#guess who watched unexpected journey again tonight

[kitmarloweki]

I am So Normal about Bilbo Baggins actually

[aphroditesmoon]

kerosene (part iii)

jacaerys velaryon x targ!reader

summary: after you find out your family has been orchestrating a plan to use you as a scapegoat to assure your brother's reign. You pledge your allegiance to the black queen and switch alliances as pleaded by your secret lover himself, prince jacaerys velaryon.

A/N; this is kind of a filler chapter since I've been busy w exams to write anything, but I promise the next chapter won't be as boring💀🫶 also do you guys want smut in this series orr

taglist:

@simrah1012

@remuslupinwifee @whenmypartysover

@green-lxght @blakebearsblog

°°°

You had spent the whole day after your arrival, sleeping.

Jacaerys had insisted you stayed in his room first and refused to hear any complaints from anyone. Though you now share a chamber, you had not seen him since he's led you to his room to rest.

The moment your eyes had met, his composure broke and he all but rushed towards you, pulling you into his embrace, you face buried in his chest while he holds you tight. It did not matter to either of you on who's watching, you were finally reunited, nothing else mattered.

You were led inside to explain what was going on, and so you faced the true queen and told her of the wedding date being cut short in order to secure lord Borros' alliance for the war.

Though the queen held a worried expression, the prince consort seemed pleased by this statement.

"Borros' only wants what can benefit him, if he can't marry [name], then he would gain nothing with the greens, we can try and persuaded him to send his troops in our defense instead." He suggests.

This made the queen snap at him. "And what do we have to offer him? We have no daughters to wed to him, do you wish me to sell back this girl off like her mother did?"

Daemon shook his head, still remaining calm.

"No. We marry Jacaerys to one of his daughters."

°°°

You had thought that the early conversation would've kept your mind from sleeping, but with the tiredness of your journey, sleep found you fast as you indulge yourself in the warmth and comfort of your lover's bed.

Jace had only entered hours later, you had not noticed him at first, only when you feel the dip at the opposite side of the he'd you lay on, you realize he was there.

Even in the midst of your sleepiness, you reach a hand out to him, he immediately holds it in his own, intertwining your fingers together, you open your eyes a little and see him leaning over you, a concerned expressions washes over his face.

"Is it about what Daemon said?" You guessed.

He shakes his head softly before planting a kiss on your forehead. "Not tonight my love, go back to sleep hm?" His voice was gentle yet it sends shivers through your spine everytime he speaks.

You're often reminded of how much you've missed to hear it.

Too tired to argue with him, your body obeys and your eyes shut closed again as you let the peaceful slumber overtake you.

°°°

Jacaerys wanted to make his stepfather chew his own foot.

Your unexpected appearance had granted him a few moments of joy before that arseling had opened his mouth and completely ruined it.

He couldn't believe you were there, and that exactly what he said to your over and over z as he held you in his arms, afraid you'd disappear if he doesn't hold on tight.

You had simply assured him that you were real and present, slipping your hand in his and squeezing it hard, before his parents had interrupted.

The suggestion was absolutely horse shit if he'd say so himself. Lord Borros' alliance was as easily replaceable as a fucking shoe.

He had shown where his loyalties lies when he agreed to the marriage arrangement with the greens, who's to say he wouldn't betray them if Alicent had came up with a new arrangement herself? after all, she had sons as well.

He had made sure you were safely tucked in his bed before going to confront his parents.

Daemon was unbothered by his display of anger, calling it a child's tantrum, fueling his rage even more.

"You are only againts this because you wish to wed that girl." He points out.

"[name], has nothing to do with this.

-I admit I have strong feelings for her, but I would do my duty, if it was a good strategy. This however, would be a fragile bridge between our family and the Baratheon's, Lord Borros' is a serpent under the covers, trusting his allegiance after he's openly stated his loyalties to Aegon would be a mistake even a fool could see a mile a way." He force himself to speak calmly, refusing to let his stepfather rile him up and paint him as immature.

Before Daemon could interject, his mother steps in cutting both men down.

"I agree, with Jacaerys, The Baratheon's alliance would be a fragile one, that is if he'd even agree to one.

-I understand, husband, what you are trying to do, but it's far too late for our houses to meet an understanding, He has disrespected our house and spoke againts his father's oath for me as the true heir of the iron throne, to almost beg for his help is unseemly and humiliating."

Daemon seem to have soften at his wife's words, he sighs heavily before nodding at her.

"Before we make the wrong decisions, we'll try to solve the one in front of us. [name]. It won't be long until Alicent finds out where her daughter has went, and she doesn't even have her dragon here for our use, she'll only be seen as a hostage." It was Rhaenyra's turn to sigh, her eyes seemed tired as she rubs her face.

"We'll come up with something in the morning, it's been a full day for us all, let us rest" the prince consort spoke. They all agreed and bid eachother goodnight before leaving.

Relief and warmth spread through his whole body when the view of your sleeping came into view.

He changed himself into his nightclothes quietly, not wanting to wake you.

Though your eyes flutter open anyways when he goes to lay next to you, propping himself up with his elbow to study your face.

His hand grasp yours that was reaching out to him and he feels his heart relaxes as your skin touches his. He had missed the feeling of it.

"Is it about what Daemon said?" You asked groggily. He shook his head shushing you back to sleep. He would not have you worry over his mess, not when you've already been through so much to be here, to be with him.

°°°

You have never been in a situation this uncomfortable and awkward.

Sitting next to your lover,. opposite his parents, as you try to enjoy breakfast without feeling nausea.

You can't tell if the urge to throw up came from nerves or the tiredness of your journey. It didn't matter at the moment you supposed.

"So, I think it's a good time to, discuss certain issues at hand, now that we're all here." The Queen stated.

She gave you a reassuring smile, contrasting Daemon's analysing stare at you. You muster the courage to reciprocate with a small smile back.

"[name], I hope you know that your presence is very welcomed here, I know it must have been hard to make the decision you did, to leave you own family, to risk ser Harrold's life. And if it's anything I know about you at least is how much you hate causing anyone harm, I applaud you of your bravery, sister"

You were taken aback by her speech, not really by the speech itself, but by her calling you sister.

It truly warmed you that she saw you as her own family.

"Thank you ...sister. You are right, it has not been easy." Was all you could speak out. You had refused to think of your mother's panic or ser Harrold being questioned or tortured, you could not bare to think it.

Your eyes stare back down at your food as you let thoughts of the consequences of your actions run through your mind. Gods protect ser Harrold, and Gods protect me from my mother's wrath.

Jacaerys senses your body tensing and slips his hand in yours, reassuringly squeezing it. You were grateful he was there.

"Though, I am grateful for your presence my dear, war is near. You should know I do not intend to let them get away with taking my throne, and my son." Her tone becomes more stern as her smile slowly disappears.

"Your dragon, Ciervo, I hear, is being put in chains?" You nodded. Daemon hummed thoughtful.

"I'm guessing we can't trust any guards to try and free him, do you have any other allies at court besides ser Harrold, [name]?"

You nod your head again before stating: "Ser Erryk." This has Daemon pleased.

"Of course, his brother has sworn his loyalty to us, It's only logical the other feels guilt for being apart from him." He thinks out loud.

"This is good. It's good that they are twins too. We can switch their places, Erryk can tell us of their plans while Arryk takes his place, and then again." Jacaerys starts.

"This way, we can continually get information without raising suspicion." Daemon immediately agrees with the prince, a rare sight indeed. They all looked to the Queen for her approval.

"Very well. Tell ser Arryk to write to his brother discreetly to discuss ser Erryk's alliance, we must first be sure where his loyalties lies. It could be that his kindness to [name] was done out of pity or affection to her and not for us." She reasons.

You could feel Jace's hand tighten around yours suddenly. Though when you turned to him, his face remained composed and guarded as he nods at his mom's explanation.

Daemon signals at Jace to go and he nods at him before rising from his seat, squeezing your hand before letting it ago and sending you a small smile. He leaves immediately to find ser Erryk to deliver his mother's order, leaving you with the two dragons.

Rhaenyra eyes you carefully before smiling softly at you. "Now, let us discuss your place in my court, and what we do with your situation."

[lambourngb]

a skeleton of something more [malex wip]

Inspired by the promo/trailer for season 3. Spoilers and speculation ahead. 

A tumblr work-in-progress

Pairing: Michael/Alex, Alex/Forrest

Summary: Alex goes undercover to seek out Deep Sky. Starts mid-2x13.

Alex leaned his back against the solid wood of his front door, letting the heavy oak take up his weight. He kept making the standard uneven bargain with his body, of giving just a little more, going through the motions for a little longer, and then it would be over. But the tally sheet his body held was long, overflowing with so many unfulfilled promises that it seemed ever more likely he would end this journey in the red. 

If it ever ended.

At least, tonight, he had haggled wisely for some space to breathe. On the other side of the door, he had managed to escape Forrest’s hopeful and not subtle attempts to follow him inside, toward the bedroom for a long-awaited reunion. A reunion that Alex had deftly avoided without a trace of guilt. He had used the bland excuse of fatigue from a long, cramped ride from Holloman Air Force Base to Roswell on a bus that had predated the ADA by a good thirty years. It was transparent but still true, written on every line of pain in his smile as he had said “Not tonight.” that even Forrest could read it, even if only Alex knew the real source of his fatigue. 

He waited several long moments, before turning to look out the peephole to watch Forrest’s Prius silently reverse out of his driveway. Exhaling out long and low, the tension he had started carrying a little more than a year ago slipped away, letting the calm certainty of safety of his house slip down his body as he released the facade. 

Alex was almost done with this assignment, he reminded himself, as he rubbed the back of his hand against his mouth, scrubbing away the taste of Forrest Long from earlier. 

Just a little while longer, and he will have enough good will built up to finally meet the leader of Deep Sky face-to-face, after all who could resist the request of a senior member, especially one with the last name of Long? It had been a lucky find that Alex had made in cleaning out his father’s house after his death, a ring and an old photo of the members. In washed out Kodak colors was the cabal of Deep Sky. Former military men with names Alex had memorized off the salvaged hard drives from the Caulfield prison. Linked not by overlapping time on the alien project, but what had become of their careers after their military service had ended. All of them vowing to carry on the protection of Earth against an alien threat, but without the oversight of the government. 

The photo in his dad’s desk had been expected, but the silver ring? He had remembered clutching it, his hands still sore from tearing down the shed with Michael, and feeling the imprint of the symbol press deep into his skin. Searing across what Mimi had called his long-love line, singular and deep on his palm. Searing even deeper inside with the recognition that the symbol matched the ring Forrest Long wore.

The genial historian with the loose-fitting cardigan and blue-streaked hair, who had shown flattering interest in Alex, had worn the same ring. Easy on his hand, flashing in the bright sunlight when he had eagerly met up with Alex at the paintball fields with sharpshooter skills. After that date had crashed and burned thanks to a mishmash of his father’s voice and the feeling he had whenever he thought about kissing someone, not Michael, well, Alex had figured that would be the last he would see of the man. 

It hadn’t been. 

Suddenly, Forrest was everywhere he was, the Crashdown, the Wild Pony. It should have been suspicious to Alex, after months of sharing the same town with the other man without a single encounter. His heart was still bounding uselessly after Michael, while his hands had been full of his suddenly feeble father, and he had missed the snare of the trap. Not just the one his father had laid. Then after his kidnapping, two things had become clear to Alex, his father would never change from the hateful man he was, and Alex’s heart would never change when it came to his feelings for Michael.

Alex pushed his leaden body away from the door, tottering on his feet for a moment before the new prosthesis shored up his balance and he took a deep breath for the strength to move forward.

Fuck. That was a mistake. 

His house smelled like rain. Michael. The unexpected consequence of having Michael watch over his house while he had moved around the country, playing up the role of the grieving scion of the Manes family legacy. After a year of brief trips back to Roswell and long stints on the road, the house now smelled like Michael. 

Alex sucked in greedy gulps of air, chasing the taste of green and petrichor with his tongue to wash away his previous actions at the bus stop. His security system, his reinforced door and window locks, the weight of his gun still tucked in his back holster, none of it made him feel as safe as the smell of Michael in his home. It was the smallest crumb of promise, but it filled him.

Moving toward the kitchen for a drink, he clocked the changes Michael had made in his absence. His heavier luggage, shipped ahead of him, was already stored, including the set of crutches and the charging station for his back-up prosthesis. The lights in the kitchen came on with a single touch, all of them bright. Dammit, Michael had fixed the two burnt out bulbs, along with the slightly weeping fitting on the sink faucet.

There was zero sign of neglect in his house, no matter where he looked. Not even the faintest trace of dust on his guitars. The house looked warm and well tended. Loved. 

The rush of tears welled in his throat, an impossibly large lump, as Alex fought to keep from breaking down. Don’t fucking cry, don’t do it, that’s for at night, he swore creatively at himself. Tears were only allowed under the cover of dark, in hotel rooms or visiting officer quarters, not in the middle of his brightly lit kitchen.

A knock sounded on the front door.

Abruptly, every drop of tortured longing was gone, as Alex straightened his shoulders and crossed the threshold back to the door. He pasted the right amount of faked aspiration mixed with real annoyance on his face as he yanked the door open, expecting to see Forrest back on his step with a weak excuse concocted to overcome the earlier rebuff.

Michael looked up in the porch light, his black hat in hand and his curls wild with nervous raking. “Uh, hi.” He scuffed his boots against the concrete before growing still under Alex’s gaze.

He looked over Michael’s shoulder nervously, for the distinctive truck that everyone in town knew belonged to Michael, but his driveway was empty.

“I parked a few streets over. I don’t think anyone saw me-” Michael’s explanation was cut off short as Alex grabbed his wrist and yanked him inside. Stumbling from Alex’s strong grip, Michael fell forward, and then back as the front door slammed shut with them both safely inside out of view. His mouth was still open in surprise as Alex covered his lips in a kiss. 

The surprise was short-lived. Michael came alive under the kiss, opening and yielding to Alex’s hungry lips and tongue. Alex brought his hands up into Michael’s curls, cupping his head protectively as he pressed Michael firmly against the door, drinking in every sound Michael was making. 

Hours before, he had kissed Forrest at the bus station, playing up the role of a dutiful boyfriend returning home. It was the tariff he paid with his body to get closer to the roots of Deep Sky, but this, feeling Michael whole and safe under his hands, tasting him now, that was sustenance. Lifeblood. There was an evolution of difference between the two, like comparing simple bacteria wiggling toward complexity and the finished product of a man, standing upright. 

It was both a reminder of why he was doing this and a reinstatement of focus, as he slowly broke the kiss with reluctance. Michael chased at his lips, his mouth red and wet, his eyes dark with want. He could feel the heat coming off of Michael’s thin brown shirt, his hands itched to pull it off, to descend back into the physical, but Alex knew that he owed Michael an explanation for earlier.

“I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t know he was going to be there to meet my bus. I thought it would be okay for you to give me a ride,” Alex explained quietly, as he ran his hands from Michael’s neck down to his fingertips, drinking in all the changes that had happened while he was gone. Michael looked thinner to him, as if he wasn’t eating enough despite the healthy amount of work and money. “I guess he wanted to surprise me and thought it would be romantic.” 

Michael made a face at the idea of surprises ever being considered romantic, especially to Alex. He turned sweetly toward Alex’s palm, kissing the center as Alex pushed a stubborn curl out of his eyes. “Are you sure that’s all it was? He wasn’t testing you, was he?” 

“I don’t think so.” Alex couldn’t pull his hands away from Michael, and leaned in to kiss him again. It started soft and shallow, trading breaths with Michael, lips against lips, licking deep into his mouth as his previous weariness disappeared now that Michael was here. “He saw you watching us. Now that I’m back, he’s worried about losing my attention to you. He hasn’t hidden his jealousy that I asked you to watch my house last year.” 

“Did I look sufficiently broken-hearted?” The question was light, but Alex could hear the grain of truth under it.

“You did.” Alex closed his eyes, the guilt of the situation flooded back inside. The statue of his father looking down on him didn’t make him feel nearly as sick as having Michael’s eyes on him as he let Forrest kiss him in front of the town in a cinematic homecoming moment. It was a cruel reminder to Alex that he had never been able to give Michael that, a public welcome that spelled out who they were to each other, not once in ten plus years of deployments and duty station assignments. Trading a glance across the Wild Pony was as close as they came. “I wish it wasn’t like this, sneaking around, pretending-”

“Hey, I agreed to this, right at the very beginning when I was your only back-up. Remember?” 

“We were just friends back then, you couldn’t have known that things would end up like this.”

Michael laughed, his head tilted back against the door, casting an attractive line of his throat to his collarbone. “We’ve never been just friends, Alex, but I knew what I was signing up for when you told me what you planned to do to smoke out Deep Sky. We’re in this together.”

*** to be continued... here

[maeve-writes]

Beautiful Hell

Inspired by:  Beautiful Hell by ADNA 

Pairing: Bucky Barnes (tfatws) x Reader (experiment/mutant!Reader) Rating: 18+, Minors DNI Warnings: Angst, fluff, smut, fingering, unprotected sex, dirty talk. Summary: Your past shows up in an unexpected way thanks to Bucky Barnes. You just wanted to be... normal, not caught up in the life of a hero or worse, and yet you’re drawn to him, addicted to him even. You thought that part of your life was over, but your relationship opens up a whole new chapter that you’re not sure you’re ready for. a/n: Unbeta’d, any mistakes are my own and please forgive me. I have not written anything that wasn’t work related in about three years, so I’m a little rusty. This is just a dip of my toe back into the water. I’d like to continue this if there is any interest! Thanks for reading!

There’s very little that makes you upset these days. You have a great job, a cozy apartment, and wonderful friends. It’s taken a long time for you to find stability and even longer for you to accept that it was okay to have it. Most of that struggle was on your own, but you eventually found others like you that were dealing with the same inner turmoil and you’ve grown.

The group still meets twice a month, but now you run it. You see the same pain and anger in the eyes of strangers that you once held, you’ve been in their shoes and you want to help start their journey of healing and self discovery. You would never turn someone away who wanted help, who sought out the chance to better themselves, but six feet of muscle and adamantium shuffles into the recreation room of the local Boy’s and Girl’s Club, and you bend the already folded aluminum chair in half. 

The squeak of the metal catches his attention and his brow knits together. His eyes dance between your face, the chair, and back again. “Cheap material,” you say weakly with a lift of your shoulders. You watch as he puckers his lips in thought and his hands are shoved into his jacket. 

One of your regulars, Sarah, takes the chair from you and tries to right it once more, but finds it more difficult than you played it up to be. “Set up the rest, I’ve got this,” you tell her, happy to tear your attention away from the man. You reset the bars of the chair and unfold it, placing it on the floor to see if it will act as it should. It’s a little wonky, the bend leans it too far back, but it will hold you - it’s a chair.

You sit among the circle and begin. People sip their coffee and share their stories for the week. The new people introduce themselves, including him, but everyone already knows his name. He didn’t share this time, but you could tell he wanted to from the way his jaw clenched and the uncomfortable shifts in his sheet. You were like that once, you know just how he feels.

Two hours pass and the crowd slowly trickles out. You start the clean up, the putting away of the chairs. You move around the room and do your best to ignore his eyes burning into you - into your soul. “You could at least help clean,” you tell him without looking up from the sink against the far wall where you now stand. “Chairs still need to be put away.”

It takes a few beats, but you hear his heavy footsteps fall behind you and the eventual scrap of metal as the chairs are being folded. There’s a steady rhythm to his method, a clink of his metal arm against the chair, the screech as the chair is closed and his footfalls to the corner to put it away.

You finish your last coffee pot, drying your hands and turn to see the wonky chair in his hold. “Cheap material,” he repeats, looking down at it before he bends it back and forth. You see him trying to mold it back into better shape than you had earlier as your face grows hotter by the second. When he deems it “good enough,” he brings it over to join the others. “Who are you?”

“No one,” you reply instantly. 

His head snaps around, blue eyes burning, “You’re a horrible liar.”

“Not true,” you counter, “I’ve lied to myself for years.”

He turns to you fully and crosses his arms over his broad chest. He doesn’t find your attempt at what he thinks is a joke funny. “Who are you,” he asks again, his voice becoming clipped and impatient. 

You tell him your name, your full name but it does not ring any bells to him. It wouldn’t, not in a way he would realize. “You saved someone years ago, not as… you, but as,” you pause and wave the towel you used to dry your hands, “you know.” You try your best to ignore how his body tenses up and you continue, “You killed his wife and his unborn son. You changed him. Changed everything, really. Somehow, I got caught up in it all.”

His hardened stare quickly shifts into curiosity and you force yourself to look away before you crash into the stormy blue. “They pumped us full of all sorts of stuff. A lot of us didn’t make it. I can still hear the screams if I try.” You grind your teeth to make yourself stop falling into that abyss. “But my dad raised me by himself, he taught me how to survive, how to be strong. He always told me: Girl, if you’re gonna go down, go down swingin’. And I forced myself to keep going, no matter what they did, I wasn’t going to let those assholes get the best of me.”

The towel was back in both of your hands now, pulled and stretched as you tried not to think about the pain and the loneliness that followed. “But eventually I was freed, just like you freed that other guy. I got a chance to be him now… but I didn’t take it.” The terry cloth ripped in half and your arms fell by your sides. 

You dared to look up at the man and you inwardly swore. His face was so painfully beautiful, full lips were in a pout and his eyes twinkled blue in their sadness, in their empathy. “They wanted us to be something and I wasn’t going to let someone else define me. I ran for years, scared and alone. I had to change my life over and over because I didn’t want them to find me, then I realized I was actually doing what they wanted… I was being someone I’m not.”

You crossed the room to the trash can nearby and not too far behind he followed. The two of you began to toss half-eaten pastries and empty disposable coffee cups. “So, I settled down here, started to go by my real name and took any threat that came my way.” You watched him sniff at an uneaten danish, “Cherry, I think.” His shoulder lifts in a ‘what-the-hell’ kind of way and he takes a bite. “It took about two decades for them to stop,” you finish, “and I was able to finally start to live my life.”

He silently offers half of the danish to you, which you decline. “And when the world went to hell in a hand-basket, you what, sat here and lived your life?” The blow was meant to sting and it did. He didn’t know if you were gone in The Blip but from your recoil, he got his answer. “I don’t know what they did to you, but you obviously have the ability to help people, you should use it.”

“I do,” you reply, offended. “This,” you wave your hands around for the second that evening, “helps people. Just because I don’t strap on leather and beat up bad guys doesn’t mean I don’t make a difference.”

Bucky stills completely, even his breathing, and he looks down into the trash can he has been pushing around for you. It looks as though he wants to toss himself in it. “You’re right,” he says with a heavy exhale, “that wasn’t fair of me. It’s just… the world is running low on heroes, they’re now relying on a guy in a bird suit.”

“I thought that guy was your friend,” you ask with a tilt of your head.

When the corner of his mouth tips up into a boyish smile, you mirror it with a toothy grin because of how infectious it is. “Yeah,” he nods, “I guess he is. But I just hate being the only muscle.”

“You’re plenty enough for this hemisphere,” you laugh and reach out to pat his shoulder, when you feel the muscle packed there, you whistle through your teeth, “and maybe the other one, too.”

He laughs and rolls the shoulder you tapped, tossing off your hand playfully. “Yeah, well it wouldn’t hurt to have more because getting hurt hurts.” You two exchange smiles and finish trash detail. He ties up the full bag and prepares to bring it out while you work on putting a new one in the can. 

You lead him out back to the dumpsters and he tosses the bag in after you open the heavy metal lid. When it falls closed again with a loud, ringing bang, you pull out a pack of sanitizing wipes and offer him one which he gladly accepts. “This might not be the right time,” he begins, eyes drawn to the large, smelly trash bin next to the pair of you, “but would you like to have dinner with me sometime?”

“Who knew you were so romantic, Sergeant Barnes,” you tease to hide your fluttering heartbeat that he can undoubtedly hear. Under the pale yellow beam of the streetlights you can see the flush forming on his face that mirrors your own. “I’m free tomorrow around seven.”

Bucky straightens to his full height and his eyes sparkle brightly when that boyish curl makes its way back to his lips. “Then it’s a date,” he nods as you both pull out your phones to exchange numbers and you give him your address.

“Don’t be late,” you warn him, tone playfully serious, “I get angry if I don’t eat before eight. Bad things happen if I don’t eat.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he nods with a low rumbling chuckle, “I don’t plan to disappoint you.”

Your face splits into a smile and you lead your way back in, “See you tomorrow, Sergeant.”

“Tomorrow,” he says, his eyes trained on your every move. “And it can’t come soon enough,” he adds under his breath.

x

Your day goes by in a blur. Work is stressful but rewarding. Even though you love your job, your mind was not completely on it. Just past noon you received a text: Just seeing if this works. I’m looking forward to tonight. Have a good day. BB

It is unclear if he does not really know how texts work or if it is his excuse to send you one, but either way it makes you giddier than a schoolgirl. You reread it several times, answer a few work related calls and emails before you finally answer back: It works! I’m also looking forward to tonight. My day was good, but your text made it better. Hope yours is fantastic! xx

You are hesitant to hit send, but if you are going to shoot your shot, then you might as well go all in. Your phone doesn’t even go to sleep before you get another text in return: I’m about to see the prettiest gal in town, my day will be more than fantastic. How do you feel about sushi and bowling? BB

Of all of the things to do, especially together, you would not think of Bucky Barnes to pick that as your first night out together, but you had a weakness for sushi and your competitive side could never say no to a game or two: I haven’t been bowling in years, but I’m sure I can teach you a few things. xx

Oh, sweetheart, you’ll be learning a thing or two before the night is over. BB

You aren’t sure if you guys are talking about bowling anymore and that thought lights a fire in your belly. With a shaky breath you send your last reply: I’ll be happy to learn anything as long as I get to call you Professor Barnes and I can stay after class for extra credit. ;) xx 

It isn’t until two hours after your lunch that you get your last reply from him: Looking up that reference sent me to the part of the internet that I’m still not used to, but I’m glad I did. You don’t happen to have a skirt and some of those socks that go up to your knees, do you? Don’t answer that, I won’t be able to make it through dinner. See you at 7. BB

You did happen to have just what he asked for and it was tempting to wear it, but you tucked the idea into your pocket for another time. Instead, you picked something more appropriate for bowling, a pair of navy skinny fit cotton dress pants with enough stretch to not rip when you bent over to toss a ball, a curve hugging camisole that was draped by a soft, cream colored cashmere sweater. 

After messing with your hair for an hour, you settled for a messy bun and just finished your makeup when your doorbell rang. You call out to him to “hold on” as you shuffle through your apartment, trying to wriggle into your loafers on the way to open the door. “Sorry. Sorry, sorry,” you apologize as you pull open the door.

He’s standing in the doorway dressed in a canvas jacket over a plain black shirt, dark jeans over his long, thick legs and his normal boots top it off. “You look gorgeous,” he says, forcing you away from your lingering gaze as it continues to travel up and down his body like he’s the one for dinner. “These are for you,” he presents a bouquet of flowers with an unsure smile. “They’re beautiful,” you say wistfully, taking the flowers and stepping aside to let him in. “Thank you.” He nods and stands near the door as you finish putting on your shoes. “Let me put these in water and we can go.” “Take your time,” he says and trains his eyes on you. They follow you through the apartment, to the kitchen as you look through your cabinets for a vase. When you bend over, his head tilts ever so slightly which you can see out of the corner of your eye, but when you turn to try and catch him, he just smiles innocently. “Need any help?”

“I’ll manage,” you laugh and eventually find a vase. The flowers are arranged not so elegantly into the glass, but you add water and place them in the center of your kitchen island. “Now, I’m starving and getting hangry.”

“Hangry,” he repeats. “That doesn’t sound good. I guess I should feed you before that happens.” He holds out an arm and like a magnet you are drawn to him and latch to it, maybe it’s because of the metal. Nevertheless, you walk arm and arm to the sushi hole-in-the-wall two blocks away, eating in a small booth in the corner to hide away from prying eyes.

You learn about Bucky Barnes for the first time. Like everyone else, you hear things from the news, from the internet, you try to shift through the lies and mess. But here you’re learning what he likes, what he’s learned, what he wants to learn. He doesn’t give his past up as freely as you did, it’s obvious he’s still coming to terms with it, but everyone travels at their own pace.

He learns about you, too. He asks you about things none of your past dates have asked. Hell, even your past boyfriends and girlfriends weren’t interested in half of the stuff Bucky manages to squeeze out of you. And you find it so easy to talk to him, so natural. You’ve only known him for two days, but it feels like decades.

Your hand slips into his when you leave the restaurant and head to the bowling alley. He laces your fingers together two blocks into your walk and you once again wrap your free hand around his arm. It pains you to move away when you have to go in and put on the bowling shoes.

“Before we begin,” he says to you as he watches you put your names into the computer, “let’s make a bet.” You finish entering the ‘y’ of his name and lift an inquisitive brow his way. “If you win, you can have one thing you would want from me.”

You twist in your seat and narrow your eyes, “And if you win?”

His tongue darts out to lick his lips, you watch it disappear with a pout, “I get a kiss.”

“You could just ask for one,” you laugh and slowly lean towards him.

Bucky, too, leans in and bumps noses with you, “Yeah, but it’s more fun if I work for it.” He sits back and winks, trying not to laugh at your deflated and deepening pout. “C’mon, sweetheart, you’re up first.”

You sigh heavily and pick up the bright green ball that you picked from the line waiting to be thrown. “Okay, if I win, then I get to wear that skirt and socks for you,” you say over your shoulder before you toss the ball down the lane. It rolls down the center and knocks down all ten pins as STRIKE flashes on the screen above you.

When you flop down in the chair next to him, he’s still staring at the spot where you stood moments before, gears still churning. “Hey,” you laugh, snapping your fingers in front of his face to knock him out of his daze, “are you okay?”

“Would it be wrong of me to lose on purpose,” he asks sheepishly. You roll your eyes and cross your arms and he lifts his own in surrender. “Okay, okay. I get it, that’s no fun. Just know, darlin’, I don’t go down without a fight.” He steps up and takes the same ball you used and chucks it halfway down the lane before it, too, knocks down all ten pins. He turns to you, a smirk plastered on his face.

As much as you loved to have fun, you loved to win more. “Is that how it’s going to be,” you asked, getting up to pass him on the way to take your turn.

He laughs, pressing close as you both slow when you come into each other’s orbit. “That’s how it’s going to be,” he nods and rakes over his lip with his teeth. A challenge is set and you don’t back down. Strikes and spares are thrown by the both of you in between lingering touches and whispered sweet nothings. 

In the hour you two have rented the lane, you managed two games and with one point over you, Bucky wins. He doesn’t claim his prize right there, it’s too public and there’s far too many people around. Instead, he offers to walk you home and you happily accept as long as you can wrap yourself around him once again, which you do.

You two try to take your time on the way back, enjoying the crisp evening air, but more so each other's company. The conversation from dinner continues as a flow of likes and dislikes between more sweet nothings. You’re lovedrunk by the time you’re at your front door and you don’t want the night to come to an end.

Reluctantly, you release him from your hold and he looks as disappointed as you feel. “Tonight has been wonder-” “I had such a great-” you both begin simultaneously and trail off together, ending in nervous laughter. 

“Thank you,” you tell him, leaning up to kiss his cheek, “for such an amazing night.”

“I should be thanking you,” he says, a hand timidly reaching out to rest on your hip. “I’ve been a little rusty at this kind of thing, but you made it easy.” His thumb traces the arc of your hip bone and you step closer to him. “But, you know, I might need some more practice.” You resisted to roll your eyes, but the laughter bubbles between the both of you. The distance closes by one of you, and you don’t care who, but you find your hands splayed across his chest, “I think I can help you out there.”

“That would be my second win of the night,” he grins down at you, his eyes trained on your lips.

“Speaking of my win,” he trails off. His flesh hand raises to your cheek and you instinctively lean into it. Your nose wrinkles at his chuckle but it doesn’t stop you from raising on your toes to close what little space there was between you.

You could sense his hesitation, the silent question of what was enough and what was too much. A small hum bubbled in your throat as you pushed your hands up his chest, nails scraping up his neck and into his hair. You could feel the shiver ripple throughout his body and his teeth came out to bite down on your bottom lip.

It was your turn to laugh now and he licked into your mouth in return, turning it into a whimpering moan. You could feel his triumphant smirk against your lips and you reward it with a tug of his hair. His hips instantly buck against you which throws you off balance, but he catches you with his metal arm winding around your back and pins you against him. 

Your tongues slip and slide against one another, the taste of his sushi and beer choice mixes with your own. Your nails once again claw along his scalp and cause him to growl into your mouth. He surges forward with you in his grip and crowds you against your door, reluctantly breaking away for air, “We should say goodnight,” Bucky whispered against your kiss swollen lips.

“You can tell me good morning when you wake up next to me tomorrow,” you shoot back and roll your hips against his, causing both of you to react with a strained moan.

“Are you sure,” he asks, tucking a stray hair behind your ear.

“I’ve got a spare toothbrush with your name on it,” you nod. You watch him debate the issue with himself before placing one last chaste kiss on your lips before losing his grip just enough to let you open the door.

You two stumble in, Bucky pulling you back to him, his mouth kissing along your jaw as you try to lock up for the night. You barely got the deadbolt turned when his teeth sank into your sink causing you to cry out. He instantly licks at apologetically and turns his attention to getting you undressed instead.

When your sweater is pulled over your head, you push off Bucky’s jacket, both falling to the floor near the door. Shoes are next to go, sloppily kicked off near each other and once again you two are drawn back together, tongues dancing. Your fingers twist into the short brown locks and his hands snaked down to your ass. He lightly cups each cheek, using them to bring you as close as possible, and even though your bodies leave very little room for air to pass through you still try to move closer.

“Bed,” he breathes into your mouth. You give him a quick nod. With a happy groan, he squeezes you by your bottom, picking you up to carry you to your room, your legs instantly wrapping around his waist. 

Your small one bedroom apartment isn't anything special, but it is yours and it has the biggest, comfiest bed that you are in love with. Bucky easily guides you both there, not once breaking your kiss aside from grunting or growling from your teasing hair pulls or the rolls of your hips. 

He climbs onto the mattress with you still wrapped around his upper half, crawling up to the pile of pillows near the headboard where he eventually lays you down. His weight settles above you, and normally, you would welcome it’s warmth and comfort, but at that moment, you want it to be rough and needy. “Bucky,” you whine, this time the one to break the kiss.

Flushed cheeks and blown pupils, he looks down at you, boxing you in with his arms on either side of your head. “What is it, sweetheart?”

“You’re wearing too much,” you tell him as you try to pull off his shirt, it makes it up to his shoulders before it stops. His laugh shakes his entire body and yours, which makes you pout in return. 

“You’re wearing the same amount, doll,” he reminds you, looking down to see your breasts sway in your camisole. “Far, far too much, in my opinion.”

You roll your eyes and playfully slap at his chest, “Then do something about it.” He mutters something about impatience and sits on his knees between your parted thighs as he pulls his shirt over his head to toss it aside.

“Your turn,” he nods to your shirt while he works on the buckle of his belt. You hastily pull the top over your head and work on your slacks, wriggling out of them just as does his own. He sits back on his hunches and looks you over, laying spread out in a matching white lace bra and underwear set. Now at he’s down to his boxer briefs, you can see how big he his, how hard he is, and when his wandering eyes rest on your covered sex, you can see it twitch with anticipation. “Holy shit, you’re beautiful.”

You didn’t think your entire body could blush from embarrassment, but Bucky just proved you could. “That’s my line,” you return, taking in every inch of his exposed skin over hard muscle. Super serum or not, Bucky Barnes was a gorgeous specimen. When you two finally lock eyes once more, you both shiver. “Are you going to touch me?”

He lets out a shaky breath and reaches out to run a hand lightly over your damp panties, slick from your want for him. “I’m afraid I’ll never stop,” he replies honestly, instantly addicted to the needy whimpers you are giving him.

“I don’t think I would want you to,” you groan. “Please?” You feel his fingertips dance over the lace, tracing over the pattern and causing you to throb with need. “Bucky!”

“You need me, don’t you,” he asks, voice dropping to a low rumble that hits you right at your core and makes your toes curl. “You need my touch. Need me to satisfy that ache?” You nod desperately trying to sit up to pull him down on top of you, but he pins you down before you could rise. “Tell me,” he purrs.

“I need you,” you respond instantly. You’re rewarded with his fingers pushing the panties aside and begin to dance along the slick folds.

“You need what,” he goads. He finds your clit and rubs it once to draw a happy mew from you but stops much to your disappointment.

“I need you, Bucky. I need you to touch me, to kiss me,” you whine with a rock of your hips, trying to get him to move again, but he doesn’t. “I need you to taste me, to lick me, to fuck me.”

Smile on his kiss bruised lips, his thumb swirls around your bud and he sinks his middle finger into you with a groan. “You’re tight,” he hisses as he sinks knuckle-deep, “and dripping. Shit, you’re going to feel like heaven.”

You can’t focus on what he’s saying too much. The feel of his fingers pumping in and out of you feels good, feels right, but it’s not enough, even when he adds two or three. He works you open, your slick starting to run down his fingers, and he palms himself over his briefs.  “Bucky, please,” your voice cracks, “I need more.”

He nods, he has time to take you apart with just his fingers later, but it’s been so long since he’s been with someone like this, someone he’s felt like this with, he needs it as much as you do. When he removes his fingers from you, you whine at the loss but it cuts off into a gasp as you watch him lap and suck off your slick from his hand. Bucky freezes, eyes narrowing, and for a moment you’re wondering if you did something wrong. “What? What is it?”

“Trying to stop myself from eating you alive,” he says through clenched teeth, jaw visibly flexing with the effort. You blink up at him, confused, but he shakes his head and forces himself to remove his boxer briefs. “I’m having you for breakfast,” he decides.

“Uh huh,” you reply absently, your mouth watering as his cock bounces against his stomach when it’s free. It’s long, thick, and leaking, trying to hypnotize you and very much succeeding. 

“I’ll let you return the favor, sweetheart,” he laughs. His flesh hand spreads his pre-cum down his shaft and he pumps slowly while his metal hand pinches your chin between his forefinger and thumb. “Still with me?”

Blinking free of your daze, you stare at his lustful gaze and nod. He moves closer, hooks your legs over the bends of his elbows and runs the head of his cock along your folds. Your hole twitches desperately for him, “Such a pretty little pussy, so needy.” Your hands wrap around his wrists and grip at him tightly, hard enough to make him hiss. “You’ve been a good girl, I guess I can give you what you want.”

He pushes in agonizingly slow, the head of his cock sinking in what felt like centimeter by centimeter. You clench around him, trying to draw more of him in, but Bucky takes his time to bottom out. When he is finally fully seated in you, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, and apparently so did he. “Fuck,” you say simultaneously. 

Your legs are positioned around his waist and he once again frames your head with his forearms, which, in turn, pushes him further inside of you. “You feel so good, doll,” he whispers against the ‘o’ of your lips. “So warm, so tight, taking me so good.” Your hands find their way up his arms and into his hair. All it takes is one tug that has him growling, “And I’m going to ruin this pretty pussy so good that it’s going to feel me all week.” He rolls his hips back as slowly as he originally pushed in, “And I wanna hear you tell everyone who it belongs to while I do it.”

He snaps his hips forward driving you up the bed and further into the pillows, a cry getting caught in your throat from it. His pace is brutal, skin slaps against skin, and his mouth seeks out yours. The kiss is sloppy, but hungry, just as primal as his pistoning hips. You hold on to him the best you can as the bed rocks, headboard slamming against the wall. Your nails trail against his skin, egging him on and drawing sinful noises from love-swollen lips. 

His hips shift angles and eventually find that spot that makes you see stars. “Bucky,” you cry out breathlessly, uncurling your toes and removing your nails from his shoulder blades. He buries his face in your neck and marks you with his teeth and tongue as he relentlessly fucks towards your brink. “So… f-fuck- so close.”

“Cum for me then, sweetheart,” Bucky growls against your skin, snaking a hand between your bodies to work at your clit. “Show me how good I make you feel. Cum for me.” His thumb rubs over your bud once, twice and a white hot punch in your gut blossoms throughout your body as you let out a strangled cry of his name. 

You can feel yourself clamp around him, working him impossibly deeper, begging him to fall down into the abyss with you. And he does, hard. He chases his bliss with you, your name a mantra spilling from his lips as he spills inside of you. He doesn’t stop until you’ve both become too sensitive to handle anymore. He pulls out of you with a heavy sigh and falls next to you on the bed onto his stomach. 

“Holy shit,” you finally break the silence, “that was…”

“Yeah,” he agrees, his head turned to look at you with tired, blissful eyes. “Goddamn, yeah it was.”

You weakly reach around to search for his hand and eventually find it, he lances his fingers with yours. You don’t break eye contact when he leans over to share a few chaste kisses before collapsing again. “You’re fantastic, Bucky, and I want you to know that was the hottest sex I have had to date.”

His post orgasm bliss is shattered and replaced with a furrowed brow, “I sense a ‘but’ coming.”

“...but as hot as it is feeling you drip out of me, I need to shower,” you finish. You can see the relief wash over him and he nods in understanding. 

“I’ve got a good memory,” he yawns and taps at his head, “that image is stored right here.” You fight a blush and slide off of your bed to head to the bathroom when seconds later you hear him do the same. He shrugs at your questioning look, “No need to waste water, right?”

You laugh as you turn on the faucets only to be crowded against the wall and your mouth is covered with his once more. The water splashing against your bodies and the echoing sounds of your moans drown out the repeated calls to Bucky’s phone. Mission. Suit up. SW

Answer your damn phone. SW

It’s the green button. SW

Green button and slide right. SW

Dammit, if you blocked me again, I stg. SW

Man, what are you doing in Soho? Yes, I’m tracking you. OMW. SW

a/n: To be continued? 

[stennnn06]

supercorp 83

83- another sleepless night, huh? writing prompts

and here is the post reveal version of this prompt. i guess we could say it’s somewhere toward the finale, where instead of hand shakes and agreeing to take on lex, they actually ya know... make up. bonus (helpful?) andrea rojas because i do what i want.

Kara slams the backspace key of her laptop in frustration. She watches the letters of the few words she's written get swallowed whole, returning her to the beginning. It's almost midnight, and she's no closer to finishing this stupid article for Andrea than when she started. She sighs loudly, staring at the screen. She doesn't want to write about millennial fashion, or any fashion for that matter, but she has no choice. Andrea made it clear that she's on a limited beat, and an even tighter leash, and all of it is just impossible.

"Burning the midnight oil, Ms. Danvers?" Andrea's voice drifts over the quiet din. There's no one else in the office, which means no one to run interference from Andrea's prying eyes. Kara doesn't want to talk to her boss, and she definitely doesn't want to give an update. She wants to stew over her blank document in peace, and let her mind drift over more important things. She doesn't want to face Andrea's smiling scrutiny, or her sarcastic tone, or think about the way she reminds her so much of Lena that she wants to rip her own hair out.

Kara grits her teeth in frustration, nodding silently. "Yep," she mutters, keeping her face trained on her laptop. Andrea appears at her door in seconds.

"Well, you're just full of surprises, aren't you?"

Kara huffs. It's condescending, and she knows it. Andrea thinks she's lazy, and argumentative, and honestly, maybe she's right. Kara is tired of caring. She isn't here to please Andrea. She thought journalism was about something more -- about relentlessly pursuing a story no matter what, in order to expose the truth. Instead, she's writing about "athleisure" and answering reader questions about high waisted jeans. She ignores Andrea and glances at her phone. She hasn't had a text message in hours, not even from Alex. It's a quiet night in National City and she should be thankful, but really she's just anxious. There's a familiar name in her phone that hasn't reached out in so long, it's beginning to feel infinite. She doesn't know if she and Lena will ever get back to where they were, even if they aren't truly at odds anymore. Maybe there has been too much said, maybe there has been too much damage done. The lack of closure is enough to drive her to distraction. But her phone remains silent, with only the clock to keep her company.

11:45 and silent.

"I'm glad to see you working hard on this," Andrea says again, blithely unaware of Kara's attempts to deflect her conversation.

"Yep, just focused on this deadline," Kara says through gritted teeth, not even trying to hide her annoyance. Andrea only comes around when she wants something, so Kara braces for a bizarre request. She's not in the mood to play nice or get into an extended conversation, but she also can't afford to get fired.

Andrea pauses at the threshold, pursing her lips. Kara feels the way she lingers, but she chooses to ignore it.

"Can I give you some advice?" Andrea eventually asks, approaching slowly. It's rhetorical, Kara knows. She's going to say whatever she wants anyway. Kara's cheeks go hot. She wants to tell her to mind her business. That no, she's fine in the advice department, thanks. But instead, she simply looks up and offers a blank stare.

"Go see her," Andrea says directly. "Don't let time pass you by."

"What do you--"

"I've known Lena for longer than most--" Andrea interrupts. The way she says Lena's name stops Kara from arguing. "And I've hurt her more than anyone."

"I'm not sure about that," Kara mumbles, rolling her eyes.

"Trust me," Andrea insists. She takes a step in toward Kara's desk, which forces Kara's attention to float to her face. Andrea's eyes are cast down, and she chews on her lip the way she does when she's particularly displeased. "It pains me to say this, but I know how she feels about you."

"What do you mean?" Something shifts in Kara's chest at the suggestion.

Andrea's eyebrow raises sharply. "Don't make me spell it out, Kara. You're not as naive as everyone thinks."

"Okay," Kara gulps.

"She's already forgiven you," Andrea says matter-of-factly. "She just needs help admitting it."

"I don't know," Kara says, her heart rate picking up considerably. Can she really trust Andrea to be acting in her best interest? "Why are you helping me?"

"It's not for you," Andrea says sharply. She glances at her watch, clicking her tongue. She looks back at Kara, her mouth slightly open in exasperation. "What are you waiting for?"

Kara slaps her laptop closed. "Thanks, Andrea," she says, shouldering past her in an effort to get to the elevator before Andrea reconsiders.

"Thank me by finishing that article."

It's been ages since Kara has gone to Lena's apartment as herself. As Kara. She toys with the idea of landing on the balcony with her cape billowing slightly behind her, but it doesn't feel right. She doesn't want the crest. Not tonight.

She lands softly and discards the suit, opting for the front entrance. A new beginning, as herself. 

It's past midnight by the time she approaches, but Lena’s light is on, as always. Kara knocks softly.

There's a quiet rustling, and a muffled "Who is it?" behind the door. Kara clears her throat.

"It's me," she says, her voice cracking. "It's--"

The door opens before she can finish.

"Kara," Lena breathes, her eyes wide with surprise. "Is everything okay?"

"Hi," Kara says quickly. Her mouth is terribly dry. Sometimes she forgets just how stunning Lena is. Especially when she hasn't seen her for awhile. It's always unnerving, no matter how many times it happens. "Yes! Yes, everything is fine. I just noticed your light was on. Another sleepless night, huh?" Kara chuckles nervously, unsure what to do. She didn't actually plan before coming over here, which is glaringly obvious now that she's nervous and tongue tied.

"You seem surprised," Lena says softly, a teasing smile on her lips.  "Do you want to come in?"

"Thanks," Kara says, relieved. She follows Lena into her apartment, over to her couch. They haven't sat on it together since Kara thought they were still friends, when she tried to make up for her transgressions by bringing her all her favorite foods. The memory aches in her chest.

They sit in awkward silence, fidgeting amongst themselves until they both start speaking.

"I--"

"Kara--"

Lena's cheeks flush an attractive crimson, and Kara's entire body feels molten. They both bring their eyes sheepishly to the ground, careful to avoid disrupting each other again.

"You can go," Kara insists after a pause.

Lena studies her hands, working her fingers delicately. Her wrist flexes, and Kara is mesmerized. She always had the loveliest, most capable hands. Lena catches her eye finally.

"You aren't wearing your glasses," Lena muses, and it’s so unexpected that Kara unconsciously brings her hand to her eyes. It's a journey of emotions -- first, fear that she's forgotten something crucial, that she's showed up completely unprepared and wrong. But then the cold realization that there are no more walls between them, and what it means, settles in her gut. She lets her hand hang down slowly. "I'm still getting used to it," Lena explains softly.

"I'm sorry--"

"No," Lena shakes her head, smiling. "It's nice. I'm just-- I'm glad you came."

"Me too."

There's an awkward silence, and all Kara can hear is the humming of the dishwasher, an indicator that Lena's out of scotch tumblers. Which means she isn't doing so great, either.

"I wasn't ready to forgive you, before," Kara says, trying to square her shoulders and find the strength to confront this. "After everything, and all the lies, I just kept expecting you to let me down with another con. And you didn't. You just kept showing up, over and over, and I-- I wanted so badly to go back to how we were. But I didn't know if I could get hurt like that again."

"You didn't deserve that," Lena says, hanging her head.

"Neither did you."

"I got lost in the madness of it all. I've always been susceptible," Lena smiles wickedly, her self-deprecation on display. She sighs, her eyes softening. "Part of me kept waiting for you to rescue me."

Kara frowns, her pulse racing. "But I tried -- I did everything I knew how--"

Lena's mouth twitches, her chin quivering. "Not Supergirl." She swallows hard. "You."

Kara's mouth hangs open... She thinks of all the times after - how almost every single time she saw Lena after confessing her identity, she was National City's hero. She was Supergirl, and she was free of pretending -- but in the process, she was someone unknown. It was always heavy, their interactions always pleading and begging on behalf of greater interests, never just them.

"Lena," Kara's voice quivers. "But it was always me."

"Was it?"

Kara hesitates. She isn't sure how to answer that.

"What did you say when you told me why you kept it from me for so long?" Lena asks, her eyes welling with tears. "I was so angry at Supergirl-- but I loved Kara." Lena hesitates, taking a watery breath. "I've always loved Kara."

It hits like a hurricane, and Kara has to remember how to breathe. She inhales sharply. Lena doesn't say anything more.

"And now?" Kara whispers.

"And now," Lena says, smiling through her emotions. "Nothing about that has changed."

Kara's eyes fill with tears. She stands, opening her arms. She doesn't want to talk anymore. She just wants them to fall back into place, fitting together the way they did before. Lena melts into her arms and lets out a sob as she clutches Kara's back.

"I love you, too," Kara whispers into the space between her ear and her neck, holding her as close as possible. "Always."

[max-the-d0g]

“So like that then...”

Audrey Tindall x reader 

Audrey gets the ending she deserves I think

Being Sidney’s assistant is a nightmare, on normal days. But having to go back to the Roanoke house is The nightmare. Being on the set wasn't too bad, nothing too weird happened. You were surprisingly close to the actress, Audrey Tindall. She was sweet and hilarious, and you loved her but would never let her know. You loved being near her, so going back the Roanoke house wouldn't be extremely bad. The only downside is, you won't be in the house with her, you would be in the van with the monitors with Sidney. The schedule you had been given told you that your arrival would be at dawn. So, you couldn’t see the gorgeous blonde or the joyful smiles. Which she sends you whenever you were in the room. she would always greets you with a bear hug during your set hours.  

You were driving on the dirt road in the direction of the van that Sidney had sent  earlier in the day. In the seat next to you, you acquired some takeout for the guys in the van and some coffee you kept sipping from to keep you awake on the journey, it was Audrey favourite. She told you about it when you went to a cafe with her. Which was the most exciting times of you life. When you arrived at the destination of the van, everything seems off, like someone was telling you to leave. The vibe feels uneasy, making you second guessing coming here. 

Hopping out of the car, your eyes zone in on the body on the grass. Scrambling to the body, you see Sidney's covering the grass and a camera beside his head. “What the actual fuck!” You voice raises slightly, gagging at the sight. You look around seeking any sign of what could caused this, blood splats on the van, all over the grass and a few specs on you hand when you rolled the body over. The grass coated in blood.

You fish for your phone in the glove box of the car, “ Shit. Shit Shit. What the actual fuck.” After frantically typing in 911, you get hold of the police. Telling them what you have just encountered. You stay on the phone with them, they inform you not to disturb anything and to stay where you are. You place your hand on your forehead   trying to think what evil shit could do this, turning your head slightly to the bushes you see another body. “ Are you shitting me? There's another body? Oh shit, it's Jill.” You say to no one, but the operator replies telling you to keep calm and look for shelter. You look to the van then your car. The van you decided. 

Walking in you look around and to see the cameras still on and working fine. Studying one you see Shelby. Dead. “Oh shit,” you mumble. You look at the one in the corner and see Matt in the basement with his head smashed against the concrete floor. “Fuck.”

 “Is it safe there, hello Y/N? Is everything okay?” The operator says.“No... I am not fine. Shit, I think they are all gone.” 

“Okay, keep where you are. If you hear anything, grab some sort of weapon and hide. I will keep on call until the police arrive. They are 20 minutes away.”

---- After 20 minutes you heard the sirens. A knock is heard after a couple of minutes. “Police! Is anyone in there. Come out now.” “Oh thank god... they are here. Thank you, Dana.” “You are welcome.” she hangs up. “There is a house. There might someone alive.” You mumble to them. Getting into the front of the police car. The rest of the police are already at the scene when you pull up. Some officers near a trap door on the ground and some in the house. Peering towards the house, you see Lee leave. Oh shit, she survived whatever bullshit that has happened. “One survivor.” The officer declares next to you. Where is Audrey? Oh god, She can't be gone. Shit please no, if there's a God up there. Audrey better be alive. “Another one. Two survivors.” You look to the right and see Audrey. You get out of the car and step to Audrey. She doesn't see you, her eyes are zoned onto Lee. “You.” You hear Audrey say. You see Audrey looking at Lee and then the officers gun. No! “Audrey!” You yell, her hand grabs for the gun on the officer, officers around begin to react.“Audrey!” You yell louder. Her eyes find yours and her hands flops at her side. You manage to run to her, gathering her into you. “Oh my god, what the hell happened? Don't answer right away. Ok. Let's get you out of here.” She hugs you back. You capture her soft face looking for any marks and scraps that may litter her face. “That fucking bitch.” She mumbles into your side of your exposed neck, her warm breathe tickling you. After you let go of her face, she pulls you tightly to her. Her body trembles as she steps away from the officers and into a clearing. 

 An officer gives you a blanket. You wrap her into it, covering her shoulders. “What? Lee... What did she do?”A soft sob leaves Audrey's mouth,“She killed Monet and she tried to kill me.” She mumbles incoherently, her shaky arms tightening around you and a hurt rasp leaves her mouth. “Let's get you away from her and to the ambulance, okay?” Your eyes land on Lee who looks in shock, the police around her try to ask her what allegedly happened. But, she seems not to recall anything.

---

 The past couple of days she has been staying at house. Most days she is okay, she is still her bubbly self, making jokes and making you laugh.The night, however, are what hits her worse. She wakes most nights from nightmares, screaming and thrashing around on the bed. The scream are the thing that wakes you up, the gut wrenching screams fills the empty house. You rush to her side to aid her. Always there to comfort her, once she is settled down and calmed you usher her out of the bed to the kitchen for a cup of tea. She snuggles up to you, keeping contact with you. You then, usher her to your room with a warm smile. “Your presence always helps.” She will mutter before she falls to sleep, a content smile gracing her lips. 

---

A couple of weeks later, both of you hear that Lee has is been put on trial for murder of at least six people, but she walks free somehow. This issue pisses Audrey off, but also frightens her, knowing a murder is walking free and especially one that tried to kill her and that killed her castmates and friends. She plagued with the though of Lee stalking her and killing her. Lee haunts her thoughts most days, and not leaving when she sleeps. These thoughts keeps the British woman awake, afraid to closer eyes only to open them in a nightmare where she dies brutally. Audrey has began to fear the dark, scared of what lurks there. She's afraid of what lurks in the shadow, most nights she will leave the lights on and try to sleep, only to fail and take a nap whilst you are in the room. 

---

Audrey was reading the news of a new court case that Lee has been put on trial for this one being her ex-husband murder. “If she walks free, I'm going freak out. She killed him. It’s apparent.”Audrey mutters,“Her daughter is testifying against her... That is a mum from hell. She witnessed her mother kill her father with a rock.” She adds.“Is she going to prison?”You peer over her shoulder placing your head softly on her shoulder. Audrey looks to your side of your head,“Are you joking me? She blamed her daughters imagination? She walked free again...”Audrey places a soft kiss to your cheek.“She has to be in prison soon.” Looking at her with shock, she looks away and carries on reading. Touching the place, she kissed you feel yourself fall deeper for her. Well, that was unexpected.  Lana Winters had asked Lee for an interview after the trials, unbeknownst to the both of you who enjoyed watching her shows.  “Y/N, it’s on. Come on, I need to see it. You know I don't miss an episode of Winters.” She yells, you run and sit next to Audrey, her face falls when she sees that Lee is on her screen. “Are you joking me? Her? She's a murderer. Lana could've asked me, Y/N.” She says, a little dramatically. “She might after, who knows maybe you might be her guest next week. Do you wanna keep watching? We could rewatch Billie’s show again if you want?” she ponders for a bit and shakes her head no. Nothing new was heard, other than Lee lying about her encounters and who massacred them. Lana asks her a few questions, “Why did you agree to come to this interview?” Lee believes that they have something in common. Rolling your eyes at the irony, “Yes, killing her son who tried to kill her isn't something you have in common.” Audrey yells at the screen. A question that shocks both you and Audrey is Lana asking Lee, “Where her daughter is.”  Lana says she has been missing before the show even started. Audrey looks to you, the shock is written all over her face. She comes closer to you, almost on your lap. “She wouldn't, would she? Kill her daughter? ”You mutter. “If she killed those people and her ex-husband in front of her daughter of course she can.” When she says this, someone bursts through the door on screen.“That's one of them hillbilly incest fuckers, that took me.” She mutters, her voice wavers a bit. Tensing a bit at the mention of it, he knocks Lana out and when he is about to kill Lee he is shot down by an officer. The screen blacks out and text comes up, saying there's a ‘slight problem we will return in a few minutes’. “What the hell just happened?”

You both decided to call it an early night. Walking to your separate rooms you feel Audrey clammy hand around you wrist. “Can you sleep with me tonight?” Freezing a bit, not knowing how to reply. The silence gives Audrey the impression she overstepped, asking too much of you.  “Never mind that was foolish. Goodnight, Y/N” “Yes, I will sleep with you.” Relief washes over her after you say it. She grips your hand and ushers you to the bed. “You can take this side. I’ll take the other side.” She points to each side. Both of you are settled in you respected sides, laying there stiff a little stiff. Audrey shuffles closer to you, she rolls onto her side. “You look a bit stiff there y/n. Relax it's just me, we’ve done this before” she whispers. “Sorry, didn't realise.” Rolling over to her, to face the gorgeous woman, you see conflict. A concern expression, almost. “Is there something on your mind, Audrey?” She doesn't look directly into your eyes. “If you didn't shout my name that day, I would have probably either have killed Lee and gone to prison or died,” she mutters. “And I wouldn't be here with you. Someone who makes me content and someone I love dearly. Not like a friend. Knowing you could’ve seen me shot and killed, kills me inside.” Love dearly, not like a friend. Probably like a family member. 

“It frightens me that if I didn't have you here. How would I handle anything?” She tears up and chokes on a sob.“Hey, come here,” she scoots into your neck. “Well, you don't have to think about that. I’m here for you that's all that matters. You will get through this whole mess, and you won't be alone. You have me.”You push her closer, your hand rubbing light circles on her back, until her both relaxes.“But I don’t have you.” You frown slightly at this.“What do you m-” You are silenced by a pair of lips, caught off guard at first you don't react. she starts moving away at the lack of reaction, thinking it was rejection. You capture the side of her face pulling her closer to you and kiss back. “So like that then...” You mutter against her lips. She hums in reply deepening the kiss. 

[jiejie-eonni-onee-sama]

I will find you...

For the sweet @bravelittlesunflower 🌻🌼🌷

Hope you will enjoy!

TW: Mentions of slavery, rude language.

Riding on the roads, Geralt and Jaskier tried to find where they would sleep tonight. They hoped to find a place more comfortable than the woods.

"How far is the next town?" asked The Witcher.

"Let me have a look on the map... Ah! I found it! The next city will be Shantilene. With a bit of luck, we will be there at the end of the afternoon!" exclaimed the bard.

"Unless we encounter problems..."

"Why do you have to be pessimistic?"

Suddenly, they heard fierce screams, and a group of highwaymen jumped on their way.

"I am not pessimistic, Jaskier. I am realistic!" growled Geralt as he took his sword.

The leader of the group said with a mocking tone:

"Greetings, gentlemen! We are a bunch of poor people who counts on your generosity to survive!"

"All I see is a bunch of jackasses!" muttered Jaskier between his teeth.

"And if we refuse?" growled Geralt.

The robbers snickered.

"Well... There will be blood!"

Pissed off, the monster hunter decided to get rid of those jerks.

"I guess we don't have the choice... What do you think, Jaskier?"

"Well, I confirm: we do not have the choice!"

Grinning like a predator, The Witcher pointed his sword at his target and said:

"Then, there will be blood!"

The thieves attacked him all at once. But no one could compete with the great strength of Geralt of Rivia.

As for Jaskier, he fought with one of the robbers who thought the musician would be an easy target. How wrong he was!

"Get off me, you barbarian!" yelled the bard as he kicked his attacker.

In the middle of the fight, the robber grabbed a silk scarf from the bag of Jaskier, tearing it a bit in the process.

When he saw that, Jaskier saw red: how dare he? It was the most precious thing he kept from her.

Furious, Jaskier started to beat up the man with rage.

Meanwhile, Geralt got rid of the last robber. Turning his head, he was surprised to see his companion showering with blows his adversary. He never saw Jaskier angry to this point!

Fearing that the bard might kill his opponent, The Witcher rushed to his side and stopped him.

"Stop it, Jaskier! I think he understood..."

He glared at the thief.

"Go away!"

The thief did not need to be asked twice and ran as fast as he could.

As for the musician, he tried to escape the firm grip of his friend.

"Let me go, Geralt! This man offended me! He committed an unforgivable crime against me!"

"What has he done?" 

"HE TORE HER SCARF!"

This answer puzzled Geralt.

"Her scarf? What are you talking about?"

When he realized what he said, the musician kept his mouth shut. Coming from him, it was unusual...

"Jaskier, which scarf are you talking about?"

"It... It's complicated!"

The Witcher rolled his eyes.

"For once I allow to be talkative, you keep your lips tight! Are you going to explain me or not?"

Sighing, the bard nodded:

"Alright, you win. Could you please let me go?"

Once Geralt set him free, Jaskier picked the silk scarf and showed it to his friend.

"You beat a thief up for this scarf?" asked The Witcher, confused.

"This simple scarf means more to me than you can imagine."

At this instant, the powerful warrior saw a deep sadness in the eyes of the musician.

"You said this scarf belonged to a woman... Who is it?"

"Probably the woman I ever loved."

"Really?"

"Yes..."

Geralt nodded.

"Tell me more about her..."

"Does it interest you?"

"I want to know why you look sad when you mentioned her... Besides, this scarf always intrigues me.."

Clearing his throat, Jaskier explained:

"Her name was (Y/N) (L/N). She was the daughter of one of the most influential aristocratic families of Redania. We often played together when we were children, even if we did not belong to the same background. She was so lovely, full of life, intelligent... And she was the most beautiful girl I ever met!"

He had a sad smile.

"I once told her that, when we will be adults, I will marry her. She laughed, saying it was just a joke. The fact is, I was serious. I loved her - and I still love her. Unfortunately, I was too shy to tell her the truth. But, one day, a tragedy happened."

"Did she die?"

"No: she got kidnapped by slave traders. She was fourteen years old at the time. Her parents moved heaven and earth to find her but in vain. The only thing they found was this scarf. I took it and promised her parents that I would search for her, no matter what. They said I was a fool, but I kept my word."

Geralt understood.

"So, your bard career was half an excuse for your mission?"

"Exactly. But I have no clues where (Y/N) could be. I pray that she did not die..."

Feeling the distress in the voice of his friend, Geralt said:

"I am sorry about your friend."

Jaskier shrugged:

"Don't feel forced to pity me, you know. It is just that I owe you an explanation about this."

"You do not force me: I understood why you were enraged. I will be pissed off if someone breaks something that belonged to my mentor."

He put his large hand on Jaskier's shoulder.

"I can promise that I will help you in this quest. If (Y/N) is still alive, we will free her."

Moved by this unexpected gesture, the bard smiled.

"Thank you, Geralt. I knew that I count on you!"

"Don't worry, it's fine. Let's go: we have a long road before we arrive at Shantilene."

The two men continued their journey until they saw the murals surrounding Shantilene.

"Well, we arrived sooner than I expected,"  stated Jaskier.

"Let's hope that we will find an inn."

The bard and the warrior rode down the streets, looking for a tavern that would welcome them.

Looking around him, the musician saw a sign which indicated a tavern named The Voracious Boar.

"We can try to sleep there!"

"Let's try!"

They both entered the place: the atmosphere was loud, filled with raucous laughter and the jingling of kitchen utensils. 

Noticing a man behind the counter, Jaskier and Geralt went to him and asked:

"Are you the man in charge?"

Smirking, the man said:

"I own this place, sires! What do you want?"

"Hot meals and a place to sleep. Just for tonight!" replied Geralt.

The man squinted his eyes while watching at the tall monster hunter and the small bard.

"I recognize you: you are the famous Geralt of Rivia, The Witcher! And you must be Jaskier Dandelion, the bard."

"Does it pose a problem?" asked Jaskier.

"Not at all: as long as you pay, there is no problem! Take a seat at the table at the back of the room. A servant will bring you the meals!"

"Thank you, Sir!"

Geralt and Jaskier sat at the table and waited for their meals.

Looking around him, he noticed a young woman serving a bunch of men who seemed drunk.

When she turned to the table next to her, the bard nearly yelled of surprise. These brown locks, these blue eyes, this fair skin... It could not be someone else!

"(Y/N)!"

"What?" asked Geralt.

"The maid over there! It's (Y/N)!"

The Witcher looked at the young woman.

"Are you sure?"

"I am positive about it: it's her!"

Jaskier added with a trembling voice:

"Look at her! The last time I saw (Y/N), she was a young girl! And now, she is a beautiful young woman."

He turned to his friend.

"How could she ended up here?"

"I guess the boss paid her during a slave market."

As they talked, (Y/N) arrived at their table.

"Good evening, my lords. Here are your..."

She stopped in her tracks when she recognized the bard.

"J-Jaskier?"

"It's me, (Y/N)."

The young woman nearly dropped her tray in the grip of emotion. She stammered as tears started to fall:

"I have prayed every night that somebody would find me here. I thought they all forget about me."

"Not me, my butterfly. I never ceased to believe I will find you. I promised your parents that I bring you back home."

He noticed the chains on her neck and wrists, which infuriated him.

"How long have you been enduring such treatment?"

"For six years," she replied.

Suddenly, the owner of the tavern went to their table and lashed out at (Y/N):

"What are you doing here, you little whore? Go back to work immediately!"

"But..." she tried to protest.

"And you dared answer me? I'll give you a reason to shut up!" he screamed as he raised his hand.

As he was about to slap her, Jaskier slammed his plate on the owner's face.

"Don't you dare to touch her again!"

"Mind your business, bard! She is my property, and I do what I want!"

"Not anymore!" growled Geralt as he grabbed the man by the collar and lifted him from the ground.

All the clients looked at the scene with amazement. They wondered if the Witcher would kill this man.

"Please, please! I beg you: don't kill me!"

"Give me the keys!"

"The keys? Which keys?"

"Don't fool me! I talk about the keys for her chains!" 

"But I don't know where I put them!" stammered the man.

"Then you are useless!" snapped Geralt as he threw the man against the counter.

He turned to Jaskier and (Y/N).

"Let's get out of here!"

The trio ran from the tavern, Geralt eliminating those who dared stop them.

They went on horses and rode far away from this city. Once they were enough far from Shantilene, Geralt, Jaskier, and (Y/N) sat under the trees.

"Alright, we put some distance between us!" sighed the bard.

"Indeed... Now, we have to get (Y/N) rid of those chains." pointed The Witcher.

"We must find a blacksmith." explained the young woman.

"Ah, my dear. There is no need for a blacksmith when you have the mighty Geralt of Rivia with us!" happily exclaimed Jaskier.

Indeed, the monster hunter easily broke the iron chains with his bare hands.

"Thank you, Sire of Rivia!" muttered (Y/N) as she massed her wrists and her neck.

"No worry. After all, you are free!"

"I have been dreaming of it for ages." she gently smiled.

They decided to spend the night in the forest. As the night fell on the woods, Geralt went to pick some dead wood for the fire.

While the tall man went away, Jaskier and (Y/N) stayed near the horses, feeding them.

The bard noticed that the young woman shivered because of the wind. He picked the silk scarf and put it around her neck.

"I think you might need it..."

When she looked at the fabric, she exclaimed:

"This is the scarf I lost the day I get kidnapped!"

She gazed at Jaskier:

"You kept it all this time?"

Blushing, the bard explained:

"It was the only memory of you. When you disappeared, it felt like my heart crumbled down. I promised myself to give it back to you once I find you."

"How long have you been searching me?"

"Who cares? The most important thing is that you are here, alive and in good health!"

He nervously fidgeted his fingers.

"Moreover, there is something I longed for telling you..."

"What is it?" she asked.

He sighed before saying:

"Do you remember when I told you that I would marry you when we would grow up?"

"Yes, I remember. I told you it was a silly thing, but you stuck to it!" the young woman smiled.

"Well, the fact is I mean it. I mean it because I love you."

(Y/N) gasped.

"You... You love me?"

The bard nodded.

"For how long?"

"Since our childhood. Deep inside, I knew I would spend the rest of my life with you. You are such a beautiful soul and a lovely person. You are a lady, and I am just a bard, but I mean every single word."

She gently cupped his face between her hands.

"You might be a bard, but at least, you never stopped looking for me..."

She blushed.

"And to be honest with you, I prayed that you would be the one who would release me from this hell. Because..."

(Y/N) chuckled.

"Even if I told you when we were young that we could not marry, I hoped that it would happen because I love you!"

A wide grin appeared on Jaskier's face as he gently stroke her cheek.

"I cannot believe it comes true!"

He leaned closer and asked:

"May I kiss you?"

She smiled.

"Please."

They shared their first kiss, happy to find each other again... until a voice behind mockingly said:

"I suppose (Y/N) is coming with us?"

The two lovers turned and saw Geralt who watched them, a slight grin on his face.

"GERALT! I was enjoying this moment!" protested Jaskier.

"But to answer your question, Geralt: yes, I come with you!"

"Good. At least, you will be able to stop this chatterbox!"

"I HEARD YOU!"

They spend the night in the forest before pursuing their journey at dawn.

On their way to their next destination, (Y/N) asked: 

"Jaskier?"

"Yes, my muse?"

"Geralt told me you were ready to fight every army to find me. Is that true?"

The musician smirked before replying:

"If it would be the price to pay, I would do it."

He held her hand and added:

"Wherever you are, I will find you. I'll do."

A promise that he intended to keep until his final breath...

Thanks for the reading!

I hope you enjoyed the story!

Can’t wait to see your new requests!

See you later! 😘🥰😍💝

[orbitariums]

𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦 | 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 (𝟑)

part two

hope everyone is doing so lovely! i’m so excited to post this third chapter and i’m glad we’re on this journey together <3 thank u for reading!!! this chapter is supa long, please get a snack honey lol.

taglist is closed!

playlist

word count: 9.4k

warnings: age gap, sex work, dirty talk, straight filth, smut, squirting, toys, (virtual?) domination, cute dialogue!!!

𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞: 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

    Steve was flooded with morning meetings that whole day. Still you existed somewhere in the back of his mind, while he was filing through briefings and reports. He tried not to let the thought of you creep up, something he was unknowingly resisting because he didn't want what the two of you had to be bigger than it was.

But he was also trying to focus. He knew already, like muscle memory, that it would be impossible for this to become anything serious, anything beyond your work as a cam girl. You might have a connection, but you were just doing your job, and he was just satisfying himself. Right?

   And you knew too that this couldn't become anything serious. And it wouldn't, you had convinced himself. So he came out of the blue, so he surprised you. But he was still a customer. And while you had connections with your customers, it never went beyond the workplace. Though he still resided in the back of your mind.

   It wasn't until Steve was on break and heading down to the kitchen to make himself some food that he decided to fully address the events that had happened last night. When you asked to see him, he was almost scared at first-he felt that things could shift permanently because you had asked him that. But ignorance is bliss, so he'd brushed off the thought of that happening, and convinced himself it wasn't a big deal.

   But it had to mean something right? He could see himself going down a winding tunnel of you wanting to see him more and more, and the end would be catastrophe- that is, if he showed himself. But he knew he had more sense than that, could end things if necessary. It wasn't that serious, not yet.

And while he was nervous, he still thought of you with fondness, thinking of your youthful glow and how it seemed like you were drawn together in perfect timing, how much he liked talking to you and respected you. It wasn't all bad.

   The thought was enough to talk to somebody about it, except it wouldn't be Tony this time. Steve knew Tony's response would be straight forward - not to talk to her, and to find another cam girl. And he'd ask why Steve was accepting requests to talk with her about unrelated matters in the first place. And maybe the fact that Steve didn't want to hear that, didn't want things to be so straightforward and disciplinarian, should've been a warning. But he didn't listen. Instead, he went to go talk to Bucky about it.

    "Shoot," Bucky said after Steve told him he had something to tell him. Bucky stuffed practically an entire piece of toast in his mouth, his hand on his hip as he sat on the edge of one of the kitchen tables. With a full mouth he continued."'S it important?"

    Steve shrugged, holding a cup of coffee just below his beard, feeling it steam up his face. He took a big sip.

   "I dunno. I'm trying to decide that myself."

Bucky raised an eyebrow,

    "Well..."

Steve sighed, setting his coffee down and leaning against the counter beside Bucky so they could talk.

   "I met this girl. Well, met is a strong word," Steve cocked his head to the side, after considering the quirks of his situation. He then started to wonder if Bucky would even know how to help him with this situation, it was so oddly specific. He continued anyway, under the intense, questioning gaze of Bucky. "I... found this girl online. On a cam site."

   Bucky nearly choked on his toast, his eyebrows raised as far as they'd go,

   "You? On a cam site? You? You're on a cam site?"

The more Bucky repeated it, the more surprised he seemed to become, and Steve could only watch with amusement at his close friend's bewildered expressions.

   "You say it like I'm one of the cam girls," Steve joked, shaking his head, but Bucky only stared at him, incredulous.

   But then he came back down to earth with a slightly impressed shrug,

   "Well. I gotta admit, I never expected this from you, and you're my best man. But I guessed there had to be a reason you've been so much better these past few days, and there had to be some reason you weren't bringing it up. You know you can tell me anything, right?"

    Steve grinned,

   "It's not that I was keeping it from you necessarily. I just didn't think I should put it out there, even if it's just between the two of us."

Bucky smirked,

    "Captain America has a dirty little secret. I respect it."

Steve didn't say anything, but that was slightly true. Half of him wanted to keep things under wraps, the other half of him wanted it to be his own little secret, something that was only for him. You could say he wanted you all to himself, which wasn't untrue - during your public show, though he enjoyed it, it felt less personal and thus made him rethink his actions.

He wanted it one on one, wanted to know he was partially responsible to bringing you to that point, and that you brought each other to that point together, just the two of you. So, in some ways, it was his "dirty little secret."

   "The girl I watch, she's amazing. I mean, we had a real connection, since our first private session-"

    "Private session? Maybe I did teach you well all these years," Bucky nodded.

    "Actually, this was all Tony. Anyway, I've been watching her, and yesterday, after her show, she requested to talk to me. Not the other way around. She wasn't even doing private shows that day. Anyway, I accepted, and maybe that wasn't the right thing to do, but it didn't feel... wrong. I talked to her, and she said... she said she wanted to see me. As in through the camera."

   Bucky took a few moments to absorb and contemplate, and nodded slowly,

   "And you're wondering if that's as serious as your mind wants it to be."

   "Basically. I mean, I don't feel like this is something I have to avoid or be careful with. We're not declaring our love for each other. I'm just another customer. That's what I want to believe, at least."

   "I mean, you're always gonna be taking that risk. You're talking to someone who's as good as a stranger. And your 'connection', it's exactly what it sounds like. You're another customer, but you've just taken a liking to each other. As far as I'm concerned, that's okay. And as for her asking you to show yourself... it's tricky. I mean, I've been on my fair share of sites like that, but I'm not well versed in it. I don't want to say it's not serious just for it to end up being serious. You know how these things go," Bucky smiled softly, and Steve nodded, though his eyes seemed a bit troubled as he looked down at the floor.

    "Right..." he trailed off, folding his arms.

Maybe he just needed to hear that he shouldn't talk to you anymore, to ease his concerns. Maybe Bucky was right. It has the potential to be serious, but it might not be. He didn't know what to think.

    "I don't know bud, but the fact that you're asking me tells me it's been on your mind. And I know you, you don't let things stay on your mind long unless they're important. Could be that this is important to you," Bucky offered, but Steve waved his hand dismissively, a little too fast.

   "It's - it's not..."

    Bucky raised his brows,

   "You think about her?"

   "Sure," Steve shifted, folding his arms slightly. "But not more than my work or anything. I don't view her as a priority, Buck. It's normal that she'd be on my mind, I mean, this is all new to me. I'm stressing for no reason, aren't I?"

He decided he was stressing for no reason. He wasn't obsessed with you, wasn't head over heels for you. He wasn't placing you over his work. It was just the shock of the new situation, the unexpected, big bang of an introduction of you into his life -- that's what he convinced himself, to put his mind at ease.

Bucky raised his hands up,

     "Hey, I'm not assuming anything. And honestly Steve, if you are... thinking about her. I think that's good. As long as it's something healthy, I don't think you have anything to be worried about. You deserve some type of distraction, and maybe that's what she is. You don't have to worry about things getting too serious, trust me. You've got a little time on your hands, that's all."

Steve took Bucky's words to heart, absorbing them so they could soak up all his previous thoughts -- which would be squeezed out in a matter of time as the reality of your relationship revealed itself. He deserved a little distraction, though he valued you on a more humane level.

    He didn't have to worry himself about the potential it could have to become something serious and something dangerous. He was smart enough, had a strong head on his shoulders. He just had a little free time. That was all.

✺ ✺ ✺

   "I told him 'I wish I could see you through your camera'," you groaned, sprawled out on your bed, just hours before your next show that Friday. "Was that stupid?"

You pouted, your lips glossy and full, shoving chips into your mouth as you bitched and moaned into the phone. You were talking to one of the girls you'd met on girlsonfilm, named Jane, who went by Scream Queen. Her specialty was being an alt dominatrix girl, who attracted lots of submissive men. You admired her work, and you were close friends. She laughed on the other end,

    "Hon, it's not stupid. I wouldn't ask or tell a customer that, though. You've been doing this for some time too, but you're still learning."

You frowned, fiddling with your gold rose shaped necklace,

    "I know. I don't wanna scare him off."

    "Please, you won't. I guarantee he'll be on your show again tonight. Men don't scare from a beautiful woman like you, not easily."

You cooed, smiling to yourself,

   "Aw... bitch if you lived in Cali you would so feature on my show, I literally love you."

   "I love you!" she exclaimed. "We'd make hella money just by being in each other's presence on camera, it'd be crazy. I gotta fly out to Cali."

   "Right?" you chuckled.

   You felt a little more at ease now. You hadn't been thinking as much about Steve as he had been thinking about you, but that didn't mean he wasn't on your mind. He was a special customer to you, even though you'd only just gotten to know him. You just liked him in what felt like a more unique way. And ever since you'd brought up seeing him on his camera, you had some regrets. You felt like it made you seem needy, bringing up old habits.

   In your last romantic relationship, you were always wanting something, things that you shouldn't have had to ask for. But ever since you got out of that relationship, you had decided to be more self sufficient. That was part of the reason why you were financially independent and constantly did so much work. You no longer depended on others for certain things, not like you had before.

    But in addition to reminding you of old habits, you felt awkward about the whole situation because you didn't want him to feel pressured or uncomfortable either. You didn't want it to feel like you wanted something more because you'd asked to see him. As far as you were concerned, the two of you, especially yourself, were far from wanting something more. For your own safety. You might have really liked him, but at the end of the day, he was a customer and that was that.

   "Well," you flopped onto your stomach. "I feel better now, so thanks. I'm doing a couple private shows after my giveaway, maybe I'll see him again. Or... hear him, rather."

    "If he does end up showing himself, keep me posted. I wanna know if he's as sexy as he sounds."

   "Oh trust me, I will. Honestly, if he keeps watching my shows, I wanna teach him how to dirty talk. I think then it'll be something serious," you joked, shaking your head. "Alright, well I gotta get ready. Bye bitch!"

   "Bye biiitch, have fun tonight, I'll be tuning in."

  You blew her a kiss and hung up, your spirits lifted after your brief conversation. You started getting ready for your next show, hoping that Steve would continue to tune in. Unbeknownst to you, he was anticipating your show tonight as well, though a small part of him was hesitant - should he continue to watch regularly? He'd let himself indulge. One more night couldn't be an issue.

   When you came on, you were excited to see that the amount of viewers had increased. You figured that since you were advertising a giveaway of your underwear, more people would feel inclined to join, take their chances. You smiled when Steve joined and waved,

   "Hey, Steve! How's it going?"

Steve — GrantRoberts Good. How are you?

    "I'm good, thanks for asking. Alright, hi everyone, thank you so much for joining! I see we've got some new viewers tonight, so nice to meet you. I'm sure you all know that today is a very special day, because I'll be giving away —" you stood up so the camera could see below your waist, showing that you were wearing a pair of purple lace panties, the pair you had been boasting about the week before. "These!" you chimed.

     Steve raised his brows at the cheeky way you operated, looking over the pair. They were cute, looked expensive. The butterfly design on the underwear was detailed and there were white gems on either side at the top. You had said last week that these were a favorite among your viewers, he understood why.

     You explained the rules of the giveaway and how it would be working, and explained that there was a link pinned in the chat box to sign up for entries. Once you posted that link, tokens and sign up notifications came flooding through. You watched with a full smile, before slowly getting to the show.

   Steve decided he wouldn't be entering the giveaway, to keep his own discretion, and because although he definitely saw the appeal, he wasn't big on keeping someone else's underwear unless he knew them in real life.

    You started by rubbing yourself through your panties, making a big deal of how wet you were, how you were soaking through the panties and wouldn't be washing them. That was how you knew you'd get people to pay up and enter your giveaway. Steve watched in amazement at the way you moved, your delicate fingers gently running over your clit through the lace panties, slipping the panties to the side every once in a while to dip your fingers inside of yourself, proclaiming how tight you felt and how much you wanted more than just fingers inside of you to stretch you out.

     Needless to say, you put on a show, and you really were soaking through your panties by the time you were done. Steve lost track of how many times he came, and it was then that he realized that maybe he liked this side of you more than what he had seen before. It was teasing and tantalizing, almost theatrical, except you were really taking your time to please yourself.

And for some reason, it practically made him short circuit. The idea of him realizing that he had more sexual interests than he was aware of basically seduced him. And knowing that he was coming to these realizations because of you made him feel hungry and crazed.

     He liked how you were barely touching yourself, teasing yourself yet still dripping through your panties, making a show out of a little thing. He kept a slow pace to match your own, edging himself and feeling grunts get caught in his throat each time he stopped himself from coming.

    You were absolutely mystifying, drawing him in more and more in every way. Your soft moans, quieter and more needy than usual, were like music to his ears. He loved the way your legs shook when you had to hold off an orgasm for the purpose of the show, so that you could hold off and increase the value of your giveaway, lengthen the time you gained tips and coins. By the time you were done, he had cum on his chest, legs and a little on his bed sheets, which he cleaned up gingerly, watching as you signed off.

You slid out of your panties and held them up to the camera, practically purring when you finally spoke,

    "Look what I did to them. Soaked in all my juices and cum just for you. Well, for one lucky winner! Tip up to increase your chances."

You giggled, biting down on your lip, and continued,

     "Well, thank you for watching. Now, I do wanna do some private shows with a few of you. So, send in those requests and tokens and I'll pick a lucky few."

     As you waited for the requests to go in, you noticed Steve's name and his large donation — of course you'd go on private with him, but you wanted to talk to other customers as well. So you queued up a list of who you'd be talking to and placed Steve, the best, for last.

    Steve got a notification that you'd be talking to him, and while you signed off, he stayed on the site waiting for his turn. Each show you did was only about five minutes, and he had twenty five minutes to spare before he got the chance to talk to you. Those twenty five minutes he used for contemplation and thinking like always.

    If he wasn't spending his spare time with you, he was either thinking or distracting himself from thinking by spending time with his fellow Avengers. And now that there was nothing to do, all he could do was get lost in his thoughts. He thought of his conversation with Bucky - though he had come to the conclusion that he shouldn't worry so much and that he deserved a distraction, there was still some part of it that tugged at him.

The fact of the matter was that, he did think about you. A lot, actually, and it had only been a few days. He thought about the kind of unhinged pleasure you gave him that you had allowed him to tap into for the first time. He thought about the need you fulfilled. He thought about how he liked you, how he felt like he knew you on a personal level and that he sensed that you were truly a good person. He liked that about you, all those thoughts. But ever since last week, the thoughts slightly intimidated him at the same time.

Take a breath, Steve, he thought. Maybe it was old age making him nervous about everything. If Tony could do the same things before becoming Ironman and still live the way Tony was currently living, Steve could have his own little pleasures. His brain just kept doing the back and forth.

    You were happy when Steve's time came along. You were so caught up in your other customers that you had nearly forgotten what you were looking forward to. When it came to Steve, all your nerves were due to excitement, and the good kind. You weren't worried about the strength of your connection and if it would become overbearing, and you had reassured yourself that you weren't being needy or pressuring him. You felt at ease.

      You clicked his name feverishly, waving your hands up at the camera when the log opened. Yet again he wasn't showing himself, but you didn't let that bother you. You had all the time in the world to talk with him, because you didn't put a limit on the time. You didn't do so pointedly, you just did it so you wouldn't have to be preoccupied with the time limit.

     For you, talking to Steve at the end of your list was like de-stressing and winding down, nothing more and nothing less. You weren't viewing him as more than a customer. It wouldn't be inappropriate to talk for a while.

     "Hey, Steve!" you waved, grinning toothily.

Steve chuckled when he saw you and heard the genuine happiness in your voice. There was something sweetly innocent about you, despite the fact that your job was anything but innocent, and the fact that he had seen every part of you within the first day of getting to know you.

Still, he knew that didn't take away from the bright personality you seemed to have. Your duality as a focused businesswoman and giggly young college girl both impressed him and held a special place in his heart.

    "Hi, Moonrose. How are you?"

    "I'm lovely, and yourself?"

Steve let out a deep sigh he didn't know he'd been holding in. Talking to you relieved a lot of unconscious stress, and with that deep sigh he found a lot of relief,

    "I'm good. It's been a long day. Lots of labs, lots of meetings."

It wasn't entirely a lie - he did have lots of meetings that day, and you were in the back of his mind throughout all those meetings, but no labs. He wouldn't tell you he'd been thinking of you though, and you decided that you wouldn't tell him you'd been thinking of him either.

    "The life of a scientist," you joked playfully.

    You felt comfortable, even more comfortable with him than the last time, simply because it felt like you had both gotten past that awkward stage.

    "I mean, you can relate. Must be busy having all the jobs you have. I mean, you're a student, you're working on clothing, you work with a state rep, you're doing this every other day. That's gotta take a toll on you," Steve listed off everything you'd told him about.

     He kept that in mind, how busy and occupied you were, because you still carried yourself so well. Maybe it was just for the purpose of customer interaction; he wondered if you acted or felt the same outside of this private world of yours.

     You blushed slightly, flattered that Steve remembered everything you did and that he even held it in close regards to what he did on a daily basis. You knew you juggled a lot of things, but to hear someone else say it felt so much more validating, whether it came from your best friend Aaliyah or from Steve.

    "Aw, that's nice of you to say," you smiled warmly. "It can be a lot, honestly. Sometimes it feels like I'm doing too much, but... it's what I have to do! And for the most part, I like doing too much. It keeps me focused. Helps me cope with... life."

    You got a little sheepish. You didn't want to get too into the things you were really coping with.

    "I can appreciate that," Steve nodded. He raised his brows to himself as chose his words carefully. "My job can be... demanding."

   "Oh totally, I'm sure. Lots of math and shit. What gets you through it though?" you asked, and Steve chuckled slightly to himself at your vernacular - it reminded him how young you were.

Steve breathed out a heavy sigh, taking in the question thoughtfully. What the hell got him through it? He supposed it was knowing that he was doing good for the world, knowing that he had a team to work with and back him up at all times, and the fact that he was in control for the most part. But as for actual coping, he was almost at a loss. Almost.

    "Honestly?" he rubbed at his beard, and you bit down on your lip, giving him a flirty smile.

    "The cold hard truth," you ensured him, puckering your lips and putting on your best game face.

    "Honestly, talking to you, probably. I don't really know how to destress," Steve felt suddenly insecure about putting this detail out there.

He didn't want to make you uncomfortable (though you had heard worse from men who were wound up like Steve), and he felt like he was delving into a personal topic. Not that you didn't already know that he was stressed out, but he didn't want it to seem like you were his saving grace. Though, you weren't far from it.

    He continued,

    "I just mean... ever since that first time with you I've been feeling lighter on my feet. I mean— I don't really... I just don't have a lot of coping mechanisms. I don't really get to have fun."

    Once he spit the words out, he felt even more stupid. He had just let you know that you had basically changed his entire mood since the day he'd met you, and something like that felt almost like a confession. Like you were delving into more serious topics. He had made his problems clear since the first time, but telling you how much you helped him felt like he was putting deeper trust in you.

    But of course you didn't see it as a deep confession. You saw it as him being true to his feelings and being honest with you, which wasn't a big deal to you since you were in a business that involved making connections and basically building men like him up. You grinned, a sparkle in your eyes as you listened to him stammer over himself. It was no wonder he was a scientist, he had this sort of nerdy charm to him.

    "I'm glad to hear that Steve. And maybe it's less that you don't get to have fun and more that you don't know how."

Steve shrugged. He had always been called boring by Tony, and Natasha took jabs at him about loosening up, getting out there and enjoying this modern world. And while he had insecurities around the fact, he still wasn't a happy go lucky party person as a result of the jabs. He was same old Steve, with the same old struggles. He looked regular on the outside (as regular as someone as big as him could look), but he felt like an outsider.

    "Maybe."

    "Have you ever tried?" you prodded. "I mean, outside of this. And honestly, kudos to you for putting yourself out there like this. I mean, you literally jerked off with me your first time here. I take it back. You do know how to have fun. You just... don't know where to find it."

Steve's face got hot. Even as he watched you more, talked to you more, nothing could compare to the first time being with you. It was definitely out of his comfort zone, doing something as extraneous as he had, and with a stranger. And when you described it like that, it seemed so much more inappropriate, but in a way that made Steve's pants bulge. And the fact that you could talk about it so casually intimidated him in the best way.

    "I guess you're right," Steve replied, and the more he thought about it, the more he realized you were actually spot on. "I'll keep that in mind."

He grinned, and you giggled,

    "Good. I'll be your therapist. But like a sexy one. A sex therapist."

You and Steve laughed at your stupid joke and Steve raised the question,

    "Okay. What gets you through it all? You're a young college girl, I'm sure you know how to have fun."

You raised your brows playfully at the suggestive nature of the question, although clueless Steve had no clue it would sound a certain way to you,

    "Oh yeah, totally. College girls, you know us. Drinking, partying, having sex with all our friends. I'm kind of a total slut." A beat passed, Steve trying to figure out what to say — like he was rerouting. You chortled, unable to hide your snort laugh. "I'm kidding, Steve."

Steve laughed hesitantly. He didn't know what young people did these days,

    "Yeah, silly me."

    "You're so cute," you blurted, shaking your head playfully. "But, honestly? I do know how to have my fun. I mean, I do it mindfully though, 'cuz I have shit to do, you know? Party hard, study hard. I go out with friends for drinks... and between me and you, I was doing that before I was twenty one."

Steve nodded understandingly,

    "Some part of me wants to reprimand you for that, but I don't wanna rain on your parade."

    “You don't have to rain, you could just spank me if it's that serious," you scoffed with a laugh, again saying the dirtiest things nonchalantly, unbothered. You were constantly flirting with customers, but with Steve it came much more naturally.

   "Spank you?" Steve choked out.

   "Yeah, you know? Like a little slap on the ass," you turned around, your ass in the camera, and gently smacked your hand against your ass, which was clad in a sheer bodycon dress that you had made yourself.

(looks something like this)

You were being playful, acting the precocious, girly way that you would with your friends. You thought nothing of it. Steve on the other hand, was getting incredibly warm, fidgety, and was trying to ignore the growing tent in his pants.

   "Like- like that?" he stammered, breathless, and you nodded, seemingly unaware of his pain.

     You turned back around and sat down in front of the camera,

    “You must not be a dom, huh. You don't strike me as one. But I'm sure if I pressed the right buttons, you could be."

     “Dom?" Steve repeated, as if the word were from a foreign language.

     "My, my, my, Steve. I've got a lot to teach you. Oh, but actually, I do have a hobby that gets me through my stress. Besides, you know, masturbating and going out with friends."

   Steve smirked, he was intrigued,

    “And what's that?"

You bounced up onto your toes so that Steve could see a full view of you on the camera. At first, when you were just sitting in front of the camera, he could only see your head and shoulders. Now he could see all of you, and he could see the dress you had designed.

   "Making clothes!" you chirped, so adorably that Steve couldn't help but smile, a warm feeling bubbling in his chest. You spread your arms out, letting the fringe on the dress spread. You placed your hands on your hips and swayed slightly in place. You smiled gently. "For my brand of course. But making the clothes is kind of therapeutic. When you work really hard on something and it comes out with the result you want, it's just this fucking... amazing, gratifying feeling. I love it."

     Steve grinned, watching you show off your clothes. He was glad to hear that from you, he believed in you and truly thought you were capable and would succeed in what you did.

    "That's beautiful," he complimented your dress. He knew nothing about fashion, but you looked good in whatever you wore - it was a plus that you made it. "Even with all I know, I don't think I could do that."

    “Oh, don't be silly. You probably could. You just have to try, remember?"

    “I know, I know."

As you stood there twirling and swaying, just letting him enjoy you, he could hear the faint sound of music playing in the background. He squinted, leaning closer to try and hear more. It was a nice song, with an upbeat electronic twist although it was R&B.

    "What's this song?" he asked.

     You paused, delightfully surprised by the question, unable to hide your ferocious smile,

    "What, the one I'm playing? It's called Lost by Frank Ocean."

     “Frank Ocean," Steve repeated slowly, so he could remember the name of the artist. You were encouraging him to try new things - why not start with music?

   "Have you heard of him?"

   "I'm afraid I haven't," Steve replied, and you chortled again.

   "'I'm afraid I haven't'," you repeated, putting on his deep voice. "So proper. You like this song?"

Steve shook his head playfully when he heard you mocking him, then answered,

     "Yeah, never heard it before."

You squealed excitedly and ran to turn it up, then ran back into the frame.

     "I love Frank Ocean, seriously. He's one of my favorite artists. What about you?"

Steve was almost taken aback by the question and took in a deep breath, shrugging as he tried to come up with an answer,

     "Gee, I don't know. I think I listen to too much old crap, probably."

      "I can get down with that." You scoffed. "Quit bullying yourself."

Suddenly, a lightbulb went off in Steve's head. He was enjoying talking to you, but what better way to combine a regular conversation with pleasure? He was feeling his need building up, the longer he talked to you. You said such outrageous things and you were so gorgeous - it was hard for him not to want you. And maybe you could both have some fun with this, and his request wouldn't feel like work, though it would definitely help him get off.

     "Hey, can I ask you something?"

     "Sure."

     "You mind... dancing? To this song, I mean?" he asked, slightly nervous to ask because he didn't want to feel pushy.

You raised your brows in surprise, a wide mouthed smile showing up. It seemed like Steve was discovering what he wanted to see, what would make him feel good.

   "You wanna see me dance? Uh, yeah, I would love to. It's hard not to dance to this song. What, you want me to dance like a stripper or something? I don't have a pole - yet, but I can—"

Steve laughed, cutting you off and shaking his head,

     "Nah, you don't have to dance any specific way. I guess, just dance how you feel."

You lit up at the suggestion, and laughed, already beginning to sway,

    "Is this gonna get you off, Steve?"

Steve blushed, coiled like a turtle going into his shell,

    "Maybe."

    "Oh, don't be shy. I want it to. I wanna hear your moans, I want it to drive you crazy and bring you release. Is that what you want?"

You twirled slowly, dragging your hands up and down your body, dancing to the beat of the music. Steve watched, already entranced with the way your body, perfectly caught in the tight dress, moved. It almost scared him how perfect you looked, just swaying your body to a song,

    "That's what I want, baby."

The words spilled out of his mouth, just like last time. This time it felt much more natural though, easier, as he watched you on the full screen. You smiled, rolling your hips and bringing your hands up in the air to match your motions. You hummed the words to yourself, sang the lyrics,

    "Girl you know you're lost, lost in the thrill of it all."

     The song was so sensual and felt so personal to you - your job was so sensationalized and it was easy to get lost in the idea of it, the aesthetic. But it was hard work. This song felt like a celebration of that. Steve's spit got caught in his throat watching you sing along, watching your body loosen up and relax as you continued dancing around your room, your body moving freely and in such a hedonistic manner. He liked watching you enjoy yourself, liked watching you in what seemed to be your element. You were so confident, so unbothered. It wasn't awkward that you were dancing alone. Again it felt intimate, felt like he was there with you.

     "I'd tell you to dance, but what I really want you to do is touch yourself. Can you do that, Stevie?" you purred, and he grunted at the sound of the nickname you had donned for him.

      "Yeah, doll," Steve began to palm himself over his boxers, his breaths becoming heavier as he watched you. It felt so gratifying, so closed off — just for the two of you.

   You giggled, as if you hadn't just said what you had said, and got down low on the floor as you danced away, on your toes, and came back up again.

     "Hmm," you sighed. "Can I take this off for you?"

     Steve's jaw clenched, you already looked so good in the dress, but to see you take it off and continue dancing would probably make him come right then and there.

     "Yeah, take that off for me."

     You were practically teasing him as you began to lower the sleeves of the dress, still dancing and running your hands up and down your body. You wanted him to savor the moment, and savor it he did. You removed the top half slowly, your breasts tumbling out as you cupped them with your hands. You sighed again, biting down on your lip.

    Steve was breathing hard through his nose now, slowly taking his cock, which had been hard for too long, out from his boxers, where it sprung up hard and veiny against his stomach. It twitched painfully, he almost couldn't bare to touch himself. But he palmed the head, slippery with precum, with a few mindful fingers.

   "Is that good, baby? You wanna see everything?" you gestured to the bottom half which still hadn't been removed, and Steve exhaled sharply.

    "Fuck, yeah I wanna see everything. Take it all off, doll."

You felt your body react to the nickname as you slid out of the dress, clad in a g-string underneath this time. The skimpy nature of the g-string, glittery and glamorous just like you, made Steve moan under his breath. You noted his reaction with a playful smirk, tugging gently at the straps and letting them slap against your glowing skin.

    You bit down on your lip and let your entire palm run against your clothed center, swaying your hips in all directions as you slowly pulled down the straps and revealed what was underneath, Steve letting out an audible sigh as he wrapped his hand around himself. He bit down softly on his lip, eyes dark and his lids heavy, trying to restrain himself. He wanted to be at the same pace at you, wanted to see you tease yourself the way you had during your live show.

   You sighed out in pleasure, using two fingers to rub at your clit in circular motions while you stood, Steve watching silently. Then you lowered yourself to the carpeted floor, spread your legs in front of you and continued, bringing your fingers to your lips to suck on them before you went back down. The way you did it was tantalizing, so erotic and intimate. You weren't trying too hard, you never were, but this way - slow and lustful, was like you were there with him all over again.

    Your eyes became dazed and almost glazed over just at the slight tingle of pleasure. You had been stimulating yourself for over an hour since the start of your public show, but with him you didn't feel tired or worn out. And you still hadn't had the orgasm that you knew would absolutely finish you. You knew how to navigate so you weren't exhausted by the time you were through with your shows and your private chats, but still, with Steve it felt like the pleasure was amplified by a hundred.

    "Oh," you moaned, your voice going up a pitch. You wanted more, and you decided you wanted to bring a toy into the mix. "I wanna ride you, Steve."

     Steve grunted in response and you slowly got up, crawling on all fours as you dragged out your fuzzy chest full of toys, lube, and other random things for your shows. It was like a cam girl treasure chest. You returned to the frame, smiling devilishly as you sifted through all your materials, finally pulling out the dildo you wanted to use. It was a good size, six inches, and pretty realistic. You waved it around in the air,

      "This how big you are?" you asked with a seductive gaze in your eyes.

Steve stroked himself slowly as he let out a sharp almost barking laugh, a surge of sudden and unexpected cockiness running through him (because let's be honest, a supersoldier like him was certainly bigger than six inches),

      "Little more."

You grinned obscenely, appreciating Steve's noticeable boost in confidence. And in the back of your mind you thought about the three fingers you had used to accommodate him last time. He was pretty consistent - you wondered just how big he really was. If you knew him in real life, you'd probably jump at the chance to fuck him.

   "Think it'll suffice? I'm not sure if I can take that much more right now," you asked teasingly.

   Steve chuckled, a warm, deep chuckle that made your insides churn. It was incredible how much a voice could turn you on, how much you liked hearing his voice and wanted to hear it,

    "I'll go easy on you, doll."

     You raised your brows in pleasant surprise,

    "You'll go easy on me, huh? Steve, you're getting feistier by the minute. I like it."

Steve laughed, slightly embarrassed. He just wanted you to do what you were comfortable with, wanted to see real pleasure,

    "I just want to make sure you feel good."

    "Little ol' me?" you snorted, bringing out your mirror to place on your carpet so you could place the suction dildo on top. You stuck it in place and kneeled before it. "Well, you don't have to worry about that, Steve. You always make me feel good."

     You winked at him and focused, beginning to lower yourself and arch your back, your ass in the air as you went face to face with the dildo.

   "I just wanna make you feel good," you huffed, eyeing the camera as you cupped your lips around the head of the dildo, pushing your hair behind the ear and looking down as you bobbed your head slowly. Your lips wrapped perfectly around the toy, suctioning and sucking and making it wet enough for you.

     "Wow," Steve breathed in slowly, truly in awe of you. He had really never seen anything like it, how dedicated you were to the performance. You were like an artist, a beautiful, twisted artist, and you knew just how to sell your show. And somehow you did such a salacious act with so much grace, made it so sexy and purposeful.

     He paused touching himself just to watch you, but that didn't mean he was any less hard. You moaned around the toy, looking into the camera as if you were making eye contact with the man you couldn't even see, as he goaded you on, his voice gentle and deep,

     "That's it baby, you look so good sucking that dick."

Your felt your pussy throb around nothing just at the sound of Steve dirty talking. You could tell that the more you did, the more you coaxed him into it, the more comfortable he got with everything. He had surprised you multiple times tonight.  You brought your head up, lips making a popping noise as they slid off the toy,

      "It's yours."

Steve licked his lower lip, bringing it slowly into his mouth and sliding his closed fist up and down his erection.

   "It's mine?" he asked, his voice going an octave lower.

   "Mhm, your cock. You ready, baby?" you hovered over the dildo, squatting above it as you readied yourself.

   "Yes, go slow," Steve instructed.

   "Is that what you want?" you breathed out in pleasure as you teased your slick folds with the head of the toy, rocking your hips slowly back and forth. "You want me to tease myself with your cock?"

      Steve let out an unbridled moan, pumping gently,

     "Yeah, please. I want this to be real, baby. Like your live show."

      You laughed quietly as you lowered yourself down onto the dildo, moaning as you took it in slowly, stopping a quarter of the way and just rocking back and forth, taking his request into consideration. And then, you had an idea.

"Honestly, if he keeps watching my shows, I wanna teach him how to dirty talk. I think then it'll be something serious."

That was what you had said to your friend Jane over the phone, and now was your chance to manifest it. You'd been kidding when you said it would turn your relationship into something serious, but if hearing Steve dominate you and dirty talk to you didn't make you want to fuck him even more, you didn't know what would.

   "Tell me what you want Steve. Tell me how you want me to do it. I don't wanna do a thing unless it's under your control," you smirked, waiting for him to come up with something on his own.

In that deep, husky voice of his he spoke,

     "Yeah? I want you to tease yourself, and go slow. Match my pace."

   You moaned at the thought of him stroking himself at the same pace as you, and lowered yourself a little further,

     "Is this allowed, Stevie?" you questioned curiously and innocently, prompting him further.

He got some idea of what you were trying to do, though he didn't have much experience doing it himself - at least not in the bedroom. While he wanted you to please yourself at your own pace, he also thought this might be interesting. You could do both.

    "Yeah baby, little more." You slid down further until almost all of it was inside of you, and he pumped himself a little quicker now. He groaned, the noise he made almost guttural. "Yes, that's it Moonrose. Now stop."

     You whimpered, your heat throbbing as he commanded you. You were almost losing sense of the fact that this wasn't all real, because it felt so good. You liked hearing him get more dominant with you, though you adored his regular state, which was almost needy.

     "Yeah, you can be the boss. You tell me what to do, baby."

     Steve grunted, holding back an orgasm as he watched how well you gripped the toy, imagined what it would feel like to really be inside of you. He'd be much bigger, no doubt, and make you howl with pleasure.

     "Ride it for me," he ordered. "Slow, then pick up the pace."

     "Ride you?" you repeated, beginning to lift yourself up, then back down again, slowly like he told you to. It was big enough to hit all those good places inside of you, make you wetter and hotter, give you those real time reactions. All the panting and moaning, the way your brows furrowed in concentration, the way you bit down on your lip with fervor.

      Steve watched you ride it, pumping himself at the same pace, feeling himself throb and twitch inside of his hand, speeding up when necessary. The both of your moans were loud and unhinged, filling up your respective rooms with righteous release. Steve loved how he could tell how good it felt for you, how you weren't holding back at all, your pussy gliding easily around it, leaving a trail of arousal along the shaft of the toy. You were bouncing fast and hard after a while, gasping and panting and moaning while Steve did the same in the form of groans, grunts and heavy breaths. Like you, he felt lost in translation in the best way - like nothing else was there, just the two of you and your needy bodies.

   "You feel so fucking good, baby, don't stop," Steve moaned, breathing harshly through his nose. He felt close, his stomach twisting and turning with yearn.

     "Fuck, Steve," you gasped out. You hardly sounded like yourself, in such an ecstatic state. "I'm so fucking close, baby. Steve, can I come?"

    You were still leading him, wanting him to be even more dominant and controlling with you, but you hardly needed to. You were basically giving in, you were fully committed to the act of being submissive now. Everything in and around you felt so good, "so fucking warm", as stated by you. And no doubt, Steve felt it too. Watching you take it, watching you moan in pure ecstasy as you threw your head back, your hair tumbling against your breasts, the glint of sweat forming on your forehead, the way your stomach flexed as you moved up and down. You were fucking invincible, Steve thought. Always gorgeous, somehow.

   But Steve thought he'd let this last a little longer. You wanted him to be in charge, he'd take that seriously. Like an order.

    "No, doll, hold it in for me," he huffed, though he felt himself growing close as well, and couldn't help but cum, feeling it leave him with a satisfied groan. "Fuck, I'm coming."

You whined, pouting,

   "Steve, I wanna be able to come with you."

Yeah, it was definitely easy to be submissive.

     Steve chuckled slightly,

   "That's okay, I can last a long time, darling. Keep riding that dick for me, don't come until I say so."

   With a shuddering moan you kept going. When you looked down at what you were doing, the toy disappearing inside of you each time you bent down, you swore you had never been more turned on in your life. Your brows were crossed and your mouth dropped into an o-shape. You were moaning and almost sobbing, the build up feeling unbearable. You brought your hand down, rubbing frantically at your clit,

     "Fuckkk, Steve, please let me come."

He came again with a sharp exhale and vicious grunt, but still wanted to hold off for one last one, in tandem with you. He almost felt bad, but the pleasure was so unbearable, and he knew you were enjoying it,

     "Ah, god. Hold on, I promise I'll let you come soon if you just wait a little."

You stifled a moan, cupping your breasts as you rode it without the support of your hands on your knees,

    "Y-yeah, you gonna let me come, Stevie? Please let me come, oh my god," you felt almost lightheaded with the overwhelming sense of fulfillment, rolling your head back, your eyes rolling back in your head, your glossy lips dropped open in the most sensual of ways. You didn't know what you did to Steve, how much you made him want you.

     "Go ahead, doll, come for me," Steve resolved, and when you came it was like a waterfall was crashing down on you. Both because of the intensity and because of the fact that you were squirting, letting go of all that held back release. You knew it was coming yet you whimpered in surprise when it happened, still continuing to ride the toy even as you were coming, watching as it flowed out of you, onto the mirror and more.

    "Fuck," Steve cursed, pumping fast and hard as he came again, and again, watching as you rode out your high. He could hardly even process the fact that you had squirted - completely natural, and yet a huge turn on. He slowed his hand, still hard as a rock, but coming down himself.

     You were blubbering and saying things that didn't even make sense, Steve slightly grinning to himself as you spiraled out of control. You got off the dildo with a final moan, covering your eyes with your forearm and fingering the rest of your cum out of yourself with two fast moving fingers.

      "My god," you groaned, sliding your fingers out of yourself. It was almost embarrassing how wet you were, how aroused you still were, throbbing like crazy from the aftermath. The comedown was a process, you breathing in deep and heavy.

      "That's it, doll. So good. It's okay, doll," Steve murmured, helping you come back down.

     "Mm," you hummed, removing your forearm from your eyes and forehead and instead covering your face with your hands, giggling. "Oh my god, that's so embarrassing."

      Steve laughed,

      "Not embarrassing. You did so damn good, baby."

      You groaned,

     "Ugh, don't praise me, that makes me wanna go again, and I think if I do I'll explode. On the other hand, please do keep praising me."

You laughed again and winked. It was true, because you were so turned on by his voice, especially when it was praising you and telling you how good you had been. Sure, other guys could be dominant, but with Steve it actually felt so real, it made you lose all sense of reality. It didn't feel forced.

     "Really, you were amazing." Steve tipped again - he had been tipping the whole way through. And of course his big tips were an incentive, but they weren't the only reason you talked to him. Not at all. "Jesus. I don't get worn out, but..."

   "You tired, Steve?" you smiled, teasing. "God, I don't know how I'm gonna clean this up. This is all your fault, you know."

You laughed playfully. To be fair, you had came, like, a lot. Steve's jaw clenched at the sight of it all, but he grinned.

     "My apologies."

    "Please," you shook your head, wiped the sweat off from your forehead and slowly started packing everything up.

You and Steve chatted for a while longer after that, about trivial things. This was a little unusual. Usually when you finished, you wrapped it up. But you had time, and he had time. And you both wanted to stay and chat. And it was also unusual because usually when you finished, your customer was done too, and there wasn't really room for "chatting" after that. But Steve seemed to want to talk.

    "You're fucking hot as a dom, by the way," you noted, pointing a finger at him through the screen.

    "Me?" Steve pointed a finger at himself in return. "I hardly even knew what it was, but I've got an idea now."

   "Oh, trust me, you're gonna wanna learn more. You're made for this, honestly." You sighed, and looked at the time. "It's late. This was... really, really great. Thanks again."

    "Thank you."

A beat passed, a silence between the two of you, though it was almost like you were still communicating. Maybe this really was different. Maybe it really did mean something. You were so in sync, could snap in and out just like that, and still have great conversation. You were both thinking the same thing - this was a real connection. And you were both beginning to give in to those thoughts you wanted to push back, just slightly. But this time, it didn't bring any worry. It just felt nice, blissful. Still not too serious, but still something. What you both didn't know was just how much it really would blossom.

     "Well," you said, a sigh of contemplation. "Think I really like this, Steve."

    "Me too," he swallowed hardly. He was feeling something, that same butterfly-like feeling he'd felt the first time. "I'm so glad we... uh..."

   You waved your hand with a grin,

   "It's late, I better go. It was great talking to you again, I actually look forward to this. Weirdly enough. I think I should go, though, I got school."

     "I-I got work," Steve stammered, thinking of how you said you look forward to this. He wasn't just another customer, and you weren't just some random girl. The realization was hitting him like a ton of bricks. "I'll see you."

     "Yeah," you cooed. Then, with a silly face, your eyes crossed and tongue hanging out you waved goodbye. "Byeee!"

     And just like that, there was a shift in his world, in your world. Steve didn't know what he had coming next.

🙈oof how was it y’all!!! i hope not too long LOLLL i had to fit a lot in... next chapter will be some tea! reply wit ya thoughts <3 thank u for reading, stay safe!!

[vivilove-jonsa]

Spooky prompt: We're going to have to stay here tonight 🎃

Thank you for the prompt, honey!  This isn’t really spooky at all but it’s inspired by Katrina and Ichabod’s first meeting in Tim Burton’s Sleepy Hollow with a slight twist.  I hope you like it :)

**

“We’re going to have to stay here tonight.”

The announcement had been greeted with no surprise.  Even without tales of headless horsemen, witches or evil spirits in the forest, autumn in Northern New England carries its own hazards.  The weather can turn unexpectedly.  

The blizzard had kept anyone of sense from attempting the journey home and their host had gallantly offered refuge for his guests beyond the harvest feast.

“Stay as long as necessary,” Eddard Stark had told them.

Some had chosen not to stay. The Umbers had set off that first night regardless saying they did not fear a bit of snow or any ghost stories. Jon wonders how their coach and horses fared along the indifferent roads in such conditions and if they Umbers reached their hearth.  Or are they now headless victims of a malicious spirit?  More likely, they might be frozen corpses, their eyes unseeing and their spirits wandering through the woods railing at their own folly.

Most had stayed, like the Tarlys.  Samwell is his age, a likeable though bookish boy who often winds up the butt of jests which hardly seems fair since Sam’s twice as smart as most any man here.  Jon is glad to call him his good friend.  He is also secretly protective of him when it comes to settings such as this where Sam might not be shown due respect by some. His brother Dickon is here as well. Though he’s a few years younger than Sam, he does not need Jon’s protection.

There are some who Jon wishes hadn’t stayed as well, particularly Harrold Hardyng.  A puffed up jackanape who charms the ladies with his compliments and looks down his nose as Jon’s old waistcoat, the only one he possesses decent enough for the Starks’ house, while cruelly poking fun at Sam’s fondness for sweets when the ladies aren’t present.

Jon almost wishes he had attempted the journey back to his own modest homestead himself.  He knows Tormund won’t let his livestock starve or freeze but he feels his responsibilities as a newer landowner keenly and thinks he should be there, too.

But Mister Stark looks upon his former ward quite fondly and Jon could not refuse his entry to remain. “It’s four miles to home for you which may as well be ten leagues in these conditions.  Pray, stay a little longer, Jon.”

And why shouldn’t Jon wish to remain at Winterfell during a blizzard?  He spent most of his boyhood here after all.

Because of Mister Stark’s daughter Sansa, that’s why.  

From gawky and somewhat missish at thirteen, she has blossomed into a beauty, willowy, graceful and sweet at seventeen.  Jon had liked her well enough as a girl but they’d had little occasion to converse one on one. But now?  Oh, he’d enjoy sitting by her side at the hearth for hours upon end if he could.  

She’d been standing by her father’s side to greet their guests upon arrival when they’d met again for the first time in years. She’d shook hands with him, giving him a friendly smile and saying how much she’d missed him here.  Jon had been enchanted and his enchantment has only grown since then as one night of her company had stretched into several.  

Therefore, Jon cannot bear watching Harrold Hardyng’s obvious attempts to court her right under the nose of their elders.  What does Mister Stark think of Hardyng?  More importantly, what does Sansa think?  For her part, Sansa only smiles politely at his oafish gallantry like the gracious young lady she is but is there any attachment blooming?

Jon hopes not though he is likely a fool to hope.  He’s quite proud of his homestead but knows it wouldn’t have been unlikely for him without Mister Stark’s help and it is not a scratch on a grand house like Winterfell. If he thought an offer of marriage between him and Sansa might be accepted though…oh, he is a fool to hope.

On the seventh night of his unexpectedly extended visit, the young people are growing restless.  There is only so much gossip to share, only so many stories to tell.  Days and nights kept indoors with mixed company relaxes some of the usual decorum and makes them bolder.  

“A game!  Let’s play a game!” Sansa declares after supper while Tom Sevenstrings and his friends pluck out a tune.  

“The Pickety Witch!” someone suggests and several more agree.  

Sansa laughs as her friend Jeyne Poole covers her eyes with a length of fine silk.  What a sight she is in her pretty blue gown with her red hair shining brightly, curled and coiffed just so.  Her rosy lips and that bit of black silk upon her porcelain skin, she presents an image that Jon knows will revisit him in the night.  Honor will have him attempting to banish the thoughts it will spur.  Carnal desire will encourage him in them.

They twirl her around three times, the children, young ladies and gentlemen chuckling and edging about the limited allotted space for the game as their elders watch from nearby smiling with nostalgia for their own youths perhaps.

“The Pickety Witch, the Pickety Witch, who’s got a kiss for the Pickety Witch?” Sansa asks with her hands stretched out before her, eager to snare a victim and guess who it is she’s caught.  

All around the little area, she takes a step and then another, grasping at thin air.  She’s hemmed in by her would-be captures but the space is enough to leave her uncertain of anyone’s exact whereabouts.  

Beth Cassel screeches and scurries when Sansa nears her.  Samwell squeaks and dodges her at one point, making his brother Dickon laugh heartily and barely elude capture himself.  Little Rickon stomps on his brother Bran’s foot in his eagerness to escape his sister the Pickety Witch. She’s by far the prettiest Pickety Witch that ever was in Jon’s opinion.  

Jon grins as she nears him and stands his ground.  He hates to see her stuck in the middle indefinitely.  And he’ll gladly let her capture him especially if it means she might choose to give her victim a kiss (even if it means he’ll be the blind man next.)

But a sound from the left draws her attention before she gets close enough to touch him and she turns.

Jon scowls, seeing that Harry has knocked the fireplace poker from its place.  From his smug grin as Sansa moves towards him, Jon knows he did that on purpose.  

His heart clenches, waiting for her to reach him.  Like Jon, Harry isn’t moving.  

She’s nearly to him, no more than a foot away.  At any second, she’ll put her hands on his chest, his shoulders, touch his face and Jon will have to watch it all with a feigned smile as the sickening feeling in his stomach increases.  

But when she’s right in front of Harry, Sansa does something unexpected.  She darts to the right and nabs another victim.

Sam yelps.  Yes, it’s a bit undignified but Sam does startle easily. Jon sees her lips twitching with suppressed laughter as his own are doing the same.  

Sansa gently rubs his broad shoulders and then touches his round face.  She wears an expression of puzzlement though, surely, she knows who she’s caught.  

Or perhaps she doesn’t?

“Is it Loras?” she asks sweetly.  

“N-no, Mm-Miss Sansa,” Sam stammers while Loras Tyrell across the room looks positively aghast at being mistaken for Samwell Tarly.

His voice will have given it away, Jon is sure.

Or maybe not.

“Ah, it must be Dickon then!”

Dickon Tarly may be younger but he is a head taller than his brother and far less rotund.  Sansa doesn’t know the Tarlys all that well but she has spent the past week in their company and Jon has never heard her call them by anything but their correct names during that time.  

Unkind laughter from some of the other lads breaks out.  Some of the girls present titter cruelly, the girls who look at Dickon with moony eyes and give Sam dismissive looks.  Jon glares at them all as does Dickon.    

“No, I’m not Dickon, Miss Sansa,” Sam says, apologetically.  Jon feels sorry for him.

“You must be a stranger to me then but clearly you are a noble gentleman, sir,” Sansa declares before kissing Samwell Tarly softly on the cheek.  Sam’s eyes are wide as saucers as she removes her blindfold.  “Oh ho, my mistake!  He is no stranger at all but I was right to name him a noble gentleman,” she tells the others in a firm but merry tone.

The unkind laughter and cruel titters from a moment ago dry up in an instant.  Jon can hear pleased laughter from the true friends present and everyone’s spirits are jolly again as Sansa helps blindfold and spin Sam for his turn.

Everyone’s spirits are jolly except for Jon’s, that is.  

He’d never thought to be jealous of Sam in this manner but now, there is no denying that he is. Sansa kissed Sam on the cheek.  Sansa has named Sam noble, which he is, and Jon has never felt less noble in his life.  Sam carries an old, respectable family name and is the heir to more money than Jon will ever know.  Sam would make her a finer match than most of these fools would ever acknowledge if they had any inclination for one another in that manner.  

Feeling depressed and ridiculous, Jon decides to leave the circle of players and goes to fetch himself some cider.  Once he has it, he retreats to the Starks’ deserted library.

He entirely misses Samwell catching Gilly, one of the serving girls, naming her correctly at once even with his blindfold in place and chastely pressing a kiss to her hand, making the girl blush with pleasure.  

It is there where he broods alone in the library with his hard cider that he’s discovered.  She has caught him after all.  Tis only fitting.  She has held him captive from the moment he arrived here.

“Why did you leave the game?”

“I was feeling…”  Jealous.  “Tired.”

“I hope you’re not unwell.”

“Not at all, Miss Sansa.”

“‘Miss Sansa,’ is it? That’s terribly formal.  We’ve known each other since we were children, Jon.”

“Yes, you’re right. Sorry, Sansa.  You knew you’d caught Sam, didn’t you?”

“I did.”

“Why’d you pretend otherwise?”

“I don’t like the way some of our guests treat him.”

“Nor I.”

“I know.  I know he’s your friend and quite dear to you.”

“He is.  He’s a very good man.”

“Yes, everyone should open their eyes and see it.”

It’s true.  Why are his spirits are in such turmoil?  He agrees with her but envy is twisting it, turning it into snake in his guts that would eat his heart if it could.  

“I have a confession to make,” she says softly next.

“A confession?”

She bats her full eyelashes. It seems to make those impossibly blue eyes look even bluer.  “I knew I was right in front of Harry.  I could see just a bit beneath the blindfold.  I recognized his boots.  I reached for the person next to him because I didn’t wish to capture him.”

That snake in his guts is withering away as something else swells.  “Oh?  You do not care for him, do you?”

“No, I do not.  I was actually hoping to capture someone else. I was looking for a certain set of feet but never got close enough to see them.”  

“Not Sam’s?”

She shakes her head, her curls bouncing as her cheeks flood with color.

His heart may eat that snake.  There is no room for jealousy here tonight.  “Oh? Whose boots were you hoping to find, may I ask?”

She smiles as their eyes meet.  “Who’s got a kiss for the Pickety Witch, Jon?”

He licks his lips and grins back at her before cupping her satiny cheek.  “I do.”    

[silence-burns]

Please Hate Me //part 29

Fandom: Marvel 

Summary:  Based on “Imagine having a love/hate relationship with Loki.” by @thefandomimagine​

Life is one of those complicated concepts that usually take years to master its basic truths, and even then one can never be sure if any random, unexpected turn of events won't bring new factors into the equation. 

Loki was far from understanding the universal truths of the universe, but his mind often wandered into the more philosophical aspects of reality. On one of his journeys though, and one seasoned with the tiniest bit of wine at that, Loki came to a rather rattling conclusion that to wreak chaos, your own two hands were sufficient, but if you truly needed to unravel a catastrophe, you needed a team.

Loki liked his current team, even if it only consisted of one person.

"Oh dear," you mused sweetly, putting your cards on the table. "It looks like I am, indeed, lucky tonight." 

The card Loki slid into your hand a few seconds ago was right in the middle. It was a beautiful sight. 

"Who doesn't love a little luck?" the thick accent of the man barely covered the growl rumbling in his deep voice. He was a mountain of a man that apparently went by the self-explanatory title of Boss. 

Boss had little hair and even less patience. Loki was sure he used up the last of the latter when he had to deal with two people suddenly invading his private booth and inviting themselves into his round of cards. There was a moment when things were a breath away from escalating, when two of the bodyguards rose with an intent very clear on their faces. Loki braced himself for the impact, and had already shifted his bodyweight for the upcoming fight, but as it was very common amongst men of culture, this situation too was resolved with the most universal argument - the money. 

Whoever you grabbed the money off in the crowd, was up for a very nasty surprise - Loki's favorite one. He laughed as you slid into the booth with that wicked smile of yours and threw the money over the cards. The two of you must have looked like madmen, at least if the reaction of the crowd was any indication. The glances thrown in your direction were quick and wide-eyed, but no expected bloodshed followed. Not yet, at least. Not if Loki and you had anything to say in the matter. 

"I absolutely love having a good time with you, guys," you said, pushing the money you won onto your side of the round table. "We should do this more often." 

The two bodyguards had to leave the booth to make room for you to play with Boss. They didn't venture far, but stood right behind the cushioned couch circling the table and stared with growing anger. It spread like the stench of sweat, evaporating through their pores. Loki blew another kiss in their direction. 

"You sure are a lucky pair," Boss rumbled. His eyes scanned you from underneath his thick brow. "I rarely see someone with so much attitude in this place. To be honest, I think I'm seeing you for the first time." 

"It's never too late to make friends," Loki flashed his most annoying half-smile, making sure to pour some of his drink on the floor before another guard "accidentally" passed the booth. You were both walking a very thin line, already stretched and taunt. 

"Friends - yes. But I'm starting to think your intentions might be a little different." 

You gasped. Loki looked offended. The line grew thinner. 

"I swear to god," you put a hand over your heart. "We have no evil intentions towards you or anyone in this place." 

The god solemnly approved. He liked you. You earned your pass. 

"Are you up for another round?" he asked, pouring you more wine and then serving himself. "Oopsie, looks like another bottle is gone. It really is a good night." 

The bottle flew over his shoulder and crashed with a satisfying sound that made it through the booming music. Someone cursed. 

A muscle twitched in the Boss's jaw. 

"Get out." 

"Oh, dear," you leaned into Loki dramatically. "Look at what you've done. I think he lost his temper." 

"It appears so," he admitted indifferently, brushing your arm with his free hand. Sure, it was a part of your performance, but it still felt good when you didn't flinch or pull away. He tried not to think too much about it. 

The flashing lights did wonders to your features, though. 

"Don't worry, Boss, I'll get you a new one," you crooned and slipped out of the booth before anyone could stop you. 

You sent a meaningful look in Loki's direction before disappearing into the crowd. It must have held a significant meaning - that much was obvious. But for a reason completely unknown to him, Loki had no idea what it was about. 

He cursed you softly in the safety of his thoughts, but without ill intentions. 

"Smile, darling," he addressed the Boss to cover his feelings. "The night is only growing more beautiful with each passing minute." 

"I wouldn't be so sure." Boss lit another cigarette. The thick smoke filled the secluded confines of the booth. Loki wrinkled his nose with pure, unfiltered disgust. 

"As if the general smell of this rathole wasn't bad enough," he rasped dramatically, waving in front of his face. 

"If you're so unhappy here, I'd usually suggest leaving, but with you two…" Boss leaned closer. "I'd actually prefer for you to stay a while longer. I'd really like to hear your stories." 

There were three things that Loki realised at that very moment. 

First and the most important one, was that your so-called plan actually succeeded. There was no way Boss would let you go now. 

Second was the reason behind your very meaningful stare. The man seemed to be missing one of his clue elements. And Loki knew precisely the sneaky bastard who'd dare to put their sticky fingers over Boss's phone without him noticing. 

The third and the least pleasant one, was that Boss was even more hideous from up close. 

Loki turned his eyes off his face, and by chance or blind luck, caught sight of you by the bar. You had your back towards the booth, but you seemed to be very occupied with something - either the phone or buying time. Loki wished he had a way of telling you time had just run out, but it seemed like once again, things would get heated without any forewarning. 

Boss caught his gaze. 

"Don't worry," he said. "We'll find a nice place for your partner too." 

Something tightened in Loki's chest. "What did you just say?" 

The man barked a laugh, leaning back on the couch with a grand gesture. It was probably meant to distract Loki enough for one of the bodyguards to slip in behind him. Loki pretended he didn't catch the reflection in his empty glass. 

The music was deafening, but over the bass and strange, sharp sounds, the blood started to pound in Loki's veins, despite his hands growing colder. Boss didn't notice the change in the atmosphere. He didn't notice the air halt and the people closest to them disperse, subconsciously giving in to their instincts.

 Instead, he said:

"You thought we wouldn't notice that we somehow got ourselves cops in this place? What, you couldn't get a warrant so you went undercover and thought no one would bat an eye?" he sneered, puffing a greyish cloud of smoke. "You better have some fun tonight. It's your last chance." 

Well, time had run out. Loki wished you good luck on your side of the club. 

And started the fun. 

You, on the other hand, noticed very little of what was happening back at the booth. You were lucky enough to use the few seconds of distraction and the general mess on the table to snatch the phone, but you were sure that was where your luck ended. 

Peter was right, and something was definitely going on in the place, but without hard evidence, it would be difficult to prove anything. Your best guess was somewhere between drugs (exchanges of which you could spot a few places even now) and maybe some smuggling business. But there always could be more, right? 

For more, sadly, you reached out without a second thought and now had to deal with the consequences. Especially as the correct password ideas were running thin with each of your guesses. 

You wanted to smash the phone over the bar, but you did your best to smile nonchalantly as you waited for the barman to get the booze you requested. Playing with a phone could not be suspicious by any means, but you felt like you were holding a ticking bomb. It was not how you expected to spend the night, and neither, apparently, did the barman. 

He put the bottle in front of you, casting a glance over your shoulder. You had a nasty suspicion he noticed who you had been residing with for the past half an hour. 

He cleared his throat and you held the phone a little firmer, ready to smash his face. 

"I think your friend dropped something," was at the very bottom of the list of the things you expected to hear. 

He was holding something out. You looked at the note with an unmistakable line of numbers on it and then back at the barman, currently looking away. You slipped the note into your pocket. 

"I'll make sure he gets it back," you said. Maybe the night wasn't so lost. 

Some relief was seen on the man's face as the tension left his shoulders. "Do you think he—”

You would never get to know what was about to be said, because that was the precise moment when the aforementioned "he" decided to snap. Along with the table, from the sounds of it. 

The stool turned smoothly underneath you as you steered yourself to face the chaos. Unsurprisingly, Loki was in the center of it. What did surprise you was the rate at which the chaos was moving toward you. 

Screams and curses pierced the air from those standing in the way of the chaos. Bodies were pushed aside, drinks spilled, and dresses ruined as the hurricane erupted. The flashing colors bathed the scene in an ethereal aesthetic, making you wish you had a camera. 

It truly was a sight to marvel at, you admitted as you watched Loki's nimble figure move between the guards, avoiding some punches and looking unfairly good while taking others. 

An arm was yanked the way no limb was supposed to be bent. The man tumbled into the dissipating crowd, clutching it to his chest. Another was coming from behind, but he too wasn't spared from the gracious violence the god unraveled on his way. Sweat and makeup glistened on his skin, and his hair was blown to one side from the speed he moved at. 

The force of nature incarnated moved closer. You jumped behind the bar, grabbing a bottle as you did so. Loki soon followed. Something suspiciously similar to gunshots sounded on the other side not much later. 

You slipped on the floor, hip colliding painfully with the surface, but it didn't ruin your mood as you turned to Loki. 

"That was amazing. I want to get you painted." 

"If we had time, I'd suggest a nude version," he said, a little breathlessly. 

He wiped his hair off his face and slipped further down the thick steel and polished wood as glass rained down. Countless bottles on the huge, ceiling-high shelves behind the counter, now being crushed into pieces by the shots. 

Your arm stung as the shards bit into your skin. You kept your face down as Loki pulled you underneath him, holding you tight to his chest. You watched the alcohol pool over the floor and the loose shards of colorful, thick glass littering the floor in a thick layer. There was little space between the counter and the wall, and you felt your clothes start to soak as the two of you cowered into as small a target as possible. It was not the best moment for such reflections, but you had to admit, Loki had the perfect body to be pressed into. 

Under Loki’s arm, you met the eyes of the barman, kneeling two steps away. Whatever happiness he had half a minute ago, now seemed to perish along with the priceless bottles shining on the floor. 

"You guys are nuts!" he yelled over the uproar, Army crawling someplace safer. 

You watched his bent back leave only the two of you behind the bar. He must've truly believed in his luck to risk leaving cover. Or, which was far more probable, he just wanted to get as far away from you as possible. 

You couldn't blame him. 

"We have to move," you tried to yell over the noise. "Before they come and take us out." 

"Thank you for your input, and how do you plan to execute it?" Loki snarled, showered in liquor. 

He should've known that asking you for a plan was a bad, terrible, not good idea, but in the moment he asked, his patience was worn thin and his focus was elsewhere, so really, it couldn't be blamed entirely on him. 

Asking you for a plan was actually a great idea in your humble opinion. There was a certain amount of talent and pure genius involved in coming up with a way of getting out of such a situation. All you needed was an upturned stool previously occupying the other side of the bar, and the spreading puddle of alcohol. 

Before Loki protested, you untangled yourself from his limbs. There was little space behind the bar, but you managed to push yourself from one of the shelves to gain speed as you slid on the slippery floor to the left. 

The shield of the counter ended right when you reached the abandoned stool, grasping it with both hands. The glass bit into your legs, but you ignored it for the time being. Swinging the stool at the closest bodyguard was far more attention consuming. 

It hit the target with a satisfying, if a little nauseating, crunch. You felt the impact in your hands. The stool slipped from your wet fingers, but you were already moving to the next man, dangerously close to where Loki and you had been hiding moments ago. 

The man started, not expecting to see you fighting back. He backed a step, and turned the gun in your direction with an unnerving smoothness. The lights blinded you for a moment, flashing straight into your eyes. Your foot slipped on the wet floor and you fell to the left with all the grace of a bag of potatoes.

A shot pierced the air and deafened you, but the bullet didn't meet your flesh. Your elbow, not yet healed, screamed in protest as it hit the floor first. You saw yourself moving back up, but you also saw the gun turning to point at you again. The gun was faster. 

The world was spinning and colors merged, but you could have sworn a hand reached out from behind you, whether to push you or shield you, you'd never know. 

What you saw in more detail than you ever thought possible, was the thick, grey metal of a bracelet around its wrist. Something collided with it, by skillful placement or mere luck, denting the metal in what must have been a painful hit. 

And then the bracelet broke. 

The lights dulled and for a moment the air felt too heavy to breathe as your lungs screamed under the bone-cracking pressure. And as cracking static prickled the men's skin, something shifted deep in the fabric of reality and then surged to the surface and broke out fully. 

Magic rushed from the bottomless pit it'd been locked in for too long, freezing everything in its wake. It stung Loki's skin, as if a conscious part of his soul, angry, lonely and immensely powerful, finally found him and reconnected with what was unrightfully severed. 

The god smiled. And struck. 

[westallenfun]

A Most Unexpected Love, Chapter 2

WestAllen secret santa gift  

From: @jade4813

For: @sophisticatedloserchick

Author Notes: For the lovely @sophisticatedloserchick from @jade4813! Merry Christmas, and I hope you like my first fic after a long hiatus!

Title: A Most Unexpected Love

Rating: PG

Synopsis: Iris has loved Eddie Thawne Allen her entire life. When she returns home just before Christmas, it looks like she might finally have a chance to catch his eye…unless an accident puts his older brother, Barry, directly in her path. Story inspired by Sabrina (with some quotes lifted more or less directly from the source material).

Chapters: 2/7

Chapter Two

Iris squinted at the glare of the sun reflecting off the fallen snow, pulling a pair of sunglasses out of her purse and sliding them on before grabbing the handle of her suitcase and giving it a tug. It had been a long journey, but she was finally home, arriving just in time for the holidays. Her father was supposed to pick her up, but she’d jumped at the opportunity to take an earlier flight than originally scheduled. It would make a tremendous surprise for him, she decided upon landing, and so she walked purposefully toward the taxi station, rather than calling to update him on her change of plans.

The drive didn’t take long, but she still needed to stretch some kinks out of her muscles when she stepped out of the car and fixed the Allen house with a critical eye. It looked almost exactly as it had in her memory, though it appeared someone had affixed the shutters with a new coat of paint at some point in the three years since she’d last stood in this spot. She’d missed this place, she realized, as well as all the people who worked there. Not to mention Eddie. She could never forget how much she’d missed Eddie.

But Eddie wasn’t her primary concern at the moment. She ran a hand down the fabric of her skirt, smoothing out the wrinkles. She wanted to look her best for her first meeting with her dad. Of course, they’d seen each other numerous times over the last three years. He’d come to visit her at school, and they Facetimed at least once a week. But this was her first time coming home as a college graduate – and an adult woman who had proved herself capable of running her own life. She wanted to make him proud.

Thanking the driver, she passed him a tip before grabbing her bag, pulling it behind her as she approached the house. It was rather heavy, so she pulled it to the side of the house, where it would be out of the way until she could retrieve it later. Then she stepped indoors on a quest to find her father.

Knowing he often stopped by the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee, she decided to head in that direction first. On the way, she heard the clattering of balls knocking together in the game room and peered in on her way past, curious to know who was inside. Her heart skipped a beat when she caught her first glimpse of Eddie, his tousled blond hair falling expertly across his forehead as he leaned over to line up his cue stick with the ball. As though sensing her presence in the doorway, he glanced up and straightened abruptly at the sight of her, his eyes growing wide.

“Wow. I mean, hi,” he greeted her with that boyish grin that had captured her heart so many years before.

Feeling a little shy, as she always did in his presence, she threw him a small smile. “I don’t mean to disturb you. I was just looking for someone.”

“Whoever it is, I’m happy to pretend I’m him if it means you stick around,” he reassured her hastily, setting his pool cue aside.

The obviousness of his pickup line, combined with the headiness that his attention was focused on her for a change and the astonishment that he didn’t seem to recognize her, made her laugh. “I’m afraid not,” she said, pulling off her sunglasses so she could get a better look at him. How could he not know her? Granted, it had been a few years, but they’d grown up together, and she didn’t think she’d changed that much.

But still, while she was a little disappointed in his continued ignorance of her identity, she was warmed by the gaze he swept over her body. “Let me guess…you’re looking for Barry. He’s always had all the luck. Well, today is also your lucky day because he happens to be my brother. So I’m pretty much the same thing, right?”

As he teased her, he threw her another one of his devastating grins, prompting her to laugh again. “I don’t think so,” she said, shaking her head. As tempted as she was to linger and bask in the glow of his flirtation, she couldn’t wait to see her dad, so she took a step back, intending to walk away.

Eddie wasn’t content to let her go, as he bounded after her. Taking position by her side, he walked with her as he chided her gently, “You’re really gonna make me work for it, huh? And here I was, hoping we could get to know each other better.”

Iris threw him a wry look out of the corner of her eye. “Really? And here I was, thinking you just liked the chase but you wouldn’t know what to do with me if you caught me.”

“That is categorically untrue!” he protested, feigning offense. Reaching out, he grabbed her hand gently, and Iris thrilled in the warmth of his touch. “But, you know, I won’t be able to prove that to you if you don’t let me catch you.”

“I suppose that’s true,” she conceded, humoring him. Then, succumbing to curiosity, she pressed, “You really don’t recognize me?”

She knew full well that Eddie wasn’t a good enough actor to feign the surprise that crossed his features. “Why? Should I? I can’t imagine we’ve ever met. I’d definitely remember you.”

“You might be surprised,” she returned in a dry tone.

Eddie might have lost the battle, but he wasn’t about to concede the war. Instead, he pressed, “Well, that’s all the more reason for you to give me a chance. I tell you what. We’re having a Christmas party here tonight at eight o’clock. Say you’ll come. We can catch up on old times, just the two of us.”

Chuckling, Iris shook her head. “You don’t give up, do you?” she asked, secretly pleased with his efforts. After all these years, he’d finally noticed her. He was finally chasing after her. Perhaps it was small of her to revel in their altered circumstances, but recognizing that fact did nothing to change it.

“Nope,” he replied with a shameless grin.

Iris nodded. “All right. I’ll see you tonight. Eight o’clock.” His display of elation at her agreement didn’t even come close to that which she secretly felt. She managed to hide her smile until she walked away and turned a corner. Then it was all she could do to bite back her shriek of joy. It was all she’d ever hoped for, catching Eddie’s eye, and the reality was so far better than she’d even imagined.

That night, Iris gave her reflection one more critical look before leaving her room and heading to the party. Her dad had been overjoyed to see her, but his happiness had been diminished slightly when he’d heard about her interaction with Eddie. She knew he was just worried about her; he’d never approved of her attachment to the younger Allen son. Though he loved the family and would give his life for any of them, he’d confessed he didn’t think Eddie was good enough for her, but she’d always dismissed his opinion as being clouded by paternal affection and a life-long overprotective streak.

His concern did nothing to diminish her excitement, and so she’d shrugged it off as she’d dressed into one of her favorite gowns, obtained during her studies abroad. Floor-length and deep red in color, it was strapless, with a chiffon skirt and beaded top with a sweetheart neckline. It was the perfect dress for a holiday party, and – more importantly – she knew it would draw Eddie’s eye.

She was almost skipping with joy as she walked into the party, her eyes sweeping over the crowd looking for one face in particular. But it wasn’t Eddie who caught her eye first; it was Bartholomew. Tall and lanky – and able to wear a tuxedo like he was born into it, even more than his brother (though it seemed traitorous of her to think so) – he’d always stood out from a crowd. She’d recognize him anywhere, even when his back was to her as it was now. She watched as the tall redhead before him said something to him, nodding toward Iris in the doorway. He turned to follow her gaze, his face breaking into a heart-warming smile when he caught sight of Iris.

She watched as he said something to his companion and then raced toward her, stopping barely a foot away. For just a moment, she thought he was going to pull her into a hug, but he didn’t. Instead, he smiled at her warmly and cried, “Iris! You’re home? Why didn’t you come by and say hi? How was your trip?”

Before she could answer, Eddie appeared as though out of nowhere, stepping in front of his brother. “You came!” he said gleefully. “I wasn’t sure you would.” When Bartholomew cleared his throat, Eddie stepped to the side and looked at his brother in surprise. “Oh, I’m sorry, did I – wait, do you two know each other?”

Bartholomew looked at his brother in confusion and concern. “You’re kidding, right? It’s Iris.” When Eddie didn’t seem to register the name, he prodded, “West? Joe’s daughter?”

Eddie’s head whipped around in surprise. “What, really? Iris?” As his gaze swept over her again, understanding dawned in his eyes, and he pulled her into a tight hug. “Oh my god, it’s so good to have you back! Now you really have to dance with me. Let’s go.”

He grabbed her hand and started to pull her away, and she was more than happy to follow, but his brother intervened. Clearing his throat, he moved slightly into Eddie’s path and cautioned him, “Is this really a good idea? How is Patty—”

Eddie cut him off. “Barry, I know that you excel at being a stick-in-the-mud, and you’re twenty-five going on eighty. But it’s a party! Surely you can go bore someone else? Iris just got here.” It was the first time in her entire life that she could recall being so taken aback by or disagreed with Eddie’s behavior, and when he grabbed her hand to pull her onto the dance floor, she hung back. Finally, her reluctance seemed to get through to him, because he stopped to ask her what wrong.

“I know he’s your brother, and the two of you…well, you don’t always get along. But that was unfair. He a little serious, but he isn’t a bad guy,” she reprimanded him gently.

He grimaced. “Okay, you’re right. I’m sorry.” He gave her another one of his boyish grins, which had gotten him out of trouble over his entire life. “I’ll apologize to him later, too. But for right now, I really do want to dance with you.”

Iris almost protested, but then she was in his arms and he was sweeping her around the dance floor, and it was better than she’d ever dreamed. She felt herself get lost in his eyes, barely noticing when the song changed to something soft and slow and he pulled her closer, tempting her to rest her head on his shoulder.

“You know what I want?” he murmured in her ear. “I want to dance with you.”

“You are dancing with me,” she shot back with a slight laugh.

His grin was unrepentant. “I want to dance with you alone. It’s too public here; we can’t really talk.” Then, as though the idea had just occurred to him, he added, “Hey, there’s something you should see.”

She’d seen him pick up enough women that she knew what he was about to suggest. He was going to suggest that she meet him in his mother’s solarium. He would meet her there with a bottle of champagne and two glasses, and they would dance under the twinkling lights that were undoubtedly strung along the ceiling in observance of the upcoming holiday. While they danced, he would woo her with his words, and then they would kiss. Just because it was a scene she knew had played out dozens of times didn’t means she didn’t want to be a part of it.

“Okay,” she breathed, swaying toward him.

“Meet me in my mom’s solarium?” He paused, grimacing, as he realized that she wasn’t like most of the women he courted in this manner. “Oh, I just realized…you’ve probably already seen my mom’s solarium, huh?”

Afraid this hitch in his plans would cause him to grow skittish, she reassured him, “But I haven’t seen it in years! Will you show it to me?”

“I’d love to.” He danced her closer to the exit and came to a stop, though he didn’t immediately release her. “Head over, and I’ll follow you in a minute. I want to grab a bottle of champagne first.”

“Sure,” she breathed, watching with a wistful smile as he stepped away. The entire stroll to the solarium, she felt like she was walking on air.

[ravenbrenna09]

Party in the Forbidden Forest

I tried. 

Note: There are numerous changes that I’ve made to the typical wtFOCK storyline to make due. For starters, Aaron is going to be around the entire time and so is Sander (and Bel!Yousef, when I get his bloody name). Also, Sander, Senne, and Noor (and other characters around that age) were knocked back a year so I wouldn’t have to do a ton of manipulating to allow Robbe’s ‘season’ to be before Sander graduated. This section takes place at the end of Zoë’s season, meant to be the party where she gives Senne the key to the flatshare. 

Simply because it’s mentioned, Robbe stayed with Milan/Zoë over Christmas Break so he wouldn’t be alone at Hogwarts or with his Dad (because something happened with his mom and he couldn’t stay with her). 

In addition, they also make references to a previous section I posted where they met in an abandoned classroom. However, I wrote it before I decided to cut Sander/Senne’s ages so Robbe is referenced as a fourth-year and Sander is a sixth-year (and it’s mentioned to be summer), but I’ll have those changes fixed when I actually get to that section of Jana’s storyline. 

I hope you guys enjoy! 

...

Robbe didn’t know how Senne and the other Beat Boys managed to do it. Planning a party right under the noses of the teachers was one thing. Making the said “party of the century” in the Forbidden Forest on the final day that the students would be in Hogwarts for the year was another thing altogether. 

The clearing that they had found was a short straight shot into the Forbidden Forest. The path had been lit by small fairy lights that only lit up as they approached the edge of the forest, leading them on a small journey to the clearing. Lanterns hovered around the edges of the clearing, showing where the other students shouldn’t be going to, and multi-colored flames hidden behind the glass which alternated between colors on a few minutes scale. 

“There’s Amber,” Aaron noted, his eyes flickering over to the punch table. Robbe glanced over, spotting Amber standing with Luca, talking excitedly about something or another. The Slytherin girl had dressed in a pair of jeans and a pink t-shirt, her blonde hair half-pulled back on her head, laughing with Luca. Robbe snuck a glance at Aaron, who had been hard-core crushing on Amber for about six months now. “This is the night, I can feel it.” 

Robbe, who had been the witness of Aaron crashing and burning several times in his past attempts of getting Amber to notice his existence, knew that tonight was not the night. But, Jens and Moyo hyped the curly-haired Hufflepuff up, wrapped their arms around him, steering him in Amber’s general direction, and leaving Robbe behind. But, as much as watching Aaron’s likely epic fail might be amusing, he couldn’t bear witness to it all tonight, to listen to his friends try and make it seem like everything was okay.

Robbe’s phone dinged and he pulled it out of his pocket.

Zoë: I see you looking glum over there. Come join the party.

Robbe glanced up, finding Zoë standing on the other side of the clearing. She was half-wrapped up in Senne’s embrace, her hair immaculate and bright red lipstick shining on her lips. She was dressed in a white top and blue denim jeans. Spotting his gaze, she waved him over smiling at him. But, Robbe shook his head. 

Robbe: Not feeling up to it tonight. Jens dragged me along. 

Zoë pouted at him and it earned half of a chuckle.

Zoë: Have you heard from your mama?

Robbe: Yeah, she’s settling into the hospital alright. Once we get settled in, I’m going to go see her. 

Zoë nodded her head, typing out another message. Senne was half-leaning over her shoulder to see the messages and, a moment later, found him across the party and waved at him. Robbe gave him a half-wave and his phone buzzed in his hand. 

Zoë: Well, I know you’re worried about her, but try to relax somehow. 

Zoë: We just completed our O.W.L.s. I know that you and Yasmina have been studying hard for it so try to relax okay 😊

Zoë: Try the punch, it’s a mixture of butterbeer and firewhiskey. Luka’s specialty. 😉

Robbe glanced towards Zoë confused, only to find that Senne had Zoë’s phone. The blonde had her hands on her hips, rolling her eyes affectionately, and Robbe chuckled to himself, thanking Senne in one final text message, who gave him a thumbs up from across the party. Zoë laughed, leaning into Senne’s embrace as he held her tightly, and Robbe felt his stomach churn a little bit. Shoving his phone in his pocket and ignoring the feeling in his stomach, Robbe went to grab a glass of punch. 

The rest of his friends were having a good time, talking with one another, but Robbe couldn’t help but feel left out of it all. Jens was laughing with Moyo as Aaron fumbled his way into another epic crash and burn, which ended with Amber rolling her eyes and moving away with Luca, who was giggling. Jana was in the middle of the clearing, with Zoë and Senne and Luka, dancing and laughing. Even Yasmina, who rarely joined parties, was talking with some of the other Ravenclaws, likely trading answers from their O.W.L.s, but Robbe couldn’t join them.

He felt out of place, on the outside of the room with no way to get in. 

Pulling out his phone again and drowning the rest of his drink, Robbe opened up his messages, finding his messages with Milan. As soon as he spotted Milan’s picture, the one that Milan had taken himself when he snatched Robbe’s phone over the Christmas break, he felt the guilt swarming back in his gut, the final remains of the anger and stress that had seeped out when Milan had simply been the messenger. 

“Stay away from me!” 

Leaning against the tree behind him, Robbe typed out a message, pressing send before he could talk himself out of it. 

Robbe: I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lash out at you.

Robbe didn’t have to wait long before three dots popped back up, signaling that Milan was writing a response back to him. They disappeared, but only briefly before the text finally came through.

Milan: It’s okay. I understand. You were stressed about your O.W.L.s and I certainly didn’t help it. 

Milan: But, no ill will, I promise! I’ve already got the room ready for you. And, since the room is yours permanently now, we can go out and find some posters that you can hang on the wall. If you want, that is.

Robbe: Sounds nice. Thanks.

“Care for a refill?” 

Robbe glanced up, spotting another glass of the punch outstretched towards him. Following the leather-clad arm up to the face of its owner, trying to attest that his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him, Robbe found Sander Driesen standing in front of him. The sixth-year Slytherin was dressed in a pair of denim jeans, a t-shirt with a graph that he didn’t recognize, and his signature boots. Beneath the multi-colored flames of the lanterns, his platinum-blond hair shifted with the color of the lights and Sander grinned at him. His stomach did an unexpected somersault. 

Swallowing, Robbe nodded his head, reaching out to take the cup from his hand, “Yes, thank you.” It was a small cup and Robbe’s fingers brushed against Sander’s as he took it. He placed the new cup into the empty cup and settled against the trunk of the tree, his eyes flickering over to the dancing in the middle of the clearing. In the throng of the party, he could see couples kissing and dancing, 

To his surprise, Sander leaned against the tree as well, bringing Robbe’s attention back to him as he brought his own cup to his lips to take a sip. Once he spotted that Robbe was looking at him, Sander scoffed, “I didn’t poison it, by the way.” 

Robbe blinked, confused at what he meant, but then he remembered their last conversation, the one in Robbe’s favorite classroom, his hidden cove in Hogwarts, and Robbe rolled his eyes, “I wasn’t thinking that it was poisoned!” As if to prove his point, Robbe took a drink and Sander laughed, his eyes scrunching up as he did. “Honestly, if you keep saying that, I’m just going to start to assume that everything you give me is going to be poisoned. Do I need to have a bezoar in my pocket at all times with you?”

Sander laughed, shaking his head as he did so. “How did your O.W.L.s end up going?” Robbe glanced up at him and Sander added, “Zoë mentioned that you were stressing out about them.” 

“I think they went pretty good,” Robbe admitted. “I’m sure I did a lot better than Jens did. He’s been so wrapped up in Quidditch and everything that he didn’t study as much as he wanted to.” 

Sander’s eyebrows furrowed, turning towards him. “You’ve been pretty wrapped up in Quidditch too though, right? I mean, it was Gryffindor and Ravenclaw in the final match.” Robbe nodded his head. “I guess you’re just better at prioritizing what you need to focus on more than he can. Since the final match, I’ve seen him practically drowning in the library, trying to get caught up on everything.” Robbe chuckled, laughing at the image. “How’s everything going with that? The two of you seem to be getting along again.”

Robbe glanced up at him. 

Sander was staring off in the direction of the party, watching the crowd move around in anticipation for whatever’s next. When the blond realized that he hadn’t responded, he glanced back over to Robbe and blinked at him, “What?”

“I don’t know,” Robbe remarked. “I just didn’t realize you would remember that is all.” There was a confused expression on the blond’s face, tilting his head to the side, but before Sander could question again, though he was unsure why he would tell him, Robbe added, lightly, “And, since you’re wondering, I got over it.” 

“Oh?” Sander questioned, raising an eyebrow. 

“Yeah,” Robbe replied, shrugging his shoulders. Eager to do anything else than stare at Sander, he took another sip of the drink that the blond had given him. “He only sees me as a best friend and a brother so it wouldn’t be a good thing to hold onto something that would never turn out the way that I want it to.” Sander nodded his head, taking a drink. His eyes moved back to the party, the flames making his hair look a dazzling shade of Slytherin green, and Robbe stared at him, a knot forming deep in his throat as he managed to get out, “What about you?”

“Hmm,” Sander questioned, turning back to him. 

“Before the break, you were talking about how you knew what it was like to be in love with someone that didn’t return your feelings or didn’t know,” Robbe spoke up. For a brief moment, Sander simply stared at him, his eyes wide and his mouth dropped a little, staring at him. Robbe swallowed, worried that he had said the wrong thing, and hastily added, “You mentioned it last time…” 

“I know,” Sander replied, shaking his head. “I just… I guess I didn’t expect you to remember it is all.” 

“Oh,” Robbe mumbled. 

“But, the jury is still out for me,” Sander admitted, shrugging his shoulders. “They could like me back, or at least in some capacity, but I’m not quite sure that they know it yet.” Before Robbe could question further, Sander moved to the punch bowl, grabbing a new cup and pouring several drinks into the cup. Then, he returned to Robbe, placing a straw in the drink. “Here, take a drink. It’s my specialty and a whole lot better than the one Luka always makes.”

“Did you poison it?” Robbe questioned, glancing down at the cup and feeling a smile creep onto his face.

Sander looked offended, placing a hand over his chest. “How dare you,” the Slytherin spoke. “Because of that comment, you definitely have to drink it now.” He took a step closer, raising the cup out for Robbe to take from him. “Get ready to get mindblown.” The Slytherin was standing so close now… should he be standing that close? Robbe didn’t know for sure. 

He could tell that the clearing was beginning to spin, his heart racing briefly in his chest, and Sander was right there in front of him, waiting for him to reach out and take the cup from his hand, but Robbe felt like he couldn’t move his arms. Without thinking, he glanced down at the straw, raising his eyes back to meet Sander’s green eyes, and dropped his mouth open slightly. Even with the minimum lighting on the edges of the clearing, he could see Sander’s eyes widen and Robbe felt like he needed to correct his mistake, to reach up and take the glass. But, then, Sander took another step closer, reaching up to place the straw against his bottom lip. 

Robbe took a sip, feeling the mixture of alcohol and sweetness pour into his mouth. The concoction registered briefly on Robbe’s tongue, on his tastebuds, before disappearing completely down his throat and it was one of the best drinks that he had. It was better than any concoction that Moyo tried making or the combination of weed and alcohol. Robbe took another drink, swallowing it, trying to savor it before he let go of the straw. 

But, Sander didn’t step away, a nervous smile crossing his features. “Best drink ever?”

Robbe nodded his head, affirming, “Best drink ever.” 

Sander smiled, the kind that made his eyes crinkle, and the Slytherin shifted to his heels, reaching up to take a drink of it himself. His lips wrapped around the edge of the straw and his eyes never left Robbe’s. Sander opened his mouth to say something else, and Robbe felt his chest tighten considerably, the good kind, but his voice didn’t come out of his mouth, “Sander! There you are!” 

The shout felt like a bucket of ice-cold water dropped over Robbe’s shoulders, jolting him back into the reality of the present. The party came rushing back with the music and the multi-colored flames and his mom and he was moving in with Milan and Zoë because… Robbe let out a breath, sinking back into the bark of the tree that he had been resting on, and Sander shifted a step back away from him, moving towards the source of the voice. 

“I didn’t think you were going to make it,” Britt purred, reaching up to wrap her arms around Sander’s neck and press a kiss against his lips. Robbe swallowed, glancing down at his shoes, bringing the remainder of his own drink back to his lips to take a drink. But, it isn’t the same. “Hey, Robbe,” Britt spoke, turning towards him, grinning. The Slytherin girl had the tips of her blonde hair charmed dark green, dressed in a black dress that fit her, and she had a tipsy grin on her face. “Thank you for keeping Sander company. I know he can be annoying at times.”

Unable to form the words, Robbe shook his head, glancing over to Sander, who was resting against Britt with one arm, the one without the drink, around her waist, giving Robbe a shy smile. He wasn’t annoying. 

“Come on, babe,” Britt spoke, turning fully back to Sander. “Let’s dance.” Her eyes glanced briefly down to the drink in his hand. “Oh, are you sure-” 

“It’s Robbe’s,” Sander spoke, quickly. He moved back to Robbe, handing him the glass with a smile on his face. “Have a good summer, Robbe.” Then, Britt was taking his hand and dragging him out to the middle of the clearing, pulling him close to her. 

For several moments, Robbe watched the two of them, happy and dancing, before he moved back to the drinks in his hand, drowning one and the other soon after. Robbe let out a heavy sigh, leaning back against the tree. Glancing back at the party, his eyes found Jens, who was talking it up and laughing with the other guys, and then Sander, in the middle of the clearing, his face pressed in the nook of Britt’s neck as they swayed together to the slow song that had come on. 

Swallowing, unable to think of it, Robbe pulled his phone back out, finding a new message from Milan. 

Milan: You’re welcome! It’ll be the best summer ever. I promise! 

Robbe let out a sigh. As much as he admired Milan’s ability to try and make everything better, he somehow doubted that to be the case.

[intrepidmare]

JAIME x BRIENNE FIC EXCHANGE RECOMMENDATIONS

Well, I have read about half of the fics in the @jaime-brienne-fic-exchange and these are my favorites so far. Seriously, guys, if you haven't read any of these stories already, you must! It's incredible how much talent is in this fandom. 

PS: I don't know/couldn't find everyone's Tumblr, either because they have a different username than on ao3 or don't have a blog here. If you recognize someone else's or your own work that I didn't @, please let me know and I'll edit it 😊

Let me begin with the fics with a love that transcends time and death.

(The first is the story that was written for me!! Please, guys, go, read it, and give some love to the extremely talented writer that came up with it! Words fail me to explain how amazing this fic is. Go read it and then you'll thank me for the rec.)

This is where we start again by @forbiddenfantasies1    

Explicit | chapters 8/8 | 40.7k words | past life au, modern setting, canon compliant

Brienne and Jaime had never met, but when they come together to work on a new project, they realize their connection may have been generations in the making.

Or in which Jaime and Brienne meet, begin having flashbacks to their ancestors lives, and are forced to figure out where they went wrong before they can determine how to make it right.

This life and the next by atomsandfairies    

Teen and up | chapters 6/6 | 8.2k words | historical setting, modern au

“Do you ever wonder how old our souls are? How many times we have missed and met? How many times we have come together?”

The questions have turned themselves over in her again and again, as long as they’ve been together, before he’s asked, before they’d even found each other.

There is a familiarity between them that seems too old for their time together.

Angstfest addicts, these are for you. Get ready to get beaten with feels. Don't worry, despite heartbreak along the way, all ends well.

My honor in your hands by @aviss    

General | one-shot | 2.8k words | hurt/comfort, missing scene, book canon

Jaime lasts the better part of a day before the silence gets to him.

By hearts and hands made fast by anonymous  

Mature | chapters 4/? | 10.1k words | 8x04 canon divergence, secret marriage 

»But he’d held her wrist even then, thumb stroking, Marry me, he’d said, marry me and never acknowledge it if you do not wish, but marry me as I should have married you that night and every other. If I’m to die, he’d said (with her, he had not), let me die as your husband.«

A grand romantic gesture has repercussions neither Jaime nor Brienne had foreseen.

Lies in the darkness by aleighcarlisle    

Mature | one-shot | 4.4k words | angst, hurt/comfort

"Hurt me with the truth, but never comfort me with a lie."

Man With a heartbeat by @sigilbroken        

Explicit | chapters 5/5 | 25.5k words | modern au

Angst is not your cup of tea? No problem. You should try the following. Only laughter, happy feelings ahead.

This one last thing by @aliveanddrunkonsunlight

Mature | One-shot | 13.3k words | Canon compliant, Post-ADWD, bed-sharing

Most tasks needed of a knight, he has been able to adapt to with only one hand, but he struggles with striking flint in order to start a fire. It would be easier if she was here.

Jaime and Brienne journey to the Vale.

What loves you back by @bookishpower    

Teen and up | one-shot | 11k words | fairytale-ish, post-canon

A retelling, and a continuation. Jaime learns the great lesson of his life.

That Would Be Enough by forpeaches (bluecarrots)

Mature | One-shot | 2.2k words | Canon compliant, Post-ADWD

Jaime, pining.

The unwitting third wheel by @nightreaderenigma (I should've known this was you!)  

Mature | chapters 4/4 | 17.8 k words | post-ADWD, canon compliant

Whilst recovering on the Quiet Isle, Podrick develops a crush on his mentor and heroine, Lady Brienne. The only hiccup in his bubble of infatuation is their new travelling companion – Ser Jaime Lannister. Because even though M’Lady Ser and the Golden Knight argue, there seems to be a bond between them he can’t quite place…

Warm by @angel-deux-writes      

Teen and up | one-shot | 13.5k words | canon divergence

Before the battle against the dead, Jaime volunteers for a routine patrol with Brienne to try and get some time to talk with her about why she has been avoiding him since he arrived at Winterfell. When a storm catches them unexpectedly when they're still far from the castle, they find a cave to hole up in for the night.

Way enough by laihiriel

Mature | chapters 3/5 | 10.8k words | modern setting, sports au

Brienne had forgotten how much she loved being out on the water. Joining the local boathouse and sitting in a scull again after her accident was the best thing she could have done for herself.

Because of you (i took my time to come around) by Weboury 

Teen and up | chapters 4/4 | 14.7k words | Modern setting, road trip, bed-sharing

Jaime, curator at the Tully Museum, wants to spend more time with Brienne, and maybe finally work around telling her how he feels about her. When Brienne, a historian, is tasked with retrieving the legendary sword Widow’s Wail from King’s Landing, Jaime thinks it’s the perfect time to put a plan in motion, only to find himself with Brienne and his cousin Cleos on an awkward road trip across the Riverlands. And then a goat shows up.

Kaleidoscope sky by allison_wonderland      

General | one-shot | 1k | modern au, carnivals

A terrible day, an unexpected stop, and drifting closer together.

Backpfeifengesicht by @samirant        

Explicit | one-shot  | 18.8 k words | modern au, enemies to friends to lovers

Backpfeifengesicht

(German) n. a face badly in need of a fist

See pictured: Jaime Lannister.

Brienne, Jaime and the Accidental marriage by @angel-deux-writes  

Teen and up | One-shot | 10k words | modern setting, reporter au 

Best friends, co-workers, and roommates Brienne and Jaime were supposed to head to Greywater Watch to cover a local festival for the newspaper at which they both work. They were NOT supposed to get married while they were there.  

Those who seek to find by @ice-connoisseur  

Teen and up | one-shot | 22.3k words | Jumanji au

But anyway, that was how it started: Arya found the game, and Sansa rolled the dice.

When you play the game of Jumanji, you win or you die.

In better light by winterkill   

Mature | one-shot | 17.7k words | canon divergence, post-ASOS

Perhaps Cersei was right, and every ounce of sense and bravery Jaime possessed was lost with his hand. Sansa Stark is my last chance for honor. He really said that to her? Brienne latched onto the sentiment like a hunting hound to the scent of its quarry. 

Before dawn, Jaime rises from his bed, wide awake and with a sense of renewed purpose.

I’m going to go with her.

If you're looking for adventures a little outside of the law, check these out  

Codename: kingslayer by libkat 

Mature | one-shot | 2.4k words | modern au, thief au

The world's greatest jewel thief is after his biggest score when he encounters his toughest opponent, who might also be the love of his life.

The Knight and the thief By @ddagent (this is the only one I guessed the author right. I knew it was you, Kelly) 

Teen and up | one-shot | 3.6k words | Modern au, burglar au, hurt/comfort

Jaime Lannister is rich, handsome – and a jewel thief. His next target is the home of Brienne Tarth, where he might finally find something worth stealing.

Last but not least, for those who like to hang out with creatures of the night, this one is for you

Into the spider's web by @jailynnW   

Teen and up | one-shot | 4.5k words | vampire au

Jaime has been a Vampire for centuries, dancing in and out of the grasp of his hunter. Brienne is tasked with taking down the Kingslayer. A mission that brings her more than she bargained for...

Hmm, it doesn't look bad that I'm going to do shameless self-promotion now that I've recommended the work of others, right? You know what? I don't care if it does. So here it is the one I wrote 😊

Made for you by me (Mare9548 on Ao3)

Teen and up | chapters 4/4 | 9.6k words | modern setting, arranged marriage

Despite his reluctance to get married, Jaime Lannister is having dinner with his future wife tonight. Quite a surprise he gets when he meets the woman that his father has chosen for him.

I'll come back later with more recs once I've gone through the rest of the amazing stories in the collection.

+

More recs

[greywindys]

I had a fic I was working on for 2Doc week, but it betrayed me and turned angsty when I wanted something softer. So instead, I thought I could share a fic I never published, and I believe the first fic I ever wrote (dated in Google as complete on June 17th, 2016. Holy moly!)

It fits into day 3′s prompt of firsts - the first night the spent together on good terms. The beginning of the bond, I guess. It could also be considered the first head massage (lmao), as I like to think 2D is good with his hands in various scenarios 😉. (I adapted the head massage into scenes in later fics, but this was the first time I worked with it as a concept.)

If there are any “M” or “D” I apologize! When I was starting out, I was too self-conscious to write their entire names (lmao @ me). Oh, how things have changed. Hopefully, I corrected them all, along with most of the typos...

The rating here is T. Essentially, Murdoc encounters 2D late at night when he can’t sleep, and ends up watching a movie with him. They begin to form a tentative bond, head massages are had as much needed sleep. Takes place during P1.

Also happy bday again, Murdoc 😭

For Murdoc, sleeping is a daunting game of chance. First, there are the good nights, when he drinks enough to remain in a complete stupor until daylight. Then, there are the bad nights when his body’s need for genuine slumber catches up with him. On these nights, he dreams. More often than not, they come to him in the form of nightmares ranging from painfully specific to vague and unsettling. Like a flood, all of the emotions and thoughts he had intended to leave behind in Stoke return.

Tonight is one of those nights.  

This one, in particular, is the reason he’s left the grimy safety of his Winne, head still aching. He intends to rummage through the studio mini-fridge for the half-consumed bottle of rum he started that morning. (after all, his anxiety wasn’t going to fix itself). Instead, he's thrilled to discover the fridge has been restocked, and he's about to grab an unopened bottle of rum when he's interrupted by a crash coming from the direction of the lobby.

The noise is coming towards the kitchen now in slow, shuffling steps. Murdoc presumes it could either be one of the wayward demons he summoned the other day, or it could be another one of the building's many intruders looking for a blank wall to vandalize. Nothing he wants to deal with now in his anxious state. Murdoc considers making a run for his Winnebago but decides against it. ‘You’re Murdoc Niccals” he thinks to himself, ‘Bass god and creative genius. You're not ten anymore and you don't get scared.' With that, he braces himself and he turns to face the unknown figure that was now in the doorway.

“Oh...Hi, Murdoc.”

It’s 2D.

“I've got half a mind to lob you through another car window,” he says trying to mask his surprise. “What the hell are you doing walking around with the lights off in the middle of the night?” That must have been the source of the noise. Typical. It’s as if 2D is intentionally searching for a way to get injured.

2D scratches his head. “No need to get so steamed up about it. I, uh, well, I guess I was trying to keep to the ambiance and all that. I didn’t think anyone else would be awake right now.”

“I don’t know what’s so unexpected. I get more done in a night that you would in a year,” Murdoc replies. He takes a sip of one of the bottles of rum he’s assembled on the counter. “So long as there are still songs to write, the siestas can wait.”

“Not sleeping well then?” 2D asks blithely. Murdoc can’t tell if the singer has seen right through him or failed to comprehend a word of what he just said. He finds him very unreadable at times, and in the most infuriating way.

“No. I was working. Being productive. You ought to try it once in a while,” Murdoc grumbles in response. “Anyways. What’s all this about the ‘ambiance’?” As if 2D is that deep. “And why here?”

“That new zombie movie, you know the one I was telling you about? Well, it arrived today,” 2D says with a grin. “And now I’m watching it. It’s a lot scarier when you do it the dark.”

“Well you have a TV, no, THREE TVs in your room,” Murdoc retorts, exasperated. “Just go away and watch it there.”

“Yeah, uh, l thought about that, but the special effects in this one are supposed to be wicked good and the screen in the lobby has a clearer picture than the screens in my room. I would have watched it this afternoon, but Russel said Noodle shouldn’t be watching all the blood and guts, so I waited until now. It’s better watching scary movies late at night anyway, you know?” 2D is looking at Murdoc now, a tinge of hopefulness in his voice. “A couple blokes on this forum I was reading were describing it like a Romero meets Raimi type film, really over the top.”

“Sounds like a real Oscar winner you have there,” the sarcasm in Murdoc’s voice is palpable.

“Actually, it was a straight to video release, but you should check it out,” 2D says. “I’m only about ten minutes in now...if you have...time,” he trails off awkwardly.

The band had faced many inexplicable and absurd situations, but it is 2D’s consistent attempts to be friends that confounded Murdoc the most. His first inclination to tell the singer to fuck off. Yet the thought of the solitary journey back through the car park gives him pause. He isn't sure he can handle being alone right now. He needs an immediate distraction, a mood lifter, and making fun of 2D has the potential to be a two in one solution. At the very least, it was a safer gamble than going back and running the risk of falling asleep again.

Murdoc makes 2D wait for an answer in uncomfortable silence before replying. “Fine,” he says, “This better be entertaining.”

2D brightens at his response. “Just let me grab some snacks and then we can go back.”

“Yeah, yeah. Oh, and this time turn on the damn lights.”

With some newly acquired light and a bag of crackers in hand, 2D leads Murdoc to the lobby. A collection of pillows and blankets litter the floor. All the while, and to Murdoc’s annoyance, he takes the time to tell him every detail of the conception of his setup. He had been in the lobby for the past four hours watching movies. According to 2D, doing so in such an open area was much scarier than in his room or even in the building’s cinema. He was also sorry because they would have to turn the lights off again when the film starts. “Because well, you know, Muds. The ambiance.”

“Just start the bloody movie will you,” Murdoc replies from his spot on the floor. The size of Kong is intimidating at night, and it’s not helping him calm down. He hates how much his dreams still affect him. Physically, he had left all the bad energy behind ages ago, but mentally it follows him like a low-hanging mist, threatening to completely engulf him daily. He couldn't seem to make it go away, but he could control how much he thought about it. Alcohol was typically his mainstay but right now, that job belonged to an unwitting 2D. If he didn’t start the movie soon, Murdoc was going to set his entire movie collection on fire.

“It’s the little triangle that does the trick, right?” 2D asks as he studies the remote. “Never mind. I think I have it. There we go.”

The scene starts with a group of young adults in their twenties hiking through the woods as night falls. Occasionally, the camera switches angles. It shows the group from alternate perspectives such as the bushes or the tops of trees.

“The director wanted to flip the whole slow zombie portrayal on its head,” 2D explains. “There’s already been talk of fast zombies in the indie horror community, but he wants to take that one step further. In an interview, he said that not only were his zombies going to be fast, but they were also going to fly.”

“That’s stupid. And you thought this was worth the twenty or so quid you blew on it?”

“He’s ahead of his time. You’ll see. Look,” 2D says through a mouthful of crackers. He points to the current scene. One of the protagonists had wandered away from his group in search of a good place to set up camp. “See what he does with the camera there? We’re watching the main character from the perspective of a flying zombie. The director wanted to make a movie about an outbreak that emerges in the wilderness, not because of some virus. It's meant to add to the impossibility of the situation. How do we fight against something not man-made? Watching the film through the eyes of the monster emphasizes how alone and insignificant we are in the face of well, everything. Man versus nature, nature versus man.”

Murdoc grabs the bag of crackers from 2D. “Oh please. This is hardly cutting edge. We all know they’ll all be dead in the end because nature is bigger than man. Duh.” He takes a handful for himself and continues watching.

2D ignores him and continues his reflection. “It makes me wonder whether it would be better to be a zombie at the end, rather than survive. Not sure I would want the loneliness that comes with it.”

Murdoc is beginning to realize that 2D is in one of his chatty, philosophical moods. He attempts to tune out the singer’s blathering with another drink from the bottle of rum he brought with him from the kitchen. He came here to watch a ridiculous movie. Instead, he's stuck listening to banal musings about the true nature of humanity from someone with a half-functioning brain.

“Well if there’s ever a zombie apocalypse here, I’ll be sure to let them eat you first if you’re so eager. You’re already halfway there anyway, and certainly no better off than these divs on screen.”

“Thanks, Muds. If I ever get infected, I’ll make sure not to bite you...unless you want me too,” 2D replies.

This time, it’s Murdoc's turn to ignore him. “Anyways, as far as I’m concerned, anyone who’s too pathetic to fight against a zombie apocalypse deserves whatever is coming to them.” He gets a twisted sense of comfort from blaming.

“I dunno...I don’t see any shame in being afraid of a monster bigger than you. That’s what makes these movies so scary. We all have our own monsters that seem impossible to overcome,” 2D says sagely. “It’s not anyone’s fault, it’s just how it is.”

Murdoc scowls. “Does watching movies at this hour always turn you into a half-braindead Socrates? Or Plato? Hippocrates? He's just naming names now. He fidgets.  

On-screen, another character screams as one of the zombies bites her arm.

“Are you alright there, Muds?” Why did 2D have to pick up on everything? “Movie too scary for ya?”

“No!” Murdoc snaps. “It’s not that… It’s just...” Neither 2D nor the rum he grabbed from the fridge earlier had done anything to dull his current bout of nerves. Instead, all the tension has been gathering at the base of his neck. The throbbing in his head from before is even worse. He groans in frustration.

“You just seem a little on edge, that’s all.”

“...It’s my head.”

“Oh, you have a headache,” 2D says, seemingly pleased that it’s an issue well within the breadth of his expertise. “Do you need any help with it? I was talking with my mum about mine just last week; she gave me something good.”  

Murdoc perks up. He could count on one hand the number of scenarios where he would place his trust in 2D. Pain medicine was one of them. A strong painkiller could change everything. “Do you happen to any of those buggers with you now?”

“Sure,” 2D says, smiling as he moves closer to where Murdoc is sitting.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m um, well for this to work I’m actually going to have to touch your head.”

Immediately, Murdoc jerks away. “You what?!”

2D shrinks back in response. “It’s just a head massage, Muds.  My mum’s worried about the number of prescriptions I have so we cut one of the stronger ones out and replaced it with this. We wanted to see if it made a difference. I’ve been going to a massage therapist for the past two weeks or so. It doesn’t quite do the trick but it works well enough, I picked up some technique myself, uh, I think.”

“You can take all that geeky zen rubbish and sod off,” Murdoc mutters.

“Okay, Muds...alright.”

They continue watching the screen as victim after victim gets infected. 2D continues to interject with overlong descriptions about symbolism, zombie lore, and film technique. Murdoc weighs his options. If he’s being honest, he’s at a point where he would accept anything that might make him feel better. But why did it have to be 2D? On the other hand, the singer wouldn’t stop talking. Considering it was just the two of them, and no one else would ever have to find out, Murdoc makes his decision. Allowing 2D to touch his head in this scenario was justified. Interrupting yet another explanation about the folly of man, he asks, “Hey uh...2D? You know that massage you were talking about? Will giving me one make you shut up for more than ten minutes?”

“Oh..uh,” 2D sounds surprised. “Yeah. Yeah, we can give it a try.” Hesitantly, he moves behind Murdoc and begins.

2D’s fingers send tiny sparks along Murdoc’s scalp as he kneads the muscles in his forehead, moving downwards along his hairline. He dwells on how amazing it feels but pushes that thought to the side with haste. He keeps his eyes locked on the screen and the excessive depictions of gore and chaos. It’s an apt representation of turmoil he is currently feeling inside. What he finds so maddening about 2D, even more than his inscrutability and empty-headedness, was his willingness to be kind to Murdoc. Murdoc had spent the past twenty or so years convincing himself that kindness was not meant to be a part of his life. There was something inherent to his existence that repelled it from him. And he had come to accept that until 2D had to come along and mess it all up. It had to be because he was just too stupid, there was no other answer. Murdoc wasn’t sure he would be able to handle any other answer.

As 2D moves his hands to the back of Murdoc’s head, he begins softly humming. He begins following along to the soundtrack of the movie but soon trails off on his own. Evidently, watching the movie without any sort of verbalization was not going to happen. However, the melody he’s come up with is wistful and soothing. Murdoc makes a mental note to ask him about it in the morning to see if it would fit with some lyrics he had drafting. Slowly, and a bit self-consciously, Murdoc feels himself begin to relax.

“How does it feel so far? Is it working?” 2D asks.

Oh, it was working. More than that, Murdoc realizes a significant amount of his tension had abated. The darkness of the lobby no longer looks so menacing, the unpleasant memories that were hovering over him seem to have floated away. He's never been able to settle himself down from a bad night without copious amounts of alcohol. It’s an unfamiliar but pleasant sensation.

“I think the movie is almost over. Didn’t quite live up to the hype but it was still pretty entertaining after all. How about you?” 2D asks, still looking for a response.

Murdoc yawns. “I’ll give this director you were so excited about some credit. He knows his way around a good death scene. I don’t think I’ve ever seen fake blood used that way before.”

“The fake blood actually cause a lot of controversies because some of it was real animal blood. I almost didn’t buy it myself.”

“Ah. A man after my own heart.” 2D’s hands are still kneading the back of his head when Murdoc moves to lie down on his stomach.

“Oh, are you going to sleep now?” 2D asks.

“No. Keep going.” He would have never considered it earlier in the night but, as the singer's fingers continue to run through his hair, Murdoc muses that sleep may not sound so bad after all. Even though it was just 2D, it’s comforting to have him there. 

“So I guess it’s been helping then? My mum will glad to hear,” 2D says. “But you might want to run a comb through your hair a bit more often, it’s all greasy...also a bit tangled in the back.”

“Just...shut up.”

So he does, returning to the reflective melody he had been humming just minutes ago. It’s the singer’s soft croon that sticks in Murdoc's mind as he finally drifts off completely.

-------

When his eyes open, the first thing Murdoc notices is the half-empty bottle of rum he had left by his side. The next thing he notices is that he's still in the lobby, surrounded by blankets. He must have slept there the entire night. 

“Oh, morning, Muds,” comes a familiar voice just to the right of him. “You’re awake.”

Turning quickly in the direction of the voice, Murdoc finds himself face to face with 2D. “What the hell are you still doing here?” M demands, mortified, “Why didn’t you go back to your own room?”

“Well, I was going to do that, but once you laid down, I wanted to lay down too, and you rolled over on my arm and wouldn’t budge. I tried to tell you, but all you did was try and elbow me. You missed though,” 2D mumbles. It sounds like he’s still half asleep. “Then I guess I just nodded off.”

Murdoc feels his embarrassment beginning to morph into anger but decides to ignore it. He's pretty comfortable right where he is. “You’re lucky you’re my lead singer.” 2D was also lucky that he gave good head massages. “Because otherwise, you would be on some really thin ice right now.”

“We’ll be lucky to see any ice at all this winter what with all the warm weather.”

Usually, an obtuse response from 2D would have earned him a string of insults or a swat on the head. Today was not going to be one of those days. Murdoc turns again so that he’s facing away from the singer, pulling the blanket over his head to block out the light. He was going to savor the moment a bit longer. Despite 2D being 2D, it’s rare that he’s ever felt so at peace.

“Hey, Murdoc? Wait,” 2D says, “You never gave me my arm back.”

“Too bad. I’ll check back in a couple hours,” Murdoc grins beneath the blanket. He still couldn’t pass up a chance to inconvenience the singer at every opportunity. It was too much fun.

“Don’t be such a wanker,” 2D says as he attempts to jerk his arm out from underneath the bassist. “I was nice to you!”

He was right. And he was probably nicer than he deserved, given their history. For that reason, Murdoc would roll off his arm soon enough. He still wanted to talk to him about that song he had been humming.

The singer had surprised him last night. Murdoc knew that 2D had an uncanny ability to figure out how to annoy him to maximum effect, but he never would have expected him to also know what to do to put him at ease. Underneath the covers, he ponders what exactly this realization means to him. He isn’t sure, but he knows it means something. It wasn’t going to eliminate the underlying resentment he still clung to, nor was it going to solve his infinite list of issues. But at the very least, he could rest assured knowing that he wasn’t completely alone.

[roswelldetails]

RNM 2x06 - Sex and Candy

EPISODE SUMMARY:

Maria’s (Heather Hemmens) investigation into her mother’s disappearance leads her and Alex (Tyler Blackburn) to the home of a mysterious boot maker named Travis (guest star David Anders). Meanwhile, on her journey of self-discovery, Isobel’s (Lily Cowles) night out leads her into the arms of someone unexpected. Finally, after making some major scientific strides, Liz (Jeanine Mason) is dealt a devastating blow. Geoff Shotz directed the episode written by Rick Montano & Vincent Ingrao (#206). Original airdate 4/20/2020.

DETAILS:

Max and Isobel's fight:

Lights start flickering when Max starts getting aggressive and then get brighter as he gets more worked up.

The first attempt to expel it seemed like he was causing an earthquake.  He blew out all the windows in the gym, knocked Isobel down, and there was shaking.  But it didn't seem to go beyond that room - no damage is seen when Michael arrives or around town.

Note, after the earthquake thingie the lights go out 

His hands are doing the electric power thingie and THEN he also grabs the lightning.

I think Isobel used her telekinesis to stop it and then push it away, which seemed to work...but if so then why couldn't Noah do that last season? 

Was it the sheer volume of electricity? There was definitely MORE than with Noah.

Michael uses his telekinesis to manually reset Max's heart.  This is very smart of him. Note that he's using his own heart/pulse to get it right.

They are using the antidote to Liz's serum to try to heal Max's mind. 

Michael says that they've been giving him antidote injections for three days (time jump).

Three days of antidote and no new memories for Max.

Isobel remembered her blackouts within a few hours of getting injected with the antidote in 1x10.

Note: Liz hesitated using the antidote this way in 1x10 because Isobel could still be dangerous and they didn't know about the 4th Alien yet.  There doesn't seem to be a similar hesitation with Max. Because Liz trusts him more? Because him forgetting her is more personal? It's not like there isn't a chance that Max is still dangerous…

Maria arranged a Mexican market in the Pony parking lot to subsidize her income.

Buffy the Beagle is Forrest's dog!

Maria comments that the meteor shower makes animals act strange. And humans too.

Forrest and Maria are organizing an open night mic at the Wild Pony.  Free drinks for performers.

Maria clearly approves of Forrest and Alex getting to know each other.  She smacks Alex for his awkward flirting.

The bootmaker's farm is about an hour outside of town.

The Science:

Kyle and Steph are watching a "surgical separation of craniopagus twins".

Craniopagus Twins = twins attached at the cranium/head. (Aka not a heart surgery).

"Did you know, ever since 1947, twin births in Roswell are higher than the national average? Maybe it's aliens."

Speaking of awkward flirting…. "You're just my favorite person I can't stand."

The Spanish:

Le cambio una bolsa de chiles para mi papá...for the free fries next time you come to the Crashdown.

Liz is bartering.  She says basically, I'll trade you a bag of chiles for my papa for free fries next time you come to the Crashdown. 

Note, the captions for this are wrong and use the Spanish word for grasshoppers instead, but you can clearly hear Liz say chiles. Thanks to @rosaortecho for pointing that out to me.

Max says:

I'm trying to eat clean. Uh, tiene carne seca sin como se dice, preservativos.

He's trying to say, basically, does the jerky have preservatives. 

Quiere carne a sin preservativos?

Basically, you want meat without condoms?

Lo siento. Uh, no lo entiendo.

I'm sorry, I don't get it.

Él quiere decir conservantes.

He means preservatives.

Gracias. Estoy embarazado.

Thank you. I'm pregnant.

Michael asks Max who he's texting. Max says everyone has been messaging him but Cameron is the only one who hasn't responded, which isn't like her.

Wildly curious who he was texting though.  It's not like he's a social butterfly. His mom? The sheriff? Who? As I pointed out to some friends the other day, he spent his 21st birthday getting trashed with his SISTER. This is not a trait of a guy with lots of close friends.

Just as another note, Michael says he ghosted her. When exactly was that? Yes, Max ran out on her in the middle of a handy in 1x03, but they addressed that the next day.  She "broke up" with him in 1x07, but they were still good right up until she left town. 

Isobel:

"Does he seem different to you?"

Alex and Maria playing "Never have I Ever" in the car. Good way to do background on characters.

Maria has never cheated on a boyfriend

Alex has never been in a real relationship. Not even "Kellie Sommer-something".

Alex says that whenever he was with a woman he was trying to disappear.  Except for Sophomore year after Battle of the Bands. Seven Minutes in Heaven in Haley Moore's hall closet. Alex and Maria kissed and it was Maria's first kiss (and boob graze).  She always thought she'd marry Alex. Had to come up with a new plan after he came out. 

Alex says "I did too."

"Kissing you in that closet was the first time in my life that I enjoyed touching someone."

Max picks up Liz for their first date…

Just as a note, Save Tonight was the opening song in the pilot of OG Roswell. During the "oh, Max Evans is staring at you again." exchange between Liz and Maria.  So, it might go well with new beginnings or something ;-)

The Science:

"Psychogenic amnesia limits retrieval of stored memories, but if we light up your limbic system and gustatory cortex with some familiar signals…"

"Your milkshake might bring all my memories to the yard?"

**Note, second reference to this song in the context of Liz bringing Max milkshakes. First was in 1x06 by Isobel. Hmm. 1x06 and 2x06… maybe they should crack this joke in 3x06 too.

"Sometimes when people wake up from comas they have different personalities, different tastes even…"

Everything you ever wanted to know about psychogenic amnesia:

But, my main takeaway is that it's a specific type of amnesia where there's abnormal memory function but no brain damage or other clear cause of it.

Limbic system:

Basically the part of your brain that stores emotion, behavior, and long term memory.

Gustatory cortex:

Basically the part of your brain that processes taste.

Maria compares Michael to Chad because he starts fights and lies.  Alex disagrees and lists ways that he was doing good things:

He lied to protect his family from Alex's family.

He shouldered the burden of a murder he didn't commit for ten years so that Isobel didn't have to.

He pushed Maria away to protect her - which might be a good thing too because of all his baggage. 

First Date:

Max went to Ranch camp one summer and dislocated his shoulder while trying to read Lord of the Rings on horseback. #nerd. 

Liz references the gala as not their first date, but there was also the desert in high school.  I guess she doesn't count that either. 

Side note: Cam and Liz talked about him peacocking in 2x03, but that kinda felt out of character at the time to the Max we knew.  This Max DOES seem like he's peacocking a bit. Got dressed up, taking Liz horseback riding. He admitted to trying to one up whatever they did together before. Just an interesting (to me) observation.

Liz looks panicky when Max suggests truth serum (because Science!Liz probably could make truth serum), but once she realizes he means whiskey she's like, "oh yes, that's fine." Oh Liz… 

Diego details:

They were engaged just last year

Liz left without saying goodbye

Bioengineer 

They were working together on the Denver study

They would come home and keep talking about work

He had ideas to help improve it

They both spoke The Science

He pushed her to get better at The Science

When the funding was cut she realized she loved the work more than him

Liz couldn't figure out how tell him that so she packed her things in the middle of the night, hit the road, changed her phone, and blocked him on Facebook.

**This is the first time LIZ has mentioned social media. Interesting given the crap Maria keeps giving her about it!

Travis and fresh warm milk. What is up with it??

"Nice ring. Does it keep you from burning up in the daylight?"

David Anders introduces himself as Travis.

Just as a point of interest, Maria researched enough to find the bootmaker, figure out where he lives, but she didn't get his name??? 

Vampire Diaries/Originals reference.

Travis says he can't help with car stuff.

The milk was from a cow named Jennifer.  He milked her for the last time today. (Creepy).

Weird contradictory statements from Travis:

"You're the best thing I've seen in a long time."....

"Mm, I'm sorry. So many customers and all their ugly faces get all sewn up and stitched together in my mind."

"Yeah, that's the woman that bought them boots. While back. Nice lady. She paid cash."

Second reference to animals behaving strangely during a meteor shower:

"Meteor shower's got my girls singing a bit off key tonight.  Jennifer, she likes a good lullaby."

"Okay this guy is going to turn us into skin suits." (OG reference? Or just general sci-fi?)

Meteorchella at Planet 7 (Coachella-style party during meteor shower?) with any excuse to add sparkles!

Kyle says he's at Planet 7 because he's trying not to hang out with people from high school.

Isobel says she's trying to have fun without feeling like prey.

Don't think the details of Kyle/Isobel dancing matters all that much, but as a point of amusement I'll share that in the panel on Tuesday night they shared that Lily whispered something different to Trevino on every take...And they got progressively dirtier to the point that she finally felt like she crossed a line and profusely apologized.  Also the lick was a Lily addition. 

Max's confession about killing the drifter:

Kind of an interesting thing, comparing the first version of the drifter story in 1x06 to the 2x06 version. 1x06 was more dramatic, but 2x06 was more personal, I think. 

1x06

"There are moments that define our lives, and there are moments that divide our lives. Incidents that separate us into two different people: who we were before and who we will be after. Forever…One day we were children and the next we were something else. I was a killer. Michael an accomplice.  And Isobel...Isobel was broken."

2x06

"I killed a man once, on a camping trip. This drifter came out of nowhere, attacked Isobel.  I wasn't even thinking. I killed him. With this. I arrest people who kill people. Most of them usually regret what they did. You know, you can just tell that they're forever broken. It's like a piece of them dies with their victims. So when I could feel that darkness, like I had to kill, I wanted Isobel to let me die. Because I couldn't risk hurting even one innocent person. Cause life just wouldn't be worth living."

Kind of an interesting narrative choice to confess to murder on a first date and then have the girl just brush it aside. 

"No, it just hit me why you're so happy and idealistic, and I feel like an idiot. You are that way because you don't remember me. It's a clean slate.  It's like when you got out of the pods with whatever memories you had erased it's probably for your own good."

"Last I heard you were the love of my life."

"Your cohorts, they left out some details. Cause if you had your memories I'm positive the worst thing that's ever happened to you is connected to me. And I can't bear the weight of making you remember that again."

**Note, second time this has been implied.  Last time was by Michael in 1x08 regarding the alien symbol.

"...it's gotta have some connection to us right? Maybe it was something we saw somewhere before the crash."

"Sorry, are you, Max Evans, acknowledging that we must have had lives before we hatched out of the pods? You never want to talk about home."

"Hey, Roswell is home. Look, I'm sorry man. You're right. I've spent a lot of time not talking about where we come from or why we're here.  Keep thinking I can pretend the past away and just be normal. But if Isobel's blackouts are some alien thing, then I need to know more. Okay, and this symbol? That's all I have to go on. I mean don't you think it's strange that we don't have any memories? I mean, no parents, no language. We weren't infants, man. We were seven."

"I just figured our memory faded. Over 50 years in those pods. Maybe it was just time. Or maybe whoever put us in those pods doesn't want us to remember."

Travis and Trevor's house...with added bonus of his ring that Alex comments on.

Leather ribbons/strips on the wall are for (from?) Hayley and Gertrude. More cows, I presume. 

There's also a framed Purple Heart on the wall next to a photo of Travis?

"War really messes with a man's mind.  Gets it all twisted up.

Timeline issue!! Alex says Mimi was missing for 3 weeks, but according to the clearly established timelines in 201-203 it was 4 weeks (or a month ish).  I wrote about this here:

Maria put her jacket on a scarecrow to trick Travis. And did she leave it there?

(Answer: yes. She doesn't wear it for the rest of the episode. Smart of her, actually).

Michael sees Trevor come out of the house and is about to shoot him. Maria immediate knew it wasn't Travis and threw herself in front of Michael's gun

Trevor shoots Travis.

A bullet from the Crashdown shooting falls out of Max's journal.  Does it look like it has blood on it? Or maybe just ketchup? If it's THE bullet it would make a lot of sense that he kept it hidden - evidence that Liz was shot. See this comparison between one of Wyatt's bullets in 1x02 and the one Max finds in 2x06

"Sorry about my twin here. He's had a rough go."

"Combat does not make you an axe murderer."

"No, it wasn't the combat. It was the R&D. If a paramilitary group ever asks you to take part in a study, you run the other way. He showed up a few weeks ago. Locked me up out back. Lucky y'all showed up when you did. Gave me a chance to escape."

R&D is a military acronym for Research and Development. (Aka...The Science.)

Priscilla - the cow Mimi's boots were made from.

This is literally the only direct information gained about the boots from this little sleuthing excursion. 

Well, and that Mimi paid cash, which isn't like her.

Side note - I didn't really know what Paramilitary meant, so just in case any of you are also not good with military stuff, Paramilitary groups are like private armies. Like, I dunno, the private security firm that Jesse and Cam discussed in episode 2x04. 👀

Male doctor operating on Steph clearly states:

"All right we're approaching an arterial junction."

A female doctor replies and its less clear.  What I hear is...Blood gasses are back? Anyone else hear something that makes more sense than that?

He replied something like...the stint through here

She says something about pH levels.

Max admits that he didn't know what would happen when he decided to bring Rosa back.  He just wanted to fix the worst thing that ever happened to all of them.

"I can't believe we were Shyamalan'd by an evil twin."

I think Alex is referring to the twist ending? Or maybe just the insane axe murderer stuff.

M. Night Shyamalan wrote and directed the Sixth Sense, Signs, Split, etc…

During this scene is the first time we see Michael's tattoo… it's on his arm. I struggled with getting a cap of it, but I know there are gifs going around.

I had every intention of detailing the dialogue in the trailer scene, but before I could get to it, Carina posted the script, so I didn't think it was a good use of my time. Here's the script:

The next morning, Alex calls the Sheriff from outside the trailer for an update.

The Sheriff tells him that Travis and Trevor burned their home and ran...weren't caught by the sheriff.  Which means we may not have seen the last of them.

The Spanish:

"Oh my God. Dios mio, Max. I took off your pants before I even said I love you. I'm some kind of zorra."

Dios mio basically is Oh My God! So Liz really was spiraling. She went, "Oh my God, Oh my God..."

Zorra - female version of Zorro. Basically a vixen, bitch, prostitute… the internet has all sorts of fun words that it translates into. 

"I call this one Visceral Werewolf Part 2, dedicated to my boy Chee Chee, may he rest in peace."

Can we have more Bert? Bert is the best. Also kudos to his goofy friend who is wayyy too excited about this.

Forrest's slam poem:

Locked up for days,

Time slipping away,

On my knees I would pray to break free from this cage.

But bargaining for keys, you forget hidden fees.

And wishing for what you’re missing ain’t the same as living the dream. 

And now I’m fighting to stay on this side of the cage.

Even though I know a part of me wishes I’d stayed. 

Ain’t no prophet or rebel or savior or devil

Could have predicted, fought, cheated or leveled. 

A life with potential that’s squandered, 

A comfortable cell is a question I ponder. 

Am I a free man or a prisoner wanderer?

Max's memory flash:

Young Max, chained to the ground as described in 2x03. 

Max looks scared.

He's dressed all in white like the 1947 aliens after the crash (As shown in 1x12 and 2x03).

He's in a cave or something like a cave. 

Holes in the wall are glowing an orangey red color.

The ceiling is like the alien ship material with the alien symbol in it.  

A figure approaches from behind him, bends down, and places a hand on his shoulder.

It mirrors the figure approaching Nora in 2x03 and touching her shoulder before burning the military men...probably the same person? Noah? The stowaway? Someone new?

After the figure touches Max, he looks at the hand, and then a red glow lights his face.

MUSIC:

1. Xocoyotzin Herrera "Esperanza"

2. Jose Luis Lepe "La Carreta"

3. Eagle Eye Cherry "Save Tonight"

4. Lousiana Red "I Done Woke Up"

5. Whissell "Magnetic"

6. Stop Dead "Alchemistress Dance"

7.  Orville Peck "Turn To Hate"

8. Kim Petras "Close Your Eyes"

9. Orville Peck "Queen Of The Rodeo"

10. Moontricks "The Fall"

11. Years & Years "Hypnotised"

12. Jordan Critz Feat. Birdtalker "Through Your Eyes"

This time I couldn't find the Whissell and Stop Dead tracks on spotify - however the Stop Dead track is referenced at being by Chelsea Dawn in the closed captions.  Which I did find. Trying to confirm this. Let me know if anyone else had better luck!

[kaweeella]

PersonA3!

Chapter 2- He Did It, Fellas! He Did It!

Word count- 1790

Description- Tsuzuru decides to go out on a walk. In doing so he meets up with an old acquaintance and finally gets to see the theater that drew so much of his attention.

Tsuzuru returns to the house, still thinking about all that had happened earlier in the day. Izumi… She's looking for information on her father? And she owns the Mankai? I suspected that whoever owned the place was sentimental but…

Tsuzuru’s train of thought gets interrupted as Izumi notices him.

“Hey, Tsuzuru! Sorry I left you like that! Did you get a good look around?”

“Oh, yeah. I met some nice people.”

“Really? That’s good. Getting to know people in a new location is quite important. I’m glad you could make friends”

“You could do with meeting new people as well, you know” Yasashii buts in.

“Hey!”

“Anyway, dinner’s ready, Minagi-san”

“Oh, thank you, Tachibana-san.” Tsuzuru says with a bow.

“Of course. It’s chicken curry tonight.”

“I made it! I’m really good at making curry!”

“Really? That’s cool.”

“Yep! I can make a different type of curry everyday for a year! Maybe even two!”

Tsuzuru starts to feel nervous.

~~~

Dinner was good, but Tsuzuru still can’t help but be scared for his future here.

Tsuzuru flops down onto his bed. It’s much comfier than he thought it would be, which he is very happy about.

What should I do tomorrow? Maybe I’ll go out to meet new people. Maybe I could find out that other guy’s name. Or maybe I could get to know the Tachibanas more. I’m gonna be here for a while but after this week I might not have a lot of free time. There are too many options… I guess I should explore the area more and see other people. I’ll be living with the Tachibanas and I can look up that one guy later. Yeah. I’ll probably do that.

As he thinks he drifts off to sleep. He’s so concentrated he doesn’t even notice he’s in the Velvet Room. They spend about a minute in silence while Tsuzuru spends way too long on his choice. The quiet is finally broken when an unfamiliar voice pipes up.

“Tsuzuru? Open your eyes, please~” The voice is calming, but despite that Tsuzuru’s still startled from the unexpected talking. “Ah, thank you.”

“You’ve met some new potential allies today, hmm?”

“Hey, Igor, I have a question. You keep saying allies and you talked about a journey that I’m supposedly going to go on. What’s all that about?”

Igor let out a soft chuckle. “You will find out in due time.”

The quiet man gives a small smile and wave, and Tsuzuru wakes up in his bed.

He’s so cryptic… 

Tsuzuru gets up, but as he leaves his room he runs right into Izumi.

“Oh! Uh, sorry. Are you alright?”

“No, yeah, I’m sorry. I just wanted to check in one you. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, thank you. That’s… really thoughtful of you.” Tsuzuru gives a small smile.

“So,” Izumi starts as she gets up “Got any plans today?”

Izumi helps Tsuzuru to his feet as Tsuzuru processes what was just said to him. “Yeah, I was planning on going out and meeting more people.”

“That’s good! I hope it goes well!” Izumi claps her hands energetically as she speaks. “There are many nice people around. I’m sure it’ll be great!”

Tsuzuru heads out of the house, but doesn’t know where to go. He knows what he wants to do, but he isn’t entirely sure of how to go about doing it. He decides on just wandering around until he runs into someone. For quite some time he didn’t talk to anyone, but a lot of people bumped into him. He starts to think he should have stayed at the house when…

“Tsuzuroon?!”

Tsuzuru keeps walking

“Hey, Tsuzuroon! What’s up!”

Tsuzuru begins to feel as though the person’s talking to him. That feeling was confirmed when they grabbed his shoulder.

“Hey, Tsuzuroon! Didja not hear me?” The man has long blonde hair and green eyes. He’s wearing a shirt that says three on it three times and he has a blue jacket on his shoulders. Tsuzuru also notices that he has ear piercings as well, but there is one thing in particular that draws his attention. He’s wearing a fedora. Tsuzuru doesn’t know how to feel about him, but none of his feelings so far have been good.

“Uhm, hi.”

“Do you not remember me? I’m Kazunari Miyoshi! We went to school together!”

Kazunari Miyoshi, huh? The name is familiar but… he can’t be the Kazunari I was in school with…

“Oh! It’s prolly the hair, huh? Yeah I dyed it near the end of my last year of highschool.”

“You’re…” The gears are yet to click. Or maybe they already had and he just didn’t like the answer. “You’re… a lot different than I remember you.”

“Yeah, I found myself some.” He says with a wink and a shrug. “Do ya like?”

Tsuzuru isn’t entirely sure of how to respond to that. He was so responsible and studious but he did seem stressed a lot. They rarely had classes together since Kazunari is a year older than him but he talked to him quite a bit, always catching Tsuzuru off guard. After an awkwardly long silence, he finally finds his answer.

“If you like it, then it’s great.” He says with a smile.

For the first time Tsuzuru catches Kazunari off guard, though he doesn’t show it on his face enough for Tsuzuru to know.

“Hah! Yeah, it’s kinda freeing, ya know?” Kazunari moves to the other side of Tsuzuru. “So whatcha doing here?”

“I moved here for college and I wanted to take a walk and get to know people. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Kazunari perks up a bit “Well c’mon! Let's walk and catch up! It’ll be fun!”

“Alright then, let’s walk.”

They walk along while they chat, Kazunari walking backwards facing Tsuzuru, even when Tsuzuru tells him to watch where he’s going. Kazunari nearly runs into things multiple times but Tsuzuru pulled him out of the way, muttering about how he’s gonna just walk into something next time. He didn’t.

Tsuzuru is so caught up with their conversation that he doesn’t even realize where they are. Looking up, he sees the Mankai building.

“Hey, whatcha lookin at?” Kazunari follows his gaze to the sign. “Mankai, huh? What’s that?”

“It’s an old theater company. Hasn’t been open in years.”

“It’s in pretty good condition.”

“Yeah, the owner has been keeping it together all this time…”

“Who’s the owner?”

“Uhm, it seems to belong to the people I’m staying with.”

Kazunari stares for a moment. “Let’s check out inside!”

“What- why?”

“Aren’t you a little bit curious?”

“I guess, but we can’t just go in there without permission.” Tsuzuru looks back up at the sign. “Though it is quite interesting… I spent some time looking into it… it was quite popular.” As Tsuzuru mutters, he doesn’t notice Kazunari going up to the door.

“Hey, Tsuzuroon! It’s unlocked!”

“What? Hey! You can’t just go in!”

Kazunari gives him a playful wink as he slips through the door, Tsuzuru follows behind to keep him out of trouble.

“Miyoshi! Get back here!”

Kazunari goes into the main theater

“Hey!” Tsuzuru runs after him. He catches up and grabs his shoulder. “Come on! Let’s go.”

“Why?”

“This is trespassing! We could be arrested! I could get kicked out! I’m…” Tsuzuru starts to feel uneasy and sick.

“You’re what?” Kazunari asks as he turns to face Tsuzuru. Before he could get any joke in, he sees how out of it Tsuzuru looks. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m…” As he’s speaking Tsuzuru feels as though he’s falling. When he comes to again, he’s not in the same place as before. Looking around he sees Kazunari in the audience and Tsuzuru realizes he’s up on the stage. Kazunari looks to be yelling something, but Tsuzuru can’t hear him.

He doesn’t get long to think about it as he feels something bump into him. There are a bunch of silhouettes constantly running into him, pushing him around. He starts to breathe heavily, too much is happening. As he panics he hears a voice.

“Is this what you want to be? Invisible to everyone around you, is that what you want? Sounds kinda boring, if you ask me.”

“I… no… I don’t”

“Then let me ask you this. Do you want to help your friend?”

“My… friend?”

Tsuzuru’s attention is drawn back to Kazunari. He’s being attacked by some kind of monsters. His heart is pounding harder and harder.

“I… yes.”

“Then help him.” Tsuzuru starts running before he even realizes it. “I am thou, and thou art I. Show them all who you are.”

Tsuzuru jumps off the stage. There’s a sound of shattering glass as he does.

“Kazunari!” Tsuzuru yells. “Dionysus!”

Looking up, Kazunari sees Tsuzuru and a strange figure. The figure is green with a purple robe that tapers off into some sort of roots and a gold rope around his waist. His hair seems to be made up of deep green leaves. Kazunari begins to scream.

Dionysus uses a whip of ivy and attacks the monsters.

Tsuzuru runs to Kazunari, but one of the creatures goes to slash them. Kazunari uses his jacket as an attempt to shield them. It works about as well as it sounds.

“Psi!”

Dionysus spins the whip and a purple beam blasts out towards a monster, taking it down.

“Dude what’s happening!?”

“I don’t know!”

“How did you do that?”

“I don’t know!”

The last monster rears back to attack, but Kazunari notices and gives a strong kick, knocking it backward. He then starts whacking it with his hat.

It doesn’t seem to be hurting it physically, but it definitely looks sad.

It turns and runs away with a whimper, leaving the two confused and breathing heavily.

Still breathing heavily, Kazunari turns to Tsuzuru, a little bit quizzically, and asks “When did you change your clothes?”

“What? I never…” Looking down, Tsuzuru sees that his clothes had changed at some point. He’s now wearing a purple robe and a leaf crown. “What the heck?”

“Nevermind that, dude, that was so amazing! You were like a pro! What was that?”

“I’m… I’m not sure. It just seemed to be correct.” Tsuzuru uneasily gets up to his feet. “Come on, let's just get out of here.”

“Wait!” A loud voice cries out from somewhere overhead.

Tsuzuru and Kazunari’s attention is drawn to where they heard it. Above stage left. Before either of them say anything, something launches down. It smacks Tsuzuru right in the forehead, knocking him back down.

Looking up, Tsuzuru sees a little pink bird. It’s cute. It has a little bowtie.

Due to the pre-existing dizziness and the hit on the head, Tsuzuru passes out.