifetime, they’ll fit together.

His silver gaze glints, monochrome eyes shone as he takes a step forward, a noticeable ease in his gait as he moves to her leisurely, hesitantly. “V?” Slow, cautious, he watches her from a distance. He’d never seen her this way before, devastated. “Hey,” Closer and closer, his footsteps thud. They near, yet she doesn’t move, doesn’t flinch. A weight sears inside, a burn in each inhale. A deep baritone flows softer as he nears, vigilant. His stare falls threaded, scanning each inch of her worn limbs. Blankly, her eyes fix the floor, empty, stoic. “V.” He offers again, this time, a statement more. Guarded, he gazes the irregularity of her breath, the way a gentle chest flows uneven with shallow, fortified inhales.

The ground beneath her is fading away, he knows. He feels her in his bones. “V?” An inquire again, dust eyes seem almost opal through the dew, she finds it difficult to move. Move, whispers her head. Move. Move. Move. “V!” There had been an almost forceful shift beside her, Johnny growing increasingly alarmed; and she’d felt an primitive fear spear her heart, squeezing her lungs for a moment too long.

It had been the type of fear that couldn’t be stopped. An irrational purge of something a worn mind couldn’t explain, couldn’t comprehend.

The rich of his voice halts in her ears, the call of her name a seemingly helpless plea and consolation, all at once. “V, listen to my voice.” He speaks, assured, calmed. The vibrations flow steady through her body, the wave of his tone a special solace she’d never thought she’d find. Her eyes find his at last, lip quivering ever so slight. The gaze settles, piercing into his in plea, and the look haunts him.

Haunts him, before it’s had time to sink into his fretful realization.

She was breaking before him. “Hey, kid,” he allows, voice softer than ever before; a beautiful velvet of concern rich on his tongue. “You’ll be okay.” His cocoa kissed hair falters in hues under warm apartment lights, and he inches closer, heavy hand reaching, for her. She doesn’t move, she doesn’t flinch.

She holds back a frown; she clenches her heart inside her chest. She bids to feel numb. The pain had become achingly familiar.

Slow, gentle; his hand finds her back, supporting a fragile frame; his spare moving to hold hers. For the first time, his larger fingers thread with hers, they lace. He holds her fragile hand in his, he holds it with care. Pained eyes stare at her, expression unfolding, and she still seems lost. Lost within the jumble around.

He hadn’t been used to this; this phenomenon of touch. Affection.

But maybe, just maybe, surely, he gave a fuck about her. His eyes soften, a faint smile curling his lips just for her. A hope to offer relief. To show her someone; even if merely an apparition, was there.

Someone has her. Gently, cautiously, he grips her tight, secure, leading her drained frame to a hoary couch. He holds her hand with sincerity, he leads her with regard. He could get used to this; touch.

Smoothly, he guides her, urging to sit, finding place adjacent right beside her; and in the tenderness of the moment, his arm finds itself traveling, finding refuge wrapped to her back, his other finding form around. Within the softness of the moment, he cautiously, carefully, envelopes her, and she crumbles into him.

She nestles into his chest, eyes closing as she slowly leans heavily into him for support, her own tattered arms wrapping tightly around him in return. Wet cheeks press to his bare collarbone, and his ghastly heart aches. Beats painfully, for her.

Fingers soft, gentle, he runs them against her skin, breathing deeply at the way she curls into him further, a mellow weep escaping the depths of her throat. “I…” She begins, breath uneven still. “I had this feeling, so peculiar…” The firmness of his jaw tightens as he holds her, offering gentle strokes to her skin. “I know.” He speaks quietly, guarded. “I know, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. The first wave of contentment simmers in her veins.

His hold on her body seemed to fill the void.

The moments pass, punctuated by soft sighs, the rise and fall of his broad chest under her form. Warm, his skin feels right against hers; his heart quietly fumbles in his chest. It had been far too long since he’d held someone this way, since he’d been held in return.

To be held; something so simple, yet so direly powerful. Heavy arms wrap around her waist like irons, strong, unbending, drawing her secure back against a warm chest.

She hadn’t known Johnny was warm.

She hadn’t known something kind resides within him.

Gazing up, she meets his stare; his eye gleam with something that makes her sigh softly. Something that makes that ache inside her chest feel, that maybe, just maybe,

       in his arms right now, there was no place she’d rather be.

       no other blues in the world would do.

The hand that holds her waist loosens, opting to swiftly, gently caress hers in his, fingers intertwining as he lays it to his gear glad chest. “You’ll be okay, kid.” He breathes against the shell of her ear, a shiver, a shudder vying down her spine at the low baritone. “I’ve got you.” he holds her small, brittle fingers. The same brittle fingers that reached, reached feebly for him. They reach, they reach, they reach all at once, nestling closer, his skin pulling her in further than she’d already been.

and to a hum softly off her colour stained lips, the twitch of her mouth quivers apparent as she rests her cheek against his chest, feeling him plant a small, lingering, genuine kiss to the crown of her distraught head; lost in the sea of her hair.

A kiss to her hair. An ode to what could have been.

Perhaps, he’d been imprudently hoping to mend the cracks in her soul. Perhaps, his heart remembers what they took from him once.

    Perhaps, perhaps.

Perhaps with her, he can simply…be. The firmness of his jaw loosens, and his arms only hold her tighter.

In this moment, she seems surreal. This smaller, vulnerable, force of a women curled into him seems surreal. The words he feels bubble inside, the delicateness of his realization feels far too heavy; and her shoulders seem far too frail.

       he loves her, he knows. He battles, coils, toils within, but he knows.

And to her, in his arms;

yellow, the world seemed.

golden, yellow.

Sleep comes slowly, slowly, all then all at once.

She’d fallen asleep in his arms, somewhere along the reveries passed.

His realization had come; all at once. With her in his arms, his realization had come; an ode to sleep he whispers.

He felt himself smile faintly into her hair. In his arms tonight, she hurts, withers, wilts. And he feels himself bleed,

    for her.

yellow,

yellow,

red,

black. He feels them all, 

he bleeds them all.

   But morning will come; it has to.

➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴

hope ya liked it! I have a permanent taglist I use for all stories, which are mainly for John Wick. if you would like to be tagged in just future Silverhand fics, lemme know and I can add you to that! 

[adminbryantsaki]

A Girl like you.

A Girl like you.

Part one.

Hawks x reader

(I do not own Hawks/ Keigo Takami. Horikoshi Kohei does. This was commissioned by the lovely @undefined--person. Thanks to @nocturnalazura for helping with the grammar and proofreading. If this isn’t your cup of tea, blend of spices, or brew of coffee, move on. )

Tip jar/paypal

Commissions

Tw: Blood, angst, mentions of injury, stalking, breaking up,

Wc: 5k.

You paced your living room as you were waiting for your boyfriend Hawks to return home after his shift. He recently became the #2 Hero after All Might’s retirement which came with a big responsibility as he was being called out for more missions. You were fine with this and knew what you signed up for when the two of you first started dating about a year ago. You noticed that your sleep schedule was slightly off since you were staying up late at night waiting for Keigo to come home safe. Some nights he would be coming home when the sun was coming up, others he would only be gone for an hour or two.

Recently, you noticed how the fame and him being on the news had been getting to him and going to his head. He had begun to prioritize whatever big showy villain that had been appearing in the news over you. He also began to sneak off at night after he thought you had gone to sleep. He also would make random trips to the nearby store asking if you wanted something while he was gone. He also began to forget about important date nights or weekends that the two of you had planned. After weeks of putting up with this, you decided that tonight you were going to confront him about it. You heard something land on your balcony and your back door slide open. You stopped your pacing and folded your arms across your chest and stared at your boyfriend as he entered your home.

“Oh, Hey, baby bird. I didn’t think you’d be staying up for me. I would’ve messaged you to tell you that I was going to be late tonight.” He chuckled as he closed the door behind him and walked to you to give you a hug and a kiss. You pushed him away.

“What’s wrong?” He asked as he was a little hurt that you pushed him away. You took a deep breath and cut straight to the point.

“Why have you been sneaking off at night? Also, you have been forgetting special date nights. You forgot our One-year anniversary! Am I that boring to you now that you’ve decided to delve yourself into your work?” You asked him then and there with your voice wavering and tears threatening to fall from your face.

“Listen, I’ve been busy as I’m the #2 Hero now. I want to protect people from villains that seem to be popping up like weeds recently and I want to spend time with you. But how can the world be safe unless I’m there to help keep the villains from wrecking the city? I also have to keep up my reputation and if I don’t keep taking down villains, that might affect my income from the Commission.” He explained. That made your heart break into a million pieces.

“That doesn’t mean that you have to shove me to the side and keep going to the spotlight just so then you can have more money. Can’t you ignore the calls once in a while?” You asked him as you felt hot tears stream down your cheeks, and you pushed him away again.

“You know I can’t do that!” He spoke in a raised tone which made you cower in front of him as he raised and flared his wings at you. He saw you cowering in front of him, and he lowered his wings. He tried to reach for you to apologize and comfort you, but you smacked his hands away.

“Get out.” You told him. He looked more hurt as he backed away from you. He went out onto the balcony and took off. You fell to your knees bawling your eyes out. You let your tears dry before you called a friend asking if you could stay at their house for a few days since things weren’t going well with you and Hawks. You went to your room and packed a bag with some essentials that you would need while you were gone. You then left the apartment and drove over to your friend’s house where you crashed on the spare bed your friend had and slept the rest of the night.

§§§§§

You woke up the next morning to a dozen missed calls and text messages from Hawks wondering where you were. You decided to ignore him and go about your day. You had breakfast and showered before you went to work. Your phone continued to be spammed with messages from your boyfriend. On your break, you decided to call him back and tell him that you were fine and you needed some space from him for a while.

“How long will a while be? I miss having you around the house.” His voice sounded from the other side. He sounded like he had been crying and had gotten drunk too. You frowned since you thought that he stopped drinking when the two of you got serious. You let tears run down your face.

“I don’t know how long it will be. I need my space.” You responded and ended the call. You set your phone down on the nearby table and cried again. He was too needy and you guessed that he only wanted you around for appearances and to keep up his image to keep the media from putting him in a bad light.

Little did you know that he was keeping a big secret from you.

About a week or so later, you moved back to your apartment and had your friend help you gather up Keigo’s things and put them outside your building near the trash can. Your friend left your apartment after his things were put near the trash and you had just enough energy to make yourself dinner and shower.

As you were sitting in front of your television eating dinner, your phone rang again. You sighed in annoyance and picked your phone up. It was your friend.

“I don’t know what you’re doing but turn on the news.” They spoke. You reached for your remote and switched the channel to the news. The news was showing Hawks fighting a large group of villains that seemed to be at the advantage point. You watched as he dived and sent out feathers from his wings to pin the villains to the ground. He looked bruised and beaten up. You didn’t know if you should be upset or not even care that the man that you thought you loved was fighting against a large group of villains on his own. You sat forward in your seat and watched the screen before you. He was eventually thrown into the ground and knocked out. That is when you turned the device off and sat back on your couch.

“Y/n? Are you alright?” You thought you heard your friend say from your phone that you had set down when you turned the news on. You held your head in your hands.

“I’ll be fine. I don’t know if I should be going to the hospital or staying here. I want to go be by his side but I also don’t want to give him or the media what they want.” You responded to your friend.

“Just stay where you are and keep watching the news. I’ll stay here on the phone with you.” Your friend told you. You trembled where you sat and turned the television back on. You saw that Hawks was now being loaded into an ambulance on a stretcher. He looked bloodied and beaten up. You let the tears fall down your face as you watched the scene play out on the screen. You felt frozen to your couch, paralyzed by seeing the one that you loved being carted off to the hospital. You stood up and went into your bedroom to get changed. You were going to the hospital. A tiny part of you still cared about him. You couldn’t deny it. You were sure about it. You walked out of your bedroom and to the couch where your phone still laid on the call with your friend.

“I’m going to the hospital. A tiny part of me still cares for him.” You spoke.

“If you say so. Be safe, Y/n. Call be back with details later, ok?” They spoke. You agreed and hung up before you left your apartment and drove to the hospital. You parked your car and ran into the hospital. You asked the front desk what room Hawks was in and you were told that he was in surgery. You were guided to a waiting area that seemed void of people. You sat alone and texted your friend what was going on. You looked around the room before you focused on the nearby television and listened to the news as it wrapped up the incident of the group of villains attacking and Hawks being the only one that fought them. The screen showed recaps of him fighting the villains and how he didn’t let any other heroes help him and how one of the heroes called to Hawks saying that doing this battle alone was a suicide mission and that he needed help. Hawks ignored them and was now in a critical condition and in surgery.

Your focus was broken when someone with dark hair and a hood up that covered their face entered the room and walked past your line of vision. The person sat in the chair next to you and you swore the scent of burnt flesh and smoke filled your nose.

“So, you here waiting for the #2 Hero Hawks to come out of surgery? The nurses typically don’t let just anyone come into the waiting room for Pro heroes to be in recovery so they can be by their side. You must be his main squeeze. The one he takes to fancy events and show up in front of the media when he goes to a press conference.” The person spoke in a raspy voice. You stared at them confused and a little weirded out. You moved to go to a different seat but the person’s hand grabbed onto your arm.

“I believe it would be best that you stay where you are, doll. You and I need to have a little chat.” The person said in a firm tone. You sat back down and person’s hand moved off your arm.

“Have you noticed that Hawks has been leaving you absent more often? Divulging himself into his job and sneaking off when he thinks you’ve gone asleep? Well, honey, I’m one of those reasons why he’s been going off at random times. He doesn’t love you anymore. He doesn’t even like women. He only puts up that façade for the media. He’s been cheating you. I’m his true love. We’ve known each other since we were little kids so our bond is stronger than anything you think you’ll have with him. Now, I suggest you go home and don’t even think of contacting him again or I will find you and burn everything you love to the ground.” The person said.

You[jF1] turned to the person with wide eyes and noticed the surgical staples and pattern of burnt skin and the piercing blue eyes. This was the villain known as Dabi. Your mind raced with thoughts as you stood up and began to exit the hospital with tears streaming from your face. Some of the staff tried to stop you but you just wanted to get out of there. You went to the car and sat in the safety of the driver’s seat with tears streaming down your cheeks. You hiccupped and your crying turned into sobs that racked your whole body. How could he use you like that? He was cheating on you and not just with another woman but a man? You never picked up any hints from him that he didn’t like you. You just though because he became the #2 Hero that he was busier capturing villains and making the world a better place. The idea that he had been cheating on you did cross your mind. The encounter with Dabi confirmed it.

You waited for your tears to dry before you went back into the hospital and asked if Hawks was out of surgery yet. The nurse told you that he was and gave you his room number. You were a woman with determination as you made your way to the room where the hero lay now healing from the injuries he sustained in battle. You opened the door and sat quietly in a chair in the room to wait for Hawks to wake up. The wait wasn’t long as a few minutes later Keigo opened his eyes and looked at you.

“Hey, baby bird.” He said weakly. You laughed.

“Don’t “baby bird” me. You lying, cheating scumbag!” You told him. He sat up a bit and looked at you confused.

“What do you mean? What have I done wrong!?” He asked you.

“You were sneaking out at night to go get screwed or screw with a man! A man that’s a villain too!” You responded.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He told you.

“Don’t lie. I met him downstairs while I was waiting for you to get out of surgery. He smells of burnt flesh and smoke. He also has surgical staples keeping his skin together. Does that sound familiar?” You spoke with a hint of venom in your voice. Hawk’s eyes widened and he laid back on the hospital bed.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” You asked as you stood up from your chair. Hawks looked to you and sighed.

“Its not what you think. The commission asked me to infiltrate the League to gather more information. I might’ve slept with one or two of them to get leverage and gain their trust. But you, my love, are my one and only person that I’d love until the end of time.” He told you truthfully. You didn’t know if you should believe him or not.

“Keigo… We’re over. Feel free to go to where ever it is the villains are hiding when you’re discharged. I don’t want to see you for a while. I need my own space.” You spoke as your voice cracked and your heart sank to your stomach.

“Then leave.” He told you as he stared deadpan at the ceiling. You could feel your heart breaking. You backed out of the room and left the hospital.

You drove home and closed the door behind you and sunk to the floor feeling horrible and sad. You went to your freezer and pulled out a pint of ice cream, got into your pjs and proceeded to eat said ice cream in front of your tv. A few hours passed and your phone buzzed with a text from your friend asking if you were ok. You texted them that you and Hawks broke up. Your friend responded saying that they will be over with some pizza and more ice cream in about half an hour. You unlocked your door before you went to your room and laid on your bed to stare at the ceiling. You heard your door unlock and your friend call out to let you know that it was them. You watched from your room as they set the food on the counter and look for you. They kneeled down and made sure you weren’t going to do anything drastic and have you end up in the hospital. You told them that you wouldn’t and they hugged you before they left you alone to wallow about your loss. You ate some of the pizza and some more ice cream before you took a shower and went to bed.

You woke up the next morning and it was a struggle to pull yourself out of bed and get yourself dressed. You called in to work to tell them that you needed a few days off to only have your boss tell you that you could take as much time as you needed and to come back to work when you were ready. You were relieved then called your parents asking if you could come back home for a while. They asked why and you told them that you didn’t want to talk about it right then but you just needed to come home for a while and get away from the city. They agreed and asked when you’d be coming over. You told them that you’d be over this afternoon. They were excited that you’d be coming so soon and they would have their guest bedroom ready for you. You hung up with them and packed your bags. You locked up your apartment and left.

As you drove to your parent’s house, you listened to the news as heard that Hawks had been discharged from the hospital and was now spending time recovering in his home. You rolled your eyes and kept driving. You didn’t notice that Hawks was in a car following you.

§§§§§

You pulled into the driveway of your parent’s two-story log cabin that you remember them building just after you moved out. You exited your car as your parents came down the driveway and greeted you. They helped you carry your bags inside and help you get settled. Little did you know that Hawks had kept following you until your mom spoke up.

“Honey, do you know that vehicle?” Your mom spoke and gestured to the dark car that had been following you since the city.

“No. I don’t.” You responded as the car parked and the passenger side door opened and the last person, you’d expect to have seen exited the car.

“Y/n! It’s so glad to see you! I haven’t seen you since I was in the hospital.” Hawks spoke. It had only been a day. You told him you needed your space and he just violated that by following you out here. He followed you out to the place you thought you could get away from him and readjust your life and move on from him. But no, this sick fucker had to follow you like a little lost puppy.

“Mom, Dad, this is Hawks. You two know him as the #2 Hero. I know him as my Ex-boyfriend and a dirty cheating scumbag.” You told your parents. Your mom guided you inside while your father stepped forward to confront Hawks.

“Why don’t you and I take a little walk.” Your dad told Hawks as he guided him away from you. Your mom helped you get your bags inside and heated some water for tea. You sat on the bed as your mind raced. How did he get out of the hospital after one day? Was he that desperate to get back with you? You had told him that you needed space. Was he really that selfish? You shook the thoughts off and busied yourself by unpacking your bags and trying to get settled. Your mom came in with a hot cup of tea to help settle your nerves.

“Y/n, honey? Tea is ready. Why don’t we sit down and you can tell me what’s going on?” She suggested. You nodded and followed her out to the kitchen table where You unfolded the events that had happened over the past day and a half. As you were telling her what happened, you began to choke up and tears fall from your face. Your mother pulled you into a comforting hug just as Hawks came through the door.

“Y/N! PLEASE! I’M SORRY FOR WHAT I’VE DONE. I WOULD NEVER CHEAT ON YOU.” He exclaimed. You looked at him and was absolutely disgusted. You stood up and approached him.

“I am absolutely disgusted with you. You violated my space by following me out here! I want you to leave and I never want to see you again!” You yelled at him. Hawks, looking hurt, walked to the door, turned back to see your hurt and angry expression then he closed the door behind him. You sat back down in the chair next to your mom and you covered your mouth and let more tears stream from your eyes. Your dad put a hand on your back as sobs wracked through your body.

“You can stay here for as long as you need to, Y/n. You’re safe here from him.” You heard your dad tell you.

“I just want to go lay down.” You spoke as you stood shakily. Your mom helped you to your room where you laid down under your blanket and passed out.

You woke up again around dinner time and you groggily left your bedroom and went to the kitchen where your mom was finishing up your favorite comfort food.

“Hi honey, did you sleep well?” Your mom asked as you went to the kettle to make a cup of hot cocoa.

“Yes, I did, thank you for asking.”

“I’m glad you slept well, dear. Can you set the table please? Dinner is almost ready.” She said as you took a sip of your cocoa. You got plates down and silverware out and set the table. Your mom put hot pans and bowls on top of potholders on the table. You felt at home as the smells of your favorite dishes filled your nose. You said grace before you dug into the food and ate your fill. Your mom brought out some of your favorite dessert and let you have some while the three of you settled down to watch a movie. After the movie was over, you went to bed and slept.

§§§§§

You stayed for the next week taking care of yourself. You contacted your work and was able to work from your parent’s cabin. After the weekend passed, your dad drove you home and made sure you were ok and that you had a means to defend yourself incase Hawks came back. You assured your dad that you were fine, and you had a couple people to call in case things did go south. Your dad helped you carry your bags up to your apartment door and hugged you goodbye. You watched as your dad walked down the steps and turned the corner where his truck was before you unlocked the door of your apartment and stepped inside. Your eyes widened as you saw the absolute chaos that was your apartment. Your lamp was broken, your couch was ripped up and your coffee table was smashed down the middle. You covered your mouth and stepped inside your home… or what was once your home. The place that you thought that you could seek comfort was ruined. There were streaks of what you thought was blood and several familiar crimson feathers either laying on the ground or stabbed into your wall or appliance. You got to your bedroom, and you saw a message painted on the wall in blood. You froze in your tracks and read the message.

“Stay away from him! He’s mine and you’ll never have a chance with him!” You read. You cried and fell to your knees and cried again. You were done and tired of this. You wanted this chaos to be over and done with. You picked up your phone and scrolled through your contacts and found Hawks. You hesitated before you clicked the button to call him. You held the phone to your ear as it rang. He answered.

“Y/n? What’s up?” He asked.

“S-someone… b-broke into my apartment. Was it you? Your feathers are here and there’s a lot of blood.” You said with a wavering tone. You didn’t hear your closet door opening as Hawks was consoling you over the phone.

“Y/n. I wasn’t there. Someone must’ve found fake feathers that match mine. Get out of there. The person that did this is probably still around. I’ll be over as soon as I can, Ok?” You heard him say as something loomed over you. Your eyes went wide as you turned around slowly to see that man from the hospital.

“Y/n?! Answer me please!” Hawks yelled into his phone as you went quiet.

“He’s here.” You said quietly. “GET UP AND RUN!” He yelled into the receiver. You registered what he had told you to do but you were frozen in place. The man from the hospital bent down and put a bloodstained finger under your chin.

“I wondered where you were, Y/n. Didn’t think it would take you so long to come home to see my message.” He spoke. The intense scent of burnt skin and now whiskey on his breath along with the ashen smell of cigarettes filled your nose. You remained frozen as the man remained hovered over you. He grabbed you by the throat and slammed you against the wall.

“Go ahead and suffer.” He croaked out as you felt a warming sensation on your neck. You clawed at his hand and beat on his arm with your fists, but he didn’t let up. Your eyes glanced over to your bedroom window where you saw some scarlet feathers break through the glass and stab through the coat of the villain and pin him against the wall. Hawks swooped in and picked you up.

“I’m here baby. I’m going to get you out of here. I’m taking you to the hospital where they can check you out and make sure you’re not injured.” You heard him say. You clung to his jacket and hid your face in his neck. He held onto you and flew to the nearby hospital where he had you taken care of. He never left your side the entire time he was there holding your hand as the doctors took scans and tests and treated your neck for any minor burns. You felt broken on the inside. You couldn’t take anymore of this drama and stress. You remembered what you had told Hawks only a week ago that you never wanted to see him ever again. But there he was, sticking by your side even when you absolutely hated his guts. Did he still care for you? You didn’t know right then but you knew that you wanted to sleep. The doctors said that you should get your rest and you let your eyes flutter closed.

§§§§§

You woke up a couple hours later to see Keigo slumped in a chair asleep. You smiled softly to yourself before speaking up.

“Hey, sleepy bird.” You said just loud enough that he could hear you. He woke up and smiled. “Nice to see that you’re awake. The doctor said that they want to keep you overnight just incase anything goes bad. Then you should be able to go home tomorrow. Or someplace where you can be safe. I’d offer for you to come to my place, but I know that you and I aren’t on the best of terms right now.” He told you. You looked at him and kept your hand to yourself even though you wanted to hold his hand and pull him close to you and tell him that everything was going to be fine. But it wasn’t. You needed to be away from him and all the media and hype That had overwhelmed your life.

“Hawks, Keigo, I need some space for a while. I mean more than a day. I need an undefined amount of time away from you. Everything that has happened, you cheating on me, you following me to my parent’s cabin, my apartment… I can’t do it anymore. I need a break from you and all the things that come with you.” You told him. He backed away from the bed, nodding slowly until he was leaning against the wall and staring at the mundane pattern of the tiles on the floor.

“So… it is true… we’re over?” His words hung in the air for a few moments. The expression on his face told you that his heart was breaking. But you didn’t think it was genuine. You could feel your heart shattering into a million pieces.

“Yes, Keigo. We’re over.” You spoke. The hero pushed off from the wall and grabbed his coat and bag before leaving your room without another word. You let your tears run down your face as one of the nurses came into the room and checked on you to make sure you were ok. You told them that you had broken things off with your boyfriend and they nodded. They stayed with you and asked if there was anyone, they could call for you and you nodded. You told them about your friend that lived in the city and that you would need to talk with them. The nurse got your phone and handed it to you. You dialed your friend and the two of you talked over your living situation. Your friend agreed to let you come live with them while you recuperated. They said that they would be there in after their shift at work to pick you up an bring you home. You felt a little bit relieved that you had a place to go home. You let yourself fall back asleep and drift off into the land of dreams.

§§§§§

You woke up the next morning and the doctor gave you a last check up to make sure your vocal cords were undamaged. They gave you a clean bill of health and you were wheeled down to the pickup area where your friend was waiting for you in their car. They helped you into the car where there was a couple bags of your things and your suitcases that had remained unpacked from your vacation. When your friend parked in the parking garage of their apartment, you got a message from Hawks saying:

“I thought over some things, and we need to talk, alone.”

End part one.

[gamerwoo]

[Tales from the Pack] Seungkwan: Void (Part Two)

Characters: Seungkwan x female reader

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, fantasy, a little fluff but also some angst ig????

Word count: 2,592

Summary: Seungkwan can’t resist the urge to go searching for the banshee any longer, but his trip into the woods has him coming face-to-face with a strange girl who doesn’t seem to remember anything about where she came from or how she got where she is. The only things she knows are the things the voices in her head that Seungkwan doesn’t know about tell her. And that strange girl is you, his mate.

Previous | Next | Void Masterlist

Despite the fact Seungkwan had to explain he just found you randomly in the woods last night, the pack didn’t seem too concerned about how you had shown up. His pack was pretty friendly, so it wasn’t like it was a surprise that Seungkwan would bring home a helpless girl – especially when it was clear he had imprinted on you. However, they still didn’t understand why he’d just suddenly left in the middle of everything.

“I heard the screaming,” he had explained when Soomin brought you upstairs to get some clothes for the day, “and I just felt…something. My instincts told me to go find it.”

“Your instincts want you dead, apparently,” Yeji scoffed.

“Not the only one…” Jihoon muttered with a playful roll of his eyes.

“Does anybody know where Soonyoung is?” Seungcheol demanded as he walked back into the kitchen.

“Maybe he went to town last night after--” Seokmin paused, realizing that the alpha being in town when it was daytime wasn’t good. “…Oh.”

Soonyoung was notorious for one-night-stands. It wasn’t odd for him to go into town randomly at night and return early in the morning before the sun had risen. But this time, he didn’t come home, apparently.

“We need to go find him and get him home,” Seungcheol stated with a final nod.

“How? Everyone in town is super on-guard after what happened with Soomin and Danbi,” Jeonghan reminded them.

“And not many of us can slip in and out of town easily,” Minghao pointed out. “It’ll have to be one of the girls to go get him, probably.”

“Jooyeon will probably get arrested again,” Jeonghan scoffed. “ But Soomin, Danbi, and Jia can’t go.”

“Yeji could but she’d need to hide her ears and tail...” Seokmin trailed off, looking the girl in question up and down.

“I can go,” your soft voice chirped.

You had come down the stairs and into the kitchen, overhearing the conversation. You had gone into the nearby town only a handful of times – well, more like you’d wandered there a handful of times – but you were sure you could figure out your way around. Besides, if it was really so important that their pack member get home, you didn’t mind helping.

Not to mention you could hear urgent whispers telling you to help.

“No,” Seungkwan practically whined.

Your eyes darted to him, ignoring the odd smirks and snickers of the pack. He walked over to you and placed his hands firmly on your shoulders, “_____, you can’t go to town alone. If anybody finds out you’re with us–”

“How could anybody find that out?” you shrugged, not understanding the big deal.

Seungkwan just shook his head, “You just can’t go alone.”

“Who do we send?” Seokmin wondered.

“We have to send Seungkwan, obviously,” Jihoon stated, gesturing to you and the werewolf who wouldn’t release his grip on you.

“Why Seungkwan?” you wondered, cocking your head to one side.

“Nothing!” the boy in question quickly shook his head, but you did notice his cheeks turning a bright pink. “It’s nothing.”

‘It’s you!’ you could hear excited whispers in your head from the same female-sounding voice that you’d been hearing for the last week or so, ‘You’re the one!’

‘The one for what?’

But you couldn’t hear the voice over the pack’s frantic planning. You were apparently going into town with Seungkwan and Jeonghan. 

“The guards haven’t seen all of us,” Soomin shrugged with a nod, “so they should be safe. I can help with the eyes if Danbi’s busy with the baby. I know she’s been sniffling a bit.”

“She’s probably not leaving Jiwoo until she’s feeling better,” Seungcheol said.

Soomin chuckled, “Alright, I’ll get started. _____, would you like to watch?”

-

You were amazed how Soomin was able to mix together a few different things in glass bottles you had never seen before, and turn the wolves’ golden eyes into a chocolate brown. In fact, you couldn’t stop staring up at Seungkwan’s eyes, finding the brown made his eyes seem a bit bigger somehow. Innocent, almost.

Seungkwan stayed by your side while Jeonghan walked a bit ahead, leading the way through the forest. He silently hoped they would be able to find out where you came from – sure, you seemed harmless and all, but what kind of girl sits out in the middle of the woods at night while it’s raining? Maybe being in town would make you remember something since you seemed to not recall walking into the forest.

While the three of you walked through the dense forest, Seungkwan babbled to you about the pack, explaining that there were a few members of the pack that were asleep that you’d meet later. He also told you all about their previous issues with the town and even with some of the wolves themselves -- you realized the pack couldn’t seem to catch a break.

“Why didn’t Wonwoo like Mingyu?” you wondered, your hands shoved in the pockets of the jacket Seungkwan had given you. “Wouldn’t he like that his sister would be with somebody he trusts?”

“Nobody’s really sure,” Seungkwan hummed, trying to figure out just exactly how his brother felt. “He didn’t want Danbi to be ‘stuck’ with the pack, but I didn’t see her going anywhere to start a life anytime soon. Honestly, her being a mate made the most sense to me.”

You could hear the whispers picking up again, but you couldn’t hear them over Seungkwan. However, you favored listening to Seungkwan’s stories rather than the voices, so you just carried on with the conversation.

Seungkwan’s talking helped pass time – maybe not for Jeonghan, but for you – until you reached the edge of town. Jeonghan paused by the treeline, scanning the small area. Nobody was really around, so he figured your group could slip in pretty easily before blending in with the townsfolk.

“Do you know where Soonyoung usually hangs out to find...people?” Seungkwan asked the older boy. “I guess that would be a start.”

“No, but I can smell the idiot,” Jeonghan let out a short laugh before stepping across the invisible line that separated the forest from the town.

Seungkwan gently grabbed your elbow and led you along with him. But once you were a little further in, he let go, and you put one arm through his once it started to get a bit more crowded. You didn’t notice how Seungkwan blushed at the small gesture.

Jeonghan continued to lead the way, subtly sniffing the air. However, once he turned down a corner, a voice inside you screamed for you to stop. Your feet automatically pressed into the ground, and you let your arm drop from Seungkwan’s. He noticed you weren’t following, and stopped a few feet away, turning his head.

“_____?” Seungkwan asked, cocking his head to one side.

Due to the tone Seungkwan used, Jeonghan turned to see what he sounded so confused about. When he saw you staring wide-eyed down the narrow pathway, he seemed intrigued.

“What is it?” he wondered.

You shook your head, the voice telling you there was danger down there, “I don’t want to go that way.”

“Do you recognize this place?” Jeonghan questioned, slowly walking toward you.

“N-no,” you replied, shaken up by how badly the voice wanted you to get away from the alley, “but…I just can’t go down there. Is there another way?”

Seungkwan reached out to you, only touching your arm when you didn’t move away from him. He stood beside you, searching your eyes like the answer to what was wrong would be there.

“It’ll be a little longer, but we can go around,” Jeonghan shrugged before leading you and Seungkwan a different way.

You walked numbly beside Seungkwan, holding the inside of his elbow as you spaced out and focused on the voice for more information. Thankfully, the town was still a bit quieter, or everybody was at the market.

The voice – the feminine voice that seemed to be talking to you the most lately – seemed to only show pain; both physical and emotional. You could almost feel the heartache she seemed to feel, and it was…weird. It didn’t frighten you – you’d experienced this weird phenomena before – but it made you want to learn more.

“_____?” Seungkwan’s voice was a bit sharp like he’d already said your name multiple times before.

You shook your head, ending the trance you were in as you looked up at Seungkwan, “Huh?”

He looked concerned, a crease forming between his brows, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you offered him a soft smile to show that you really were okay. “I’m sorry for concerning you.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he chuckled a bit nervously.

“He’s nearby…” Jeonghan mused, in his own little world. “The question is: what do we do when we get there? We can’t just knock on a stranger’s door and ask for him.”

Jeonghan’s sense of smell led them to the front of a quaint house with flowers bordering the short walkway to the front door. It seemed cute enough, but none of them planned on going up to the door either way.

“Maybe he’ll sense us nearby and it’ll scare him out of the house,” Seungkwan joked with a snort.

But sure enough, the front door opened just enough for the alpha to slip out and slink his way down the walkway to the older wolf. His golden eyes were wide, not understanding why Jeonghan, Seungkwan, and a stranger had come to find him.

“You’re pretty late, you know,” Jeonghan told him, acid in his voice as his brown eyes narrowed. “You’re supposed to come home before sunrise, and you missed that window by a couple hours. I get you’re an alpha, but you can’t be this reckless.”

Despite his status, Soonyoung seemed to shrink down at Jeonghan’s words, his eyes finding the ground, “Sorry...”

“Wait,” Seungkwan suddenly stepped forward, looking at Soonyoung, “can we talk to your...uh, friend for a moment?”

“Seungkwan, we need to get–”

“What if they know _____?” Seungkwan asked, quieting the elder’s protests.

Jeonghan sighed, carding his fingers through his hair, “Alright… Are they awake? It’s better if we go inside so nobody sees us out here and reports anything to Donghae.”

“Yeah,” Soonyoung let out a deep sigh as he turned back around.

The alpha led the way back to the door. Jeonghan gestured for you and Seungkwan to go first, so Seungkwan walked with you to the door while the eldest surveyed the area to make sure nobody was watching. Once at the door, Soonyoung ushered everybody inside.

The door opened to an average-looking house, where a tall girl with dark skin and doe-like eyes stood at the counter, making herself breakfast. She seemed to be at least Soonyoung’s age, and she looked startled to see so many people.

“Mia,” Soonyoung spoke up, stepping around the small group, “these are my friends, and um…”

“_____,” Seungkwan spoke up for you.

“_____,” Soonyoung repeated. He hadn’t even met you before, but from the way Seungkwan was looking at you and acting around you, he could tell what was going on. “Anyway, I’m sorry to just come back into your home without warning, but _____ was lost in the woods last night and can’t remember how to get home. Do you happen to recognize her or know where she lives?”

The girl named Mia looked at you for a brief moment before shaking her head, looking at Soonyoung again, “I’m sorry, but I don’t know who she is. I know almost everybody in town, but she’s unfamiliar to me.”

“She might not live in this town, then,” Jeonghan suggested with a shrug.

“We’ll keep her with us until we’re able to find out more information,” Soonyoung decided. He then looked to Mia, giving her a small smile. “Again, we’re sorry for intruding. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

“You too,” she grinned, her smile more directed to the alpha. “Please get home safely.”

The four of you left through the back and made your way back to the woods, with the three werewolves wondering just where in the world you came from.

-

Once you returned to the house, Soonyoung was getting reprimanded by not only the other two alpha, but especially Junhui, Minghao, and Chan. Seungkwan explained that Soonyoung was the original alpha to those three, so his original pack tended to stick by him the most. In general, though, everybody was upset with him for being late -- Joshua especially had some choice words for him that Seungkwan covered your ears for.

“I lost track of time, okay,” Soonyoung explained even though he knew that was no excuse. “After being woken up last night, I couldn’t get back to sleep so I went to town. I overslept. I know I messed up, okay?”

“Well, consider yourself lucky for not getting caught,” Seungcheol told him. “Just go get some sleep. You look awful.”

Soonyoung stood and walked out of the room without another word. You continued to sit beside Seungkwan on the couch, only really understanding half of that whole conversation. You weren’t sure why Soonyoung seemed to go out into town so often to sleep around, but that wasn’t your business, either. People had needs.

You suddenly heard a name in your head, but you weren’t sure the significance of it. You knew you heard the name before because Seungkwan had said it, but you didn’t know why it was so important. You just shoved the random thought to the back of your mind.

“Anyway,” Seungcheol began, “The rest of the pack should meet _____. Where’re Jun, Joshua, and Hansol?”

“I woke them up,” Soomin promised from beside her mate on the couch. “They should be down soon.”

Three wolves entered the room, rubbing their eyes, yawning, and stretching. But one of them caught your eye. Messy hair from sleep, pink cheeks from being pressed into his pillow, and what seemed to be a resting frown on his face. He whacked one of the wolves in the head for a comment about his bedhead before his golden eyes landed on you, taking in you scared expression.

You weren’t scared of him, necessarily. It was the sudden loud buzzing of that one voice. But the house was so full of people who were talking that you couldn’t hear it. You could feel its excitement and that this boy was important to it, but you couldn’t hear what it said. You wanted to hear what it said. 

You opened your mouth and inhaled, but heard nothing but silence except the soft voice in your head that frantically chanted one name.

The pack, however, heard the ear-splitting scream that kept them up at night.

Hands clamped over ears. Most of the wolves whined or howled at how intense the sound was, especially now that it was in the same room as them. Seungcheol covered Jooyeon like there was an explosion, Yeji huddled into Jihoon, Soomin tried to cover Wonwoo’s ears instead of her own, and the rest of the pack either doubled over or dropped to the floor.

Your scream didn’t end abruptly. It echoed like it always did, leaving you just staring at the boy that gave you bad vibes. Slowly, the pack sat back up, and stared at you in shock and horror.

You were the banshee; you were the thing that signaled death, and you were in their house, screaming at one of their own.

[harrysbbby]

Super Rich Kids

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: Rafe and Y/N are young and in love, not to mention filthy rich. But does money really buy happiness? Based on Super Rich Kids by Frank Ocean

Words: 3k

Warnings: drug use, swearing, mentions of su*cide so please be mindful if this would be triggering. a whole lot of angst

Start my day up on the roof

There's nothing like this type of view

Point the clicker at the tube

I prefer expensive news

Rafe Cameron was an anomaly. Too spoilt to hang with the Pogues, too much of a delinquent to fit in with the Kooks. But he made do.

One of his favourite things was watching the sunrise from the roof next to his room’s large bay window. It centred him, calmed him. His mind was constantly racing, so seeing the orange glow rise over the trees, was nothing short of relaxing.

He would usually do this while scrolling through his phone, checking Instagram, seeing what party had happened the night before across Figure Eight. Fox News would send him updates, you know, rich people paying rich people to tell middle class people to blame poor people. And he supposed he fed into that idea, but as the sun hit his eyes, making him squint, he didn’t think further into it.

New car, new girl

New ice, new glass

New watch, good times babe

It's good times, yeah

Wind blew through your hair as you drove along the highway. You laughed raising your hands above the open windscreen, feeling the air on your fingertips. You could feel the diamond ring wobble on your finger, pulling your hands down to admire it. It matched your icy diamond bracelet, courtesy of your new boyfriend.

Rafe leant over placing a hand on your thigh, the cold feeling of his Rolex catching your attention. You could see your reflection in his glasses as you smiled at him. You leant over, placing a kiss on his cheek, before throwing your head back, whooping into the open air.

She wash my back three times a day

This shower head feels so amazing

We'll both be high, the help don't stare

They just walk by, they must don't care

The steam of the shower blended in the air with the smoke of weed, creating a damp leafy smell. Your soapy hands ran over his skin, washing off the dried saltwater. You grabbed the shampoo, foaming it up in your hands before reaching up to run it through his hair. He held your waist, securing your stance against him as you washed the salt and sand and seaweed from his hair.

He leant his head back, letting the water run over his head. He could feel your lips on his neck. He let out a throaty groan, gripping your bare ass. You giggled into his neck, hand running through his hair, ridding him of the rest of the shampoo.

He felt euphoric.

The two of you were giggling uncontrollably as you exited the shower, leaving puddles along the lavish floors of the main bathroom. You were wrapped poorly in the white fluffy towels, when you heard the vacuum cleaner whir from down the hall.

“Oh shit, the maid is here,” you cursed. Rafe’s bloodshot eyes lit up as hushed chuckles escaped his mouth. You tried to shush him, but your laughter was louder than his.

You made a run for it, sprinting down the hall, leaving drops of water behind. You slinked past the maid in the open living room upstairs. She didn’t even flinch as your white-towel clad bodies raucously giggled all the way to your room.  She had seen similar scenes a hundred times through. She’d found the bottles of alcohol hidden in your room, or your stash of weed. She needed the money, she needed employment from your family, she didn’t care what you did. You and Rafe collapsed onto your bed, still giggling out of your minds.

A million one, a million two

A hundred more will never do

Rafe went home that night. As he entered the house, he heard his dad summon him to the kitchen.

“Hey son,” he greeted him, not looking up from his paper, “I transferred some more money into your account today, saw you made some pretty decent purchases.”

“Yeah,” Rafe cleared his throat, “they’re for my, uh, new girlfriend. You always told me how to treat a girl right, Dad. I really think you’d like her.”

“That’s lovely,” Ward eyes never wandered from the page he was intently staring at. Rafe’s shoulders hunched as he made his way upstairs, unsure his dad even registered his retreating footsteps.

He took out his phone, opening up his banking app, surveying the hefty total. His heart didn’t pick up like it used to when he saw the number rise. He felt empty and unloved, but as your name appeared in a notification at the top of his screen, he thought, maybe, he would have a chance of filling that void.

Too many bottles of this wine we can't pronounce

Too many bowls of that green, no Lucky Charms

“I never understood what this is called,” your words slurred as you held the bottle up to your eyes, squinting as your hazy eyes struggled to focus.

“Who gives a shit! It tastes good either way,” Rafe leant forward, snatching the bottle from your hands, taking a large swig. You drunkenly laughed before pulling him into a kiss.

Music blared as the party pumped around you. Topper, who was sitting on the other side of Rafe, rolled his eyes.

“It’s ‘mow-ey’ if you’re show-ey and Mo-et if you know-it,” he said taking the bottle from Rafe’s hand, pouring the bubbly liquid into two flutes and passing them back to you and Rafe, “so please, be classy.”

You immediately downed the drink in one go, tipping your head back as you went.

“Or,” one of Rafe’s other friends drawled, reaching into his back pocket, “we could do some of this.”

You eyed the bag of leafy green substance. You held onto Rafe’s bicep, as he grabbed the bag from his friend’s fingers.

You were slouched on the couch, Rafe lazily slung over your middle as you stoked his hair.

“Do you ever wish we had a normal childhood?”

Your high took away your inhibitions, your mouth moving before your brain could stop it. Rafe swivelled in his spot below you, glancing up at your face. He thought about what he had the other night: the void in his chest, the feeling of being unloved, but the feeling of doing whatever the hell you wanted when you wanted was so freeing, but was it freeing enough? He answered honestly.

“I…I don’t know.”

The maids come around too much

Parents ain't around enough

Too many joy rides in daddy's Jaguar

“Why is your house always being cleaned? How does it even have enough time to get dirty again?”

You laughed at Rafe’s question as you led him into the garage.

“You know my mother, she’s a germaphobe. One speck of dust and she brings the cleaning day forward a half a week!”

You opened the door to the garage, smiling as Rafe’s jaw dropped. He inspected the glistening gold, pristinely kept Jag.

“Now, my parents are out of town, which is the only reason I’m letting you do this,” you pointed your finger at him, before tossing him the keys. As he ran past you to the car, he planted a kiss on your cheek, swinging open the driver’s side door, “Please be so careful, my Dad will kill me if we do anything happens to it.”

You joined him in the car, smiling as he delicately ran his hands over the interior, little ‘oh my God’s escaping his lips. He placed the key in the ignition, hearing the car turn on, allowing an appreciative moan to escape his lips.

“Let’s take this baby for a spin!”

Too many white lies and white lines

Super rich kids with nothing but loose ends

Super rich kids with nothing but fake friends

You walked inside the party, Rafe’s friends immediately ushering him away from you.

“Look, what I’ve got.”

Rafe’s eyes train in on the white powdery substance in the small plastic bag. He gulped. He’d drunk and done drugs before, sure. But cocaine was different. Although its white colour glistened against the glass of the table, its darkness was encompassing.

“Babe! Where are you?”

Rafe heard you call his name. He hushed the boys around him.

“Later, later.”

He ran up the stairs, finding you and spinning you around, capturing your lips in a kiss. It caught you off guard, but you melted into it.

You hummed as he released you before capturing the sight over his shoulder.

“Ew gross. Cocaine is disgusting. Makes people so violent. Promise me you won’t become like them,” you caressed Rafe’s face nodded your head towards the guys behind him.

“Yeah of course. I would never,” he nodded, allowing you to drag him away, casting one final look at the white powdered table as you went.

It was hours later, and you still couldn’t find Rafe.  He left you at the beer pong table to go to the bathroom, but had never returned. You weaved your way through the party, before his blue polo caught your eye. He was hunched over a table, a group of rowdy, aggressive boys surrounding him, one hand up to nose. You stomped over to where he was faced away from you, tapping his shoulder harshly.

He rose, turning his head, catching sight of you. He stood to his feet quickly, hastily wiping the white under his nose.

“Y/N, I—” he started, but your raised hand cut him off.

“No Rafe, I’m just… so disappointed, I really didn’t think this was you.” He looked like a scorned puppy, eyes wide and lip pouted. Problem was, he was meant to be your ride tonight. All your things, including your car, at his house. But very obviously he could not drive. You crossed your arms over your chest, “Give me your keys. I’m leaving. I don’t care if you come or not.”

He quickly fished into his pocket, handing you the keys as you continued to glare at him. You stalked away. He felt one of the boys hands come to grasp his shoulder as another laughed.

“Bro, your Mrs is mad!”

“She’s gonna give you the best angry sex—"

“Just, shut up!” Rafe snapped angrily. The rage burning inside of him was like nothing he had ever felt before. The heat rose, as if steam emitted from his years, his skin felt like it was on fire. He shrugged the guy’s hand off his shoulder, jogging to catch you before you left.

Real love, I'm searching for a real love

Oh, real love, I'm searching for a real love

Oh, real love

You and Rafe had just exited the Golf Club, walking hand in hand towards his car. It was your 6 month anniversary. You celebrated with an amazing meal, and Rafe even surprised you with an amazing new dress and shoes for the evening. You were super impressed he had managed to pick it out, but understood more when he said he had gotten Sarah’s help. Regardless, it flattered you, as he had clearly been paying attention as the dress was the same one you had eyed off shopping together just weeks previous.

The chilly night air hit your skin causing you to shiver. Rafe let go of your hand, shrugging off his suit jacket, before wrapping it around your shoulders.

“Thanks,” you smiled. You reached his car, leaning against the passenger side door as Rafe held both your hands, “I had a really great time tonight.”

“Me too,” he pulled your head up to meet his, placing his lips gently on yours. This kiss felt different than the others, more passionate, slower and more tender. Rafe pulled away looking into your eyes. He felt a warm feeling in his stomach, like it was summer, butterflies floating around.  His knees felt weak, as he whispered, “I love you.”

He had never said it before. He don’t even think he had felt it before, ever. He didn’t get this feeling when he was with other girls or his family. He felt nervous, worried that this wasn’t the feeling he was meant to have.

“I love you too,” the anxiety pulsating through his body subsided when he heard those words. He pulled you in for another kiss and he knew. This was what it was meant to be like: love. Real love.

We end our day up on the roof

I say I'll jump, I never do

But when I'm drunk I act a fool

Talking 'bout, do they sew wings on tailored suits

You had reached the Cameron house, following Rafe up to his room. He immediately moved across the room, stepping outside his large window. You huffed, following him, knowing your argument wasn’t over. You sat next to him, bringing your legs up to your chest, looking out over the trees, looking as if they were glistening under the moonlight.

“You know, sometimes, I think it would be easier if I jumped.”

His voice was solemn, yet serious. He sounded as if it was something he had genuinely considered, hard expression staring off into the middle distance.

“Rafe,” you started, but he continued.

“I think, it would be so much easier to just end this life, start the next. See what’s in store for the afterlife. But then I think, would there even be a spot for a person like me in heaven?”

You didn’t know what to say. Your skin felt hot and your heart was beating out of your chest.

“You’re not a bad person, you just… do stupid stuff sometimes,” you tried to calm him. But his expression didn’t change.

I'm on that ledge, she grabs my arm

She slaps my hand

It's good times, yeah

Sleeve rips off, I slip, I fall

The market's down like 60 stories

He was stood now, but his feet were unsteady. He looked almost unwell, sweat beaded across his forehead. You stood slowly arms outstretched, watching as his feet shuffled. They took one too many little steps, missing one of the roof tiles, causing him to wobble.

“Rafe!” you screamed, reaching forward grabbing his arm. You used all the strength in your body to pull him towards you. It worked but sent both of you falling back onto the roof. He landed next to you. You groaned as you sat up, rubbing your elbows which took the brunt of your fall.

“What the fuck was that Y/N?” his voice was gravely. He shoved you away from him, as he struggled to get to his feet again. You stood slowly.

“What the fuck was what? You were gonna fall, Rafe!” you yelled back, your face holding a bewildered expression.

He felt the fire burning inside once again. But now the voices that had been drowned out from the sticky substance flying up his nose, had begun crawling out of the void

No one loves you.

Your father thinks you’re a failure.

No one loves you.

You’re not gonna get anywhere.

Why would she love you?

“I don’t need your fucking help, okay?” His voice was venomous. You could feel droplets of spit hit your face, burning as if they were poisonous. Tears welled in your eyes as he continued to scream, “I’ve never wanted it. You were a good fuck, but you don’t mean anything to me!”

“You don’t mean that,” you whispered. It was the drugs talking. He was Rafe, your Rafe, and he loved you.

“Yeah, I do.” The certainty in his voice was piercing. The voices were egging him on: you mean it, you mean it. But really, he felt it. Nothing meant anything to him. The void was swallowing him up whole and he didn’t want to take you with him. “Everything in my life is shit, okay? Including you. I don’t need you telling me what to do and I especially don’t need you for anything else. We’re done.”

Tears were falling rapidly down your face. His expression was so hard, it alone couldn’t have cracked your heart. Sobs began escaping from your lips, watching as he breathed heavily. This was not the boy you fell in love with. This was the shell, overtaken by his self-loathing and unfulfillment. You wiped your face, collecting yourself.

“So what that’s it?” you asked, already knowing the answer. Rafe didn’t say anything, the only movement coming from him being the heavy rise and fall of his chest. “I really hope you figure out whatever’s going on with you,” your voice was so shaky the words nearly didn’t come out. You swallowed the lump in your throat as you hastily climbed back through the window, wanting to get away from him as quickly as possible.

The heat had subsided from Rafe’s body as he watched you leave. Your tears had dampened enough of the fire for him to realise what he had just done.

She never loved you.

You’re a failure.

How could anyone ever love you?

He heard your car start from the driveway, seeing the red reflection of your lights against the trees get dimmer and dimmer. You were gone. And you were never going to come back.

And some don't end the way they should

My silver spoon has fed me good

A million one, a million cash

Close my eyes and feel the crash

So you and Rafe broke up. You’d run into each other at parties occasionally, barely making eye contact and definitely never speaking. Over time you showed up with a new boyfriend, clad in designer wear. Rafe continued to hand in the corner, snorting blow and a bottle Moet in his hands, desperately clinging to the last thing he had left, you.

The Cameron money stood well over time, aiding Rafe and his addiction. But every snort came at a different kind of price. His emptiness grew larger and wider, fully encircling his body. The only thing reminding him he was alive was the pit in his stomach, ignited every time he got high.

At night when he would close his eyes, begging slumber to take him he would see your face. The wind blowing through your hair. Your smile. What it felt like to feel loved. Something he hadn’t felt until he met you and hadn’t felt since he lost you. He was empty and unloved.

Real love, ain't that something rare

I'm searching for a real love, talking 'bout real love

Real love, yeah

Real love

I'm searching for a real love

Talkin' 'bout a real love

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

a/n: I never really write angst jsjdjajsj but lemme know what you thought.

Tags:

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[star-killer-md]

Dream A little Dream of Me Pt. 7

Welp. It’s been uh, a long fucking time. My only excuse is college is hard and also I’m lazy. Anyway, here she be. Thank you to everyone who continues to read this cause I need it to exit my brain and it’s incredibly nice to not just like, scream Kylo porn into the void. 

I hope y’all enjoy and feel free to leave me a comment or reblog or dm if you are so inclined. 

AO3 mirror

Part 8

Warnings: Inappropriate use of the Force, Force sex, angst, nsfw, y’all know the drill

Summary: In which answers are found. 

Ship: Kylo Ren x Negotiator!Reader

Word Count: 6.6k

The room smelled too sweet, the kind that lodged under your tongue and ached in your jaw. It made you long for the silence of your seaside room, made you strangely thankful that Kylo Ren often never filled it. But only for a minute. Because thinking of him reminded you of how you’d woken to an empty bed and cold, damp sheets and that you were certainly not thankful for. 

Meanwhile, Lem Alba seemed intrinsically compelled to do exactly the opposite. 

In fact, once he’d guessed you wouldn’t chew his head off every time he opened his mouth, it never closed again. You weren’t entirely sure if this annoyed or pleased you. But when Lem came to your door and invited you to brunch before all campaign staff were carted off back to the Federal District, you agreed. 

If only to avoid being left alone with your thoughts. 

“Not to grandstand,” Lem babbled between sips of his drink, “but I often feel some of my skills are wasted working just as a personal aide.” 

You glanced up from your plate and nodded, “I think most people in this profession tend to believe that. We’re all a bit insatiable.” 

He chuckled, soft voice melding perfectly with the chatter and bustle of the surrounding tables. You couldn’t help but think that Lem fit in well here, as much as he tried to deny it. His edges blended seamlessly with the velvet and silk background. It reminded you of when he’d plucked you right out of the crowd your first night here. 

“You First Order people have a way about you. Something in the way you stand a bit too straight.”

Something in the way you’re always waiting for the ball to drop. 

“Yes well, I’m not gunning for a power grab,” Lem sighed and rolled his eyes. 

He looked very much like a scorned child and you felt a twinge of remorse, “No, I didn’t think you were.” 

“It’s alright,” he ran a hand through his neat hair and stared at you over the rim of his glass, “I just get so bored of it all sometimes.”

“Mm, me too,” you said around a bite of some extravagant concoction that dripped embarrassingly down your chin. 

You thought of blood and saltwater rolling across your skin and quickly wiped it away with a napkin. 

“Really? I wouldn’t have thought that would be an issue for someone in your position.”

You had to try very hard not to scoff out loud, settling for a disbelieving raise of your eyebrows. Piles of paperwork taller than the Commander filled your head, glowering officers and incessant incident reports—your life nothing more than a series of other people's mistakes that somehow became your fault. Grey walls and meetings that never ended. 

Come to think of it, you’d been bored and tired and frustrated your whole life it seemed. Although, not so much anymore. Still just as exhausted and angry, but less like a pacing animal in a cage. The thought sat uncomfortably in your stomach as you wondered when exactly that had changed.  

Of course you already knew the answer. 

You always were attracted to things that kept you on your toes. 

“Should we discuss this speech I’m supposed to be giving?” you asked. 

If Lem noticed your less than subtle change in topic, he didn’t show it for which you were grateful. 

“Certainly,” he gestured for you to continue. 

“Well, I’ve had it outlined for quite awhile since the powers that be were oh-so specific about the subject matter,” you began, watching Lem grimace sympathetically. 

“Yes, I believe I’m meant to collect a draft from you by the end of the week.” 

The joints in your shoulders popped when you slumped forward, hanging your head against the weight of far too stringent deadlines.

“I’m well aware,” you sighed. “Normally I wouldn’t be so neglectful of the timeline, I’m just having a hard time...focusing.” 

The barely concealed mark on the curve of your neck throbbed as you recalled the massive, decadently handsome distraction that consistently occupied your workspace. Really, how were you expected to get any quality content produced with that dark, looming shadow always poisoning your mind with questions and completely inappropriate fantasy. 

Currently, your entire body seemed to constrict at the notion that it was no longer strictly a fantasy. Your muscles corded taught, pulling like a ruched seam and tugging painfully at the sinew. It felt almost as if you were a marionette with invisible strings controlled by equally invisible hands that tingled as they jerked you about. You got the distinct sensation that someone was watching you, but resisted the urge to turn and look. 

Lem—completely oblivious to your inner turmoil—perked up and offered you a blindingly white grin full of ramrod straight teeth. 

“I have an office I’m more than willing to loan out if you’d like to make use of it,” he said. 

You considered the idea, chewing on your lip. Maybe getting lost in speech writing would be good, you thought. Something easy, something formulaic would do wonders for taking your mind off, well, everything. 

“As long as you’re offering,” you flashed him a strained smile and went back to shuffling things around your plate. 

Lem continued to spew an endless stream of comfortingly meaningless ramblings and you bathed in the sound of it, looking up occasionally to offer a hum of acknowledgement. You didn’t really care what he was saying—whether it was opinions for opening lines or who you should thank first or what color to wear that he thought would bring out your eyes—but you couldn’t remember the last time you’d had a friendly conversation with...anyone. 

So you let him talk, and nodded every once in a while and basked in the normalcy, the mundaneness of the scene. Until, of course, the peace was shattered when your server returned with a new cocktail for Lem, who promptly spilled it all over the table. 

You watched it unfold like the audience of a holodrama: the waiter, tall with an abundance of black curls and long fingers extending the glass, their hands touching for just an instant, the scarlet blush that tinted Lem’s ears when he glanced at the man’s face and stared transfixed even as the drink spilled off the table and onto his slacks. 

It felt very suddenly as if you were seeing something you shouldn’t be. 

But the moment ended quickly and quietly, fizzling out with a whimper as the waiter with all his curly hair frantically mopped up the mess. His voice was low and pleasant when he apologized and rushed off to get another drink mixed. 

For once, you had the urge to participate in the conversation. 

“Who’s that?” you asked, flicking your eyes up briefly and then back down to the wet mark on the table cloth. 

Lem shrugged and fiddled with the stain on his pants, “Nobody.” 

And for once, it seemed, he had nothing else to say on the matter. 

It was truly a challenge to keep the amused smile from splitting your cheeks as Lem so clearly tried and failed not to make a complete fool of himself every time said server returned to clear plates. And when a beautifully decorated fruit tart found its way to your table—decidedly marked as ‘on the house’—you were graced with an extraordinarily toothy, childish smile from your dining companion. 

Your chest ached with it, the display of reality. 

On your first night here, you’d thought Lem looked too much like all the other First Order officers you were forced to work with. Thought his hair was too perfect, his suit too pressed, words too cherry picked. 

But here you were again, getting drawn in by these stupid, simple instances of existence in relation to others. You craved the feeling of fading into the background as Lem stuttered whenever he tried to thank the boy with his curls and warm smile. 

It was strange too, to see that people truly did flush and brush hands and chew their lips and smile so freely. For whatever reason, you’d been under the distinct impression that was an exclusively fictional pursuit, saved for holofilms or storybooks. 

Did those things exist in you? Were there times when you’d fluttered the way Lem did now, cautiously stealing bites of his tart, trying to preserve the delicate design for as long as possible? Or had they atrophied and fallen to dust from disuse, nothing more than a vestigial organ, unnecessary and forgotten—ready to pump your body full of toxins at a moment's notice should it burst. 

And that only raised more questions. How incomplete had you been this whole time? How long had you been ignorant of your deficiency?  

And did it matter?

But that was not something you could ever answer. So, you sat back and watched and listened and breathed it in. 

Appreciated from afar this show of innocenceweakness.

You jolted in your seat, shoulders bunching together as if a hand had grabbed you from behind. The double voice rang out in your head, echoing up like it was shouted from the bottom of some pit inside you. You knew that voice though—would know it anywhere by now.  

It was him, of course it was. 

You could feel Kylo Ren like a shroud, a dampening of the outside world. When you listened closely, you swore you could hear the sound of crashing waves, the crunch of sand under boot heels. The smell of salt and skin and bloody water filled your nose. Your chest was burning, a prison for some roiling, angry creature that flung itself against the steel bars of your ribs.

His ribs.

His heartbeat, a pounding and ruthless tattoo.

His feet already moving in time to the beat, carrying him farther and farther— 

Is it? you shouted back.

The words tore at your throat even as you sat in silence at the table. But no response came, instead the chatter of the dining room returned and Lem tilted his head in concern, standing and gathering you up by the arms. 

He pulled you down the poshly ornamented halls, chattering still but shooting glances down more often with his brows furrowed. You let him lead you, thin arm looped around yours, back towards your quarters to ‘help you pack,’ he said. And you didn’t bother discouraging him. 

You already knew the room would empty. 

***

The meeting had been dragging on for quite nearly an hour already. You were seated at the far end of a comically long table staring off into oblivion, eyes having glazed over nearly ten minutes in when one of the relations staff started going on about color coordinating suits. 

Although, you were not completely tuned out. It was very hard to be when just a few seats away sat the Representative himself with his grotesque excuse for an advisor positioned at his right hand. Fortunately he hadn’t spared you a glance, but it was a challenge not to keep one eye on him at all times—to not consistently feel your calves twitch, ready to bolt through the nearest exit. 

You understood now what it must be like for all those prisoners sitting in the Finalizer’s belly—backed into the final corner, waiting for Kylo Ren to swoop in like a shadow and leave them flayed open to be tossed out with the rest of those who have outgrown their usefulness. 

You’ve been trying not to think too specifically about...him since you’d returned to the Federal District, your room here just as empty as the one by the sea. His shirt, the one you’d stolen was still packed neatly into your bags. You thought about throwing it away, or tossing it in the corner for him to find. But then you remembered the bits of torn up packaging and lace and that you would not sink to that level. Physical reminders aside, your head had been blessedly—or maybe concerningly—devoid of any voices that were not your own since your, well, ‘fight’ you supposed was the word for it at brunch. 

Then again, all you ever did with him was fight, but this felt different. 

There were plenty of reasons for the Commander to be angry with you, in fact, you didn’t think there could ever be a shortage. However, this seemed just a little too...petulant for your liking. 

You recalled some of Hux’s old rants. Generally, you’d just let him rave like you were just another piece of furniture in his office, stewing in the same hot, bubbling pot of indignation. You could hear him now:

“He’s a child, a sulking, immature youngling completely incapable of a single rational thought.”

And you finally understood what he meant. 

If only you were allowed to use the silent treatment, but that seemed to be a privilege only for those higher up in the food chain. 

Besides, you were far too classy for such elementary tactics. 

You spat the last words and hoped to the stars that wherever the hell Ren had run off to, he heard them. Which one of you was the weak one now?

It was Lem who pulled you from the dark, brooding hole you’d dug yourself as he caught your eye from across the table. The speakers were switching, a half-hearted applause ringing out in the cavernous room and he flashed you a quick roll of his eyes. You bit back a smile at the way he jumped when Gahl turned to rattle off some inane order and Lem scrambled to take a note down. 

Watching it reminded you of how he’d nearly leaped out of his suit when the waiter boy with curly hair brought by your plates. Jane was his name. You’d discovered it while Lem was helping you pack, happily filling the silence with how he was much too smart to be working as a server.

And as you thought, your traitorous mind led you inevitably back to the looming, black specter that haunted your every waking minute. You would be kidding yourself if you thought you could ever have given the Commander the cold shoulder when truly he was all you ever thought about. Even before, even if it was just to remember how much you despised him. 

Past tense now, you noted worriedly. What a terrifying concept. 

But your brain was moving quickly past that, tucking it away in some far, deep corner to only be touched on long nights when you were up far past the shift in day cycles. 

Now it was replaying your brunch, closing up on a still of Jane’s hand on the glass about to tumble, on the lip biting, starry eyed and heart pounding look in his eyes. And then he was changing, the skin of his hand growing lighter, milky and soft with scattered freckles. 

Then it was your hand reaching out. Your hand slipping on the glass and Kylo Ren—sweet smile on his face—staring down at you blushing like a ripe fruit in summer.  

His lovely crooked teeth flashed behind lips like pillows filled with the softest featherdown.  

The tips of his fingers brushed your hand, light and nervous in that not-quite-accidental way that should have made your heart leap into hyper drive. Kylo’s eye flicked down at the floor, downcast coyly and glancing every few seconds to catch you staring at the pink in his cheeks.

You watched the scene as if through water, some stark, salty barrier that coated him in a film of non-reality. You waited for the star shine look of his eyes to pull you in, waited to feel your hands shake and your pulse race and any number of other inane, fluttery things that you had seen Lem stumble through.

But the sight of it, the look on this man's face—because it was most certainly not Kylo Ren looking at you with honey eyes, sparkling shy dips of nectar—it was...

It was not at all what you’d thought. 

It was revolting. 

It was an antithesis come to life.

It made your skin crawl with the unnatural feeling of it all. 

Kylo Ren’s face was not built to look at you this way, did not contain sickeningly gentle smiles, his hands knew no soft brushes of fingertips.

No, they wielded saber blades and crushed bone and spilled blood.

They tangled in your hair and molded mottled fingerprints into your skin 

His lips were carved from marble that could not comprehend such an innocent up turning, unless it was to mock his opponent.

They sucked permanent brands of ownership into your skin, and made them throb when you thought of him. 

And that was all you would ever want him to do. 

As much as he roused the caged and angry beast that resided in your bones, as much as he lied and withheld and left you to wake alone—

You couldn’t bear this bastardized, cheap imitation that stared at you sweetly.

That was not your Commander. 

That was not your Kylo Ren.

And you would not have him any other way.

That thought sat heavy with you and called to life something in the depths of your being. A fire, red and electric sparked to life. You recalled the vision he’d shown you. Recalled his words echoing:

“All I see is a whore who has no idea what she’s getting herself into.” 

You felt yourself slip into the memory of his hands burying themselves in your flesh. The image of yourself—ruined, marked, and so clearly his—was crashing to the surface of your thoughts like whitecapped waves on a stormy sea. The ache in your neck returned, as though his hands were wrenching your head back to make you watch as he split you in half with his cock. You saw it in incredible detail, the veins of his length sinking into you to the hilt in one long roll of his hips. It stung and made your nerves sing with the pain of taking him. 

It was delicious. 

It fed you the pit inside you like meat thrown to a starving beast. 

This was how he was meant to be taken: painful in his beauty, lovely in his destruction. 

His skin was so warm when he pressed your back to his chest and growled in your ear: 

“So desperate for your Commander’s cock, aren’t you?” 

And yes, of course you were, of course you always were because really had you ever felt complete or whole without him filling you to the brim? But it wasn’t just his cock you needed buried in you. No, you craved him in a way that transcended your physical being. 

Separate. That’s what he told you, that there was something more to you than just your body that could exist outside of yourself, could slip into his head and find him even when you were dreaming. 

And you were desperate for the feeling of his thoughts. For his mind, for whatever it was that let you hear him whispering all the things he could never say aloud. 

His voice in your head was the only thing that soothed the churning in your guts, it was like salve on a burn, cooling like the mint of his breath. The steady beat of his blood the only thing that truly set you at ease. 

Yes, that was your Kylo Ren. 

Possessive and withholding, saying everything in brief glances and the twitch of of jaw. Complex and often painful and perfect. 

You wanted him that way.

And you needed to hear him. 

You couldn’t stand the silence any longer.

Kylo? 

The single word echoed across whatever void your mind was inhabiting, crosses bounds to seek out something on the other end. 

You waited and wanted and— 

And then you were not so alone in your head anymore.

But the meeting room was coming back into focus and everyone was staring directly at you. The large holoprojector in the table’s center showed the first, familiar graphics of your portion of the presentation. From across the table, Lem was staring at you, brows furrowed and questioning. 

“Right,” you said, making your way to the front of the room.

You felt as though you were back in the academy, bland and boring faces all staring up at your false smile. You tried not to focus on them too hard. “As the delegate from the First Order, I’ll naturally be making the announcement of endorsement. This will be submitted to Mr. Alba for review by the end of the week along with the Order’s formal statement of apology.” 

You nodded and the projection moved on, showing the next set of animations, “Now, as I said, these will be submitted at the end of this week, so if there’s any—”

There was a hand sliding up your thigh. It was distinct and massive and coated in leather, the feeling of it so incredibly acute under your clothing you almost choked in shock. But when you slapped a hand down, there was nothing but empty air. 

The crowd for the most part seemed not to have noticed your pause, too caught up in whispered conversations to the side or staring blankly at the tabletop, so you cleared your throat, “If there’s anything you’d like to be included that should be given to me by tomorrow evening at the latest.” 

Your heart was pounding in your chest, the pulse of it clear all the way to your fingertips. Taking a shaky breath you continued to go over the list of other asinine requests, falling easily into a familiar rhythm. Presentations like this were half your job back on the Finalizer. It was home turf, and you were able to flick on autopilot long enough too— 

What was that? you asked incredulously into the void of your mind

Silence echoed, and you glanced briefly around the room, though thankfully you’d looked down at your notes when the hand returned. This time much, much higher. The unmistakable feeling of leather catching on the edge of your panties made your jaw drop. 

You called. 

Kylo’s voice reverberated through your skull, his tone was blank but you could feel the strange mixture of amusement and annoyance that was not yours. It was irritating on a level you’d thought impossible. 

Well I’m a bit busy if you hadn’t noticed, you snapped, grinding your teeth when his disembodied scoff graced your ears. 

You’d think it might be one of the most alluring things you’d ever heard if the stares of so many faceless campaign staffers weren’t pinning you down at the same time.  

Hmm, he hummed, unconcerned or unbothered by whatever was going on outside of the little world that consisted of just the two of you. 

His hand—because that’s what it had to be, his hand, somehow—curled under the hem of your panties, ripping the elastic to the side where it dug painfully into your skin. 

Stop, you hissed it, spat the word at him and tried to will away the fingers that pulled the meat of your thighs apart. 

But they only spread your legs further, a rush of cold air hitting your cunt and tensing your stomach as his fingers drew up up up— 

You’ll just have to keep quiet, won’t you?

And, of course, since you’ve never been all that good about following orders, the second he plunged two, impossibly thick fingers deep into your pussy, your voice caught in your throat. The garbled half cough half moan half wounded animal cry made every head in the room turn to face you.

Even Atreus, whose dead, white blue eyes locked in on your face and never blinked.

You froze, struggling to recall your place as Kylo worked his unseen fingers father into you, coaxing a wave of slick heat to drip from your core. Your hands bunched into fists, nails digging crescent moon holes into the skin of your palm in an effort not to gasp when he hit that lovely spot inside and made your knees threaten to give out. 

Don’t stop, now. Unless you’d like them to know what a little whore you are, Kylo growled from somewhere deep inside you. 

You caught your breath, plastering a smile on your face and taking a sip from the glass of water being offered to you. 

“My apologies, where was I?”

Shuffling through your notes, you picked up where you’d left off with proper terms to use when addressing members of the Order. You tried not to move, focusing squarely on the projection and schooling your expression—at least you hoped you were. Atreus’ stare never left you now. Like he could smell the lie on your face. Or the way your pussy gushed with ever renewed thrusting of Kylo’s leather fingers, the ridges creating a sinful drag against your walls. 

Well if I’m a whore then what are you? 

From whatever corner of your mind he was lurking in, Kylo chuckled softly. 

Much worse, he mused. 

You bit back a scream when his thumb found your clit, rubbing swift circles with the smooth material. 

But in your head, your voice rang free, and you let out the string of curses you’d been holding back, voice cracking into a whine when he added a third finger. And just as he spread you open, scissored your entrance and glided against your walls, something else opened too, gaped wide and you spilled into it.  

You could see him, but it was a different him, from a different time, walking the halls of the Finalizer. His boots ran out against the durasteel until they came to an abrupt halt and silence filled the corridor. There was a slight tremor in his hand, a minuscule shaking as he gripped his thigh and fell back against the wall, breath coming heavy through his mask. 

It was practiced, the movement of his hand that fumbled with the layers of his robes until his cock sprang free, hard and leaking and with a lovely red flush to the head. Your mouth watered at the sight of his hand stroking long and fast along the shaft, thumb teasing his tip and collecting the little beads of precum that glistened there. 

This is what you do to me, he said. I hear all of it. Every thought you have. I hear how badly you want my cock pounding into you and my hand on your throat and— 

He groaned in your head, the same way you knew he must have in whatever memory you were viewing. Distantly, you could just barely feel the movement of his hand as he jerked himself, hips bucking up into his fist. 

You were not faring much better. The words kept tumbling out of your mouth, sometimes trailing off on a particularly hard thrust of his fingers. Your head spun with this new confirmation. He’d heard all of it. Every frustrated thought, every time you’d goaded him in meetings and hallways and when you’d lie awake— or not so awake—and think about how much you maybe, probably, almost certainly didn't hate him. Not that you hadn’t known, that he could hear you. Not that you hadn’t suspected that it had always been him, not some imaginary replication. That was very clear, but now. Now you had the truth. Now you knew for certain. 

Kylo Ren had always been more than just a dream. 

For so long he had watched you crumbling from afar and said nothing.

And who knew how long he intended to keep you in the dark. 

If there wasn’t a target on your back right now, would you have ever found out?

Kylo, you gasped the words in your head as his thumb sped up in its rhythm on your clit and his fingers stroked your walls, what is this?

You needed to know. You deserved to know. 

And you could feel the words. They were there, right on the tip of his lovely pink tongue, about to find their way past the crooked edges of his teeth, lips loose in the pleasure of you. But the burst of white that clouded your vision and finally made your knees buckle drowned out any truth he may have spared you. Your combined releases flowed thick like heavy metal through your veins as you felt the pulse of him slowly fading from your mind, slipping from your grasp. 

Your hand shot out to grab the table edge, holding yourself upright as everything in your mind went blessedly, horribly quiet and the room grew much louder. Time was unclear to you. The projections showed you’d managed to get through over half of your presentation, but you called none of it. 

Lem was standing up now, walking briskly over to you with a hand on your back and another under your elbow. The fingers in your cunt had disappeared, leaving you feeling empty and cold as your slick stuck to the inside of your thighs. 

“Ah, I believe our financing presentation is up next,” Lem called out, motioning quickly for the team to take over and leading you back to your seat. 

When you were safely sat back in the chair, you felt his stiffly gelled hair brush your cheek. It smelled overpoweringly of apricots and vanilla. Too sweet. 

“Are you alright?” he whispered. 

The concern in his voice was evident, but you were lost in the past few minutes and too frustrated by the silence in your head to appreciate it. 

“Fine,” you mumbled back and turned your head back to the blank table. 

You didn’t look at him as he rushed back to his place by Gahl, who’s gaze never shifted your way. Unlike his advisor. Even now the slip of a man in his dark suit and red tie stared at you down his nose like it was the barrel of his blaster. 

Like he was taking aim. 

You swallowed and tried to go back to that space where time did not exist and your head was not so empty, but it didn’t not come. 

Instead, you sat and listened and hoped you wouldn’t leave a damp spot on the cushions when you left. 

***

There were a lot of rules in negotiations. 

The First Order made sure its best and brightest had them all carved onto the backs of their hands before they ever set foot in the situation room. When you closed your eyes, you could see the words flashing in your mind. You knew them better than you knew yourself. But maybe that wasn’t really saying much. You’d been discovering quite a lot of personal details recently you weren’t previously aware of. 

Though, that was besides the point now. 

Now all you could think of was that the number one rule to a successful negotiation, was to always know more than your opponent. 

Knowledge was your strength, knowledge was your red crackling lightsaber, knowledge was your fist closed, throat crushing Force. 

That was how you came out on top, by constantly keeping the upper hand—by always having an ace in your metaphorical back pocket. 

But right now, you were losing.

And the frustration of it was going to consume you. 

Because you didn't know what or how or why Kylo Ren was in your head. In fact, you weren’t even sure if it was your head he was in. It felt much deeper than that now. And no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t keep him out. Whatever you’d done, whatever you’d let in that night on the sand with the sea standing witness, you would never be able to take it back. 

Kylo Ren was a liar. That you knew, because you were a liar too. 

Knowledge was your power, but lies were your currency. They were what you traded at the table, they were what slipped the easiest from your tongue and made sure you walked away from a deal with more than you’d come in with. 

And Kylo Ren was not in the business of negotiations, so there was nothing you could ever offer that would pry his jaw open and spill all his secrets. Nothing that could persuade him to tell you what exactly had taken root in your chest when you’d accepted him, took him inside and wanted to keep him there. 

But you needed to know. 

The desire to understand consumed you and every thought in your head. The same head that found itself clunking against a new desk in a new office with the same unending dissatisfaction. 

Lem had left you a few hours ago, setting you up in his workspace with a glass of water and a concerned smile. You knew you were being unnecessarily rude to him, and had you been less shaken, you might have felt some guilt over it. 

Now you were staring up at your datapad, document resolutely blank, and unable to think of anything other than the way Kylo’s skin reflected the light off the ocean or how his hair curled into little ringlets when it was soaked through and dripping onto your face and— 

You groaned, knocking your forehead into the desktop and squeezing your eyes shut against the barrage of images and the strange, uncomfortable ache they incited. You rested your head on your arms and tried to block out the light of the office, let yourself drift and tried to recall...well what you weren’t sure. 

The Force always seemed so far away, so fantastical that you weren’t ever truly convinced it was real. Not until you’d seen it first hand, watched the bodies of countless ‘troopers dragged from the hallways with not a mark on them. It simply wasn’t something anyone talked about, not at the Academy, and certainly not when you started working under Hux. 

It was...energy, you knew that much. And it was in everything, everyone you supposed, though stronger some than others. You knew it could be used for more than just making objects float around, although for what other purposes you weren’t entirely certain. It certainly wasn’t something you’d ever been able to use. 

But you thought it must have a hand in this, whatever it was that let you see, hear, taste, feel the Commander even when he was so far from you. Somewhere deep in the dusty corners of your mind, you knew that this would always be the case from now on. That even with light years in between, he’d only ever be a hair's breadth away—a whisper of his name or a beat of your heart. 

It was hard to swallow that notion. Hard to comprehend that you would never be alone in your skin. Never would you feel so lacking. What a cruelty, you thought, that it had taken so long. That you had been born into this world incomplete. Your Commander would call that a weakness, but really wasn’t he just as unfinished as you. There was still some gap in him waiting to be filled.

So, then, why couldn’t you find him like he could find you?

You didn’t have the gifts he did, you couldn’t make doors fly from their hinges or break bone with just a twitch of your fingers. And maybe that was the problem. Maybe it always would be. 

Voices from the hall broke you from your stupor. Two of them, the first old and grating, the second slick like oil that left a bad taste in your mouth—the representative and his advisor. You’d recognize them anywhere now. 

“...well I’d say that a drink is in order,” Gahl was saying, trailing off as they walked further from Lem’s office. 

“Sir, we shouldn’t be leaving—”

Atreus spoke that time, the sound of it trickling like cold water down your spine. Thankfully, the representative spoke over him. 

“Lem is here, he’ll take care of things.”  

A hand slapped the closed door currently keeping you hidden as they passed. You stayed still at the desk until the footsteps had completely petered out, listening to the expensive click of their hard soles die away into silence. Until now it had not occurred to you how close they were. How close the blade was to striking. You let out a breath and looked around. Everything seemed a bit more foggy than usual. Then, from across the room, you heard it—a soft creaking. And when you looked up, the door to Lem’s office was slowly falling open on its hinges. 

Like it was pulled by some invisible hand. 

And you felt the same tugging, the same formless compulsion, the same ghosting over your flesh. 

Across the hall, another door was drifting open by degrees, revealing a meticulously kept office with a shiny gold name plate:

Atreus.

Slowly, you let yourself be pulled—a puppet on strings—walking noiselessly across the corridor. In the doorway you paused, staring at the intricate black lettering. You wanted answers, and something told you this is where you’d find them. 

Into the belly of the beast. 

You took a careful step over the threshold, the air honey-thick and clinging to your skin. The office was spotless, not a paper out of place as you circled around the massive desk and ran your hands up the array of drawers. Each one was furnished with an ornate golden handle that glimmered in light from the hall. 

To your right, a drawer slid open just an inch or two. You watched, eyes wide, as it shuttered of its own accord out of place. And your hand similarly seemed to have a mind of its own, reaching out to grasp the handle and reveal it’s contents. 

Inside, nestled atop of a stack of folders was a small, black notebook. At first glance, it seemed innocuous. Not many people used pen and paper these days. But then the space around it started to shimmer, locking your gaze until the world outside it turned hazy. Shaking, your hand reached out fingertips brushing the leather bound cover. You bit your lip, teeth worrying the flesh as you sat on the floor and pulled the book into your lap. The ragged edges of each page caught on your nails when you flipped them open. 

Written in small, messy scrawl, was page upon page of notes. Words ran off the lines, and continued through the margins, most too minuscule or smudged to be legible. Multiple times, the Commander’s name was scratched in between sentences, angry obsessive markings that made your eyes sting. But you kept skimming, letting your hand be guided along. 

Until suddenly the pages stopped turning. 

And you stared down in horror. 

In the awful, disgusting script, was your name circled, underlined and bolded at the top of the paper. Thin, curving, inked arrows drew lines across the other mismatched text and you slapped a hand over your mouth to stifle the grating, garbled sound that threatened to escape your chest. 

There, the words stood out clear as day among the mess of lines.  

Bond. 

Your brain hadn’t even begun to register the implications of this, but you knew. 

This was the answer you’d been searching for. 

And you had no time to process it, because footsteps from the hall were approaching, quick and hard soled. Your eyes went wide and you scrambled to close the drawer and shove the book into your jacket pocket. Knees tearing on the carpet, you tucked yourself into the space under the desk and held your breath. 

Silence rang out in the tiny room. 

From outside, you heard the footsteps grow louder, closer, and finally come to a halt right in the doorway. 

Taglist lovelies: @couldntfuckingtellya @contesa-lui-alucard @thewilddingleberries @isaxhorror @cowboy-kylo @findyourdarkness @kit-jpg @shesakillerkween @obsessionprofessional

[moonctzeny]

Heaven and Hell

request:

” You had an eternity to live out, but you wished you could spend it all with him in that moment, on that roof of a house party. How could something as nice as what you were feeling right now be so wrong?”

pairing: demon!Ten x angel! reader

genre: angst,fluff

warnings: this fic is probably religiously innacurate, but more based on the bible’s represantation of angels and demons. I didn’t explicitly describe satan on purpose 

word count: 2,298

Being an angel, God’s ambassador and a messenger to humans, meant spiritually guiding them into making righteous decisions. Most times, seeing the mortal beings following your advice into a purer, more honorable lifestyle was extremely rewarding. Other times, like today, it meant attending a high school party, trying to keep impressionable teenagers from drugs, alcohol and sex.

And the being offering these things oh so generously, was no other than the demon who first introduced the feeling of anger in your heart.

Ten was much better than you at blending in, wearing a black shirt that was half-unbuttoned and showed his neck, adorned with chains and devilish signs. A bucket hat covered the two small red horns that were usually peeking out of his locks, a lit up cigarette on his lips. You probably seemed a little lost in comparison, overwhelmed with all the sins already being committed around you. Your wings were tucked awkwardly inside an oversized leather jacket, covering much of the silky ivory dress that always covered your body.

An unseeable force was leading you to him, and you came across his signature smirk when he locked eyes with you. He looks you up and down, smiling at your appearance, as innocent as he always knew you. Taking a drag from his cigarette, he blows the smoke at your face before finally speaking.

“Well, well, isn’t it my favorite little angel. What’s a heavenly creature like you doing in a bad place like this?”

Scoffing at his greeting, you try to fan out the smoke that was making it even harder to breathe around him.

“Trying to save these kids from listening to your terrible advice”

As if to prove your point, Ten pats a boy on the shoulder, offering him two cigarettes.

“Here, my treat. Give one to your girlfriend as well”

The boy smiles at the demon and thanks him before starting to walk away hand in hand with his girl, Ten’s unsuspecting second victim. You try to follow after them, yelling at their direction before they start disappearing into the crowd.

“Did you know that on average, the life expectancy of a smoker is 10 years less than a nonsmoker? Cigarette smoke contains more than 7,000 chemicals, 70 of which are known to-“

Ten puts an arm between you and the teens, keeping you from continuing your lecture.

“Darling, darling, stop. They can’t hear you. They’re too busy trying to find a spot to make out with each other. And then maybe do something more”. You turn red at his statement, holding him responsible once more for filling your pristine soul with rage. “Oh, come on, aren’t you all for love and recreation and all that?”

“Yes. When you find the right person, decide to spend the rest of your life with them. Not at the dirty basement of a house party”

He drops his cigarette to the floor, putting it out with his shoe as he steps closer to you. You get startled as he moves one of his hands on your face, moving a strand of hair away from your eyes.

“Sometimes, being with the wrong person feels so right”

His words made you shiver, but you knew better than to succumb so easily to him. You held his wrist, stilling his hand, despite his touch feeling so good.

“Don’t expect me to fall for your devilish preachings like some human”

“What is that I sense my little angel? Anger? Maybe a little bit of superiority against the mortals?”

“Maybe you’re rubbing off on me”

He grinned at that, glad that tonight’s mission got him to spend time with you. He wasn’t lying earlier, you really were his favorite. The mere sight of you made something unfamiliar to him grow in his belly. A feeling of safety, kindness. He was a being of darkness but being around something as divine as you felt natural to him, his own personal sin.

But your little game of push and pull wasn’t over yet. Your intimate moment got interrupted by a teenage girl, disoriented and looking for her drunken friend. Using your powers to find her, you inform her of the location, and take the vodka bottle gently from her hands. Immediately trying to one up you, Ten grabs it from you and makes eye contact with another boy from across the room. You see a red light flickering in his orbs, enticing his new victim to come closer. The boy indeed walks towards you, completely hypnotized by the demon, accepting the booze, and starts to chug the liquid right in front of you.

“You are so annoying! I just helped that girl not to drink”

“If I’m so annoying then why are you still here? You are the one who came to me first, remember?”

You hated it, but he was right. You’d never let the angels hear about this, but ever since meeting Ten for the first time, you

couldn’t stop thinking about him. Lusting over other creatures, let alone a demon was forbidden, but even an angel couldn’t repudiate his looks, sinfully irresistible. You let yourself get lost in his eyes, admiring their red-ish hue that was intensified by the black eyeliner he wore tonight. His voice brought you out of your thoughts, as seductive as it was expected from a Devil’s servant.

“Wanna get out of here?”

You knew there was nothing you could do to deny him, but decided to save face.

“You would miss the opportunity to see Jimmy over there get drunk with the Hennessy you offered him, just to walk around with a creature of heaven like me?”

“Maybe you’re rubbing off on me”

He took your hand in a manner too sweet for a demon, and led you to the roof of the house.

You were alone, as no one would dare to climb up somewhere so dangerous if they didn’t posses a thousand lives like the two of you. Ten sat next to you, lighting up another cigarette while you took your uncomfortable jacket off.

“I am a fan of leather”, he started and took a drag, “but don’t you dare cover up those pretty wings again”

“I didn’t know that demons could grasp the concept of beauty. Aren’t you supposed to celebrate chaos and ugliness?”

He sat and contemplated his answer for a second.

“Yes. But- you’re different. Too beautiful”

You were shocked by his honesty and deeply flattered by his words. He made you feel prideful of your looks, another thing that the angels wouldn’t approve of. You were supposed to be just a servant, void of the need for individuality and any feelings of vanity.

“Then why are you hiding yourself with that hat?”, you retort quickly in an effort to hide your abashment.

Ten grinned at you, taking his hat off and ruffling his hair. He looked so handsome in his carefreeness that you felt your heart skip a beat.

“Did you miss my horns, my little demon?”

“Y-yeah. They’re cute. And since when did you start calling me your little demon instead of your little angel?”

“Since-”, he started and threw the stub of his cigarette off the roof. There was a moment of doubt from him that made you even more aware of the electric atmosphere. He leaned closer to you, a solemn look on his face and once again, you felt a higher power drawing you to him.

“Since now. My angel, my demon, it doesn’t matter. As long as you’re mine”

His lips tasted bitter from the tobacco, but the kiss was sugary sweet. He put one of his hands over yours, thumb comfortingly rubbing shapes on your skin. You melted against the kiss, unable to think about the ultimate sin you were committing.

It felt so right to be in Ten’s arms. To bask in the moonlight with him, sharing kisses all night long and laughing against his shoulder. You had an eternity to live out, but you wished you could spend it all with him in that moment, on that roof of a house party. How could something as nice as what you were feeling right now be so wrong?

 It wasn’t the last time you would meet like that. Going for missions in the same place as him meant sneaking off somewhere together, where you could enjoy each other’s company away from prying eyes. Sometimes, it’d be hard to look away from the small temptations he was planting in humans’ lives, but you knew that in his world, he was sinning as badly as you did.

In your acting moments as a mortal, Ten was always there to protect you from deplorable humans. In your intimate moments, he treated you with care and delicacy. He would do anything to make you smile, and you felt his heart fill up with joy and love, things forbidden in the underworld.

But see, when you work for divinely beings, there are not many things you can

keep hidden. When the angelic host found out about your relationship with Ten, you were banned from heaven, and condemned to hell. You pleaded with them for mercy, telling them that you loved him and love shouldn’t be punished like that, only to respond that your judgement doesn’t mean anything to them.

Ten was right next to you, when you entered the gates of hell. His heart shattered seeing you in your miserable state, immediately pulling your crying mess into a hug.

“Come here baby. We’ll work it out, don’t worry”

A hand rubbed your back to comfort you, the motion only ripping your wings out even more. From the moment you got kicked out from heaven they started falling off, one by one, a tear for a feather.

You felt broken. You didn’t want to face everything you spent all your life fighting against, but if it meant being next to Ten you would give it a shot. Would it be possible to spend your days with him, without guilt, even in a place like this?

Maybe it was foolish of you to think that the devil would allow for a love like this to flourish.

There he stood, the most terrifying and ugly creature you had seen, a morph of everything wrong in this world, eyeing the two of you up and down.

“Banned out of heaven huh? Well, I don’t have enough space in here for the two of you, this isn’t a bed and breakfast for young lovers”

Ten held your hand to ground you, sensing your desperation.

“Oh come on, she defied the angels! There must be a place for her”

Asking for mercy? From the devil? It was futile and Ten knew, with the way the being answered him nonchalantly, as if your fate wasn’t in the line.

“Sorry, but I’m gonna have to send her to the purgatory”

Of course he would say that, what’s more evil than ripping two creatures that are meant to be together away from each other?

“The purgatory? And what am I supposed to do there?” The devil smiled at you, spreading goosebumps all over your skin.

“Nothing. You’ll stay there, all alone in the emptiness. Forever”

You fell on your knees, weeping. You had lost everything, defied your morals and your place in heaven to be with your lover, only to have him taken away for eternity. The fiery rocks beneath you dug through your skin but your heart hurt more.

Next to you, Ten was consumed with another feeling he experienced for the very first time. Guilt. All these sins he had led the humans to commit through the years had never affected him like this. You were the only thing in his life he was proud of. His treasure, that he promised himself to protect and now, you were just another creature who would suffer because of him.

“I’ll go”, he said determined, and you could see him shaking, even through your tear-induced blurry vision. “I’ll go instead of her. And she can stay here”

You got up on your feet and immediately started pleading for him to stop, that he shouldn’t give up his life too, that you loved him so it was worth it. But Ten wasn’t budging.

One might think that the devil wouldn’t really bat an eye at the requested switch, as he made pretty clear that beings so inferior to him such as you and Ten don’t matter to him. Instead, he looked like the throne he sat on was made out of the lava moving in rivers around you, a disgusted look on his face.

“Ugh! How can a spawn of the devil suggest something like that? You expect me to keep you here, Chittaphon? After this whole altruistic, benevolent shit show you played out right now?” You and Ten were frozen in place, holding your breaths, waiting for his next words. “You disgust me, I don’t want either of you here. Since you are both so terrible at being supernatural beings, you go live as mortals. And we’ll see where you both belong to when you die”

 Losing your immortality wasn’t easy. You felt like a little kid experiencing the world for the first time with all the jealousy, sorrow, and anxiety that consumed you in your weakest moments. Ten wasn’t sure how to be nurturing, how to feel wholesome or at peace. You had to guide him through all those new warm feelings in his belly, your first child together teaching him a lot. That vulnerability, that your divine natures weren’t capable of before, deepened your understanding of each other. A new start that made you stronger. And you were sure that even when you go to the other life again, you will still be together.

[star-spangledstud]

Like You

Pairing: Steve Rogers x (Female) Reader.

Word Count: 2800-ish.

Summary: Steve has a really shitty way of saying goodbye. 

A/N: My friend sent me the prompt: “If I knew then what I know now.”. I decided to play around with it and then this happened. 

Warnings: Angst at its finest. Such brief mentions of sex you hardly notice them. Heartbreak. 

You didn’t understand why he didn’t come back to you like he was supposed to. 

It wasn’t like the two of you didn’t have a solid relationship. You complemented each other when you walked into the room, the perfect blend of two different people that had come together as one. You hardly argued, barely even disagreed on matters that concerned the both of you and you never got sick of each other’s company. You were complete, whole when you were with him and he was with you. 

You ate together, trained together, slept together in the same bed night after night. Even as the world burned after the big Snap, you stayed together, thankful every day for the fact that the both of you had made it out alive. You mourned the loss of friends together, tried to overcome the holes in your hearts together. It was an obstacle in the road that paved the way for your lives and you faced it together. When everyone was brought back, you couldn’t have been more grateful, because five years of learning how to rebuild everything had made the two of you stronger, more aware of how much you needed each other to survive. Most importantly, it made you aware of how all you needed to survive was each other. 

A power couple, that’s what they called you. Sun and moon, yin and yang. The perfect balance of work and play, of fun and professionalism. You kept each other moving, kept one another going with words of encouragement and wisdom, forced each other out of bed after half the world had literally vanished in the blink of an eye. It hadn’t been easy, but you expected the strain on your relationship to have been much worse. You got off easy compared to many other people. 

When the two of you first caught wind of the possibility to bring everybody back, of course, you jumped on the bandwagon. It was the opportunity of a lifetime, a chance to see your best friends again, for things to go back to the way they were. You knew it would be hard because people had moved on, started new relationships, new careers and had moved house, but you had faith that humanity could overcome it.

You still got chills when you thought of the orange portals that signaled everyone’s return. The distant memory of seeing the people you thought you’d never see again in the flesh for the first time in five years still brought prickly tears to the corners of your eyes, as did the knowledge that Natasha and Tony had given their lives to make it happen. They sacrificed their lives so you could have yours.

You hardly had time to notice the sudden change in Steve’s behavior. You were so busy trying to reintegrate half the population into the current day, that the two of you spent less and less time together. You were in charge of bringing back the positions of SHIELD agents that had vanished and offered your help to them both professionally as well as privately. Some of them had lost their families because they’d moved on and it was very hard on them to realize that five years of life had simply passed them by. 

Steve had been talking about retirement for years. You knew he wanted to finally lay down the shield once and for all and the two of you had been talking about it more and more as time progressed. Finally, he decided to bring the team back to its former glory, to rebuild the facility and to find new possible recruits, before he’d finally call it quits forever. 

Before that could be done, the Infinity Stones had to be returned to their respective timelines. Of course, he was the one to suggest to do it. You’d honestly be surprised if he didn’t offer to do it himself. You told him it was okay because you trusted him and trusted his judgment and if he felt like he could complete the mission successfully, you would stand behind him and support him because that’s what good girlfriends did. 

You remembered the way he gently kissed you before stepping onto that godforsaken platform all too well, the way his hand caressed the side of your face and hair, the squeeze in your shoulder. It was a kiss unlike any of the ones you’d ever shared before, not even the ones he gave you after Tony’s funeral, filled with grief, sadness and need. No, this one was different. You didn’t know it at the time, but you did know it when looking back. 

He was telling you goodbye.

“No,” you cried, “no, no, no!” 

Your arms and legs flailed miserably, chest heaving rapidly up and down in irregular motions. Bucky cringed with how horribly upset and distraught you were, unsure of what the hell he should do about you crying beneath him.

He was sitting on the edge of your bed, rubbing your back in soft, circular motions while you hugged your pillow tight to your chest. Your face was red, tip of your nose glowing and your cheeks were so puffy you looked almost like a clown. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t think words could suffice or make you feel any better. He was probably right. 

“Why?” You choked out, “Why did he leave me?” 

You could hardly breathe without Steve. 

Bucky could hardly understand what you were saying. Every word came out in hiccups, forced to the surface by the tension in your lungs and contracting chest. For a long moment, you stopped breathing. Bucky panicked immediately. His pulse quickened and grip on you tightened. Then, you took a deep, panicked breath of air with a high pitched cry.

All you could think of was Steve, how he glanced at you from his spot in the dead center of the platform. How his lips tightened into a sad line, how his brow creased and his eyes closed just before he disappeared on you forever. You should have fucking known, but how could you? He was everything you ever wanted and you thought you were the same to him. He never even gave you the indication that he was unhappy, that he didn’t love you. That he was going to leave you for her. 

“Shh,” Bucky cooed, “It’s gonna be okay.”

Sam showed up at the door, which stood slightly ajar. His head peaked in, eyes following your heaving body and Bucky’s slouched form before resting on his face. Bucky shook his head. Sam quietly left. There was nothing he could do to ease the pain one of his best friends had caused you.

“Get some sleep,” he told you quietly after your sobs had silenced.

“Don’t leave me,” you managed to whimper, grabbing hold of his flesh arm and pulling it down with you.

You needed human contact, couldn’t stand the thought of being alone after being left by the love of your life.  

“Of course,” he replied, biting the inside of his cheek, “I’m not going anywhere, sugar.” 

You slept with Bucky by your side that night, still dressed in the clothes you’d put on while Steve was still lounging in bed that morning. The make-up you’d put on while Steve was in the shower had mostly come off on your sheets and on Bucky’s left shoulder. You clutched his shirt while you dreamt of Steve in short bursts, the desperate need for comfort so dire that you refused to let the man leave when he tried. He was angry too, angry with his best friend for putting the woman he loved so much through such pain. 

You cried as soon as you woke up the next morning, hand sore from fisting Bucky’s shirt all night. Your head hurt terribly, a pressure had built up behind your eyes overnight and it worsened as the day continued. Bucky eventually managed to leave you alone so he could get changed and talked to Steve, who was now an old man instead of the man who’d taken you to Paris on your first anniversary. 

You became indifferent to the saying ‘time heals all wounds’, because it no matter how many days passed you by, it never seized to hurt. Every little thing that reminded you of Steve would send you in a downward spiral. People recognizing you on the street for once being the most beloved Avenger began to walk around you with a wide arch because even they could tell something was terribly wrong with you. Soon enough, they all knew what had happened.

You hardly slept, because images of Steve dancing with Peggy haunted you all night long. Images of him, telling you he’d chosen her instead of you would flood your mind, along with pictures of the two of you when you were happy. You began to question it, all of it and wondered often what would’ve happened if you had been the one to join Tony on his journey back to the 70s instead of him. You wondered if he’d still be here, sleeping soundly next to you with his arms engulfing you in warmth. Now, there was only cold. 

You didn’t have the energy to be productive anymore. Life without Steve was no life and the void of his existence had taken away the importance of everyday tasks for you. Literally, everything you came in contact with reminded you of him, from the cereal you used to eat together to the movies you would watch. You couldn’t go to your favorite coffee place anymore, because that’s where you went to get his morning cup on the weekends. You couldn’t even stand to look your fellow teammates in the eye. They’d become afraid to be around you, walking on eggshells when you ventured out of the depths of your room for food because they were scared of saying the wrong thing. It happened once when Bruce made a comment towards Sam’s shield. His shield. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” he said as he watched Bucky carry you back to your room, “I fucked up, didn’t I?”

“It’s not your fault,” Wanda assured him, “She’s in a lot of pain right now. It could’ve been any of us.”

“Can’t we do something?” Sam asked, hands on his head. 

Wanda shook her head, “We can support her, but she needs time to heal.”

You never knew heartbreak could cause physical pain, but the constant strain on your heart was exhausting. You went through entire boxes of Ibuprofen to ease the constantly looming headaches, but they did very little to ease the dull throbbing of the back of your head. Your eyes were red constantly and your skin didn’t glow anymore. Everything had dulled like Steve had taken your life light with him back to the past, engulfing you in complete darkness.

You’d never find someone like him again because nobody compared to him. 

You often reminisced the good times you experienced with him by your side. The fun you had while sparring in the gym room, climbing on his back as he tried to push you to the floor. You thought back to the many dates you had, fancy candlelit dinners inside of expensive restaurants that involved your favorite flowers at the beginning of the night and passionate sex at the end. You remembered holidays, Tony’s extravagant parties that were mostly just you and him eye-fucking each other in fancy clothing with champagne on your breaths until it was late enough for you to bail so you could fuck for real. 

It was holding his hand, kissing him hard and long on his beautiful mouth before he had to leave for missions that sometimes lasted far too long for both your liking. Placing fingers on his thigh while he was driving and toying with the soft fabric of his jeans higher and higher until he couldn’t take it anymore. It was walking on the beach early enough to see the sunrise and long drives back on the back of his motorcycle, safely hidden away from the world behind tinted helmets.

Now, there was nothing. No hand-holding, no joking around, no fucking each other in the storage closet because you couldn’t wait to get back to your room on the top floor. Nothing but emptiness, cold and dreadful and tiring like a weighted blanket made of snow that refused to thaw under your own body temperature. 

Even when you finally decided to become more active again did the emptiness not leave you. It followed you around like a ghost, always lingering in every corner of every room you entered. Bucky felt sympathy for you, but even he couldn’t help you. You had to pull yourself from the depths of the ocean by yourself, had to swim back to the surface without a life vest or oxygen tank strapped to your back and you constantly felt like you were going to drown. Maybe you already had and this was your purgatory. 

You couldn’t help but regret it sometimes. Getting together with him. It was when that looming darkness engulfed you that you allowed yourself to regret ever getting to meet him. You’d lay in bed at night and pray to the Gods to turn back time just once, allow yourself to make the choice that would’ve prevented you from getting to learn who Steve Rogers was because that choice ultimately led you to fall in love with him.  If only you knew then what you knew now.

You sat by the fireplace alone now, staring at the smoldering embers and the flames that licked slowly burning wood. You watched the trees move in the wind by yourself now, watched the rain drip against the window panes with your knees pulled up to your chest. How could loving Steve Rogers hurt so fucking bad?

“How you holding up, kiddo?” Bucky asked, taking a seat beside you on the couch that directly faced the window. 

“I’m alright,” you responded, voice raspy and dry. 

He offered you a glass of water, which you took gladly. At least someone cared about you despite your efforts to push everyone away.

“I talked to him this morning,” he said finally, “he misses you, I think. Might even regret his decision to leave.” 

Your eyes flicker to Bucky, then fall back on the fireplace, “I miss him too.”

“He asked how you were doing,” he said carefully.

“What did you say?”

Bucky exhaled, “I didn’t lie.”

A comfortable silence fell over you, allowing you to listen to the crackling of the fire and Bucky’s breathing beside you. Sometimes, no words needed to be said for them to be exchanged. You toyed with the shaggy blanket over your lap, twirling the fabric between your fingers. 

“I don’t think he has a lot of time left.” 

You scooted closer to him, allowing your head to rest on top of his torso. He patted your head and drew circles in your hair while you rested your eyes for a moment. You hardly slept the night before and were beginning to feel drowsy. You started napping frequently, finding sleep wherever and whenever you could because your bed was too empty and too large at night. 

“Will you come with me?” You asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“Of course I will,” he said, nodding although you couldn’t see it, “I’ll come with you.”

“When?” 

Bucky’s shoulders rose, “Whenever you’re ready. I’ll make time.” 

Maybe you should’ve known that he’d go back to her if the opportunity arose. You’d heard stories, of course, Bucky had told you enough. Steve didn’t talk about her much, except for after her funeral, which he attended alone without telling you. You should’ve known it then with how messed up he was after her death. Should have known that he’d never been able to really get over her. You couldn’t even really blame him, either. She’d been ripped from him when he went into the ice and was already on her deathbed by the time he woke up. For her, a lifetime had gone by. To him, it felt like seconds. It’s how Bucky must’ve felt when he came back after the Snap.

Sitting with him on the couch, you weren’t sure if you would’ve changed things. You had a lot of good times with Steve, they largely overshadowed the bad. He’d made you a stronger person, made you appreciate your talents and weaknesses for what they were and he never made you feel less than your worth. He was a good man, you knew it deep down, but accepting that you might not have been good enough for him was a wound that would never heal, not even as you took your last breath.

Still, a small shimmer of hope began to grow somewhere deep within your chest like a seed had been planted. Laying with Bucky in silence, watching the rain pitter-patter against the window, made you think one thought before sleep engulfed you properly for the first time in months.

Maybe things were the way they were meant to be. 

[emsartwork]

Sorry if you’ve already answered this but J was wondering if you could talk more the girls childhood/growing up? Love what you’re doing btw, absolutely adore how you’ve basically recreated the Winx world! 💗

Thank you!!! and sure thing! long post ahead

BLOOM: she never really had any problems family wise, Vanessa and Mike told her she was adopted at like…. Age 7 or so (in a positive affirming way obvi) and even if any kids teased her about it she never doubted her parent’s love for her. Even with Daphne’s spell helping her blend in with earth life, Bloom still had a nagging sense she didn’t “fit”, and got lost in fantasy books and art whenever possible. Growing up she deals with some body image issues that probably stem from the whole wrong fit feeling. Bloom grew up an artistic and quiet kid, Mitzi and Selina were her best friends from childhood, and because they both had really strong personalities, Bloom often repressed her own feelings in order to play peace maker. Up until high school, where Mitzi, who was always the leader, slowly started to turn into a bully in order to gain the approval/fear of her peers, targeting Selina specifically. Bloom was more of a follower at the time and just didn’t want to loose her friends so she didn’t stand up to Mitzi but tried to treat Selina as if nothing had changed, which was not cool with Selina and she not-so-subtly started to reject Bloom as a friend. Bloom, for her part, did get her shit together and stand up to Mitzi, loosing her only other friend right before her senior year of highschool (she was still technically friends with Andy but they had also just broken up and everything was awkward lmao). Bloom regrets not standing up to Mitzi sooner, and wants to rekindle her friendship with Selina (and Mitzi if she’s willing to tone down the bitchiness).  

STELLA: So Stella’s childhood is a little more complicated. Stella is the first SoLuna heir in Solarian history, and a very loud minority protested her very existence. Stella also had to stay close to the Second Sun of Solaria as a child, so she had a very solitary and confined early childhood in a wing of the Solarian castle. When she did figure out how to sneak out she was only 10 or so, and spent most of the time just wandering around the capital city. She didn’t have any problems in the city, but an off duty guard recognized her and took her back to the palace. Stella was then sent to an elite boarding school under a false name (Sasha), she formed close friends with Nova and Varanda, but the trio was the target of the rest of the school’s bullies (for various reasons). Junior high was peak nerd Stella, but she “princess Diary-ed” herself when starting high school and started placing all of her value in her appearance and status as a sex object. Her parents’ marriage was also starting to crumble and Stella felt like she had lost their love. Because Stella craves validation and affection, this lead to a couple bad relationships because the only way she could get people to “love her” in her brain was through physical intimacy, even if it didn’t really fill the void she felt. Nova and Varanda were her rocks during this period and Stella was able to learn to love herself first with their help. Stella was insanely nervous to leave her friends and go to Alfea, and tried to force friendships with other people originally, (this mostly lead to people thinking she was annoying and getting multiple censures from Griselda), and her first genuine connection on Magix was with “Prince Sky” (Brandon). Nova and Varanda were VERY worried when Stella first told them about “Prince Sky”(Brandon) and how fast they had gotten into a relationship and they may have stalked/threatened him on a visit to Stella but they eventually came around and started to like him. Stella being expelled was only kind of an accident, Varanda texted Stella in the middle of a Chemancy class her application to Alfea for the next year had been accepted and Stella got SUPER excited and blew up the classroom. She probably could have stayed in school but her response to Fraragona and Griselda’s “now what do you have to say for yourself young lady” was *giddy laughter* and “ i only wish the explosion had been big enough to send me forward to next year!!!!!” and griselda was like “either she goes or I go” and Stella was like “ya gurl i gone” of course her time back on Solaria didn’t go exactly as planned as her parents were just fighting every time they tried to do something together making her people pleasing/self blaming tendencies worse. 

FLORA: ahhh my baby So Flora does remember her father, not a lot and she feel guilty she doesn’t remember more, but she was only 7 when he died. Alyssa remarried when Flora was 13, and eventually she adjusted to having a younger sister who she loves very much now. Due to Rhodos’s nature preservation needing a lot of room for study Flora and Miele grew up pretty far away from any town and didn’t have a lot of friends. This is primarily why Flora and Miele are so close despite their age difference, and why Flora took her role as protector so intensely; she was the only one there (I mean besides the parents obviously). Flora did well in school though she was quiet and reserved, which made making friends even harder than living in the middle of nowhere. She figured out the best way to make people like her was to give them what they wanted, and this snowballed into Flora becoming kind of doormat not comfortable with voicing her true feelings and faking a lot what people expected from her. Flora has a lot of repressed…… everything (Bloom mostly just has a lot of repressed anger she’s good with other emotions lmao) she has trouble identifying what she’s feeling and for the most part is content to leave her feelings buried as long as the surface remains calm. The Winx do help her start to access her feeling more, and encourage her whenever she does voice an opinion. Helia is a perfect match for her in the sense that his quiet nature leaves Flora to express herself without trying to mold herself into whatever she thinks he wants (of course on the flip side this also means Flora and Helia have issues with communication and repression but that’s another topic). 

AISHA: hoo boy another complicated one. Aisha was raised in a strict environment, this mostly stems from her parents and their more…. anxious natures, but royalty on Andros is not as free as some of the other planets. Aisha’s world consisted of lessons and adults and rules and she had very little control over her own life. Aisha met Anne in a rare moment of freedom in the tidal gardens where Anne’s father worked. Anne was biding her time waiting for her dad to get off work so they could grab some dinner and was dancing. Aisha just watched her for a while before Anne noticed her and asked her if she wanted to play. The two formed a fast friendship, and Aisha finally started to feel like she had some sort of influence in her own life as she snuck out of lessons to play with Anne every evening she could(obviously their favorite thing to do was dance lol) Unfortunately Anne and her father disappeared one night. Aisha lost her only friend, the only social outlet she had, her one source of freedom, and couldn’t even figure out what had happened. Feeling so out of control lead to a pretty bad anxiety disorder for most of her teens, primarily triggered by the dark or being trapped in some way. She also has issues trusting others and letting people help her. Aisha started to act out, trying to exert any kind of control and relieve some of her anxiety. Her risk taking behavior got pretty bad, but she had started to tone it down after she met and bonded with Piff(royal business trip to Magix she skipped out on). Of course when the pixies went missing she wasn’t going to let her friendship vanish again and tracked them down with a not so healthy single minded determination.

TECNA: born to higher class parents, Tecna had greatness thrust upon her from an early age. She received extra training and education basically from birth, which she was fine with for the most part. Tecna grew up being able to handle academic pressure very well and met all of her teacher’s and parent’s expectations.  She and Riven had a brief collision as preteens in a school before Riven got expelled. Tecna’s one issue was that of her emotional intelligence, Zenith doesn’t really place an emphasis on that, so she was able to advance through high school very predictably until she attended a non-Zenith based workshop for magic. She found herself socially ostracized and very very confused. Of course Tecna had never met a subject she couldn’t master and emotions wouldn’t be an exception right??? Wrong. Zenith’s information about the brain and the chemicals produced was of no help, her teachers and parents didn’t understand why Tecna suddenly had this new interest in such an illogical subject, and worst of all, Tecna realized she didn’t understand her own brain chemicals. Tecna had a mini existential crisis, realized she had no idea what she even wanted to do with her life or why it mattered and applied to the Alfea Fairy program because “FAIRY MAGIC EMOTION MAGIC HELP” also it would offer her strong emotional experiences(transformations basically require it), the opportunity to work closely in groups, and personally obverse her dorm-mates emotional states. She got way more than she bargained for but doesn’t regret it a bit.

MUSA: my angst child T-T so basically, the first half of her childhood is p good, her parents work really hard and don’t always have enough money but the family unit is pretty stable. At around 12, Musa’s mom gets sick. Nobody is too worried at first, but she never seems to get better and she takes a big turn for the worse when Musa is about 16, Matlin is finally diagnosed with Core Failure Syndrome. CFS is similar to Core Fatigue, but while Core Fatigue can be remedied fairly easily with rest and magic, CFS is virtually incurable unless it’s caught really early. The causes are still unknown, and the symptoms (fatigue, nausea, cognition issues, and muscle weakness) can be prolonged but mild until it’s too late. In the later stages (extreme fatigue, numbness in the extremities, chest pain, joint pain, memory/focus issues, inability to keep food down)  all you can do is try to make the afflicted comfortable. Ho-boe is understandably distraught, and tries to freelance write for music but goes into a pretty bad depressive state. Musa has a few odd jobs here and there, and thats mostly what’s keeping them afloat among heavy medical debt. Musa latches on to her mother for emotional support as Ho-boe is super dissociated. When Matlin does pass as Musa turns 18, Ho-boe finally breaks, and violently destroys every last reminder of Matlin because he can’t deal with the pain. Musa, who has suddenly had her one emotional anchor cut off, is super freaked out and scared by this and it really damages their relationship going forward. Musa becomes incredibly anxious, and can’t really process her mother's death because her father won’t talk about it with her and is still shut off emotionally. Moving to Magix only worsened it as Musa rebelled and went after music with a desperate passion. Applying to Alfea was a way for Musa to get out of the house, and she and her father weren’t on speaking terms when she did leave for the college. Musa had planned on learning more magic to further her career as a musician, special effects infusing magic into a song rubbing shoulders with rich and well connected people who could possibly get her connected to the big shots in music….. The winx situations had her change some of her long term plans a little, but her connection with the group + her separation anxiety and fierce loyalty didn’t really leave any other choice lol 

[slutsofren]

Paint Me Red

Summary:  Being a struggling artist in a city filled of aspiring artists has always been rough, you were privileged enough to have a semblance of steady income thanks to the promotional work your manager, Poe Dameron, does for you. For the past however many weeks, you've become consumed with the works of an anonymous poet, one who has captivated their own cult following. Their works have inspired countless paintings of yours and in turn, you catch the eye of one Kylo Ren.

Tags: Kylo Ren reader insert / modern au / painter reader / poet Kylo / eventual romance / maybe smut idk / Kylo has Trauma but you dont have to “fix him”

Read on AO3 here!

Chapter 1: Gallery (below the cut)

You kept looking at the painting. No matter how many times you re-painted, reinterpreted this poem, your hands just couldn’t find a consistent translation between the words and your paint. You dropped the brush and leaned back in the chair, hanging your head as far back as you could and let out a loud groan.

“Why does this have to be so complicated ,” you exclaimed to nobody in particular. It’s been a month since you cooped yourself in this studio, a whole month! It felt like you’ve accomplished nothing but waste canvas and paint this entire time. All along the floor laid waste to the discarded abstract portraits you had produced and hated. Nearly a fraction had been left unfinished due to it just not working out.

You mumbled and grumbled while you stood and relocated to the workspace of the studio, where a computer and books had been thrown about. The computer woke, nearly blinding your eyes. What time is it anyways, you wondered. The sun had set some time ago, you knew just as much when you could barely see your work and were forced to lose focus to turn on a light. That distraction had really set you back.

A quick glance to your watch informed you that no, the sun didn’t just set a while back- it set well over six hours ago. The time had been creeping to two in the morning already, no wonder your eyes were straining so hard. When your computer unlocked and you opened your music app to play some background audio, you grabbed the leatherbound book that was inspiring your work.

Nobody knew who the author was, only that they released two-hundred and fifty black leather bound books with gold foiling titled “Mine” every couple of years. You were close friends to some editors down in San Diego, the same publisher that worked with this anonymous author and they were always kind enough to secure you a copy.

They wrote like it was the last thing they’d ever write, as if pain circulated through their veins. They wrote of being lost, being hurt, feeling such intense anger with no human outlet, and of being ignored and tossed away.

Sometimes they wrote like they’d be dead before the poem had ended.

Much of this resonated with you. Ever since you moved to Los Angeles, this magnificent city of wanna-be actors and musicians, seeing lights that inspired yet mocked the pedestrians down below, you’ve felt like you were dead yourself. When you moved here, all you ever wanted to be was a painter. It didn’t always matter what you painted, you loved a variety of styles and eras, as long as commissions paid the bills and your personal pieces sold at galleries, you were satisfied.

But sometimes being satisfied wasn’t enough.

You took the black book and opened to the poem you had been hyper-fixating on for the last couple of months since it was released. You interpreted it in as many ways as you could style your hair on any given day. This one spoke to you the moment you read it, it broke your heart, mended it, then threw it away all at once. To you, this particular poem breathed new life into your soul.

You read each line over and over, admired how this poet seemed to write effortlessly, as if it’s just how they speak. Gosh, what you would do just to meet and have a conversation, to understand the mysterious writer’s genius.

And so you kept painting, never seeing each unfinished canvas as a failure but rather an entirely different interpretation. You couldn’t let this get you down, you just had to keep working- keep picking up the paint and let loose.

As the days blended together, your manager, Poe Dameron waltzed into your workspace without a care in the world. You turned down the music that you had playing in the background while you worked.

He picked up one of your unfinished works, “I got you a gallery space, set for two weeks from now in Pasadena. Sponsored by the Norton Simon Museum.” The way these words rolled off his tongue was so nonchalant, you didn’t believe it.

You let out a choke, “Excuse me?”

“You heard me, you got a space, now give me something to tide them over with- oh, that looks nice can I take that one,” he grabs another unfinished painting. “Anyways, don’t worry about promoting it, they are all over it. They’re just calling it Artist Spotlight but they’re going to need a theme name.”

Your eyes drifted over your amazing manager, he worked just as tirelessly as you did with each and every one of his clients. It was no wonder he was married already, with a charming smile like his and the luscious hair to match made him a total darling.

“Let’s call it, Paint Me Red .”

“You got it, girl,” he walked over to you and gave a chaste kiss on your cheek and left with his silent goodbye. Although you were nothing more than his client, you loved him very much. He always gave you a rough time when you needed it but was always a person you could rely on to tell you the truth when you needed it.

To sum it up, Poe Damereon was a guy you paid to berate you like a protective older brother and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Those two weeks passed and you worked even more tirelessly. The artist in you was seldom satisfied by your creations but your manager reaffirmed even your “trash” paintings were more beautiful than the best modern oil paintings for which you found yourself taking the most comfort in.

It was difficult to remove yourself from this mindset but as your gallery expanded with each rise of a new day, you became prouder of not just what you painted but of yourself. This was going to be a showcase that you were to be proud of.

Your night came which brought nerves like no other. Los Angeles had a rough art community to grow and develop but this was the place for you. You arrived at the gallery, dressed as professional yet as fierce as you could in a shimmery silver gown that bared your shoulders in a skinny strap that had a plunging neckline. You wanted to wow your crowd with your paintings and yourself.

You poured your heart out over this collection- you wanted, more than ever, to receive a warm reception and maybe a little bit of praise in the meantime. It didn’t make you vain, it made you human.

The director of the art studio welcomed you with a glass of champagne and let you wander the space before it opened to the public. Your heart swelled with emotion as you glanced over all these white walls that supported your artwork. Abstracts, sharp lines on some, a couple that resembled portraits of a human-like void. Anything and everything of what could be taken of that single poem.

Over some small amount of time, guests began to fill the building, allowing others to finally view what you’ve worked tirelessly over these past however many weeks, well, months really. As the newness of this exhibit of yours wore off, you began to get antsy, started to bite on the inside of your cheek.

You felt eyes on you as you hid your face behind the fourth glass of champagne you managed to snag. The more nervous you felt, the hotter the room got. This is beginning to be way too much- oh stars, you can’t breathe- it feels like you’re dying, like you’re-

“Are these yours,” a dark voice asked behind you. You stood up straight and turned slowly, trying to get your mind away from whatever was happening to you.

“I- yes they are.”

This tall, handsome stranger looked at the painting that was next to you, something that mildly resembled Everts’ Studies in Desperation series. It was one of your darker interpretations, something filled with a little more hatred and angst than the rest.

“They’re very nice, what inspired you?”

Your mouth opened agaped and quickly shut, you didn’t want to look like a fish now. You opened up your bag and pulled out your trusty copy of Mine and showed the stranger. “This poet, their selections have always called to me but, Red, Mine would repeat in my head nearly nonstop until I picked up a brush and painted what it spoke to me.”

He grabbed the book from your hand and flipped through it slowly, sometimes reading the short notes you had written on some of the pages, like “I love this one,” or even, “I’ve felt like this before”. As he took his time going through the leatherbound poetry, you took this moment just to admire just how handsome the man before you is.

He stood tall and confident, long black hair that looked soft enough that you had to refrain from running your fingers through; his face was littered with constellation-like moles that truly gave his presence some warmth and beauty despite the deep angry red scar that cut threw them like a blade. The large crooked nose stood just as prominent as his ears but, by the stars, he made it work. All of these features suit his being so well, almost as if he was your own personal Adonis, you wanted to paint his beauty.

His long lashes finally looked up from your bookmarked page of Red, Mine where you had written very simply, “This one,” and a heart. He closed the black book with a small thud, almost entirely muted by the sounds of your audience mingling.

“You really liked that one,” he questioned as he handed the object back to you. You took it from him and gestured around you.

“All of these paintings represent how this one poem has made me feel. Loss, hope, anger, hurt, fear,” you paused while you looked at the man before you and held his gaze, “But most of all, this particular poem has made me feel accepted. Like I’m not alone. Almost like, it’s my turn to be strong, it’s silly-”

“No, by all means, no, it’s not silly,” he interrupted you. His eyes had grown wide and you realized he put his hand out to almost hold your shoulder but quickly retreated to put his hands in the pockets of his suit’s pants. His jaw flexed for a brief moment and he looked to his feet. “I have their collection too. It’s a good read from time to time.”

Your lips turned up in a small grin, “Yeah, they are. I’m glad to have met another Anonymous Poet enthusiast.”

He looked up at you and cleared his throat, “What’s something you’d say to them if you ever could?”

“Hmm,” you wondered, “That I love their work, I’d love to sit down and talk, wonder what they think- what their thought process is. Maybe thank them for helping me cope and tell them that I don’t think I’d be alive without their words. Heck, I’d even work up the courage and ask if they like my interpretations of their poetry. I’m not sure, what would you say?”

He looked at you almost like you had shot him, “I think I’d simply say that I’m sorry they went through whatever they did to get them where they are. That they’re stronger now.”

Before you had a chance to respond, Poe came and placed his hand on your arm and called your name, “Hey, girl. Time for your speech and then people can start buying your art.”

You looked back at your strange new friend and he gave you a small encouraging smile, “It was nice meeting you.”

As Poe began to drag you away you piped up, “I didn’t catch your name!”

“Kylo- Kylo Ren.”

You gave him a small wave before you turned your back on him and approached the stage. Poe did the honors of introducing you, calling your vision “illuminating and awe-inspiring”. Finally it was your turn.

You approached the glass podium with only a mild case of anxiety shaking within your bones. The lights, however warmly hued they were to temper against the constant rotation of art still seemed like a spotlight on you. You cleared your throat.

“Hi- hello,” you introduced yourself, mentioning you're the creator, “Thank you all very much for being here and supporting me tonight. This entire exhibit is decorated with a wide variety of my illustrations in both dedication of and inspired by the Anonymous Poet, creator of Red, Mine the poem. It is only fitting that I should read the very words that seemed to have possessed my mind these past couple months, you think?”

The audience gave a chuckle. You looked up and around, feeling hints of anxiety nipping at the silhouette of your being. Across the room, leaning against the small bar table, you spotted Mr. Ren and when he noticed you staring, he raised his glass of champagne. Urging you to continue.

It was almost as if his steady gaze and warm features guided your confidence to hold steadfast and ready, your courage multiplied and tingles at the tips of your body, sparking new found strength.This small gesture kept those dark hounds at bay in your mind.

You cleared your throat and began, “Red, Mine

This is how the story goes

It has never changed, never been altered

It didn’t make much difference

The twin suns are rising in the west now,

The world changed from when you knew me last

This is how the story goes

This life of mine would be snuffed in green lights

Then you were there to guide me

Truth is, you could never be thanked

I would never be forgiven

This is how the story goes

I snuffed the little lights that had mocked me

Tore down the buildings that confined me

I ran

I never stopped running

This is how the story goes

I found solace in red

This green and blue would have ended my life

The both of you tried and failed

I will live on bathed in black and red

This is how the story goes

This fire red consumed me

I consumed red

Now it’s your turn to run.”

At the beat of the last syllable, you could hear a warm applause, a gracious signal of congratulations. Your smile kissed the corners of your lips and your heart swelled with warmth. This was exactly where you were meant to be in life and you couldn’t be prouder of yourself.

Your speech wrapped up with the ceremonious thank yous and appreciation to all who came as well as the Norton Simon Museum for sponsoring the showcase. Not to mention the big fat check you got on their behalf.

Poe lent you a hand as you descended the platform, “Alright, now go mingle and sell some art!”

You gave him a warm kiss on the cheek and another wave of thanks. One hand took yet another glass of champagne as the other held your clutch tightly. Your heels clinked against the tile of the gallery as you floated in and out of conversation, selling your artwork and trying to network and make new professional relationships.

It was rather obvious that leaving early would be considered rude but your feet hurt as much as your eyes. All you wanted was your warm bed and soft music to lull you to sleep. You spotted Poe across the room speaking with a pale gentleman, donned in a navy blue suit and matching tie, his orange hair was just as slicked back as his authoritative presence. You watched as they shook hands and the stranger departed, leaving the building entirely without a glance back.

Poe caught your eye and his jaw dropped, just nearly bolting into a fast pace walk, attempting to keep whatever semblance of professionalism as he could without knocking any of the patrons over as he bee-lined straight to you.

“You will not believe what I’m about to tell you,” his brown eyes lit up.

You gave him a hesitant look, clearly it was good news but usually Poe Dameron was in a good mood usually meant him ending in some kind of trouble. “Then don’t tell me?”

Your manager gave you a deadpanned look and pulled out his clipboard, “Every single piece was sold before you even walked off the stage.” He handed you the order sheet and sure enough, each and every painting was bought by the same person, leaving only AP as the buyer’s name.

“AP?”

“Initials for a little someone called the Anonymous Poet,” with those words you instantly felt faint. There was no way, no goddamn way.

“Was that him? Poe, was that really him,” your voice faltered. Your hand rose to cover your open mouth, eyes wide.

He did nothing but shrug and give you a sly smile, admiring your shocked expression, “The man I talked to was not, rest assured, but clearly your muse admires you and your work.” Poe gave you a small squeeze on your shoulder, feeling your oncoming emotional whirlwind. “If you faint on me now, you won’t hear the best part,” he teased.

“What is it, tell me,” you rushed the words out as fast as you could, the heat licking at your skin as your anticipation mixed with anxiety.

Poe reached into his pocket and retrieved a sleek black business card and flashed it at you. “Expect an email within the next few days, your muse wants to talk with you.”

You felt Poe’s warm hands grasping your shoulders as you fell. After all, Poe did say to wait until after he gave you good news.