#happy late barricade day!!

[carrielion15]

people forget that in the book grantaire was a boxer, gymnast, and a dancer. i’m sorry WHAT

[eccentricallygothic]

Hey sweetheart 😘 I really hope requests are opened and you don't mind me sending in a request 🤗

I thought of something where you and Bucky are close friends with huge feelings for each other but you're both too stubborn to admit. So one time you're having movie night at the compound and you take your spot besides Bucky, enjoying the closeness. As some intimate scene appears, you feel Bucky all tense up and excusing him, so you later find him in his room wondering what's wrong, and finally he admits that he got nasty thoughts about you doing all that to him so he had to leave. You think about his words and before he can back out, you push him on the bed, straddling him, riding him, giving you both the pleasure you held back for too long. Afterwards he's a huge cuddle bear and asks you to be his girl ? 🤗 Hope that's okay with you 🫶🏼

Hello! And yes, requests are open and you certainly can send them in! Yours is definitely okay with me and maybe a bit too okay because it made me stray from my usual hc form 😵‍💫 I really, really hope you like it. Thank you for requesting! Happy reading 🩷

| Clueless |

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky Barnes | Avenger!Reader. 

Warning(s): Kissing, unprotected p-in-v sex, cowgirl, nipple play, thumb sucking, Bucky's vibranium arm because I am a mental slut, Bucky mildly being the old man that he is, size kink, dirty talk, creampie, fluff. Minors do not interact.

"Bucky?" You call after softly knocking on his door before opening it. Your eyebrows furrow when you don't get a response and so you peek inside to scan the room. 

You're about to turn on your heels and go look someplace else when you notice him on the balcony, back turned to you as he leans on the railing, a bottle in hand. 

"Hey," he doesn't turn his head to look at you when you approach him. The super soldier probably already heard you when you were down the hall. "What happened? You didn't come back." You lean one arm against the balcony confine on the spot besides him, leaning your head to the side and watching him as he takes another swig.

Bucky takes his time swallowing, his heavy Adam's apple bobbing as he keeps his eyes trained on the grounds of the compound. His broad shoulders shrug only when he has gathered his thoughts a bit, legs shifting before he answers. "Just because." Your features scrunch in confusion. 

What?

"Just because… what?" You voice your confusion and he sighs at your cluelessness. When he just shakes his head to himself you roll your eyes with a huff. "What, talk to me! What even happened?" The way he turns to his other side and his vibranium arm barricades you away from him pisses you off as you stomp to the other side. 

Bucky has confusing moments like this sometimes that he eventually gets over but never provides you any explanation for them. 

"Bucky, I can only know if you tell me…" You try though you know it'll be in vain, as usual. "What the hell happened? We were watching a movie and then you said you'd be a second and then half an hour later I realize you're not back and then I find you sipping beer in your room all by yourself like we weren't having movie night!" 

The male sighs and shakes his head again before lowering it and turning once more. "Just so clueless…" When you go to speak again, he spins a 180° and walks back into his room. "But what else can I expect from this generation?" That makes you scoff as you tail him like a vulture, hot on his heels.

"What the hell does that even mean–"

"Language!"

"Oh, my God!" You throw your hands up in frustration. "What has gotten into you lately?! You're becoming more and more like Steve by the passing day!" The mention of the male shifts something in his expression and he half turns his head to look at you with an unreadable expression on his face. "And that means annoying!" The addition seems to ease the tension in his huge shoulders.

Just a bit.  

Something has been going on with him and he refuses to share it with you even though you are the closest with each other out of the entire team.

"You seriously don't know what was wrong? Are you really so clueless?" You rake your memories to recall what he is on about since the movie was quite innocent in that sense except… 

Oh. 

You roll your eyes as you cross your arms over your chest. "Well, I am sorry not all of us are conservatives from the '40s, gramps" now it is Bucky's turn to scoff.

"Oh, really?" When you hum and nod with just as much agitation his frustration gets the best of him. "You know what a conservative from the '40s would really do?" 

"Yeah, no. Do enlighten me please!" You know he doesn't appreciate it when you get too sassy with him but what is he going to do about it? 

You are a girl with a mind of your own and no one is going to tell you or give you any shit.

"He would ask the potential lady love out on a nice dinner instead of hanging out with her right in the beginning!" Your eyebrows furrow as he sarcastically emphasizes the words. "I mean, what even is that supposed to be?! It doesn't make any sense!" Bucky clicks his tongue in disdain as one of his hands move in the air to help express his frustration. "There is an order, a code, a way to do these things! Fancy is not supposed to be treated so casually! You kids have ruined the sanctity of the whole idea!" 

"What even are you on about, Bucky?!" You go on cluelessly. "This is absurd! So what, friends can't watch movies together now?! I am sorry that things are less complicated now?!"

"They're not less complicated!" He is beyond annoyed and you can tell. "Not by a long shot! If anything, it's worse! Because now I have to deal with watching a provocative scene while the girl I like is cuddling into me but I can't do anything because we are just friends having a casual hangout and I can't do anything about my hard cock that wants nothing more than to show her that the scene that has her gripping my arm so tight is nothing in comparison to what I can do to her if she just stops being so fucking clueless!"

Bucky's teal blue eyes are wide and he is nearly breathless by the time he finishes his little speech. Your own state is not much different as you blink up at him in shock. It is only when he has recovered a little that he realizes what he has said… or rather, confessed. 

"I-" the super soldier goes to shake his head but then stops before half tilting it to the side, visibly at a loss of words as his ears turn beet red. "Y/n–" 

Your fingers are curling around the neckline of his shirt before you know it, the pull of your hand tugging you towards him instead of doing what you had intended, his heavy body unbudging. 

Bucky's arms hang limply at his sides as he stands against you utterly dumbfounded, barely kissing you back if at all as he tries to decide whether this is another one of his dreams or you, the only girl that has managed to reach into his heart after so long that it honestly feels kind of like the first time, really is kissing him.

What he doesn't know is that you are having difficulty with determining the same thing. 

You pull back when your lungs are on fire and you are heaving for air desperately, fingers still tightly holding onto his shirt in bunches with the fear that he might vanish into the air if you let go. 

Bucky blinks as he sputters out some incoherent nonsense, eyes wide as he watches your face to try and grasp what just happened. "I–" 

You shake your head with a roll of your eyes and a tut. He's insufferable with all that chivalry. You do find it endearing at times but it's moments like these when he's so clueless and formal about it that it gets annoying. 

"Just shut up and kiss me, old man" you whisper as your eyes flicker down to his pink lips and you're on him again. 

This time though, your words seem to have snapped him out of it and his hands shoot up to your sides as he holds you back just as tightly, fingers reaching down for your ass cheeks before he squeezes them hard. You are forced to break the kiss, your face still remaining against his lips as you audibly shudder at the feeling, shivers shooting down your hips and straight to your intimate parts from the delicious ache that it causes. 

Within the next few minutes, you have managed to back Bucky into the bed as he's distracted with touching, feeling and groping as much of you as he possibly can. He lands on the bed with a heavy thud but before any words can be exchanged, you are straddling his thick and muscular thighs. 

Your hands hurriedly snatch his shirt off before you push him down, raising your own arms above your head to let him do the same as you grind into his hard on that feels so thick that some tiny part of your brain cannot help but fear for your pussy. 

"Mmm, solnyshko, you're so fucking pretty" Bucky rasps out the nickname he gave you when you both realized you had reached that stage in your friendship. But now, with his very recent confession fresh in your mind, you see the meaning of the word, 'little sun', that he had told you with an air of awkwardness in a very different light. 

"Look at all this pretty fucking body, solnyshko. I could cum just by looking at it alone." Emotion overcomes your senses and you suddenly feel a bit sensitive. A whimper escapes you as a result and you can't help but clench against his bulge, hands reaching to squeeze his hands that are feeling up your boobs now that he has fished them out of the bra cups. 

"B- Bucky…" He seems to have sensed it already, and so one of his hands trail down to your side to caress it encouragingly. 

"Go ahead, baby" the endearment is just as foreign for you as it is for him. "You're doing so good, keep going for me" you feel a twitch below you and you can't help but parrot the curse that slithers from his lips. 

Though you are on top, Bucky still seems to have the upper hand as he always does. But you have never really minded that with him because he isn't nasty about it and you know he only means well. You have learnt that through various outcomes many times. Besides, not that you'd ever admit it but you do need the extra care and guidance sometimes. 

It is tough to play the all-knowing hero all the time. 

Bucky is your sanctuary to deconstruct and just be yourself after a long day.

You hope you are the same for him as well. 

With newfound confidence that you have his praise to thank for, you whine as your hips start to circle and twist against his stuff bulge, your clothed pussy already pleased because of how needy and desperate it really is. 

Your back arches as you moan out loud when his fingers go to circle around one of your nipples, twisting it between them before his fingernails dig in them while his vibranium hand finds your mouth. "Bucky!" Your face is flushed and cheeks hot as you feel his thumb graze the shape of your lips before pushing inside them. "Mmmm~" your brows furrow when you feel yourself leak some more before clenching around the air again.

Okay.

Grinding isn't gonna cut it. 

You need him inside you. 

You have waited for way too long to rub it out. 

He just has to be all over you… and that includes all the openings to your insides. 

Your lips tightly wrap around his thumb as you suck so hard that the sound of it resonates in the air, pulling a sharp string of whispered curses from Bucky. Letting go of his arms you now claws at his belt until it gives way to your ferocity and you nearly tug the fly off the fabric.

You whine louder than you would ever like to admit when he goes to tug your shorts off and you have to shift away from where you are grinding against him, the rude protective growl you end up letting out causing him to chuckle as he pulls the shorts off your legs with a soft spank to your ass; a signal for you to improve your crazed behavior.  

Bucky has a way of keeping you in your place. 

"Tsk, solnyshko, patience!" His playful words fall on deaf ears as you literally jump back up on his cock, planting two stubborn hands against his shoulders before pushing him down flat against the mattress from his half risen position. 

Your single-mindedness once you zero in on something is a joke amongst the team. And though you deny it with every fiber of your existence, your actions and manic possessiveness over his cock right now is not helping your case. 

"Mine" you whisper as you move back to now rub against him skin to skin, your fingertips tracing over the bumps of his body as your usually bright eyes watch him with a dark hue over them. A hiss leaves Bucky when your warm and soaking pussy drags against his member, causing for his hands to bolt to your ass as he squeezes with all his might to withstand the sensory overload. It is to avoid flipping you over to fuck you into oblivion. 

Because that can come later. Right now is your first time with him and he prefers for you to take things at your pace; ease into whatever this will become. 

"Just like that, solnyshko, good girl" the words cause you to whimper as you raise yourself by propping your body up against your heels, wrapping one hand around his intimidating girth before you slowly pump and spread both your precums along its destructive length. 

Your bottom lip juts out a little at his scary size and you can't help but look up at him with a whimper. It is so easy because he is your safe place and understands every single one of your quirks with no words exchanged. 

Everything makes sense with Bucky.

"It's okay, baby. You can take it, I know you can" he reassures you as he caresses your thighs comfortingly. "Go ahead, I'll take care of you if I have to" you nod gratefully, your usually smart mouth mum. Though when you look down at his rather monstrous cock again, you have to gulp to yourself as you arch your back before moving the thick tip against your entrance, the sensation causing you to hiss almost instantly.

"Hnnng, Bucky!" You feel yourself stretch and widen around his smooth skin, but then you slide down further and the shape of his thick bulging veins grazes against your trembling walls and your thighs quiver, causing your knees to shake. "Oh!" The most vile moan you have ever let out rings in the air as you reach for his shoulders sensitively, wincing and lowering your head against his to let him kiss you everywhere he can reach while your hips lower against his. 

"Fuck, solnyshko, you're so fucking tight for me" his hands fondle your ass and breasts rather bluntly as he peppers kisses all over your face, moving his own hips in sync to yours to help you out because you are clearly struggling with accommodating and handling him. "Good girl" his lips capture yours in a clingy kiss, your mouths nearly sticking to each other's. You break away for enough time for Bucky to let out, "such a good fucking girl for me, baby" before you sink down on his cock again and bite his bottom lip as a result, loudly whining into his mouth. 

The super soldier curses as he twitches inside you, his tip easily reaching the sensitive bundle of nerves that ks hot and eager to be touched. "Fuck, you're so biiiig!" You mewl as your eyes roll to the back of your head, fingers clasping around his shoulders as you find a rhythm and start bouncing, the aid of his hips causing a loud smacking sound to fill the otherwise quiet air. 

You feel your loins tense each time his stiff veins graze your weeping pussy that desperately tries to return to its original state whenever he lifts you almost all the way up and off his cock only to have you sheath it back again from the tip. 

You are trying your best to keep the control to yourself but the truth is, were it not for Bucky's guiding hold on your hips, you would have collapsed from the sensitivity of your core and the size of his impaler long ago. 

"Look at you, solnyshko" the male cooes while panting but doesn't break off the sync of your bodies, one hand now dipping between your legs to let his vibranium thumb rub your clit. The action causes your limbs to spasm as you moan loudly, your back arching while your pussy clenches again. "Lookin' so pretty bouncing on my cock. Almost as if that's all you were made to do" his words make you grunt as you dig your nails into his skin.

Fuck, he is too good. 

Not so chivalrous after all, was he?

"Oh, Bucky!" You have never moaned like this before. "I am gonna–" in control yet so powerless. "I- I am gonna cum!" No one has ever made you feel so good, so dirty, so used and yet so taken care of all at once. "Oh, please!" You have no idea why you are even asking his permission to do so. Before him you had always been the boss of your life. 

But with Bucky, it just feels right. 

Like that is the order of things.

That is just the kind of man that he is. 

"Go ahead, my sweet solnyshko" his other hand slaps your ass and stars appear in your vision. Fuck. You had not expected him to be this dominant. "Fuck yourself dumb on my dick like the cock starved slut that you are" his referral to your crazed greed from some minutes ago makes you blush furiously but before you can protest, his thumb swipes faster and faster against your nub and renders you speechless. 

Your toe curling orgasm os one that leaves you momentarily numb and deaf, the only thing your mind being able to register the overstimulation of your walls as Bucky chases his own orgasm now, basically using you as a cock sleeve as you motionlessly slam up and down his length, the upper half of your body hunched forwards as your cheek rests against his. Your mouth can only let out incoherent murmurs in his ear as you snake your arms around his neck and nibble on the skin of his shoulders until his hot seed explodes through you, filling your cavern up until it overflows and the white liquid trickles down your legs. 

You are eventually moved down and off his cock to which you whine, your hole blinking around air at the loss of contact. That causes Bucky to chuckle as he wraps you up against him in his thick arms and moves your bodies further up the bed until you are resting against the pillows. 

"Don't go~" you softly murmur with a pout when he turns to reach for his bedside drawers. 

The arm that he has around you further tighten in reassurance as he fishes something out. "Aw, baby, don't worry. I am not going anywhere" your pout deepens when he turns towards you and the object comes into view. "Just–"

"Noooo~" you whine as you tighten your arms around his chest and nuzzle your face in the crook of his neck. "L- Leave it on~" one of his eyebrows raise before a little smirk appears on his face. 

"Oh, solnyshko, you sweet girl" Bucky puts the tissue box away as he moves your hair out of your face before pressing a warm kiss to your forehead. "Aren't you precious, hm?" As he untucks your flushed face from his neck to look at and caress one of your cheeks lovingly, you blush harder and busy yourself with examining his dog tags to avoid his eyes. "Who would have thought that the baddest avenger would be such a cutie deep down?" You roll your eyes when he playfully quotes what you like to refer to yourself as. "Not wanting to be cleaned so she can remain covered in my cum–"

"Alright, alright. You can stop now" your voice is hoarse due to your vocal exercise from a couple minutes ago. 

"Stop?" Your eyes flutter when his nails comfortingly scratch your scalp before one of his fingers snake through the strands of your disheveled hair. "But I haven't even started with you yet, baby" a snort leaves him when he feels you clench with a whimper at his words.

Your limbs are tangled as you lay relaxing in each other's scents, one of Bucky's thick thighs buried between your legs. 

"Not even started with me yet?!" Your shock makes him snicker. "After all that?!' 

It is safe to say that he has fucked the living daylights out of you.

… And he was not even on top when he did so. 

Bucky shrugs. "Only one way to find out…" His eyes search for yours with hope. 

You finally look up at him with a small smile, your heart thumping as your fingers curl around the chain of his dog tags. "I would love to, Bucky." Before you could shy away, your now boyfriend has captured your lips in his. 

"Oh, and honey?"

"Yes… b- babe?"

"We really have to do something about those sassy little eye rolls of yours."  

I know I made him dominant but it's literally Bucky, how could I not?! 

[batrachois]

happy (late) barricade day

who has been unhooking the stars without my permission and putting them on the table in the guise of candles.

[id in alt text]

[totaly-obsessed]

Rory

Leah Williamson x reader

-> A teenage squabble over a plant turns into a heartwarming symbol of family as two best friends prepare to embark on the journey of motherhood together.

-> Happy (a little late) Birthday @alotofpockets!

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

“What the fuck is that?”

“Leah Williamson, Language! Or I will call Amanda!” Your mum’s voice was shrill as she scolded a thirteen-year-old Leah for her cursing. Leah just had a smug smirk on her face, she got her potty mouth from her mum, who always acted outraged when her eldest swore in front of other people.

“That is my favorite plant, Lee! My sister gave it to me.”

Your best friend didn’t even have the audacity to look guilty or lie. “Well that’s fucking hideous thing, I’ll tell you that.”

“Leah!” Oh shit. She just got first-named.

“W- Well you can’t tell me that’s a pretty plant! What is it even called? Tree Tumbo?

Now that she saw the tears brimming your eyes she knew she had fucked up. Her hand that had flown, trying to defend herself slowly sank.

“No, it’s called Dracaena. But I named it Rory, short for Aurora.”

Just last week Leah and you had talked about names for future children, or rather your future children. The blonde was already sure that she liked girls, so kids were out of sight for now. Aurora was a name that stuck with her though, and you had promised to name your first kid Aurora if your husband would agree.

“Oh… Darling, I’m so so-”

“I think you should go home now.” Your teary eyes nearly killed the teen, but with one last kiss on your forehead, she left the room, saying goodbye to your very confused mother.

—

“No way.”

“Yes, Leah! I am not leaving her behind!”

The blonde defender tried to barricade the door and deny you access, but with just a gentle nudge she moved, even picking up the heavy plant for you.

“I can’t believe you’re taking that fucking thing with you.”

After that eventful first day of having Rory, Leah had properly apologized with chocolate, flowers, and a hand-knitted little sweater for a plant pot. She obviously didn't make it herself. God, that would have been a disaster. Her Granny, Berny, had made it for her.

“Well she’s my daughter and as long as I am alive I will take her with me. Either deal with it or go.”

Leah was stunned standing in the hallways “OH! You wouldn’t dare, darling! What would you do without me? Who carries the grocery bags for you?”

“You haven’t carried anything yet!”

The two of you had just signed your first senior contract with Arsenal for a year - and to live closer to the facilities you were moving into a house with Emma Mitchell and Emma Byrne. Both of them were experienced players and filled with excitement they had agreed to take two young talents in.

But seeing you call a plant your daughter, and Leah hating it with such passion surely was a sight to see and just a teaser for the coming year.

—

“You can’t be serious?”

Leah had been busy over the day, doing media stuff. So with having the new house all to yourself, you brought Rory back in, much to your girlfriend's demise.

She had just re-signed her arsenal contract for the foreseeable future while you had signed with the London City Lionesses last year, working part-time as a librarian at your closest school - a dream of yours.

After multiple failed relationships with men, you had come to the realization that the real thing was right in front of you, in the form of your best friend.

Now you had moved out of the old, small apartment into your very own first home, and Leah apparently liked to ignore the time plans you had made. So now you stood there, Rory still in your hands as your girlfriend got out of the car.

“I thought we talked about this Darling!”

Quickly she had walked over, taking the now huge plant out of your hands, and carried it into the house.

“Where do you want it then?”

She already knew that you couldn’t leave Rory behind, you had looked so sad when you promised her not to take the Dracaena with you.

“Next to the couch please!”

“Of course darling…”

—

The nerves picked at you as you made a little sign with ‘big sister’ on it. It shouldn’t be that much of a surprise to Leah that you are pregnant, the road here was long after all. But you would never know.

Rory would officially be a big sister in the making, in just a few more months, and then a little baby would share the place with your loved plant.

After leaning the sign next to the ultrasound and the pregnancy test you sat back down at the dining table, now you just needed to wait until your wife was home.

It was as if you were in a trance, looking at your book but not actually taking anything in from it when the blonde entered your home.

“I’m home darling!” Her first act of service once entering was greeting you with a kiss - but she was a little taken aback by your nervous expression. You had been home the entire day, what could have happened?

“I’m gonna shower, my love. I’ll leave the door open for ya!”

Hastily you stood up, pulling Leah back by her arm, ignoring the cocky smirk on her beautiful face. “Can you water Rory please?”

Her nose scrunched up in confusion. You, letting her near your beloved plant? unheard of, but she’d take it any day if it would make you happy.

“Yeah! Sure!"

Your wife nearly skipped through the living room, a half-full watering can in one hand, a müsli riegel in the other. 

“How much does she need?”

No answer.

“Darling, What’s up? You’ve been we- Oh.”

She saw it.

the watering can and food forgotten she picked up the hints you had positioned, looking at the positive test and the picture.

“It worked! We’re gonna be mothers!”

[awholelotofsad]

Let’s fall and fall and fall into the vortex of this hole-dwelling life…

a bit different from how i usually draw things but i was listening to a lot of horror songs lately and got Inspired

happy barricade day, fellas

[goth-mami-writer]

Hi there! So here's my idea. The reader (medic officer) and leon just come out as a new couple and they're happy until one day they get draft for a mission and there meet the one and only Ada Wong that they have to cooperate for the mission. Leon is paying way more attention and all over Ada that he almost disregard the reader. She tries to be understanding and softly communicate with Leon but it turns into an argument. The reader gets upset and misunderstand Leon that he is very not much over with his "the one that got away". Leon regrets the things he said and tries to talk to her but she proceeds to avoid Leon at all costs. Que the enemies attack their base and the reader sees that the enemy is aiming to shoot Ada and at the last minute takes the critical hit for her while thinking that Leon would be heartbroken if Ada dies. Reader flatline a couple of times. I would like to know how Leon would react to this. Let's end it with a happy note ^^

▪︎~ Wildflower ~▪︎

~(AU) Leon Kennedy × f!Reader angst/jealousy work @bat-yo-us ♡

《 You stood there beside him outside of the artillery bunker that afternoon and felt your lip quivering with heartbreak. You stiffened up your trembling mouth, knowing any second you'd be blurting out the words you once thought you'd never say to his face even with a gun to your head.

But you were ready.

“Listen-” Leon began knowing just by the look on your face that you were making decisions that he couldn't change your mind on no matter what he had to say about it,

“I know I've been saying and doing things here lately that…have made you think-”

“Made me think?” You asked him, laughing with tears in your eyes at the audacity he had.

“No, not made me think. More like: made me know- made me fucking realize-”

You put your head in your hands, laughing more at the thought of your once pure, dumb hope that this would ever work after the turmoil of the past few weeks.

“And I'm done.” You said finitely until suddenly the base's sirens rang with their whirring, metallic urgency that filled the air overhead all at once. You looked in the distance to see enemy vehicles piling into the dirt lot after surging through the gated barricade by force.

“Get inside.” Leon said, watching the dirt spin away from their tires with a charging speed, and together, you both ran towards the closest underground bunker that was already flooded with the officers and personnel directing the others inside.

You heard your chief director calling for all on the unit to line in for roll call and your heart was racing trying to prepare yourself for the many casualties and injuries that might result from an enemy raid right now. The medical staff was short handed to begin with and you knew your work wouldn't be done for well into the morning with this.

“How many on unit?” One of the deputies called that oversaw the emergency protocol.

“Sixty.” One of the lesser privates answered and then called out the count that made your bones chill.

“Fifty nine present.”

Leon looked around with the others, trying to find who was missing and you did the same. You thought of your other medics and the doctors onboard the base too. All were here, you reached out to touch their hands to somehow guarantee your racing mind that they were in fact safe. But you stopped.

Ada. It was Ada.

“Wong!!” The chief director said, making the emergency officer call out the same to try and find where in the lineup Ada was. But only you and Leon knew.

He turned to you, asking if Ada ever came out of the artillery bunker and you shook your head in terror. You knew exactly why she didn't hear the raid sirens and you said to Leon gravely with fear in your voice,

“She's down in the stronghold. It's concrete. She can't hear a thing down there.”

Leon’s eyes went wide knowing that the downstairs of the artillery bunker would be one of the first things to be potentially raided due to its vast supply of weaponry and ammunition. He turned, not knowing who to tell first that Ada was still out there and someone would have to go out amid this enemy storm to get her back to safety.

You watched Leon's chest rise and fall with the thought of Ada being in danger and you felt that was the only image to prompt what needed to happen next. She was special and there just wasn't a way for you to argue it anymore. You swallowed the hot, heavy lump in your throat and your feet took flight against the ground to get you back upstairs.

Leon had already turned, preparing to tell the emergency staff of Ada's whereabouts but seeing you flee frantically to escape back to the surface was enough to make him charge forward. He screamed your name as you raced upstairs, now tapping your badge to the entry scanner to allow you outside and your feet pounded to the dirt.

This was insane. Here you were racing to save your boyfriend's ex from trouble. But it was more than that wasn't it?, you thought as you heard gunfire and enemy commands to detain anyone onsight. Ada made Leon happy. As much as you hated it. She was different from you and it was that simple.

You didn't want to be a hero that brought her back to safety. You just Leon to be happy knowing someone he cared about was free from danger.

~2 weeks prior.

~3 miles north, southbound enclave.

“Kennedy- tell your girl that we got a few wounded up here that we'll need looked at when we make camp.” Your chief directorate radioed in over the comms placed inside the military jeep taking you both south to the neighboring base located outside of Racoon City.

You had met in the months prior, doing recon in the city and around the outskirts. In the few times Leon himself had been wounded, you were always his favorite on the med staff and he knew right away that he liked you. After trying his luck, you two had decided to commit and come out as official even amid the ongoing chaos of a fallen city.

“10-4.” Leon said into the comms and looked at you smiling in the passenger seat.

You weren't used to being called his girl yet and it was still an instant feeling of giddiness that always made your lips turn up in a grin.

Leon looked over to see you basking in your little moment of bliss and he questioned with a chuckle although it was something he already knew the answer,

“What are you smirking at over there?”

“I'm not…smirking.” You said with a shake to your head as he drove, watching his gloved hands wrap around the steering wheel.

“Sorry-” He said shifting gears without even a glance downwards,

“Guess a shit-eating grin is better to call it, huh?”

You slapped his arm, watching as he clearly enjoyed the playful banter as well as you did. He teased you more with comments that you could never admit to enjoying and finally you said flirtatiously across the seat, watching as the neighboring base appeared on the horizon.

“You know, I've got a little syringe in my bag that could fix that mouth of yours?”

“You wouldn't-” He said looking over with a grin.

“You think I wouldn't?” You said slyly, “Why's that?”

“Cause I'm the one driving.” He joked cockily, slowing down as the guards from the front gates held up their hands for the car to stop for inspection before being given clearance. You laughed loudly as he showed your IDs and then sighed in love that this was your new normal.

When you both received clearance and met after the hours of menial work patching wounds and giving injections, you found him again inside one of the supply tents, well into a conversation with someone you couldn't make out from their obscured view behind others passing through. But when you got close enough, your heart dropped to see Ada Wong.

Leon in the past had mentioned her and their falling out when escaping the now ruins of Racoon City. You quickly became confused as to why and how you were seeing them together this way and you approached cautiously.

When you became close enough, Leon turned and introduced you to the woman who warmed you with a smile. Immediately, from what you'd heard, her warm, kindred way of smiling seemed venomous to you but here infront of Leon, you swallowed the distrust you had.

“I'm Ada. Very nice to meet you. She is pretty, Leon. You were right.”

You brushed away that compliment just for now and watched the way that Leon smiled when he graced her with a moment more of conversation. Ada stated that she was working with some of the higher-ups into getting more federal help with providing aid and medicine and that she'd be around often.

“Well, I certainly won't talk your ear off, Leon. We'll catch up later.” She mentioned with another half smile that just felt artificial to you somehow and prowled away as she began reading from notes gathered in her hands.

You looked to Leon whose gaze seemed to linger as she made her exit and you watched too for another moment. There was a voice in your head telling you that now that you'd met Ada, you understood why Leon almost never brought her up. It was more than likely to protect your feelings.

She walked like the earth was made for her perfect feet. She was slender with hardly an ounce of curve in the wrong spot. It was an exterior that money couldn't buy and God could only make once. There just wasn't a flaw even if you were only looking for them.

You looked up to Leon, hoping to snap him back to the present and you mentioned with a false tone of curiosity,

“So, I guess you two…are made up? After she pointed a gun at you?”

Leon picked up quickly that you weren't pleased by the sight of him chatting with Ada so casually after the events that had befallen them previously and he mentioned, trying nicely to ease your concern,

“She wasn't going to shoot me.”

“Hm-” You said full of doubt to that assumption you thought was a rather poor one,

“I think it's the intention that counts.”

Leon paused, telling you with words that he knew he needed to choose wisely given the delicate situation,

“You don't need to worry about Ada. That…that part of our story is done. It's..completely different now.”

You nodded, wanting with all of yourself to believe it. Leon had given you no reason not to trust him in the past so you gave him the benefit of the doubt, deciding that the past was indeed past. Feelings change and people certainly do as well. You shared kinder, more soft words before parting for the night and decided to rest the issue.

In that next week, it was normal for you to find Leon grouped up with Ada somehow, either coming back from recons or loading supplies out onto the GPW's for runs to the other bases. It was hard to find even yourself talking to Leon with how much you had on your plate. This was one of the more populated bases near the city so you always had something to finish or begin yourself.

One day, you were crouched down preparing a suture on an officer that was sleeping peacefully with a sedative and your hair kept falling into your face messily as you worked with sterile gloves. Your back ached from having to lean over in this process and you felt as two small hands brushed back your choppy bangs in a gentle comb of their fingers.

You flinched to the first touch but felt even more on edge realizing that it was Ada that stood over you now. She whispered, not knowing how strong the man's anesthesia was exactly and mentioned in her soft tone,

“Let me pull your hair out of your eyes, girlfriend. Don't mind me.”

You felt as her fingers brushed back your tangles to comb them gently into place and she fastened your top bun back into the elastic you were using. After making sure the officer's sutures were secure on his leg wound, you unsurely thanked her. Not exactly certain why she would perform an act so kind when she hardly knew you.

“I wanted to tell you that we are phoning in for more staff upstate and we should be doubling our medical help by the end of the month. You work too hard and I'm tired of seeing you run so ragged to help these people.” Ada mentioned, crouching down beside you as you made a dressing for the man's completed stitches.

You could only look at her peripherally as you worked but you mentioned quietly amid the wrapping and unrolling of the white gauze,

“I- I appreciate that, I guess. I mean, the help would be nice. For sure.”

Ada nodded, knowing that's not all of what she wanted to say when she found you and then said more discreetly with her voice lowering due to the nature of her next words,

“I..also hope that it doesn't bother you that Leon and I are friends. Well..friends trying to work out our differences.”

You looked away for the first time since she'd appeared beside you and finally you said a little more brave, trying to shake away the nerves of what you thought to be insecurity,

“I'm not….bothered. I just don't…”

You lost your words and Ada nodded, knowing somehow exactly how you felt in case you were finding trouble in explaining it. She assured you that herself and Leon were platonic and that you needed to worry about absolutely nothing fishy between them.

Goddammit, you thought to yourself.

This is exactly what you didn't need. She could at least be a bitch- Or act like you didn't exist or hell just sleep with Leon and boast about it behind your back to justify your sense of distrust. But she was kind. And compassionate to your feelings. And here you were, jealous of nothing more than an assumption.

Who was the bitch now? You thought.

After a joke and a smile, you parted ways with a gentle wave before you moved to the next tent.

Maybe you were overthinking everything.

It had been a slow day for you the day that Ada walked up to you in the medical tent. She wanted help gathering a list of inventory for the medical surplus for her list being sent upstate and you obliged with a smile.

“Most of your unused stock is in the stronghold right?” She asked for clarification as you finished preparing an injection. You nodded saying that anything unused would always be down in the concrete stronghold below ground.

“Good deal.” She said checking her watch,

“You wanna meet me over there in thirty? We'll grab a bite after, you and me, if you want?”

Why was she being so nice? You wondered, making your guard come up once again but you agreed, trying your hardest to remember that you had put her past grievances behind you.

You hadn't seen Leon in atleast three days but weirdly after all that you'd thought about, the absence wasn't as critical as you thought. He was busy doing recon of course but it felt like you were teaching him a lesson in a subconscious way. You wanted to see how long it'd take for him to approach to ask you to see him.

When you arrived at the artillery bunker, you noticed some of the GPWs parked outside, meaning that Leon's unit had actually returned early which was surprising. You thought of trying to find him after nipping this task with Ada but you opened the door to realize he'd already been found.

Leon stood there, smiling mid conversation with her as she held her mouth with that alluring laugh that made your skin crawl. He'd forget everything in the years you'd spend with him but how would he ever forget the way her eyes lit up during that laugh that could change a room.

You wanted to make your presence known so you kicked over an empty box to let the clatter interrupt them quietly.

“There you are.” Leon said with his gaze shooting over and you could only glare when he approached, leaving Ada behind.

“I'll be down in the stronghold whenever you're ready, girlfriend.”

You only stared into him coldly, pursing your lips together to avoid saying something confrontational to Ada who was in fact above you in rank and Leon then asked seeing the heated look in your eye,

“Honey, what's wrong? We were just joking-”

“I'm so fucking sick of finding you with her, Leon. I've not seen you in days but conveniently you find Ada before me? You’re still in fucking love with her!” You said fearless, feeling as your hands shook from the adrenaline of finally addressing what had been on your mind for days. Leon scoffed before looking away, telling you somewhat guilt-less as he denied your accusation,

“Look, we were just talking. It's not like you just found us….fucking around or something?”

Your eyes widened and you nodded before turning to leave with a heavy footfalls that stomped your way outside,

“How about this? You can go fuck yourself.”

You felt invalidated completely now. As if you were blowing this whole thing out of proportion once again. You hadn't seen him in days, not only due to the tension but also due to his schedule and the first person he seems to reunite with is Ada. It felt insulting.

Leon chased behind you now, telling you stop so you could both work this out and you faced him outside the front doors. Unbeknownst to you both, Ada had only pretended to go downstairs. She watched as you two stopped outside the glass doors to the bunker, arguing about what undoubtedly had to be her influence on Leon. When she heard the raid sirens begin in the moments after, she was calm and calculated as she made her way to the reinforced stronghold.

Waiting to meet her armed associates when they arrived.

~~~

~During the Raid

“Ada!” You shouted from the top of the stairs after somehow slipping through the enemy fire. She turned around wide-eyed as she loaded her gun and found you in the shambles you sounded to be as you raced down the stairs.

“What are you doing?” She called out in disbelief as she saw your shadow moving through the pallets of supplies and ammunition towards her.

All you wanted was for Leon to be happy and tears streamed down your face as you told her that you were here to take her back to the main bunker and she shook her head, never thinking that anyone would actually risk their life to come down here and save her. She knew the people conducting this raid and knew you'd be killed on sight if they found you.

“You need to go, sweetie. I'm-”

“Ada, please. We can make it.” You begged before hearing thuds on the steel door at the top of the stairs. Ada told you again, more hushed and with emphasis that you needed to get out of there and fast but you refused.

Getting her out was all that you wanted. If it's what Leon wanted, it was your main priority. Even if you just weren't his.

You heard the footsteps coming down the stairs but you only saw the tactical flashlight burning into your eyes.

Ada can't die, you thought as you saw them pointing their weapons, bracing their trigger fingers to fire, Leon will never be the same.

You saw the muzzle flash of the bullet when they fired. But only Ada heard the shot.

You saw the ground next as your torso felt warm, then wet when you became still. Ada screamed to retrieve you but your body was numb to stop her from crying. Only your shaking hand rose as she knelt down next to you, pulling at you to get up, demanding that you hold on. But you held her instead.

In the minutes later, amid the booming of battering rams and defense teams making their lines of fire, you laid on a medical gurney with the doctors you worked beside rushing to keep you stable. Somehow. Leon was called inside the tent but told to stay out of the way of those maneuvering to save your life.

“We're losing pupillary!” One of the working medics called as they shined a small light into your retinas to gauge the failing response of your eyes in the light.

“Pulse is dropping!” One of the others cried as they watched your life slip away by the second on their wrist watch.

Leon's eyes watered and his hands met his head and defeat when he heard them scream for a defibrillator. He watched the paddles being pressed into your chest, your body surging in an upwards jump from the charge with no response. He held his mouth with the back of his hand, not knowing if he could watch any longer but he tried to get closer.

He stepped further into the tent, yelling between the chaos for you to come back and one of the med team pushed him back, begging him to clear the walkway but he was violent with his shove in pushing them away, telling you again to live with gravel in his shaking voice.

In that moment between your life being reduced to a flat, stagnant line on a screen, he wasn't sure if regretting the last few days would even suffice. He wanted to regret ever existing instead as his face was washed in tears.

Ada walked by the tent at that moment during the evacuation of the higher up staff. She looked into the tent, seeing you staring out with a glaze over your lifeless eyes but she kept walking after realizing that there wasn't hope. This was another stop on her way to finding her truth of Racoon City. Saying goodbye to Leon would be a mistake so silently she made her way forward, moving through the crowd that still surged in the presets of active turmoil. Of course a life lost was never the price she thought she'd pay but people change.

Even you knew that.

You fell into a coma when finally you were revived by some miracle that surprised them all. And Leon stayed by your side as you rested in the quiet ward set aside at one of the remaining medical centers closer to the heart of the city's defense. His nights were long and restless as he waited for you to be with him again. In his heart he knew that it was the very, very least he could do since you'd waited for him to wake up too in these last few days.

It was his turn now for patience, and his wait to see you once again had begun. 》

Loved writing this!! Send me more asks and I'd love to work with your ideas. ✌️🫶

[blouisparadise]

Here are some amazing bottom Louis fics that were posted or completed during the month of May. We really hope you enjoy this list. Happy reading!

1) My Heart's In Overdrive, And You're Behind The Steering Wheel | Explicit | 1,649 words

Being late to class means Harry and Louis have to pose together for figure drawings. That being said, the hate each other, but maybe they don't?

2) It's A Question Of Lust, It's A Question Of Trust | Explicit | 2,258 words

Louis is shaken up after being assaulted at the barricade in Panama City and feels guilty, he can't get it out of his head. Harry knows what he needs to escape the worry. Harry steps over, speaking quietly into his ear. "Good boy, doing as I asked." He looks beautiful, his skin golden, dark nipples puckered, his cock starting to get hard. His breath already ragged. "Not that you always do, eh?" "Sir?" His blue eyes stare at Harry, nervous, uncertain. "Letting those tarts fondle and grope you after each show. When you know you belong to me."

3) If Walls Could Talk | Explicit | 2,394 words

Louis is waiting backstage for Harry after his second show in Coventry. It's their last night together before Louis leaves for his own tour. Harry's mission for the evening is to worship Louis' body and make him see himself through Harry's eyes.

4) In An Octopus's Garden With You | General Audiances | 4,682 words

Autistic alpha Harry, a teacher, spends an overwhelming day on a field trip to the aquarium. Luckily, his omega, Louis, knows just what he needs.

5) I Didn't Have To Search Cuz I Still Know Your Number| Explicit | 5,161 words

As Louis approaches the front of the old flat he sees a light on upstairs in what used to be their master bedroom. A memory flicks through Louis’ mind of Louis spread open on the duvet with Harry between his legs nipping and sucking on his hole while Louis whimpered and writhed, clutching the sheets and moaning out Harry’s name. Louis looks down to see his dick at half mass and sighs. Louis flicks the butt of the cigarette to the ground and pulls his phone back out of his pocket. He exits the Uber app and pulls up his contacts, scrolling down to the H’s until he lands upon Harry’s name in his phone. He pulls up their messages and sees the last time they talked was right after the break up all those years ago. Louis begins to type out a message to Harry, hoping he hasn't changed his number. Louis: U up? (sent at 1:14am)

6) You Have Me | Not Rated | 5,529 words

Louis is escaping his mundane reality, avoiding his fiancée, and going to an anonymous hook up party in the woods. When the mysterious stranger who has been eyeing him all night asks him to come back to his tent, Louis is game for anything. He doesn’t know that he’s going to get an offer he can’t refuse.

7) All My Life | Not Rated | 5,553 words

The four times Harry tries to propose and the one time he gets it right (or does he?)

8) Limping In The Limelight | Explicit | 5,832 words

Harry breaks his accessory navicular during a concert in Birmingham in 2015.

9) I Like to Watch | Explicit | 9,287 words

If there’s one thing Harry loves, it’s watching his husband Louis get fucked by other men. After picking up a lad called Zayn who is baffled by this concept, the three men are in for a wild night.

10) House Husband | Mature | 11,853 words

Louis and Harry are happily married with two beautiful kids. Harry is a lawyer who provides for his family and Louis is his sassy house husband. This is a week in their life.

11) For A Sushi Restaurant | Explicit | 13,345 words

And yet, in the depth of the sea, where water started to go from that sky blue to the dark petrol blue, almost black, of the unknown, creatures moved, ready to attack at a moment’s notice, sleek tails and pale, blueish skin helping them with mimesis. Or, cecaelia Harry and human Louis.

12) Peaches And Soft Myth | Explicit | 36,192 words

“Greta kissed me,” he said at last. It wasn’t the main issue, but it was a start. Louis’ smile was radiant. Eyes sparkling with genuine happiness. Harry’s stomach felt a little funny, wishing he could feel as happy as the cheerleader. "Oh, my god? We did it! I’m a genius ! Was it long? Slow and sensual, full of lust and passion, tongues intertwined—" he gasped. “Did she tremble in your arms?” He hugged himself. “That’s not—” “No one believes me when I say I am a good matchmaker. They are always like, ‘Oh Louis, you have the worst eye for couples and men. You always miss the real connections.’ Who missed now? Not me. Nuh-hu, I saw the potential. Your grumpy attitude did not deter me. I'm probably the greatest matchmaker on campus. Don’t you think?” Louis’ smile faltered. “Wait… why do you look as if you were about to throw up?” “She told me her roommate leaves for a few days after spring break. She invited me to her dorm room.” “Okay?” Louis said slowly. “Am I missing something? Is it about clothes? Because I can totally find something—” Harry scrubbed a hand over his face. “It’s not about that.” “Then what?” “I…” Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m a virgin.”

13) The Maddest Obsession | Explicit | 100,974 words

One fears the dark. One rules it. Harry Styles, the dangerous mob enforcer, finds himself entangled with Louis, the strong-willed mafia-princess. As they navigate the treacherous underworld of New York, their forbidden love sparks a deadly game of loyalty, betrayal, and passion. Will their devotion to each other overcome the chaos surrounding them, or will their love be their downfall?

14) At Our Seams | Explicit | 185,290 words

Newly mated and happily engaged Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson, are moving into a new phase of their lives. Together, their world felt complete. However, the world beyond their bubble has been strung into chaos. Political strife is raiding the streets and oppressive policies are being enacted everyday. Louis is desperate for something to change, to finally set the record straight for omegas and non-soulmate children everywhere. Harry is determined to keep his mate safe, even if it goes against Louis’ wishes. Unfortunately, he can’t control everything, and things quickly fall out of his hands. Who’s this new alpha who’s entered the beloved couple’s life, giving Louis another purpose Harry hadn’t been expecting? What happens when the soulmates don’t exactly see eye to eye? Will the protective alpha get his wishes, or will he concede to his cherished but oh, so stubborn omega? How strong are the seams that bind? Only time will tell.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

[maltesejjong]

after being ia for so long, and losing the passwords to my original tumblr and wattpad accts, i am happy to say i am BACK, even if you don’t know who i am lmao. For now, imma be doing reposts of my old tumblr and wattpad posts before i start new content. Enjoy!

꒰ঌ(⃔ ⌯' '⌯)⃕໒꒱

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What’s Really Going On?

Summary: you and you boyfriend Minho have been together for a while now. Years, as a matter of fact. There’s no reason for there to be secrets, especially when it comes to your body. But after missing an appointment you had been anticipating and tension from an argument nights prior still brewing, the truth comes spilling out

WARNINGS: dom!minho, afab!reader, oral sex (both receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it please y’all don’t be stupid), use of traffic light system, fingering (reader receiving), swearing, mentions of pregnancy complications, i think that’s it? Please lmk if i missed anything

Wc: 5971

MINORS DNI, THIS CONTAINS 18+ CONTENT

5:30 pm

You sigh and pocket your phone. Fifteen minutes. He's fifteen minutes late.

Of course, he's been late before, but never like this.

Fifteen minutes, you normally let slide. You just can't imagine that he'd be late when today is so important.

"Y/n! Babe!"

You turn at the sound of your name, and somewhere in you, even though it's not fair, you think eighteen minutes.

Nevertheless, you pocket your frustration and smile the smile only he can draw from you.

"Minho!"

He comes up to you, putting his arm around your waist and kissing your cheek. "I'm so sorry, baby. Traffic was horrible," he explains.

You understand, of course. It's a random Wednesday, but a major band is in town, and 500 lucky people in the area got free tickets.

But that isn't why today is so important to you.

"Why didn't you leave sooner?" You ask, slightly miffed that he ignored your suggestion to stay the night with you, so you would both be on time.

Minho doesn't answer, but you're sure you know what he's thinking. "Babe," you say, holding his arm to make him look at you, " I'm not mad, okay? It was just a bit...much." You bite down in the apology trying to jump from your lips, knowing it could just do more damage.

"What?" He looks slightly confused, as if he forgot the argument you two got in a few days ago. "Oh," he says as the memory resurfaces, "I know. I'm just thinking. Nothing bad, y/n. Just work stuff."

"Okay..."

You arrive your appointment with ten minutes to spare, feeling thankful for the cop that had created a barricaded lane for people not going to the concert, making it easier to navigate the traffic-choked streets of your usually quiet city.

"Wait here," you whisper to Minho. "Hi," you say as you approach the lady behind the desk, "I have an appointment with Mia Loffe."

The secretary, who you've never seen a day in your life at Mia's, types something on her keyboard. "Of course... Let me see... Okay, what's your name, dear?"

You swallow the reaction trying to escape at being called "dear" by someone so young. "Y/n Bang."

"Bang... Bang..." she mumbles to herself, searching what must be a busy schedule. You know Mia's been slammed with work, but she made sure there there was at least an hour for you to come in.

You even booked an appointment, something you never do with Mia, just in case.

"Okay, um, Ms.Bang?" Dread fills your stomach. "It says here that some things had to be rescheduled, but Ms. Loffe has maybe ten minutes, if you'd like to pop back there real quick."

"I, uh... No, that's alright," you say, knowing that Mia is probably getting ready for her next appointment. You don't hold it against her for not letting you know that between last night and today, there was a shift in schedule. "Can I leave a message with you? I don't want to call her while she's working. Will you please just tell Mia to call me when she's not busy?"

The secretary scratches the note onto a pieces of paper and sticks it onto her computer. "Of course. Is there anything else I can do?"

"No," you say, trying to fight the sinking feeling in your chest. "No, thank you though. Have a nice day."

"You, too, Ms. Bang."

You round the corner to see Minho scrolling through his phone. "C'mon," you say quietly.

Minho looks up at you. "Hey." He stands up. "Did Mia kick you out or something?"

You don't answer, except to say "There was a change in schedale, so i'm comine back another You don't answer, except to say "There was a change in schedule, so I'm coming back another day." You can't help but feel annoyed at your boyfriend for his lateness. Mia had even said to make sure you were there at least thirty minutes beforehand, just in case. This, you feel, is largely Minho's fault.

Minho picks up that you don't really want to talk, and doesn't pry as you drive back to your place together.

"Babe," Minho says softly once he's closed your front door, "What's wrong?"

You keep your back to him, trying to contain your feelings. "Nothing, Minho. I'm just a little tired," you lie.

"Why don't you change, and we can watch a movie?" He suggests. "I'll order takeout later, okay?"

You agree, and go change into one of his hoodies and a pair of shorts. When you come back to the living room, you see that your boyfriend's hands have not been idle. He set up a little nest of blankets and pillows on the couch, just the way you like it when you watch movies together, snuggled in close and pressed against one another.

"Is this okay?" He asks when he hears you behind him. "I wasn't sure how much you wanted snuggles, but..." he trails off as he turns and takes in your outfit. No matter how often Minho has seen you wear something of his, it gives him a rush every time.

Clearing his throat, he says "What do you want to watch?" Your ongoing agreement is that you get authority over movie snacks, and he gets authority over what food gets ordered. You both always pick what the other likes most, though, and you switch off who gets to pick the movie.

"I don't really care," you say dismissively. "You can choose. I just want muddy buddies and popcorn."

He smiles warmly, hiding his concern behind deep chocolate eyes. "Choi's alright?"

You nod, as he knew you would. "Don't forget the crab ran-goons and crispy beef," you say, putting a bag of popcorn into the microwave and nuking it.

"Oh, and egg rolls."

"Babe, I got it," he teases. "You act like I haven't known you for twelve years."

"And loved me just as long," you say to yourself, remembering the day your older brother, Chan, came home with his newfound friend, someone named Lee Minho. It wasn't the fact the he was Korean. No, Chan had lots of Korean friends, and you had you fair share. It wasn't his name. It wasn't his age or complexion.

It was his eyes. The way his nose crinkles when he smiles. It was how he acts like the mom of the group, even to the guys older than him, reminding someone to put on sunscreen, or, more often than not, cooking for everyone.

Later, it was also the way he started to look at you, like you weren't "Chan's kid sister" but a girl worth his attention, even though you're three years younger than him. It started as getting more "older brother" attention than the others. Then, you learned what flirting is. It became shy touches and bold smiles. Inside jokes and feeling jumpy if Chan was there when you were together. It became hidden kisses and climbing onto one another's rooftop in the middle of the night to watch the stars and talk. It became Chan walking in the room right when your lips touched Minho's, blouse slightly unbuttoned.

The microwave beeps, bringing you out if your trip down memory lane. Carefully picking the hot bag up by a corner, and reaching for the bowl you had put on the counter. You sigh as the smell of butter and salt taunts your stomach. You hear sounds from the TV as Minho skims past different movies.

Minho glances over his shoulder at you while you shake some ttekboki into a bowl. You can feel the worry and questions rolling off him. It took years for you to recognize the care, hidden beneath such a brash and forceful facade. He always plays his emotions close to vest, but knows how and when to pull back. That hasn't changed, except now, he has a heart that's completely open to you.

"What did you choose?" you ask, coming into the living room.

He's standing in front of the TV, arms crossed, remote pointed at the screen. "Action movie?"

"Okay," you say, setting the snacks onto the ottoman.

You lose yourself in the movie, and eventually, you don't even notice what's going on in the plot, because, as always, you re more tuned in to the Minho show. Every point where your bodies touch, his warmth, this feeling of security. You smile as his lips touch your neck for what must be the tenth time.

"I'm gonna put the order in," he says, his words warming your skin.

"Okay," you mumble, somewhat sleepily. "I'm taking a bathroom break."

He nods, his phone to his ear.

When you come back, you decide to get some water. You go to the kitchen and reach into the dish rack to get a glass. You aren't really paying attention, and nick your finger on the knife you washed this morning, after cutting an avocado. In your preoccupation with your appointment with Mia, you had left the knife pointing upwards.

"Shit," you yelp, waving your hand.

Minho comes into the kitchen. "What happened?"

"Nothing. Just cut my finger," you say, sucking on the cut, blood staining your tongue.

He gently pulls your finger away and examines the cut. "It's not deep," he says, sounding relieved. "Here." He turns the knob on the sink, and water starts flowing from the faucet.

You gingerly put your finger under the water, hissing at how cold it is. Minho stands behind you, his chest touching your back as he massages your hand under the chilly water.

"You gotta be more careful, y/n," he says with a slight laugh.

You ignore his words, and instead focus on the feeling of his fingers kneading your hand, his breath on your skin. Your pulse quickens predictably. As it always does with him.

"Thanks, babe," you say, gently pulling away, trying to calm yourself, but not entirely sure you want to.

Minho opens the medicine cabinet, searching for a band-aid. "Food'll be here in about half an hour. Maybe 45 minutes," he says, his back to you.

Something in you says "fuck it" and you go over, hugging him from behind.

You feel his muscles jump, but his voice is steady as he says "Hey, pretty girl. What's wrong?"

"Nothing," you say, your cheek pressed against his back. You know you should talk to him about the appointment with Mia, but you don't want to. Not yet. You have other things on your mind.

You stand on your tiptoes and press your lips to the back of Minho's neck. He brings his arms down, abandoning his search for a bandage. "Babe?"

"Minho," you say quietly, in the same tone you use every time you're feeling a little naughty.

You can hear him swallow. "Y/n?" He turns to face you and you look into each other's eyes.

After a moment, you lean forward and kiss him, keeping your lips closed. You know he finds this as both an annoyance and a turn-on.

When you pull away, you see confusion in your boyfriend's gaze as he tries to decide which route to take. You know that he's going to wait to see what you do first.

Looking him dead in the eye, you say "Stop being such a gentleman." The code word you use to let him know what mood you're in.

You know he's decided to go with it, that he wants this too, when he says "I've never known a lady who doesn't wait for the man to make the first move."

He kisses you, hard. No playing around, no lead-up. You know this is going to get rough. Just how you like it.

He's still leaning against the counter, and you wrap your arms around his neck, feeling his tongue meet yours. You make some vague noise at the back of your throat as he somehow manages to kiss you even deeper. His hands grip the hem of his hoodie that you're wearing, and he pulls it over your head.

"Thought so," he murmurs against your mouth.

You aren't wearing a shirt. Somehow, no matter what, he always knows. One of the Minho mysteries you have yet to figure out.

Not wanting to waste any time, you yank his shirt over his head. He laughs, tousle-haired and swollen-lipped. You trail your fingers over his lean torso, one of the many results from years of dance. You love that he's a dancer, that he couldn't give less of a shit about stereotypes. It's sexy as hell.

You lean into him, forcing him to practically bend backwards, kissing him as roughly as you possibly can. He slips a hand into your waistband, his fingers teasing. You bunch his hair into your fists, knowing he won't go any further.

Not after the other day.

Not unless you tell him to.

His touch is like fire, burning into your skin. You moan slightly against his lips as his fingers slowly move to your clit, waiting to see if you'll stop him.

You don't.

What you do do is drag your fingers down his chest to his jeans, and start to unbutton them. Something you've done so many times that you could do it with one finger and your eyes closed.

Except.

There's a nervousness zapping your spine and bubbling in your stomach that hasn't been there in a while, making you fumble.

Thinking that your slip is due to him, Minho starts to pull back, but you grab his wrist with your other hand, leaning back to look in his eyes.

"Don't stop," you say.

He swallows, seeming to feel the same nervousness.

He nods and places his lips on yours, kissing his way down your jaw and to your neck, his lips gentle while his fingers are anything but, making your walls clench like crazy.

"Damn, y/n," he mutters.

"Minho... the couch. Please," you say in a strained voice.

He gathers you up and moves into the living room, a short transition in the small apartment.

You lay on your back, biting his neck, his lips, his tongue, as he works a second finger into you. Your hips lift off the couch.

"Y/n."

You look at him, seeing the question in his eyes.

You nod slowly, feeling your stomach jump. You watch him pull his fingers out, covered in your juices. He pulls your shorts down your legs, followed by your panties. He runs the same fingers that were just inside you up your ankle, your leg, to the inside of your thigh.

Minho makes eye contact with you again and you nod firmly. Yes. The green light.

He kisses the inside of your thigh, working his way to your entrance. When he gets there, you re clenching so hard around nothing it hurts. You ball your fists, trying not to make the noises so desperately trying to escape.

You wait, anticipation racking your body until he pushes your legs a little farther apart. Then he gets to work.

Finally, you can't take it anymore. "God, Minho," you moan.

"That's it, baby. Let it go. Sing for me, I want to hear that angelic voice if yours."

It feels so good. Perhaps too good. You can barely believe that you picked an argument with him over this.

You arch your back as his tongue enters your body and he makes some noise when your walls tighten even more. He pulls back and says "Relax, y/n."

"I'm trying," you mutter through clenched teeth.

As if to help, Minho starts rubbing your thigh. "No, babe, that doesn't—-" you cut yourself off, trying to get a grip. "Minho- I can't- agh-"

"Just let go, babe"

That's exactly what you're trying not to do. It's what you got so upset about on Sunday. The way you just lost control, how he encouraged it. He was a little confused, because you used to love it, the rush, the feeling, and now, he said, you're acting like it's your first time all over again. He was hurt because you called him greedy. You regret it, and you know he's going to make sure to make you such a mess and so needy that you really regret it.

One strong suck is all it takes to make you come.

You moan, grabbing at the couch as he pulls away, a devilish smirk on his face. He comes back with his fingers, shoving three fingers into your pussy, his thumb stroking your clit.

"Minho, I can't... You're gonna make me- uh!" You exclaim, coming all over his fingers.

"You know you want me," he hisses, but not maliciously. You shake your head, trembling. "Don't you?"

Again, you shake your head.

"Are you sure?"

"No. I don't want—"

"I can't hear you." He pushes his fingers even deeper.

You bite your lip, trying to pull him closer so you can kiss him, but he just raises an eyebrow in that way that drives you wild and pushes his fingers against your walls.

"One more chance, y/n. You know you want me, don't you?"

Yes," you gasp out. "I want... so bad..."

He smirks. "Who's the greedy one now?"

"Me," you pant. "Greedy bitch. I know. I'm such a dirty-"

"Keep going," he says.

"Dirty ho." Your clit aches painfully against his fingers as a fourth stretches it out. "So... such a- a slut,” you pant, somewhat hysteric.

"Mmm. You can do better than that."

You push him onto his back, yanking his jeans and boxers away.

"There you go," he says.

"In me," you beg. "Please?"

"Hmm.. I don't think you've said 'thank you' yet."

You start kneading around his dick. "Why should I?"

“I require payment," he says, his voice still so steady.

You cup your hand around his erection and start moving up and down. You take the tip of him in your mouth, tongue circling as you suck gently.

"Good girl."

You decide to show no mercy and suck as as you can, making him groan.

"Y/n. I can't-"

"To bad," you snap. "Try."

"God, you're so hot when you're fired up."

"Stops fighting."

"Oh, but then there'll be nothing left for you."

"There always is," you reply. "I’ll even be nice and help you," you say, right before he lets go and comes all over your hand and chin. "There's a good boy."

He pretends that he didn’t whine at the pet name. “Shall we call it even?" He asks, even though you know he's in no way finished.

"Oh, no," you say. "I'll let you choose."

"On your back," he orders. You comply. "And get the bra off. Stop acting like you're some innocent angel."

You drop your bra to the ground, right before he starts kissing your neck, his hands squeezing your breasts.

He moves to sit on your stomach, and you know what's coming. He holds his hand under your chin, and you spit into his palm, obliging. He uses your spit as a lubricant for his dick before he positions it between your tits, moving them back and forth, rubbing against him.

You feel him go hard almost instantly and smile inwardly. You knew he wasn't done yet. He's never down for the count that early on.

"Minho. Stop wasting time."

He raises his eyebrow again. "Who's in charge here?"

“Asshole,” you spit out. “I just fucking tolerate your orders.”

He hums in consideration. "What do you think?”

You stroke the tip of his dick, making him shudder. "Fuck me, Lee Minho. Show me what you've got."

The second you say it, you wish you could take it back.

"Challenge accepted."

This is going to be a long night.

ଘ(´•3•)⊃━☆ଘ(´•3•)⊃━☆ଘ(´•3•)⊃━☆ଘ(´•3•)⊃━☆

You're leaning against the arm of the couch, watching your boyfriend enthusiastically eat a bucketful of shrimp lo mien the same way he had eaten you out not too long ago.

"You hungry?" He asks, using his chopsticks to gather the noodles into his mouth.

"Mmm. Maybe later. I'm just exhausted. Tired."

"But not tired of me, right?"

You flash him an amused look. "Unfortunately not." Your entire body is sore, your legs are weak as hell, and your clit is pounding with pain. You give him an appraising look. "You seemed to hold your own longer than usual."

Minho shrugs, mouth full of noodles. His hair is a tousled mess, his bare chest and neck covered in hickeys and teeth marks. You're sure that you're no different.

You tug the sleeves of his hoodie down over your hands and pick up your phone. "Oh, fuck," you say, realizing that you have a missed call.

"What's up?"

"Mia tried calling me earlier," you tell him. "But..."

"You were a bit busy," he supplies with a shrug. He twists away from you to grab another carton of lo mien, and you see that his back is bright red and covered in scratches. You reach out and trace a puffy red line, feeling him shiver under your touch.

"God, babe. Your fingers are freezing."

You trace another line, realizing that there are tiny beads of blood on his back. "Holy shit. Minho. Baby. Why don't you ever stop me?"

He shrugs, opening the lo mien. "I'm fine with it. I like it. You seem to like it. It also kinda kills the mood.

"But if it hurts—"

"It dushnt," he tells you, noodles hanging from his mouth like octopus tentacles.

"Still. What if I scratch too hard and actually cut you instead of just scraping the surface of your skin? Stop acting like 'the mood' is more important that your health."

He doesn't meet you eyes as he quietly says "Are we really going down this path again?"

You sigh and push your fingers into your hair.

"Maybe. Yes. I don't know!"

"Babe. I don't really know what you want me to say anymore. I told you not to worry about me."

"I'm not just worrying about you, Minho. I'm also thinking about me."

He twirls his chopsticks in the lo mien container. "Do you, y/n? Because you seem to have a tolerance the size of fucking Kilimanjaro. You never tell me to stop, even if, quite frankly, I'm exhausted and can't keep going. But I do. I do for you."

You feel your neck getting warm. "Well maybe it's your own fault for not telling me you need to stop."

"I do, though. I do, and you listen when I tell you I'm out. I'm more so a bit ticked off that you never tell me to stop. Do you remember what I said to you all that time ago? Did you even care? Because that was me, caring."

You close your eyes, remembering the color system that he devised for you, signals as to when to tell him to stop, if something he's doing hurts. "Yes, Minho. I remember. But I said that also goes for you! And you-"

"Use it when I really need to," he interjects.

"Well... well maybe I just don't really need to, then," you huff.

He cocks an eyebrow, and you tell yourself it's just an eyebrow, not a sexy move from your boyfriend. Definitely not something that turns you on.

The truth is, you've always been scared to use the light system. It's always green. Green means go. Even though you and Minho had had feelings for each other since you were in primary school- the last year, but still— that didn't stop him, who was three years older, from meeting other girls and going out with them, and you didn't try to stop him. You yourself went out on dates, kissed guys and did everything short of getting fucked for real. You wanted Minho to be the one to get your cherry. And he didn't disappoint.

Through it all, though, he had plenty of experience, experiences that you couldn't compete with unless it was oral. He told you green light means all good. Yellow is "I need a break" and red is stop. No questions asked. Whatever you're doing ends and you do something that doesn't involve sex. Red and yellow both mean "this hurts, I'm uncomfortable" of some degree.

Though you've definitely needed to, you've been worried about how Minho would react if you tell him to stop. It's one of the other reasons you argued with him on Sunday, but he doesn't know it. You made it seem like he just takes and takes, when really, it was that it hurt. You couldn't keep going, even though it hadn't even been 15 minutes when the pain kicked in. You were embarrassed. He was able to go on for God knows how long, and you weren't lasting anywhere near as close as him that day.

The look Minho gives you tells you that he's calling BS.

"Y/n."

You look at him. "Minho?"

"Look." He's always down his container of noodles and shrimp. "I know that's not the case. Why don't you try telling me what's actually up."

A spark of frustration heats your chest. "What's up, Minho, is that, thanks to you being late, we missed our appointment with Mia!"

Minho leans forward, massaging his temples. Finally, he drops his hands, his elbows balancing on his knees, and he looks over at you. "Is that what this is all about? I'm not ignoring the fact that you're dodging my question, but why didn't you say something to me?"

"Because... because it's just-"

"Not worth it? Babe, clearly it is. You wouldn't even tell me why this appointment was so fucking important to you. So important that I had to be there, which I found odd, because you usually tell me you want to see Mia alone. Which is fine, because I know that's the only girl time you two get together, so I found it strange that you wanted me there."

You clench your fists, hidden from view by the long sleeves of your boyfriend's hoodie, trying not to explode.

"And," he continues, "you still haven't told me the full story as to why you were actually upset on Sunday. You just called me greedy and said you weren't in the mood anymore. So please, please, will you tell me what's wrong? What's been going on?"

"I..." you look into his amber eyes, trying to fight the truth.

Minho puts a hand on your knee. "Y/n. Baby. Please."

The words come spilling out. "It's not that you're greedy. It's not that I don't enjoy the sex anymore. It's that... it's that I'm scared," you blurt. His expression is startled, incredulous as you go on.

"I'm scared to tell you no. To tell you to stop, that something hurts. It makes me feel like shit, when something hurts and I start to feel tired by the fifteen minute mark when you haven't even gotten started. It's not every time. But that's what was happening on Sunday. Sometimes it makes me ashamed, how much I just... it's like I'm a different person when we have sex. Sometimes I don't recognize me. Like, I turn into a mess. You turn me on like that" —you snap your fingers— "and somehow, you get me to cum four times in less than half an hour. I needed to feel justified in my feelings of 'I can't anymore' and I was scared to flat out tell you to stop, so I told you that you were being greedy and it was a turn off. And I'm sorry, Minho. I'm so so sorry for calling you greedy and disgusting. The truth is, I feel greedy and disgusting, wanting so badly, wanting so much, when I can't go on, or when you need a break. Sometimes I feel annoyed that you need to stop." You bury your face in your hands. "God, I'm such an asshole." You try to prevent the tears prickling behind your eyes.

"Y/n. Look at me. Please." You lower your hands to see Minho. "I'm sorry. Babe, why haven't you said something? If it hurts, if I'm hurting you, then you should tell me. If you can't anymore, tell me. Yellow light. Red light. Doesn't matter. Don't feel ashamed, okay? To tell you the truth, sometimes I can tell you're tired, but I'm never sure whether or not I should slow down and stop because you never tell me to, and I worry about accidentally offending you. I don't want you to think I'm assuming you're weak."

"Anyone that can ride Lee Minho for even fifteen minutes cannot be weak," you joke.

"Point taken. As for being a totally different person during sex? Well, yeah, you're gonna act differently when you're fucking. Think about it: do you go around constantly calling yourself a dirty ho and greedy bitch when you're at work?"

You don't say anything.

"I mean, unless you're getting it on with a coworker. Then we might have some problems."

That gets a laugh from you. "God, no. No, Minho. I understand what you're saying. It just... I feel ashamed and dirty after the fact. Like 'was that really me'?"

He smiles gently. "Yes, and I get that. But you have to know that there's no reason to feel that way. I don't think any less of you. And, in case you don't remember, you aren't the only one yelling and moaning and talking dirty, okay? You also aren't the only one that gets turned on instantly and cums a billion times. Then again, I, personally, can't really help it."

You smile again, that special smile that you save for him.

"Now. What about this appointment with Mia?"

The smile drops from your face as a slight panic sets in. "What about it?"

"Baby, please don't shut down now. Keep this going, okay? Why were you so upset to miss a meeting with Mia?"

You bite your lip, contemplating. "I... I'm maybe... something came up, and she... she's had a few times dealing with this with other people and knows what to do and I wanted you there so we were on the same page."

"Okay," he says slowly.

You feel your hands start to shake. "I guess it has to do with why I was so punchy these past few weeks..."

"Oh. I though it was PMS."

You shake your head. "No. Maybe a little bit, but mainly no. The truth is.." you hesitate, trying how best to go about this. "I have a rare immunodeficiency."

Minho looks at you with disbelief. "What?"

"I... I have a rare immunodeficiency," you repeat shakily.

"What is it? How did you find out?"

"Well... I actually found out from... from us having sex."

Minho's eyes widen. "Have I somehow gotten you sick? What happened? Does this have to do with why it hurts you so much?"

"No, I'll explain in a second, and possibly." You look down at your hands. "Let me ask you this: you'd say we're usually pretty... careful, right?"

He nods. "If I remember correctly, told me to download that app that tracks your cycle so we both have a record of your ovulation schedule and know what days to avoid completely. And you regularly remind me to make sure I have condoms both here and at my place and you have some sort of birth control, but you stopped taking it because it was causing some sort of issue, so no more of y/n's birth control. Correct?"

You nod. "But we're only human, and even technology can't predict something that fluctuates like a woman's period. Because it does change."

Again, he nods. "True... Wait." He looks up at you, lips parted. "Are you..?"

You shake your head. "No, babe. I'm not pregnant. Not anymore."

"Anymore?"

You nod. "Yes. I've technically been pregnant five times in the past two years."

Your boyfriend stares, mouth agape.

"After the fourth time, I went to the doctors. Do you remember how I had that constant bout of sickness?"

"I remember."

"Well.." you squeeze your fingers, preparing yourself. "I was getting so sick because my body was thinking that each fetus was actually a virus. At the same time, my body was naturally like 'okay we've got a life force in here to grow and protect'. Essentially, my body was waging a two-sided war on itself. One side to protect the baby, the other trying to get rid of it."

"But why?" You can't help but be thankful for how calm he's staying.

"You're taking this remarkably well. Better than I thought you would, anyways." You hug your arms to your chest. "Explanation: my body isn't accepting your DNA."

"So, essentially, I'm making you sick. But only when you end up pregnant?"

"Exactly."

He shakes his head. "God, y/n. Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I... I wasn't sure how," you say meekly. "I mean, I'd be like 'hey, babe, guess what? I'm pregnant. Surprise!' Just to be like 'Ha. Sike!I'm not pregnant anymore' within a month."

He sighs. "True. Holy fuck. Five times?"

You nod and laugh a little. "Yeah. Guess we know what that means."

He nods conspiratorially. "Yep. Probably should've listened to everyone being like 'be smart. Be safe. Always use protection', huh?" He rubs the back of his neck. "Is there a way to fix it?"

"Fertilization treatments," you say glumly. "I hear they're absolute hell."

"But it'll be worth it, right? I mean, you don't get sick and... I mean, if you don't want kids, that's fine, I just thought... I'm not saying I'm assuming anything. I mean, obviously it's your choice, I just thought..."

For the first time, you realize just how… nervous this news is making him. Your boyfriend, the always cool, calm and collected Lee Minho is a flustered and stuttering mess. It also hits you that he actually, really, truly wants kids. He wants kids... with you. Which must mean...

No. You can't get sidetracked. Whether or not he proposes is up to him. You'll always be ready to say yes.

Back to the task at hand.

"Minho. Babe, calm down. Of course it'll be worth it."

He starts shaking his head, almost frantically. "No, no, no. Don't make a decision based on me. Do it because you want to. Don't-"

You put your hand on his knee. "Hey. Deep breaths. Yes, I want the treatments."

His body sags in relief.

"I want to get this fixed. I can't have a family if my body is killing off our kids. I dare say you'd prefer it if your children actually made it out alive."

His eyes widen at your statement. You run it through your head, trying to catch your mistake.

Then you realize: you just laid out a future of togetherness, marriage, and parenthood with Minho in those three sentences.

You try to backpedal, feeling like you've overstepped, even though you've talked about a future together many times. "I just meant, if you were me— I didn't mean—"

He cups your face in his hand. "I'd prefer it if my children made it out alive," he says softly, placing a hand on your abdomen.

You smile, relieved that you've finally told him. As Minho leans in to kiss you oh so softly, you close your eyes, envisioning your future.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Take all the time you need 💕

My idea: Deacon got a girlfriend (let’s pretend Annie isn’t there) and she is a teacher at a high school.

One today there is a shooting going down at her school and Deacon and the team don’t know if she is there or not and can’t reach her. Turns out the shooter is in her class and Deacon has somehow get her save.

I hope it makes somehow sense 😅 English isn’t my native language -🥰

Thank you for being patient and for requesting!! This makes perfect sense; no worries. I love pretending Annie doesn't exist lol. I changed this a teeny tiny bit and let the reader do a little bit of saving before Deacon saves her. I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think!🤍

Warnings: canon-typical action/danger/violence, school shooting (loosely based on 2x11), angst, fluff.

Word Count: 2.3k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

Worried for You

When Deacon Kay imagined his future, he did not picture being 30 David this far into his career, nor did he dream that he would have a girlfriend who spends her days teaching high school students. Since he met you, his life has been brighter. You make each other happy. The last year and a half of dating has been filled with late-night phone calls, weekly date nights, and more joy than you thought possible.

“Deac!” you call, jumping into his arms when he turns to greet you.

“Hey, you,” he replies, hugging you tightly. “Our table is ready if you are.”

You nod, beaming at him as you slip your hand into his. He leads you to the table, pulling your chair out before sitting across from you.

“How was your day?” you ask, ignoring the menu after all the date nights you’ve had here.

“It was pretty good, mostly training since it was quiet for once. But I’m more interested in you and your day,” Deacon responds.

“Nothing special, just teaching teenagers. Again. Tell me a story?”

Deacon sighs as you bat your eyelashes at him but begins a story anyway. “Hondo and I were paired up for a breach a few years ago, but the way the house was laid out, we weren’t going to be able to see each other for long. We didn’t know how many people were in there, so we made an inconspicuous code word to alert the other if something went wrong. Well, it should have been inconspicuous, but Hondo’s first choice was ‘mango.’ Great if you’re in a store or something, not so great in a barricaded safe house.”

You laugh with Deacon, reaching across the table to hold his hand as you ask, “Should we have a code word? We could use it when you’d rather spend time with me than Hondo.”

“So, daily?”

“Seriously, David. Can we?”

“Of course. What were you thinking?”

“It has to be something that fits into any conversation, so… tree?”

“Not bad. What if I need to know something about a tree though?”

“Like what?”

Deacon’s eyes stay on yours as he concedes, “Good point. Tree it is.”

“Do you- do you have quiet days often?”

“Depends. Some weeks are quiet, and sometimes you don’t have a quiet day for months.”

“I just- you know I worry about you, so I like hearing about quiet days.”

“Hey,” Deacon says, dipping his head to catch your eyes. “I know worrying is inevitable, and I can’t imagine what it takes to be in a relationship with me and what I do, but I promise that I will always fight to come back to you. I have a good team and we watch each other’s backs.”

You nod, but Deacon looks like he wants more.

“I know you’ll do everything you can to come back to me. And that helps a lot. Thank you, Deacon.” The moment is more serious than most of your date nights, so you add, “At least you don’t have to worry about me. I just have to deal with teenage hormones and ears that don’t work or brains that don’t comprehend.”

“That sounds much worse than what I face every day,” Deacon replies dramatically.

✯✯✯✯✯

Your students know when you’ve been on a date, you’re always in a great mood the next morning. You habitually check your phone throughout the day but smile more after a date.

“Are you ever going to tell us who the lucky guy is?” one of your students pries.

“Are you ever going to meet the rubric requirements on an assignment?” you reply sarcastically.

“Ooh,” several of the students exclaim.

“Alright, guys, let’s get started,” you begin, pausing when your phone chimes.

“You said no ringers in class,” someone laments.

You snatch your phone up at Deacon’s text tone, holding your breath while you read it. Everything is fine; he just texted about your next date night. You breathe out and smile, typing a quick reply before you turn to the board.

✯✯✯✯✯

During your third class, a distant scream is audible through the closed door. You glance at the window, unamused with and immune to teenagers and their obnoxious actions. When you hear a gunshot, your demeanor switches instantly.

“Quiet,” you snap at a girl who looks ready to scream.

Several more shots echo, so you can’t tell where they’re coming from.

“Everyone in the supply closet, take your bags with you,” you demand quietly. “It will be tight but stay down and stay quiet.”

Someone whimpers your name, and you crouch in the open doorway.

“Everything is going to be fine,” you promise before closing the door.

You slide a desk over, lining it up in front of the door in a way you hope looks like it is supposed to be there. Crouching, you walk back towards your desk, trying to avoid the windows and the glass pane in the door. The doorknob jiggles, and you rush to your desk, grabbing your phone as you fall into your chair.

“Drop the phone!” the shooter yells as he enters, leveling his gun on you.

Setting the phone down, you lock it to hide the half-typed text to Deacon. That may be the last thing he hears from you, so you’re glad you started by telling him you love him. You raise your hands and look at the crazed gunman before you.

“Just stay calm okay, this doesn’t have to be like this,” you say gently.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Let’s roll, 20 David!” Hicks yells as he enters the common area. “School shooting going down and we have to get in there now.”

“Confirmed casualties?” Hondo asks.

“Do we know who the shooter is?” Deacon adds.

Hicks takes a deep breath and turns toward the team as he tells them the name of the school. “Casualties unknown and no confirmed ID, but two possibilities. I’m sorry, guys, but you’re the best option here.”

“Let’s do this,” Hondo says, leading the team to Black Betty.

Luca pulls out as soon as everyone is in. Hondo and Deacon remove their phones to check for messages from you.

“Anything?” Hondo asks, looking up from his empty phone.

Deacon shakes his head before raising his phone to his ear. His leg bounces until he lowers his hand and shakes his head at Hondo again.

“She has me on emergency bypass, if she could answer, she would have,” he explains. “And her location sharing isn’t loading.”

“Then let’s go get her and everyone else out safe,” Luca announces, taking a sharp turn.

✯✯✯✯✯

You flinch as Deacon’s ringtone dies out, the sound of glass crunching under a boot drowning it out.

“Who is supposed to be in here with you?” the shooter demands.

“No one. It’s my grading period,” you explain, trying to remain calm. “That’s why my ringer is on, because I don’t have students until after the next bell.”

The shooter nods, the gun bouncing erratically in his grip.

“Look, we can all walk away from this, but not until you stop,” you add.

The gun straightens, and you force your eyes to stay open.

✯✯✯✯✯

Deacon taps Hondo’s shoulder after he feels Street’s hand on his shoulder. They enter through the gym, giving students quiet directions to safety.

“Do you know where the shooter is?” Hondo asks quietly.

“He went that way,” a young girl answers, pointing as she runs.

“Let’s split off. Luca, Tan, go east. Street, Chris, west. Deac, we’re going for the shooter,” Hondo directs.

Deacon falls into step beside him, moving slowly and clearing classrooms as they go.

“Her room is down here, right?” Hondo whispers.

Deacon nods and then slows when they hear a gunshot. Moving faster, they reach the end of the hall: your class on the right and a large glass wall on the left.

“It doesn’t end well, it’s too late!” a man’s voice yells in your classroom.

Deacon’s eyes widen as he watches the door, praying you’re not in there, that you're somewhere safe.

“It’s not,” your voice replies calmly.

Deacon sighs, a minuscule amount of tension escaping when he hears your voice. That’s a good sign for now. Hondo slides his back against the wall, peeking into the glass on the window. He lowers quickly and looks at Deacon.

“His back is to us, and he has a gun on her, we have to think this through, Deac,” he says.

“Of course. We can’t storm in, he’s a loose cannon,” Deacon agrees.

They hear the gunshot before the door rattles, and Deacon lurches forward, reaching for the doorknob as his other hand moves toward the trigger. Hondo’s arm wraps around his shoulders, pulling him backward.

“Deac, man, calm down,” Hondo grunts, struggling against Deacon. “Charging in won’t help her any.”

“And if it’s too late?” Deacon whispers harshly, relaxing enough to pull his arms from Hondo’s grip.

“Why did you do that?” you ask inside.

Hondo pats Deacon’s back, creeping back to the door. They listen to footsteps as someone, presumably the shooter, paces in the classroom. Your voice is low as you try to calm him down. Deacon has never loved you more, but he’s never been this scared before. He has less than a split second if something goes wrong, and that’s not enough time to save anyone.

“Of course,” you answer. “See if you can find the tree.”

Deacon nods at Hondo and reaches for the doorknob.

✯✯✯✯✯

“What is that?” the shooter whispers, pointing to a display on your bulletin board.

“It’s a collection of the best projects this semester. Do you think yours may be up there?” you ask quietly.

“Can I look?”

“Of course. See if you can find the tree.”

You saw the corner of the SWAT helmet in the window before, and you hope Deacon is out there. Using the code word was pointless if he isn’t, but maybe the shooter will be distracted either way. The doorknob twists and you drop to your knees behind your desk before the door opens forcefully, banging against the wall behind it.

“LAPD SWAT, drop your weapon!” Hondo yells.

“You don’t want to kill anyone, including yourself, we know that. So drop the gun and we can get you help,” Deacon adds.

You close your eyes as Deacon talks, trying to imagine that you’re alone in the room and neither of you is in danger.

“Okay, okay,” the shooter repeats.

You hear something hit the floor, and then Hondo says something into his radio as he steps toward the shooter. Deacon’s arms wrap around you, but you keep your eyes closed as you turn in his arms, pressing your face into the plate protecting his chest. His hand rubs your back as the other cradles your head against him.

“You’re okay, it’s okay, we’re all safe, baby,” he whispers into your hair, his helmet discarded.

“There’s kids in the closet,” you say against him, tightening your arms around his waist.

His head lifts from beside yours as he tells Street to check the closet. You hear their muted gasps and stifled screams before they realize who’s opening the door.

“Are you okay?” Deacon asks.

You lean back just enough to look up at him. Nodding, you keep your arms around him as you look into his eyes.

“And you said I didn’t need to worry about you,” he says playfully, pushing your hair out of your face.

“Now you know how I feel all the time,” you reply.

He helps you to your feet, keeping a hand on you. Your students are out of the closet, and when one sees you, they all look up.

“You’re dating a narc?” someone asks.

“SWAT, actually,” Deacon replies, smiling easily. “Everyone alright?” He gets mixed nods and muttered yeses before he adds, “EMTs are outside to give you a quick check before you go home to your parents.”

The same student who wanted to know who texts you throughout the day pauses by your side to whisper, “He’s cute. Good job.”

You roll your eyes and hug her quickly before tucking yourself into Deacon's side.

“Nice work with the code word,” Hondo says, moving to stand beside Deacon. “You might’ve saved some lives today.”

“That was all Deacon,” you reply.

“No, no, I was going to charge in here and get everyone killed,” he admits. “I was worried and Hondo made me wait. How’d you get him to turn his back?”

“He wanted to see the display,” you explain, pointing to it. “Figured I could at least kill some time telling him to look for something that wasn’t there.”

 “How’d you know we were out there?”

“I didn’t know who was out there, but I saw the edge of a helmet in the window.”

“Oh, that was me. Which makes me the savior, no?” Hondo teases.

“I think she’s still the savior,” Deacon replies, tipping his head toward you.

“But you saved me, so what’s that make you?” you reply.

Deacon smiles as he loops his arm around you again.

“Get out of here,” Hondo grumbles.

✯✯✯✯✯

You spend the evening wrapped in Deacon’s arms. And his shirt that you stole.

“It’s okay to not be okay after something like that,” Deacon whispers, holding you against his chest as a forgotten movie plays in the background.

“I’ll be okay,” you promise. “All I could think about was you. I was texting you when he came in, and then you called right before he crushed my phone. Then you saved me.”

“What did your text say?”

“Not much. All I got was ‘I love you. There’s’ before the door opened and I stopped,” you answer, tracing shapes on Deacon’s chest.

“You started with I love you,” Deacon muses, shaking his head. “I love you so much.”

“I love you. Thanks for saving me.”

“Anytime.”

You lay down on his chest and kiss his jaw, glad to be alive, home with Deacon, and in his arms.

“That wasn’t an invitation to get into trouble on a regular basis,” Deacon adds. “Just for the record.”

Deacon feels you laugh against him, your chest shaking against him as another kiss lands on his jaw. He doesn’t know how you deal with the uncertainty and the worry every day, but he knows he would do it a million times over for you.

[manicdream13]

happy late barricade day!! i wanted to redraw something from a few years ago, it’s under the cut if you want to see :3

anyways, as someone who can’t really donate money to palestine at the moment, i want to start showing my support through my artwork. be sure to show your support in any way you can!!🍉🇵🇸

little fun fact, the original was drawn before i saw les mis in person, so in the redraw i wanted to base my eponine design off of the actress who played her when i saw her, christine heesun hwang! my enjolras and marius designs are mostly true to the book descriptions, but i really realllyyy wanted to give marius red hair😭he always struck me as a ginger

[kjack89]

Never Say Die

Happy Barricade Day!

On the night of June 5th, Marius arrived home late. Cosette was not waiting for him at the door, wringing her hands with worry. She had learned her lesson after the first year, after hours spent pacing, wondering when Marius would return, fearing that something had happened to him – he was weak still, weaker than he would ever admit, try as he did to be strong for her especially, but his body had not yet fully healed even a year on, to say nothing of the other wounds he bore that very well may never heal. Marius had returned home eventually that first June night, late enough that the date had slipped from the 5th to the 6th, and when finally he did walk through the door, Cosette threw her arms around him. “I feared the worst,” she told him, her voice muffled against his shoulder. “I feared I may have lost you.”

His only response had been to stroke her dark hair gently, holding her until she let go. He offered no word then of where he had gone, or where he would again go the following year, or the year after. He did not voice the names of those he had lost, no more than he shared any tales of the time they had spent together. 

Not then, at least, but Cosette had slowly learned of those who had suffered the fate Marius had come so close to, when Marius let slip a name or the start of a story. At first, he would break off, his face creasing with pain from a wound that would never truly mend, no matter her ministrations. Then, over time, he would tell her more. Very rarely about the barricade itself, but more about the small moments he had shared with his friends, his observations of the men he had known.

As the years passed, Cosette felt like she finally knew the men she had never had a chance to meet, the men whose impact on Marius remained marked, even after all this time.

So much so that every June 5th, like the one in question, he would disappear from their house to spend time, seemingly, with the ghosts of his memory as his only companion.

And though she would never understand what it must be like to carry them with him, she could equally never find it in herself to begrudge him this one indulgence.

On the night in question, Cosette had long since retired to their bed, though she was still awake when he slipped in beside her, and she waited for him to make himself comfortable and blow out his candle before curling against him. 

For a long moment they lay together in silence until finally Cosette ventured softly, “I know that you miss them.”

Marius sighed. “I do,” he confirmed, equally quiet.

Cosette lifted herself up to tell him, sincerely, “I wish there was anything more I could do to ease this ache each June.”

Wordlessly, Marius gathered her to him, kissing her forehead. “I do miss them,” he repeated, “but that is– it is an old hurt now.” He shook his head. “Time heals, they say, and I know not how much truth there is in such a pat sentiment. But it does ease the consternation, at least slightly. And besides…”

He trailed off and Cosette frowned up at him. “And besides?” she prompted after a moment.

Marius cleared his throat. “And besides, they’re not gone, of course,” he finished, his voice a little rough. “Not truly.”

“In the way that no one who we love ever truly leaves us?” Cosette asked, laying her head against Marius’s chest.

He bent to press another kiss to the top of her head. “Yes,” he said, “but also no. It’s more than that.”

She tilted her head up toward him. “What do you mean?”

He hesitated. “I mean…they live on,” he said finally, the starkness of the statement emphasizing its sincerity. “They must.” He shrugged almost helplessly. “Just as I feel they must have lived before. Whenever one galvanizes a small group against all odds, I must believe that Enjolras is there in that moment, in that strength in the arm hoisting a flag high.”

Cosette had never heard him speak of his friends this way, and she almost held her breath, as if afraid that would be enough to break the spell.

Marius stroked her hair almost absentmindedly as he continued, something soft and almost wistful in his tone, “When one manages to teach the most important of lessons with the simplest of words, I must believe that Combeferre is speaking through them, as once he spoke to me. When one is bone-weary from scraping a living but still shows up in every way that matters, they keep Feuilly alive with them.”

His hand stilled and Cosette tightened her grip on him, just slightly, the small movement enough for his hand to resume its motions. “Bossuet lives through every selfless gesture, every sacrifice which may seem small but lights a fire that can never be extinguished, and Joly lives at his side to walk through that fire with him.” 

Despite himself, he smiled, just slightly. “And should my words, should anyone’s words in service of revolution seem even slightly poetic, then I know it is only because Jehan breathes them from our lips. And when words fail and fists become the only recourse, I know Bahorel is there, with that fierce grin.” 

He shook his head, his smile fading. “And whenever a toast is raised to friendship, to the unbreakable bonds of brotherhood, I will only ever see Grantaire, his bottle held aloft.”

“And Courfeyrac—” 

For the first time, his voice broke, and Cosette held him even tighter, not daring to speak. After a long moment, Marius cleared his throat, though he made no attempt to finish his thought, only kissing Cosette once more, the gesture saying more than his words ever could.

“They lived,” Marius said finally, his voice quiet but banded with steel. “They were real, flesh and blood. I touched them, I knew them, I loved them.”

Again his voice broke. “Love them still.”

He swallowed, hard, his voice rough and pained as he said, barely louder than a whisper, “And they died. And a part of my heart died with them on the barricade that day.”

There was just the hint of sob in his voice, the hint of such naked pain that caught in his throat as if he didn’t dare share it, and Cosette’s heart broke for him. Wordlessly, she propped herself upright and tugged him down so that their positions were reversed, so that she held Marius against her breast as he curled around her, hot tears soaking the bodice of her nightgown.

After a long moment, Marius recovered somewhat, drawing in a deep, shuddering breath and shifting so that his head rested against his shoulder, and he reached down to take her hand, lacing their fingers together. “They died,” he repeated, more steadily this time. :But their ideas—” He shook his head. “They were never solely theirs and so could never, can never, truly die.” He turned his head to press a kiss to her shoulder before adding, “Not until all chains and broken and there are no battles left to fight, at least.”

He brushed his thumb lightly against her knuckles. “It is a beautiful gift, in a way,” he whispered, more to himself than to her, “to live forever as a thread in the fabric of freedom.” He squeezed her hand. “And as much as I miss them, and I do, some days more than words, some days so much that my heart feels it might claw its way from my chest, there is great comfort in knowing that.”

Marius took one last deep breath before finishing, “And it makes it at least a little easier to bear.”

For one long moment, Cosette was silent, simply holding Marius against her, her own unshed tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. Then she bent to kiss his forehead like a benediction, like absolution for that pain she knew he still carried with him. “For what little it is worth,” she whispered, “though I never met them, I feel as though they live within my heart as well.”

“It is worth everything,” he told her, tugging her down to kiss her properly before telling her, “And that too makes it easier to bear.”

As much as she would never truly know if Marius meant it, or simply said it to ease her own conscience, the secondhand hurt she carried from him, Cosette still felt something warm bloom in her chest at his words, and she pulled him closer still, holding him silently  with the only comfort she could offer until sleep claimed them both.

If all of his friends lived within him, within any who continued their fight, then Cosette had to believe that Marius too would live on inside anyone who survived to fight still.

And as she drifted to sleep still holding Marius against her, she could not help but think that was as beautiful a belief as any she’d ever held.

[luxyue]

knife boots — part v.

xiao x reader, figure skating au

masterlist | previous | next

➥ NEW VOCAB ❝ flip ❞ a toe jump, taking off from a back inside edge

v. double-edged blade

Green.

Gold.

Where am I?

“You’re in the infirmary… I called Zhongli, he should be here soon—what do you think you’re doing?”

You waste no time jumping out of the bed (did he carry you all the way here?), heading toward the open door.

But luck is not on your side. In one swift motion, he manages to slam the door shut and barricades the exit by standing right in front of you (sheesh, is it just me or is it getting hot in here?).

“Let me go,” you say.

“No.”

You let out a heavy sigh. Of course, you understand that he’s just concerned for you, but right now, your only desire is to leave this place and run far, far away.

“Please?” you try.

“You’re clearly not okay, Y/N. I can’t let you just leave like this,” he says, brushing his hand through his hair in frustration. He clearly feels bad about not letting you go… but he’s just worried. About you.

“Okay, then… come with me.”

“…What?”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “If you can’t let me leave alone, leave with me instead.”

Xiao’s eyes widen at your proposal. “To where?”

“Um… honestly, I don’t know. But please, can we just get out of here?” you plea, hoping that he’ll take pity on you and let you go.

“If… if I go with you, will you tell me about whatever’s been bothering you lately?” he asks unsteadily. He clearly doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable by crossing your boundaries, but he can’t help but wonder. Just what could rattle you so hard like that?

You freeze suddenly, eyes widening at his words. Are you even ready to talk about it?

You do trust Xiao. A lot, you realize. If there’s anyone you would tell… it would be him. But you also know that your mutual respect only went so far. Despite spending most of your days with him lately, you’ve never talked about your personal lives, keeping steady boundaries. You were honestly surprised that he had even bothered to ask you about this.

“I… if I promise to tell you about it, will you let me leave?” you decide, praying to the archons that you won’t regret your choice.

Glancing down at you one last time, he finally nods. “…Alright then. Let’s go.”

…

“Where, exactly, are we going?” he wonders out loud.

You simply shrug. “Honestly, I haven’t been around much since I moved here.”

He turns to look at you, confusion written on his face. “It’s been a few months, hasn’t it?”

You scoff, giving him a dirty look. “You try having the world champion breathing down your neck during training every day. It’s kind of hard to function when I get home, let alone have a life outside of skating.”

He rolls his eyes at you. “I have to train a world champion every day—unpaid by the way—in addition to my own practice. How am I supposed to have a life?”

“You… that doesn’t even count. You actually deserve the title.”

The look he gives you is questioning. “Is this about what I said when we first met? If it is, I told you, I really didn’t mean any of that—”

“No, no… I don’t mean that. I promise I’ll explain soon. Just, back to the topic at hand, okay? Know any good places to eat? Or places to talk privately?” you say, avoiding his gaze.

He gives you an odd look before dropping the subject, pausing to think for a moment. “We won’t really be able to go anywhere without being photographed,” he reminds you.

You mentally slap yourself, embarrassed that you had forgotten about just how famous Xiao was in Liyue. He was like a walking paparazzi magnet, and it was honestly scary sometimes. Plus, if you were seen with him… well, his fans might not be too happy about that.

“Okay, then what do you suggest?”

“We could, um,” he coughs.

“What?”

“We could, uh, grab food really quickly and… go back to my place?” he stammers.

Was he being serious? You blink at him, slightly wondering if this was just a dream that you would wake up from in a matter of seconds.

…Nope. You’re still here. Surprisingly. But in what world would Xiao invite you over to his house?

His face goes awfully red as you struggle to formulate a response. “You don’t have to, I was just thinking, since you probably don’t want anybody listening in, so I just thought—”

“That would be perfect,” you say, stopping the train of worry in his head.

…

Two boba teas, a large box of rice balls, and a dessert that looked akin to tofu (which Xiao was surprisingly insistent on buying) later, you two finally ended up at his apartment.

It was actually a long drive. Xiao lived further from the rink than you had expected, although that made sense considering how much he valued his privacy. His apartment complex could pass for newly built, and the area was serene and peaceful.

Inside, however, all you could say was that the home was very… him. Sleek, dark, and modern, the design was truly exquisite.

But it was also bare. No personal touches. No picture frames, art pieces…

“Please tell me you have a medal wall, at least,” you say, or rather, hope. Xiao has multiple medals from just about every major international competition there is, and, well, you would probably give anything to see all of them.

“I do, actually. In here,” he motions for you to follow him through a doorway.

Oh… oh. Wow. In front of you is a display room that could honestly pass for a tiny museum.

Bronze, silver, and absolutely no shortage of gold hang neatly arranged on the walls. You see medals from domestic competitions, like nationals—then even more from the Grand Prix series, Grand Prix Final, and Worlds.

And then there are photos. So many photos, starting from when Xiao was a young boy, all the way up to his latest competition. You notice Zhongli is in most of them.

“Who are they?” you ask, pointing to one photo in particular, where Xiao looked… really happy. He couldn’t have been more than ten years old in it, and he was posing with a group of four others in the same rink you currently train in every day.

He glances over to see which one you were talking about, before looking away sadly. “They’re old friends… who have since stopped skating.”

There’s a pang in your chest; you know exactly what he feels. As the years went on, more and more of the skaters you grew up with had quit, leaving you behind. It was easy to get lonely as long days of training blurred together.

Not wanting to make him uncomfortable, you try to shift the topic back to what you originally came here for.

“So, I promised you an explanation.”

…

Once you’re both settled on his couch, boba in one hand, rice ball in the other, you begin your story.

“Well… let’s see, everyone knows I started out with Raiden Ei and skated for Inazuma, but that was way back when I was a novice skater and didn’t compete internationally. During this time… I was approached by someone who had also switched from Inazuma to Snezhnaya…”

Xiao scowls. “I know who you’re referring to.”

You nod in response. “He goes by Scaramouche nowadays. I don’t really know what he’s up to now, but I knew he was good back then. He told me to train with the Harbingers for the summer at first, just to see if I liked it. So, I did. I saw the results they were producing, and thought that, well, if I wanted to become the best of the best, I would need to make the switch.”

You pause, recollecting your thoughts.

“We don’t have to continue. If you aren’t up for it.” His voice breaks your train of thought.

“No… I want to tell you, actually,” you say, surprising even yourself. “I haven’t told anyone about this, not fully. Even Zhongli doesn’t know the full story.”

At this, Xiao reaches over, slowly intertwining his hand with yours, and gives it a gentle squeeze. “Okay,” he says softly.

Trying your best (but failing) to not get flustered, you clear your throat before continuing. “This is when things started going downhill. They told… they told me that, if I ever wanted to amount to anything, I would need to represent Snezhnaya,” you laugh. “It’s funny, now I know that it was just complete bullshit, you know? But I believed it at the time. And look where it got me.”

You’re tearing up now. Xiao is unsure of what to do, but he squeezes your hand, tighter this time. “You’re right—I’m guessing they saw your talent and knew they needed you more than you needed them. But trust me, you’ll do just as well without the Harbingers.”

Sniffling, you say, “That… means a lot to me, especially coming from you. Thank you.”

“Anyway, that’s when…” you trail off, struggling to find the right words to convey your thoughts.

That’s when it all comes crashing down, and you start sobbing uncontrollably.

Through your tears, you manage to get out the words, “Xiao, I’m so sorry—please don’t think of me any differently, I really didn’t want to do it, I didn’t want to do any of it, they forced me—”

In an instant, he pulls you towards his chest, holding you close, but gently, as though you were made of glass. Murmuring into your ear, he says, “I don’t know what happened, but I… I promise. You’ll be okay. You’re safe here.”

His words still manage to make your heart skip a beat, even when you’re this distraught. Even so, that doesn’t stop your hyperventilating, nor the tears streaming down your face.

“They… they made me take… Xiao…”

“Take what, Y/N?”

“They—they forced me to dope, they forced everyone there to dope, I’m so, so sorry for lying to you, that’s why I said I didn’t deserve the title, I didn’t deserve anything—I cheated. I cheated my way through every major competition I had ever won but you have to believe me, I never, ever wanted anything to do with it—”

You stop, because he… let go. He let go of you. He wasn’t holding you anymore. No… no, no, no…

“Y/N…” is all he says, and your heart breaks right there and then because never before have you seen Xiao look so hurt.

[heartofwritiing]

and you just can’t say goodbye.

paring: (zombur) William Godwinson x fem!reader

summary: Wil gets bitten, and angst ensues.

authors note: HUGE thanks to @ax-y10 for the help because originally this fic was gonna end a lot more agnsty but then they gave me an idea that was more on the happy side! I've never written a zombie apocalypse setting before so please excuse anything I get wrong. I've only watched other people play The Last of Us and I've briefly seen one episode of The Walking Dead so you can see how this will probably go. lol. The Sorry Boys zombie video is brain-rotting in my head rn I've watched it about four times now. yes. I love Zombur, so here's a drive-by of me throwing this fic at you and then skirting off with smoke from my tires. enjoy the brainrot :p (I'm so sorry this took me so long to get out, I've been procrastinating finishing it because I'm having some self-doubt at the minute but I hope you guys like this anyway even though it's a mess lol)

warnings: zombie apocalypse au, angst, death, violence, swearing, lots of kissing, characters use guns, the writer doesn't know anything about how guns work lmao, sort of happy end? super unedited!

"shit! I'm out of ammo!"

You pulled the trigger on the handgun once more, but nothing. It was luck that you had even found one. Even so early on in an apocalypse. A month had gone by since the first day of the outbreak. Though it was likely that you should've died on the first day, you don't know why you've survived this long. you should be dead.

At first, you thought staying in your apartment was the best chance you had of surviving. Big mistake. That strategy turned south when your front door was barged in after four days of no disturbance from any outsiders. Your boyfriend Wil had grabbed everything you could carry, and you hadn't stopped moving ever since.

Now, you and Wil found yourselves trapped in an alley with no escape. A pack of infected had cornered you, slowly closing in while making menacing noises. Wil bravely stood between you and the horde, fighting them off to protect you.

"Climb up the fire escape!" he shouted back at you.

You looked around until you spotted a ladder conveniently placed on the side of the building within reach. Infected were dropping like flies as Wil's shots echoed through the air. The ladder shook as you climbed, heart pounding in your ears. You glimpsed down to check and see if Wil was following, to find he was surrounded on all sides by infected. Your heart dropped when you saw one of their mouths was too close to his wrist. By the time you called out his name, it was already too late.

'Fuck!' Wil screamed as the infected bit through his skin and charred his flesh. Blood gushed down his arm and around the infected's mouth. You cry his name as he reeled back his fist and punched the infected repeatedly until it staggered off of him, but it was too late. Your eyes were fixed on him as he quickly climbed up the ladder, gasping for breath as he did so. He seemed in immense pain as he pulled his body up the ladder, slightly struggling.

Upon reaching the roof, you found a roof access leading to a floor with multiple doors, revealing it to be an apartment complex. Wil was already feeling the effects of the infection. His skin was sticky with sweat, the bitter taste left in his mouth tasting the blood rising in his throat, and the sudden vertigo he got just by rushing down the stairs was enough to make him nauseous.

You came to the floor with all the apartment units and quickly kicked in the door of the closest one. It took a few attempts to kick the door, and then bam! The sound of splitting wood and the door bouncing off the wall made a delirious Wil jump.

You entered the small room, helping Wil through the doorway, and setting him down gently before closing the door. You searched around for something to barricade the door with. Just in case of any infected find you. The only thing that looked heavy enough was the dresser tucked into the corner. Using all your muscles, you pushed the object across the room with the bottom of the dresser scraping against the wood, grimacing at the loud noise.

Letting out a sigh of relief, you knew you were safe for now. You dusted your hands off and turned back to Wil who was slumped against the wall on the floor, clutching his bitten arm. Wincing and squirming from the heat burning through his skin spreading throughout his veins.

The room was dim, and you noticed the sweat beading down his forehead. You quickly took your backpack off your shoulders and strode over to him. Taking out the first-aid kit you had for emergencies, you pulled out the tiny bottle of anti-septic cleaning solution and the roll of bandages.

You gazed down at his wrist, which was curled against his chest, shrouding you from looking at it. The ring of teeth marks oozing out the color of maroon as black vines protruded around the area, extending over his skin. His head lulled to the side as he let out a moan of pain.

"No, baby, keep your eyes open," you tried to lure him back to consciousness. Take his hand and position it palm up in your lap. He whines like a wounded animal in response.

Unscrewing the cap, you quickly prep the cotton pads. Then you quickly realize you should've put on gloves beforehand. Muttering curses under your breath you shake your head at the thought, There was no time.

"What are you doing?" Wil's voice slurs. He sounds groggy, like something is trying to creep up his throat to escape, not him. It scares you. You refuse to look at him.

"I have to clean the wound before it gets infected," you say nonchalantly.

With the little strength he has left, Will reaches out his unbitten hand to catch yours. You stop your movements in disbelief of his actions, tears brimming in your eyes as you try to save his life, but he stops you again. You both know what's inevitable, you just can't accept it.

"Wil-" you try to pull out of his grasp. You reach out to touch his wrist again this time, he is the one who pulls away.

"Look at me," he pleads. You can't bring yourself to shift your eyes to his, knowing this was inevitable. You had to try. He had to let you try.

"just stop."

Wil tries to grab the items from your hands, but you move too quickly for his shrinking reflexes to keep up. Moving beginning to be too strenuous.

"I can't- Wil-" You struggle to fight against him, too scared to hurt him. Though he's already dying.

"Stop, honey..." he quivers.

"Just let me save you!" you cry. It echoes through the room. The air is tense, and you finally meet his eyes. His skin is sickly pale, eyes bright with red veins and glossy. Purple hues outline under his soft doe eyes as they peer into yours. He fists the hem of your shirt, inviting you closer. Your breaths mix together as he presses his forehead to yours.

The words hang between you, but you bite your tongue. You want to tell him how much you want him to stay and not give up. Deep down, you already know it's not enough.

"It's too late for me darling, leave me here.”

“I'm not leaving you,” you say sternly, shaking your head.

You were determined to stay with him, no matter how difficult things got, you were unwilling to abandon him.

“Please, I don’t want you to see me turn into a monster.” his voice wavered. Your heart sank. No matter what, he would always be your Wil. Sweet, caring, and lovable Wil. Whom you adored with every fiber of your being.

You reach up to cup his face with your hands, but they feel cool against your clammy skin. His cheekbones are slowly becoming more prominent. You stare into his eyes, but the urge to tell him to be quiet becomes harder as anger festers in your chest. However, it's not anger towards him, but rather frustration towards the universe.

Instead, you snuggle up next to him to demonstrate your lack of fear and your trust in him. You want to be by his side and provide comfort. You understand that it's unrealistic to expect him to recover from this infection given his history of being sick and having a weakened immune system. It's best to accept the inevitable outcome.

It's unclear how much time has passed while the two of you remain in that position. His arm securely around your shoulder holding you close, with your arm laid across his lap where your fingers provided soft circles against his hip bone. The room grows darker as the sun sets. The air feels eerie yet comforting all at once with Wil by your side. Nothing but the sounds of his raspy breathing and occasional coughing fit to surround you. He whispers through the dark against the crown of your head with horse words. Sweet nothings, promises that make you curl into him further so he can't see the single tear you shed.

He lifts his hand to gently cup your cheek, tilting your head to meet his gaze. Selfishly, he leans in for a soft kiss. You whine at the metallic taste in his mouth when he groans to part his lips so his tongue finds yours. It makes your head spin like a top how this man makes you feel. His lips are chapped, rough, and fast as he indulges in you for maybe the last time. You gasp and reach up to tangle your fingers in his locks to reel him closer to you. His hand finds the underside of your thigh, digging into your flesh. The mere touch of his hand sets your body ablaze and sends shivers down your spine.

It's frantic and passionate, your love for him shown physically. When you disconnect, suddenly remember you need to breathe. his eyes are hazy and his pupils are blown. You are sure you look like a flustered mess.

"I love you," he says sincerely, and you believe him.

It stings in your chest, you can't stand it.

"I love you more," you reply.

You tuck yourself into his neck, breathing in the scent of sweat and outdoors, and it's calming. Wil rests his head on the crown of your head. You neglect how his breathing has slowed as you drift off to sleep.

-

The next time you open your eyes, the sun peeks through the window, casting a golden glow over the bedroom. Your bones crack when you sit up to stretch from sleeping in the same position all night. You knew you'd regret it later when you had back pain for days. You turn to Wil, who doesn't stir when you move. Your heart dropped when you noticed something different about him.

Around his eyes were a darker color than the previous night. His cheekbones were completely sunken in where you could almost see the bone. his lips were a blueish color and his chest was rising and falling.

This was your fault. You should have stayed awake.

Tears streamed down your face as you called out his name, gently shaking his body, but he didn't respond.

"Wil!" you wailed, begging for him to come back.

You slumped forward, cradling him against your chest, pressing kisses to his temple, and muttering apologies against his cold skin. You felt your heart break as you realized he was gone, and tears rolled down your face as you held him close to you. You felt a deep emptiness settle in your heart. You knew you would never fill the void his death had left. You sobbed, gripping him tighter, and whispered your final goodbye. You held him close, cherishing holding home one last time. Knowing that you would never be the same again.

You're too distraught to move. You don't want to leave him here, but you don't have any other choice. The urge to keep on and survive was slowly fading now that you had no one left in this cruel world.

Wil felt heavy in your arms to the point where your arms were falling asleep, but you refused to let go. If you were to leave now, you may be tempted to never return to the person you once were. Allow your sorrow to consume you. The one good thing left in your life was gone.

You suddenly felt hands grab your lower back, causing you to yelp in surprise. Fingers gripe harshly at your skin through your clothes. Wil's chilled breath glides up your spine as he lets out a deep groan against your collarbone. He was alive? How?

His lips ghosted across your collarbone, pressing his nose directly into your pulse point. His hot breath fans across your exposed skin, causing goosebumps to rise along your body. Then, you feel his teeth nipping at your skin, and your eyes widen realizing his intentions.

You jerk away and shove him off you roughly. Crawling backward, quickly shuffling away from him, your heart pounding, until your back hits the opposite wall with a thump. You wince in pain from the impact and notice Wil gradually beginning to crawl toward you. A fixed gaze over his sheer white eyes, almost glowing like moonbeams. Chills ran down your spine as you gazed at your former lover, unrecognizable.

You froze as he approached, shrinking in on yourself. His body lazily dragged itself across the wooden floor, scrapping and groaning with every floorboard. Once he was close enough, his hand unexpectedly reached to grasp your ankle, and you screamed in fear. Nails harshly dig into your skin and create recent moon shapes that make you cry out.

He yanked you with a surprising strength until you were laid beneath him, overbearing you. You are powerless as Wil, or not Wil's body leaned over you and cadged you with his arms. Tears flow from the corners of your eyes and into your ears as his face inches towards you.

"Please," you whisper. Again, he tilts his head in curiosity at you.

"William?" Your eyes bore into his, trying to find some trace of life left in them. You observe his eyes returning to their natural color and a look of terror crossing his face as he regains consciousness. He staggers back and moves away from you frantically, clutching his chest and struggling to breathe.

You both sit on opposite sides of the room against the wall, he stares into the floor burning holes into the wood, avoiding your eyes. You just blink blankly at him in shock, knees tucked against your chest again.

Wil cradled his skull, clutching fist fulls of his hair, squeezing his eyes shut, and heaving breaths of panic puffed out his mouth. Mumbles of "I'm sorry," repeated like a mantra over, and over out shakily.

You let out an unsteady breath, His eyes quickly flicked over to you and fear flooded your senses once again.

"Darling?" he tries, his voice hoarse. He moves towards the center of the room, positioning himself a safe distance from you. “I'm sorry... I don't know what came over me..." his voice trails off.

He noticed your tense reaction upon watching him inch closer to you, and it broke his heart to see you trembling in fear due to his prior actions. He could never forgive himself for causing you such distress.

"is it really you?" you asked.

"I don't know," he says honestly. "I don't feel like myself, It's like I'm trying to grab hold of a stearing wheel and fight for control right now."

Your heart sank at his words. You let them maul over in your head for a moment. It sounded like your Wil, but you hesitated in reaching out to him. So, was he alive? He didn't look it, his skin was still deathly pale and almost decayed. Nose now dripping with dried blood that ran down his lips.

His head hangs low as he silently sobs. He didn’t want this. Now he was dead and was leaving you to defend yourself. He swore he would always protect you and he’s failed. He knows its selfish to ask you to stay with him, you should just leave him here to rot. Still, he begs you.

“Please, darling dont leave me,” You shake your head and crawl towards him. He might be an undead zombie now, but you still loved him more than anything else is this life. You would do anything for him. You take his face in your hands to tilt his head up but he avoids your eyes. “look at me,” his eyes shift to yours.

“I wanna help you baby, and im sure as hell not gonna leave you, not now, not ever.” you proclaim. “So don’t you dare ever try and push me away, because im staying. No matter how complicated things get.”

You bring yourself to kiss his forehead, your warm lips making him sigh out from the touch. He holds you for what feels like hours. Eventually you both know you’ll have to leave this abandoned apartment, whether you run out of food or more zombies show up. move on, then figure things out. Whatever it takes you would stay together, no matter what.

taglist: @trashcanduck @merakiwi @addxms @ax-y10 @scenefaez @starsyoubreaklikesugardust @drop-of-void

[void-wolfie]

We Had Matching Wounds. Mine's Still Black and Bruised.

summary: Jenna's still grieving after you walk out on her, but you've already moved on.

pairing: Jenna Ortega x gn!Reader

tw: angst, maybe depression(?)... not exactly sure, let me know if I need to add something

words: 960

a/n: thanks to the anon who suggested The Exit by Conan Gray... wrote this pretty late at night so it might be trash who knows lol

Jenna's apartment was a mess; clothes splayed across every surface, dirty dishes stacked a mile high, and a pile of laundry that hadn't been done in weeks. All in all, it was safe to say she wasn't ok, not by a long shot.

She had barricaded herself in her room long ago. Refusing to move unless it was absolutely necessary, which wasn't often. She'd drowned herself in one of your oversized hoodies and a nest of blankets. If she wasn't asleep or crying, she was staring blankly at the ceiling or mindlessly scrolling through her phone.

A notification popped up across her phone. She stared at the headline, thinking about clicking on it. The dull numbness that’d consumed her days gave way to heartache the longer she stared.

Y/N and pop singer Olivia Rodrigo officially confirm their relationship!

She was finally at a place where she wasn't gnawed away by guilt and heartache every second of the day, a sort of depressive numbness settling in. But she knew seeing you with a new girlfriend would crush her, making the reality of your breakup all too real, all the more final. But at the same time, curiosity was eating away at her. The hope that maybe it was clickbait or fake news was naively tugging at the back of her mind.

Against her better judgment, she clicked on the article.

Everyone says a picture is worth a thousand words. A thousand words wouldn't begin to cover the extent of pain Jenna was feeling.

There at the front of the article was a screenshot from your Instagram. A post of you and Olivia kissing, with the caption; Happy three months, love <;3.

She felt sick to her stomach. She probably would've puked on the spot had she actually eaten anything in the past two days.

Three months. Those words shattered her already fragile heart.

Three months... The two of you broke up only four months ago.

She could still remember the night it all went wrong, like a broken record stuck on repeat.

"y/n?" She called out, setting her stuff down on the kitchen table.

It was a miserable day, it'd been raining all day and thunder could be heard in the distance. The run from her car to the front door left her soaked from the cold rain.

"y/n?" She called out again, only to get no response.

She padded into your shared bedroom, her hair leaving tiny water drops across the tile floor as she shivered in her wet clothes.

She stopped in her tracks. There was a suitcase on the bed full of your stuff, and you were packing more in.

"What's going on?"

"I'm leaving." You didn't spare her a glance, you knew if you did you'd only be inclined to stay. Those big brown eyes of hers would always be your weakness.

"Leaving?" You weren't leaving her, were you? Sure your relationship had been on the rocks as of late, countless arguments and nights spent yelling. But had it really gotten this bad?

"I can't do this anymore, Jenna."

"Do what?"

"This. Us." You closed the suitcase, zipping it up, still refusing to look at her, "The arguing, the late nights coming home, always feeling like your second choice. I just can't do it anymore."

You finally looked at her, seeing tears streaming down her freckled face. It broke your heart, but you had to protect yourself. Even if that meant breaking her.

"Do you even know what it feels like Jenna? To feel like your second choice? You come home late every other night, you're gone for months at a time, and you lie about who you're with and where you go. Do you even remember the last time you said ‘I love you’?"

"I..." She wanted to refute everything you'd said, but she couldn't. She couldn't remember the last time you had a movie night together or even ate dinner at the same table. She couldn't remember the last time she said those three words.

You had tears of your own streaming down your face, "3 months ago. You haven’t said it in three months."

Jenna was in a stupor. Her whole world was crumbling before her, and she was lost on how to fix it.

How had you moved on so quickly? It felt like only yesterday she was so deep in love, falling into a black hole of bliss with only you on her mind. She thought you felt the same, and maybe you did. But you'd already replaced her. With one of her friends, no less.

Jenna skipped reading the article. She didn't want some reporter's half-assed observations and opinions on your dating life. They didn't know you, and she could care less about their opinion.

She clicked over to Instagram, despite her shaking hands and teary eyes, and tortured herself with your latest post.

You looked happy. There were all kinds of pictures of you and Olivia together. Pictures of you two dancing in the rain, swimming at the lake, even one at that club she never had the time to take you to. Not to mention the abundance of candid photos fans had tagged the two of you in. Pictures of the two of you kissing, the two of you visiting that little ice cream shop by the beach, some at that little cafe by your house that had your favorite coffee.

To say it was agony was an understatement. There weren't words for her pain. She could never effectively describe the heartache that left her crying for hours on end, breathless and shaky from the exertion.

It hurt knowing she carved out her own heart for you and in the end, her downfall was her own doing.

You already found someone to miss, while I'm still standin' at the exit.

[account-name]

happy late barricade day!! here's a redraw of my very first piece of les mis fanart. i know this is super late now but tbf i started it on barricade day so shh i get points for that

original (2021) under the cut:

[jpitha]

Between the Black and Gray 4

First / Previous / Next

At the docking ring, Fen and Ma-ren led Gord all the way down to the end. Past the regular passenger ships, past the scheduled freighters, past the bays for warships, past the semi permanent bays for residents to the last seven bays, thirty three though forty. Before they reached bay thirty three Gord could see the bulk of the Starjumper. It was easily five times larger than any ship here.

Walking past a simple barricade they stepped into an area of the docks that were not visited very often. The noise and bustle of the docks receded until Gord could only hear their footsteps and the thrum of the air handlers. Fen walked up to an airlock and gestured dramatically. "Here she is. Spyglass. She last moved when my Grandparents were young and Mom was a kid the last time she had power."

Gord walked up to the airlock. It was dark, with no lights, and no indicator over the door. a light layer of dust surrounded everything. "Oh, what happened hon? What did they do to you?" He whispered to the ship. He turned to Fen and Ma-ren "How do we open the airlock?"

"There's no power; we have to open it manually." Ma-ren shrugged. "We should be able to pump that lever there a few times and then the outer door will open."

Gord looked around and found the lever. It was worn and clearly well used. "What about shore power from the station?"

Fen laughed. "We can't afford those fees. Grandma says back when she was a kid they used to pay to run shore power during celebrations like weddings and funerals. These days though, nobody really cares anymore."

Gord stared at Fen and Ma-ren for a long while before turning back to the airlock and pumping the handle.

"Uh Gord?"

"Yes?"

"What's going on? You're acting like Spyglass is alive or something. Like, we left someone behind. If Spyglass was alive, we'd remember. Grandma would have mentioned it, Mom would have mentioned it, anyone would have mentioned it."

"There was a time when Spyglass was alive." Gord sighed. "She was a friend of mine. I'm worried for her. I want to view the logs and figure out what happened."

Fen blinked. "Gord, that doesn't make sense. If you were friends with Spyglass that would make you...."

Gord didn't meet her gaze. The airlock slowly opened as Gord worked the handle. After a moment it was wide enough for a person to enter. "Come on, let's see what's inside."

The inner airlock door was wide open. One the one hand, Gord was happy that he wouldn't have to pump the handle to manually open it, but having the airlock wide open was a bad sign. Gord took out two palm lights and handed one to Ma-ren and turned on the other.

Fen was surprised at how... cramped it was. She hadn't been inside Spyglass since she was a kid, but it always seemed to big when she was little. Now, she realized the halls were only a little taller than her and how small the rooms where. Gord started walking down the hall towards the command deck.

Ma-ren and Fen followed Gord. As soon as he was aboard, he seemed to know exactly where they were going. Occasionally he'd swing his light over some detail and nod, or look at something else and grunt, but he wasn't lost.

After a few minutes, they made it to the command deck. Now they were further into Spyglass than Fen or Ma-ren had ever been, and as evidenced by the floors, it had been a long time since anyone else was here. The floors were dusty and what few boot-prints there were were also covered by a layer of dust. Gord wiped away at a sign on the door. At the top, it said "Command Deck' in Colonic, but under it was another phrase in a different language.

"Gord, what's that under the sign in Colonic?"

Gord looked up. "Oh? Ah yeah, Spyglass was refit right after Colonic took over as the main language for the colony worlds. The bottom text is the same thing in Late Period English." He read the words out loud. The language was strange to Fen and Ma-ren, very staccato.

"You can speak it Gord? Are you a scholar?"

Gord chuckled. "I can, and I'm not. I don't need to be a scholar to speak my native language. Gord opened a panel on the side and stick his hand into the cavity and rummaged around. There was a click and he was able to slide the door open.

Fen and Ma-ren stepped in after Gord and gazed around. They could only see tiny parts at time from their small palm light, but the room was large, with many seats and was all oriented towards a large screen at the front. Gord sat in a seat in the middle and touched a screen on the arm. "Completely dead. I would have expected something, even if was just dim lights." He stood. "Come on ladies, I'll need your help."

"Why?" Fen was having a good time looking around the old command deck, and didn't want to leave just yet.

"We're going to restore power. At least to critical systems."

"What? How?" Ma-ren's fur poofed out and her tail twitched worriedly. "Everything is dead and cold."

"Well yeah, but it wasn't always this way, and so long as you haven't stolen parts-" He turned and looked at them "You haven't stolen parts, right?"

They shook their heads.

"Then we should be able to get her up and at least lit. Spyglass had 6 reactors back in the day. We only need one for lights and heat. We get her lit, we can check the core and figure out what happened.

Gord lead them back down the other end, down stairs and across halls, deep, deep within Spyglass. Fen was sure that nobody had been down here since after they docked. It was odd. She expected things to be... grimer than they were. Sure it was dark, and sure it was dusty, but things weren't leaking or broken, and there weren't any vermin about. It was quite different than the station.

They reached the Reactor Room, and Gord once again did his trick with the panel to open the doors. As soon as he stepped inside, he swung his light around the room and gasped.

"What? What is it?" Ma-ren walked in behind him and looked around. It was a long hall.

"The reactors! There are supposed to be six of them! There's only two left!" Sure enough, Fen and Ma-ren followed Gord as he walked down the hall, his boots clanging on the metal grating as they passed empty space after empty space, finally coming upon two huge, identical machines at the very back of the hall. Gord peered at them and tisked. "Well, so long as they're not both broken in the same way, I can get one going again." Without looking up he gestured at Fen and Ma-ren. "There's a tool kit over in the locker behind you. Please go fetch it. There should be some battery lights too, let's see if we can get a little more light on this.

"It took a few hours to get everything set up, and they were well past curfew before they were finished, but they had set up the lights and Gord had the reactor in more pieces than they thought possible. Gord knew where everything was, even things that he shouldn't know. He had told them that the medical ward was a few doors down and they were able to find some folding chairs to sit, and even some cots so they could take a nap. Gord never seemed to have to take a break. He didn't eat, didn't get tired, just continued to tinker. Fen and Ma-ren dozed on the cots while Gord worked.

Finally he sat back, and closed the panel. "Ladies? I think we're ready for ignition. It's made up of spares and most of the other reactor, so we'll never be able to run the Stardrive or the weapons, but we can at least have lights and heat and the computer.

"You fixed it?" Ma-ren yawned hugely.

"Not really. Just rigged it together. This old model reactor is very durable and resilient. I'm a little surprised the crew that brought you here wasn't able to keep it running. Everything needed was onboard."

Fen nodded. "Grandma mentioned that hardly anyone knew what to do or how to work the ship, there was a lot of guesswork and hoping involved."

Gord didn't reply. Instead he turned back towards the reactor. "I'm going to start it, watch out."

Before Fen and Ma-ren could ask what to watch out for Gord pressed the starter. There was a hum and a loud clack of relays, followed by a warbling hum that started slow and went faster and faster until there was a sound like a burst of static.

And then, with hardly any fanfare at all, the lights came up.

Before they could cheer, there was a cacophony of alarms and klaxons and sirens. Gord jumped at the noise, and then took off towards the command deck. Fen and Ma-ren hurried to catch up.

In addition to the alarm and siren sounds, there were voices warning things. They'd speak in two or three languages that Fen didn't recognize and then in oddly accented Colonic she heard "WARNING. WARNING. REACTORS OFFLINE. BACKUPS OFFLINE. HULL DAMAGE. WEAPON DAMAGE. STARDRIVE DAMAGE. SYSTEMS CRITICAL." and it would repeat.

They made it to the command deck and Gord was sitting in the middle seat, his fingers dancing over the pads until the alarms were silenced one by one. Sighing in relief, and continued to poke and prod at the pad. "I'm turning off running lights. They've been off for decades, no sense in telling station authorities that we have power now." Gord was speaking to them without looking up.

"So Gord, is Spyglass alive or not?"

"I don't know. She's not replying to my usual queries." He looked up at the room. "Hey Spyglass! You Up? It's Gord!"

Nothing.

"Come on, let's go check the core. Something's up."

They made their way deeper into the ship; deeper even than the reactors, until they reached a door that was almost completely hidden. There was no frame around this door, and no panel on the outside. There wasn't even a sign in Colonic. Just a small line of text in that angular Late Period English language. With the power on, Gord didn't have to rummage in the walls looking for an override. He approached the door and touched it with both his hands, palms in. There was a click and the door slid smoothy to the side.

This room was completely different than the others. It was barely more than a closet, bathed in a blue light. From the floor to the ceiling were racks and racks of electronics and half of it blinked and hummed. The other half was dark and silent, separated by a large black mechanism that was stuck haphazardly over things. When Gord saw the mechanism he said something in his old language that Fen and Ma-ren didn't understand, but the meaning was clear.

"Fuck."

"What?"

"It's a shackle." He gestured towards the black mechanism. "It's meant to lock down AIs, to prevent them from being intelligent. Spyglass is here, but she's trapped."

"Someone is...inside Spyglass?" Ma-ren's ears twitched.

"Gord shook his head. "No, she is Spyglass. The ship is her body."

"Oh no" Fen shuddered. "So is she aware of herself?"

Gord nodded. "Probably, yes."

"How long has she been like this?"

He peered at the mechanism without touching it. "This looks like late third Empire tech. Right around The War." He straightened up. "She's been locked down at least five hundred years."

Fen and Ma-ren looked at eachother. Five hundred years? "She's... going to be upset when we unlock her right?"

Gord turned to them and smiled thinly. "Ma-ren, I would like to take this moment to state how pleased I am that you assumed we're going to unlock her. To answer your question, she is going to be a mess. But, I have some skill here. I can help her."

Fen nodded. "Okay then, Gord. How do we free her?"

"Luckily" Gord turned back to the shackle "They were never meant to be hard to install and remove. We just have to enter the code." Gord touched a panel on the front and a keypad rolled out from behind.

"What's the code?"

Gord chuckled. "It's zero zero zero zero one."

Fen blinked. "You're kidding."

"I'm not. The Empire set up these shackles, but didn't trust that anyone could remember the code to remove them, so they hard coded it to something easy."

"But then anyone could have removed them."

"This is true, and wonder, Fen, why they didn't." Gord typed in the code and pressed the start key at the bottom.

The shackle lit up and started glowing green. After a moment, the racks of equipment behind it received power and started glowing like the others.

"That's it?" Ma-ren peered at the equipment.

"That's it." Gord looked around. "We should be able--"

Their conversation was interrupted by the PA crackling to life.

There was a piercing noise.

A woman was screaming.