#i think it fleshes him out more like those are really good chapters why ignore the uncomfortable parts

[julesthequirky]

The Choice: Chapter Seven

All my work is purely aimed at those 18+ so minors kindly, DNI.

Summary: You find three of your favourite characters in your home. It shouldn’t be possible, but there they are. In the flesh. How the hell did they get there? And surely there’s a way to get them back? But as you get close to each one, the thought of sending them back proves difficult to comprehend.

Characters/Pairings: Fem!Reader, Dean, Beau and Ben (Soldier Boy)

Warnings: Language, typical Soldier Boy behaviour

W/C: 1,541

A/N: As you can see (for those who saw my post earlier) I have split the chapter into two. It wouldn't look right with all the chapters around the same and this one not.

A/N 2: Also it has crossed my attention that as much as you guys love these fics, please don't upload the ficpic to another social. I know none of the images are mine and you can decide to ignore my request, but it do 'make' them with the intent of them being uploaded solely by me. So far I've seen it on the pin board app.

Pulling yourself out of your reverie and ignoring the moisture between your legs, you located Dean in the hat section. He, of course, had on a cowboy hat and posing in front of the mirror.

“Lookin’ good, cowboy.”

Dean spun round with a sheepish grin on his face.

“You really think so?”

You nodded, reaching up on tiptoe, and angled the hat better. His green eyes bore into yours, and the moisture between your legs intensified. Those butterflies stormed your belly, causing a tingling to cover your entire body. Oh Lordy. Staring into his eyes had your brain short-circuiting.

“I love Westerns.”

“I know.” You replied as you moved your hands away.

His lips curved into a smile, which didn’t help the fluttering in your stomach. The Stetson he wore blocked off the surroundings, forcing you to focus only on him. You noticed how green his eyes could get, how the freckles speckled across his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. You noticed the 5 o’clock shadow across his jaw and chin, the slight crook in his smile and just how pink his lips were.

Caught in his gaze, your heart beat just that little bit faster, and it ached just that little bit harder for the hunter.

“What d’ya think?”

You blinked and tried pulling words from your mushy, in-love brain.

“I think you should get it.”

He nodded and took the hat off.

The rush of Boot Barn came surging back. For a moment, you’d forgotten where and what you were doing. It was silly, silly schoolgirl feelings. Feelings you should push aside, but they just managed to get in the way.

A tap on your shoulder had you whirling around. It was just Beau with the boots and a selection of jackets.

“I couldn’t decide. Could you help?”

You nodded and took the jackets from him. All three were indicative of Beau’s style in Big Sky—black denim with a faux fur lining, tanned suede with a fur collar, and a typical blue denim jacket.

“I can’t decide either. I bet they’d all look great on you though.”

Beau blushed as he smiled, exactly the way Denise had complimented Beau in the first episode of season three. Dean, Beau and Ben shared this smile, and you had Jensen to thank for that.

“Darlin’ you say any more, and I’ma go redder than a farmer’s neck in the middle of summer.”

Damn that Texan. You gave him the jackets back and reached on tippy toe for a light brown Stetson. He ducked a little bit, allowing you to place it atop his head.

“There. It suits you.”

Beau’s face and neck went redder than a farmer in the middle of summer, leaving him speechless.

You clapped him on his shoulder and turned, only to be immediately put in a dour mood. Ben leant against the store’s wall, sweet-talking a female employee. Your heart whomped in your chest, emotion making it tighten. You weren’t sure why, but it felt like rejection.

The female employee smiled in Ben’s direction, giving him all her attention, twirling hair around her finger. Jealousy stabbed at you hard. Fuck him.

Ben turned his head to see you looking. He smirked and turned his attention back to the female employee. Instead of storming over there, you turned on your heel and went straight to the cashier with Beau and Dean.

*

At Walmart, you picked up a few plain colour t-shirts, Wrangler jeans, underwear, and socks for all three. Dean picked out a few flannels, as did Beau. Ben wandered around, trying to get your attention, and the petty person inside of you gave him the cold shoulder.

“You can’t be mad at me forever.”

You said nothing, moving the cart by some graphic t-shirts. Dean placed a set of two pyjamas, a long dressing gown, and a pair of slippers into the cart. Ben still had clothes to find besides the bare basics you had picked up.

Reaching out, you picked up a t-shirt with an American Eagle with the flag behind it. Patriotic. Sure, it was stereotypical, but honestly, you had no idea what he would wear. You pulled the t-shirt off the rack and brought it to Ben’s chest. He pulled a face at being treated like a child, but he wasn’t helping. You threw the T-shirt into the cart. Ben fished it back out, annoyance etching his face, and picked up a size bigger. Right. He was jacked. You’d forgotten that with the extra muscles, he would need a size larger than Beau and Dean.

You pushed the cart further, but Ben stood in front, gripping the metal, stopping you.

“I saw you when I was talking to that woman. You were jealous.”

You scowled and pushed against him, trying to ram the cart past, but all it did was jam one of the front wheels.

“Admit it, Y/N. You were jealous.”

Your scowl deepened. Ben wasn’t going anywhere, it seemed. Not until he got the truth from you. To evade him, you went to roll the cart backwards. The metal creaked in his hands. The cart wouldn’t budge.

“We’re not going anywhere until you admit it.”

“Why? So you can feel smug with yourself?”

Ben moved from the front of the cart to you. The metal had warped where he had held it, bending under the pressure of his hands. He stood tall, clearly using his height against you. You strained your neck, looking up. A dumb smirk sat on his face.

“Maybe it will make me smug, or maybe I’m trying to prove something to myself.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion.

“Like what?”

“Doll, what makes you think I’ll tell you before you admit to me your jealousy?”

Your scowl came back.

“I wasn’t jealous.”

He snorted with laughter. “Yeah, and I’m a virgin.”

You moved the cart, but he stopped you, again putting his hand on the cart.

“Sweetcheeks, just admit it.”

It was embarrassing to admit. Your pride made you too stubborn to admit. Your hands tightened on the bar. He tested you. on purpose. For what reason? Probably to find out if it would make you jealous or not. Well, it did, and he was probably right. But you weren’t gonna tell him that.

“Just pick out some damn clothes.”

Ben laughed. That deep booming laugh and walked away, allowing you some time for yourself. He knew how to push the right buttons. He knew how to get under your skin. Was that a good thing? Your ex couldn’t even begin to scrape the surface.

You followed as Ben wandered around the clothing section of Walmart. He grabbed some grey sweatpants and undershirt tank tops and threw them into the cart.

“You’re such an old man…” You muttered.

Ben turned around, throwing you a dirty look. Seems he didn’t appreciate that comment. Who wore undershirts in this day and age? Nobody you knew, that was for sure. He had only picked out a handful of clothes. Guess he didn’t need much.

You found Dean and Beau trying on boots. They were laughing together, doing impressions of someone. You didn’t get it until Dean lowered his voice, made himself look all serious and barked out:

“I fart the star spangled banner!”

Of course, it was a perfect imitation. Beau collapsed with a fit of laughter. Behind you, however, was another matter. You turned and collided with Ben. He huffed and snorted, nostrils flaring like a bull preparing to charge. You pressed your hand to his chest. Fuck, it was hot.

“Fuck you, you bendy legged fuckface!”

He stepped forward, forcing you back. You pressed a hand to his chest again.

“Please, Ben. He was only messing. He didn’t mean anything by it.”

Ben huffed, hands curled into tight fists. He didn’t care that he was in public, but you did. He took another step closer, again forcing you to step back.

“Watch your mouth.” Ben warned and walked off, presumably to cool off.

You stared after him, calling his name until you could no longer see him. It frustrated you at how sensitive the Supe was. It seemed he could give it but couldn’t take it.

“Jeez, he can’t take a joke, can he?”

You swiped a hand down your face and turned to Dean and Beau.

“Y’know, I was kinda hoping that since you both have a nice friendship thing going, that Ben would join in and have the same.”

Beau sat on the stool, looked at Dean and then at you.

“Darlin’…”

Honestly, you didn’t wanna hear it.

“Tell me you were only messing around, D?”

Dean sighed.

“Yeah, I was just messing around.”

But from his tone, you could tell he was lying. An array of emotions pained you, but disappointment was the biggest one that fatigued you. You had expected better of him and Beau.

“I’m gonna go look for him.”

Dean stood, moving the shoebox out of his way, before stepping to you.

“Y/N, c’mon…I was only messing around.”

“Oh, yeah? Who else did you impersonate? Or was it only Ben?”

“He does a really good Yogi bear impression.” Beau piped up, not helping at all.

“I know!” You snapped, storming off.

Tags: @yvonneeeee, @curlycarley, @angelbabyyy99, @sassy-pelican, @k-slla, @deans-spinster-witch, @ashdoctor, @eretsupremacy89, @fanfic-n-tabulous, @deans-number-one-fan, @afro-hispwriter, @justjensenandhisalteregos, @tiredstrangerr, @zemosdarling228.

[churchstopsurgeryscars]

Hey y'all I'm sick af today, but I wanted to put this out before the end of rarepair week. I was inspired by @leonardalphachurch 's Temple/Tucker ship to write this. This is just a rough draft, but I was honestly so inspired by this that I think I may flesh this out into a short multi-chapter fic.

Synopsis: Temple thought he could trust Tucker with his deepest secret, but it turns out he was wrong.

CW: Brief mentions or death and decomposition, canon-typical violence @rvbrarepairweekdos Thank you so much for hosting rarepair week! I had such a blast.

Tucker followed Temple down to the basement, his hand squeezing the other’s tightly. He was secretly hoping that the other man was going to be showing him a good time. Temple has been acting so giddy and nervous about whatever this surprise was going to be, and Tucker was more than happy to join him and find out what he looked like under all that armor.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Temple stopped in front of a large door. To Tucker’s surprise, he took off his helmet. He had seen the other man’s face several times at this point, but each time still made his heart flutter. His long, chaotic black hair and his bright, wild eyes were enough to make Tucker’s breath quicken. Temple had this unique, striking beauty to him that Tucker couldn’t help but be attracted to. “Tucker, before I open this door, I want you to know I really trust you. Ever since you got here, I’ve just felt gravitated to you.” Temple began. “Yeah, I think I’ve really started to care about you, too.” Tucker replied, trying not to let his impatience show. He wanted to get Temple out of his armor right now. “I just need you to promise me one thing.” Temple said, his expression turning serious.

“Anything.” Tucker breathed, reaching out to cup Temple’s face in his free hand. 

“Before you react to anything, I need you to hear me out.” Temple said before putting his helmet under his arm and turning to the door. “Of course!” Tucker said, blinking in surprise. Temple had always seemed a bit neurotic, but he seemed really intense for sneaking off to have sex. Without another word, Temple opened up the door. As soon as it opened, Tucker was hit in the face with an awful smell. It was putrid, like when they burst open those sewage pipes on Chorus. Tucker had to hold back his urge to gag before following Temple into the room. He could cope with the smell, he decided, if it meant he got to see what sort of sounds he could get Temple to make while on top of him. All he had to do was ignore it. When Temple stepped aside, however, any thoughts of sex completely left his mind. Tucker’s heart dropped into his stomach at what he saw. It was Carolina and Wash! But they weren’t moving. Why weren’t they moving? “Tucker!” Wash’s tired voice strained, “Run!” He couldn’t run, his limbs turning to ice as he stood there in disbelief. Had this been where’d the two of them had gone for the past five days?! Tucker couldn’t believe they’d been down here this whole time! Why would Temple lie about where they had gone? 

Why weren’t they moving?

“Guys?! What’s happening?” Tucker gasped in disbelief before turning to Temple, “What’s going on?!” “Go! Run!” Carolina demanded through gritted teeth. She sounded like she was in so much pain. “I was hoping you two would be dead by now.” Temple grumbled before turning to Tucker, “Don’t worry about them, Tucker. This is for the best! If you’d just let me-” “For the best? What are you talking about?! We need to help them!” Tucker interrupted, turning to Carolina and trying to pull her free. All he got in response was a weak cry of pain. Their armor was locked up, and he couldn’t make them move. 

Before he could keep trying to free them, Tucker felt a pair of hands grip his shoulders and pull him back. With a cry of fear, he was turned around to face Temple. His eyes were wide with desperation and his fingers were trembling. “I had to do this, Tucker. To all of them! After what the Freelancers did to me, to you, to innocent people. They deserve this.” Temple said, his voice shaking with intensity. “What are you talking about?!” Tucker cried, “Yeah they were shitty people once, but Wash and Carolina are my friends! They’ve spent years making up for what they did. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?” Temple stared at Tucker for a while, his grip tightening on the other man’s shoulders. Tucker started to back away, but Temple pulled him back, his lips pressing together and his brow furrowing in anger. “You can’t be serious. Nothing will ever make up for what they did! Nothing short of dying a slow, painful death.” Temple growled, “And if you can’t see that, then you can stay down here with them.” Tucker turned to run, his eyes on the stairs. If he could get to the others, they could help! He needed to tell everyone what Temple had done. He just had to make it up those stairs. However, before he could even take the first few steps, Tucker was frozen to the spot. “I really thought what we had was special, Tucker.” Temple said, looking at Tucker with tears forming in his eyes, “But you’re just like them.” “Temple! Wait!” Tucker screamed, “We can talk about this! Wait!” But Temple was already walking through the door. He turned back one last time, and Tucker could see tears streaming down his face. With a shake of his head, Temple put his helmet back on and closed the door, leaving Tucker, Carolina and Wash trapped together.

[memphisnovels]

Evermore

Chapter 19. Mine all mine

Previous chapter

Masterlist

This chapter is a little longer than the others but I promise time flies when you're having fun and I had a bucket load of fun writing this! I hope you enjoy and thank you so much for reading<3

pairing: Pietro Maximoff x OFC

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, Pietro and Nadia being Pietro and Nadia, defining the relationship (FINALLY)

I cringed as I watched Pietro cram a forkful of eggs and bacon into his mouth before taking a large bite of his toast. “What?” He spoke as he chewed. I grimaced and looked down at my own plate.

“You are truly vile.”

He grinned. “You like it. Besides, I’m a growing boy I need my nutrients.” He gulped down his juice before continuing to scoff his breakfast. He pointed at my plate with his fork. “Are you going to eat that?”

I pulled the plate toward myself, narrowing my eyes at him. “Yes.” Although, my stomach was filled to the brim and another mouthful would surely make me sick. The wounded expression on his face had me rolling my eyes at him, yet I slid the plate across the table nonetheless.  

“Hey, I have a question.” I sighed exasperatedly at his words, but he chose to ignore my antics. “Why do you like the city so much?”

I shrugged, considering his question. “I don’t know. I guess it’s just the first place where I felt really free.” It was nonchalant, the way I spoke to him then. It struck me as a little funny how easily that came from me now when not that long ago the thought of exchanging more than a few necessary words with him had me running for the hills.

He nodded, evidently pondering my words. “That makes sense, I guess I just don’t really have somewhere like that. Sokovia is where my parents died and there was always so much conflict there, then there was Strucker and his compound. When Wanda and I joined the Avengers, we came straight here and I suppose this place is that for me, but I never really saw a lot of the city.”

I swallowed heavily, looking down at my mostly empty plate. “It’s really not that good, it smells strange, and most people hate the light pollution.”

“You don’t have to feel bad for me.” He spoke up, putting an end to my rambling.

“I don’t.”

He smiled at me. “Okay.”

I could feel his eyes on me from my peripheral, but I refused to glance at him, the stubborn pride that lived within me begging me to continue the charade of indifference. Yet Pietro was a worthy opponent, never seeming willing to let me get away with it, completely unfazed by my tricks. Finally, my eyes met his, reluctantly. His smile only grew. “What?”

“Nothing.”

The awareness I had of my heart then annoyed me. “I don’t feel bad for you.”

“You said that.”

That damn smile, constantly lingering, a little cheeky, and always charming. “Good, then you know.” He hummed, leaning back in his seat after clearing both our plates. “I don’t know why you are looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“You know what.”

He shook his head, smile never even faltering. “I don’t think I do, Nadia.”

“Oh, for fucks sake! I don’t like that you don’t have a place, and I don’t like that those things happened to you. Alright, happy now?!”

“You don’t like that what things happened to me?”

“Jesus, do I have to spell it out for you?” He nodded eagerly. “I don’t like that bad things happened to you.”

There was silence between us for a long while then. I looked at my lap, my cheeks burned. My heartbeat filled was ears, thrumming against my sternum. I had to admit, telling him the truth got a little easier each time I did it but that didn’t make it completely painless. “For what it's worth… I don’t like that bad things happened to you either.”

My eyes met his again and just like that, his smile was back. Try as I might to fight it the corners of my mouth tugged upward in kind.

…

His flesh glistened under the low lights as he pulled his shirt over his head, using it to wipe the sweat from his forehead. I swallowed heavily, drinking a little faster from my bottle. Returning to the mat with him, I gestured for him to approach. The corners of his lips were upturned as he looked me up and down, taking a few steps further onto the mat.

“Go on then, Prinţesă, what’s your next move?”

I smiled at him. “Funny I was going to ask you the same question.” He raised an eyebrow at me. “How about you lead for once, Pietro.” His smile turned menacing, and he took another slow step toward me.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

He moved quickly, just the way I’d taught him, striking with precision. I dodged easily, almost laughing in his face at his predictability until he swerved at the last minute and moved the opposite way he had been, dodging my impending attack and grabbing around my waist and taking me to the ground on my back. He took my wrists in each of his hands restraining them above my head with a shit-eating grin wide across his face. I narrowed my eyes at him. “So, you are capable of strategizing?”

Pietro chuckled, low and utterly taunting. “You have an awful lot of attitude for someone who’s on their back.” I shot him a venomous glare.

“Oh, don’t worry it won’t be that way for long.”

My words only seemed to both entertain and entice him as his grin grew in size, revealing his teeth to me. The look faltered for a moment as he glanced down toward my hip. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” One of his hands drifted down my arm to sit beside my hip on the mat, fiddling with the side of my shirt.

I shook my head at him. “I’m fine. Dr. Cho used her weird magic medicine and it’s almost completely healed. She said she doesn’t even think it’s going to scar.” When he still seemed unconvinced, I brought my now freed hand down to lift the side of my shirt and reveal the now only slightly marred flesh. “See all better.” Still, he scanned the place where the wound had been. With some hesitation, I let my hand find his cheek, bringing his face back up so he'd meet my eyes again. “You didn’t hurt me, I promise.”

His nose grazed mine as he leaned forward slightly, his breath dancing across my cheek making my eyes flutter for a moment. My lips upturned just slightly as I leaned upward into him, grazing my lips over his for a split second before locking my legs around him and using my free hand to cross his chest and flip us so he was on his back. Before he could regain the upper hand, I moved my legs to restrain him and held his wrists above his head just like he’d done to me. His look of indignation had me biting back a laugh. “That was completely unfair!”

“How many times have I told you to focus?”

He raised both eyebrows at me, I knew him well enough to know the look he was giving me meant trouble. “Well, that’s a lot to ask of me right now, you know how I feel about you in this position, Prinţesă.” I rolled my eyes at him, leaning down and letting my eyes drop to his lips ever so slowly. He strained his neck to reach me, but I pulled back just a little when he got close. “Really?”

“You’re not getting what you want until you show me you can stay focused.”

“Oh, as if you weren’t just undressing me with your eyes!”

My gaze narrowed at his words, and I scoffed at him. “Are you actually delusional?”

He smirked. “We both know I’m not. You say I don’t know how to focus but when it comes to you, I seem to manage just fine.” He licked his lips, I scolded myself for letting my eyes track the movement. His lips twitched upward, and he bucked me off of him before enveloping me in a blur of blue. “Looks like I’m not the only one struggling to focus on the task at hand.”

“You’re a prick, you know that?”

“You tell me quite often, but I have a sneaky suspicion that you like it. That’s why I best you so often.”

The gasp I let out was equal parts disbelief and indignation. “Now I’m sure of it, you really have lost your mind. In what world do you ever beat me?”

He only smiled at me. “I got you to admit you were obsessed with me.” I opened my mouth to protest, with some choice words however he beat me to it. “In fact, I have a wager for you, call it a friendly competition.”

“Pray tell?”

“I’m not going to kiss you again until you admit that I distract you just as much as you distract me. You admit that I’m not delusional and these lips are all yours.”

A hearty laugh tumbled from me. “You’re challenging me to a test of self-control? You do realize who you’re talking to right?” He grinned down at me. “What do I get when I win?”

“My undying affections?” I raised a single eyebrow at him. “Fine, I’ll admit that you were right.”

“You’re never going to win this.” He shrugged, toothy grin never faltering. I sighed exasperatedly. “Deal.”

His lips were on mine then, it was passionate and had my body melting into a puddle of mush. The way he kissed was hard to describe at the best of times, it was fervent, borderline sacred, and hungry in equal measure. I was left breathless when he pulled back, hovering barely an inch from me. My eyes remained closed. “See I’m already winning, Nadia, look at you, letting me distract you so easily.” My eyes shot open, a glare immediately taking over my expression. My ire only amused him further. He bumped his nose with mine. “I hope you enjoyed that because there won’t be any more for a while, not until you give in, at least.” He held my wrists in one hand, his other moved over my hip. I winced hard, shutting my eyes tightly as I released a cry of agony. He let go of my hip instantly, freeing my hands and sitting up in one swift movement. “Are you okay? What happened?” I flipped up before he could even contemplate what was happening, forcing him onto the mat on his stomach and sitting on his back this time around.

I put a hand by his head, leaning down to look into his beautiful blue eyes, his face squished into the mat. “Remind me who is winning again?” I raised my eyebrow, a grin spreading across my lips.

���You deceitful minx!”

In all honesty, I’d expected Pietro to break before dinnertime, yet surprisingly he had remained steadfast in his endeavor. He’d sat across from me at dinner, sending me cheeky glances from across the table but showing no sign of giving in or even struggling.

This pattern continued for days, four to be specific, and I was becoming antsy. How the hell was he so calm and collected? It’s Pietro for god’s sake, there is no way he could pull this off; was there?

I was becoming less sure as the days passed and my anger was growing insurmountable as I felt the magnetism between us begin to itch.

On the fifth night, I sat beside Natasha at the table, humming around a bite of pizza that was especially cheesy and delicious. I watched Pietro’s jaw tense at the sound, prompting me to do it again. He met my gaze, his eyes narrowed but an unreadable expression sat across his face. Wanda was off somewhere with Vision and Sam was sleeping off his last mission. It was only Steve, Pietro, Natasha, and I at the table now. Cap spoke casually to Pietro about something whilst Nat described the dress, she was planning on wearing for the benefit we were invited to that would take place in a couple of weeks.

“I think the plunging neckline is important, color wise I’m thinking classic black is the only choice and…” I licked my lips slowly using a single finger to wipe over the area before bringing it to my mouth, all whilst looking directly at Pietro. “Are you even listening to me?” Natasha asked. Pietro stood from the table abruptly, going to place his plate on the sink and leaving the room. I smiled to myself.

“Yes of course. Black dress, plunging neckline.” I shoved the rest of my pizza slice in my mouth and smiled at her.

Natasha raised her eyebrows at me. “What are you planning on wearing, Pimenova?”

I shrugged. “Well for starters I wasn’t planning on going.”

“Okay, great so you will in fact be going. I’ll send you a couple of dress ideas tonight and you can always have a better look this weekend.”

Cap cleared his plate before wishing us both goodnights. We returned it and I asked Natasha what she was talking about.

“Oh, you know, this weekend on your date weekend with Pietro.”

My eyes narrowed at her accusatory tone. “First of all, how did you even know about that, second it is not a ‘date’ weekend.”

She smirked at me. “I saw your little list of spots on the table this morning. No need to be so defensive I think it's sweet what you’re doing for him, he will too.”

“I’m not doing anything for him… I just feel like… he doesn’t have a place, Natasha. We always had New York and maybe it won’t be the same for him, but he deserves something. An option at the very least.”

The smug expression on her face shifted then, smoothing into something that held much more weight. Something soft and immensely meaningful. Her lips were upturned as she spoke again. “I think he already has more than you realize.”

I wasn’t entirely sure what she meant by that, but I chose not to push, we finished our food in comfortable silence after that.

The soft sound of a Queen song filled my ears as I wandered into the lab with a plate of reheated pizza grasped between my hands. Tony was hunched over the bench with a screwdriver in hand. “You know for someone who said he was going to take some time off you certainly spend a lot of time tinkering around here,” I spoke up, sitting the pizza beside him. He glanced up, raising an eyebrow at me.

“This is me relaxing, kid.”

“How does Pepper feel about that?” He grumbled out an answer, not glancing up at me as he continued to do… whatever it was he was doing. I glanced at the door, considering leaving despite his glum mood, what could I say to him? Would he even want to open up if I asked him to, did I want him to? I’d always maintained a distance between us, never comfortable enough to let too many people get close but as I watched Tony, shoulders tense, ignoring the food, leaving didn’t feel much like an option. So, I sat, facing him on the opposite side of the bench. “Is everything okay?”

“Peachy.”

I swallowed, twiddling my thumbs. “We don’t have to talk but you should probably eat.”

He glanced up at me through his lashes. “What is going on right now? You never want to talk, but now all of a sudden you do.”

“You seem like you could use someone to talk to and I’m trying something new. The easiest way to get me to leave you alone is just to spill, you know I’m not one to give up easily.”

Tony huffed, shaking his head and finally looking up at me. “Pepper wants to talk about things that I don’t. It’s irritating and I just needed some time.” I breathed a laugh at that. “What?”

“It’s just… I know how you feel.”

The corners of his lips upturned so slightly it was almost imperceptible. “Yeah, I guess you probably do.”

“So instead of talking to Pepper about these mysterious things you don’t want to disclose you’re here, hiding out in the lab.”

“Well, when you say it like that it sounds a little pathetic.”

I smiled at him. “More than a little.”

“I don’t think you can exactly talk, Pimenova, you’re not someone I’d describe as being particularly communicative.”

A laugh tumbled from my lips, and I leaned back in my chair; I couldn’t argue there. “Why don’t you want to talk to about whatever it is with her?”

“It’s complicated.”

I glanced around. “Well luckily for you I have nothing but time.”

Tony did nothing to hide his disdain at my words, huffing and puffing like a petulant child. I found it all rather amusing. “I left the comfort of my home to come be around you idiots to avoid talking about it, what makes you think I’m antsy to spill my guts now?”

“Spare me, as if you don’t miss us terribly whenever you leave.” I teased. “And I’m not saying you have to tell me what it is just why it’s you’d rather flee than talk about whatever it is. It’s not as though I’m going to judge you, I wouldn’t exactly have a leg to stand on.”

“You really don’t have a leg to stand on as it is. You don’t answer questions but you’re happy to ask them?”

I closed my eyes for a moment glancing away to survey the room, empty save for the range of strange tech surrounding us. “You wanted to know what Wanda showed me in the shipyard. I didn’t want to talk about it because it was painful, I’m guessing it’s the same for whatever it is that you’re avoiding.” He didn’t look at me. “You’re right though, it isn’t fair for me to expect you to share when I won’t, so consider this my answer. Wanda showed me a medley of some of the worst moments of my life and made me think I was living them all over again. She showed me the Red Room, my first kill then my most painful, and a whole lot of other moments that I’d been trying really hard to forget.”

He met my gaze then. The look he gave me then was not one that was common for him, yet I’d seen it before. That day when we’d first moved to the compound and I’d told him why I didn’t mind light pollution was at the forefront of my mind. Empathy, I supposed.

“Sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry; I’m telling you because I do understand that trust is a two-way street.”

He nodded. There was silence between us for a long while then. He’d put the tool in his hand down and he simply studied the piece of pizza that sat beside him, likely cold by now. “There was someone in my life… a long time ago. Someone who meant the world to me. She died, years ago now and the last thing I said to her… Well, it wasn’t exactly kind.” I remained quiet, listening intently to him. “There are not many days when it's not the first thing on my mind when I wake up and the last thing before I go to sleep.” He took a rather large bite from the slice of pizza. I guessed he was referring to his mother, I remembered hearing something about his parents dying years ago after they’d had a fight. Irrespective of what his reasoning was, I knew what it was like to have something you’d done, something you regretted, haunt you. “You know, if you’d been gone much longer, I wouldn’t have made it through here. Pietro nearly sent me insane.”

He was evidently shifting the topic, but I let him. “What do you mean?”

“Kid was practically going out of his mind with worry from the second you left and then you went off comms and obviously we were all concerned but he pretty much had to be restrained from going to Morrocco after you, barely healed leg and all. Honestly, he was insufferable.” I looked at the ground, smiling a little at that information. “It was actually a little sweet also, I guess. Sickening, but almost cute.”

Before I left Tony to finish his tinkering, I glanced back at him from the doorway. “Take it from me, Stark, avoiding talking about something because it’s painful doesn’t actually make it hurt any less.”

…

The rain that had followed us for most of the trip from the compound cleared up as we entered the city.  Pietro hadn’t said a lot since I’d told him, he’d just stared at me in a way that made me exceptionally nervous. Even on the car ride, he’d spoken a few soft words here and there but otherwise he’d been mostly quiet. The second we stowed our luggage away in our adjoined rooms I’d smiled warmly at him and waved the list at him. “Well come on, we’d better get moving I’ve got a lot planned.” The smile he gave me made a tingling feeling dance across my spine.

Our first stop was the bakery near my old apartment, they had the best bagels in the city, the perfect cream cheese to bread ratio. We walked through the crowded streets and basked in the sunshine while we ate the warm delicacy. “I’ll admit it’s a lot better than I’d expected.”

“I told you.” He bumped his shoulder with mine as we walked. I led him toward the huge building having him stand across the street with his back to it. “Okay, now turn around and prepare to be just a little underwhelmed.” His eyes widened as he turned to face the MET in all its glory.

“Jesus, that’s big.”

I walked past him, beginning up the steps. “I know right and look how fucking dirty it is as if those rich girls were sitting on these steps to eat their lunch.” When I realized he wasn’t following, I turned back to see him watching me. “Don’t you want to go in?”

“No, I do, it’s just…” His lips turned upward, and his brows furrowed a little, it was as if his face was melting. The sun made his eyes glitter, making them even more mesmerizing than usual. He shook his head softly before meeting me on the stairs I’d stopped on, looking down at me for a moment. His chest almost grazed mine he was so close. “After you, dragă.” Darling.

“What does that mean?”

He leaned in close to me, his breath fanning over my lips, it had my eyes fluttering. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” With that he was off toward the entrance, leaving me dazed and utterly fed up with his stupid wager. We looked at art for a lot of the day, before taking back to the streets where we got a New York slice and spoke for hours.

“It’s strange because growing up, I didn’t really know who I was, or I guess there really wasn’t a me that existed outside of the Red Room. Being out meant having to become a person just like everyone else. I didn’t even know my favorite color before I got out, I was just a nonentity.”

“What’s your favorite color now?”

I shrugged, looking over at him. We’d stopped in Central Park a little while ago, laying back on the grass to watch as the sun set over the city and casted the streets in a pinkish orange hue. I smiled at how it looked at this time of day, everything the light had touched, transformed by the dwindling sun. “I think it’s this.” When I met his eyes again, they were set firmly on me.

“What is your favorite color, Pietro?”

A cheeky smile crossed his lips. “Blue.”

“Favorite food?”

“Plum dumplings.”

I had to bite my lip to stop the smile from taking over my expression. Rolling my eyes and hoping he couldn’t see the flush that has coated my cheeks. We continued like this, asking silly mostly inconsequential questions to each other, and there, on that patch of grass, there was a rare moment where I was completely at ease. I could feel his eyes on me then as I watched the birds hopping from branch to branch. A tilt of my head revealed him fully to me once more, still gazing at me intently, not even attempting to pretend that he wasn’t, unashamed at being caught. His lips were upturned, not a full smile, merely the suggestion of one. My smile brightened slightly as I stared back at him.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

He didn’t answer right away, just kept watching me, eyes tracing over the flesh of my cheeks and nose. “No one has ever done something like this for me before.”

I smiled softly at him. “What no one’s ever taken you to a smog-covered, rat-run city to eat a bready doughnut thing with cheese in it?”

He chuckled light-heartedly before becoming earnest once more. “Seriously, Nadia, this means a lot to me.” He kept his voice a little hushed, loud enough only for me to hear as if the words shared in the small space between us were sacred, something that was reserved solely for us.

“Natasha and I used to talk about New York when we were younger, I suppose it was our dream. This intangible place where everything would be okay.” His knuckles grazed my own. I felt a little silly when my heart picked up, I’ve literally killed people how could the slightest touch from him have my pulse fluttering? Holding my breath for a moment I extended my fingers slightly, bumping his. He had touched my hand before, but this felt different. We both turned back toward the sky as I let my hand upturn beside his. A warm weight filled my palm then and I exhaled the breath I’d been holding.

Nonna Maria’s was next on the list, the obvious dinner choice, really the only acceptable choice. There was a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach as we passed the threshold of the restaurant. I got take-out here my first night in New York, Natasha and I had spent many days gorging ourselves on the freshly baked bread and delicious pastas and somewhere in all of that I’d found myself becoming strangely attached to this little family-run business. An intangible nervousness took over my as we were seated, perhaps it was just that this place was the first thing that had felt like mine since I left Russia, and now I was sharing it with Pietro. “Nadia, my sweet Nadia!” Maria called as she approached our table. “Please, tell me you’ve come back to the city, my dearest.”

“Just visiting, unfortunately, but I brought you a new person to overfeed.” I teased. Maria tsked and waved her hand at me before turning to Pietro.

She gasped and placed a hand to her heart. “Such a handsome young man, you know I have been praying for this. Praying for my Nadia to find love!”

“Okay, settle down, this is my friend Pietro.” I introduced, intervening before she got any more carried away.

“Oh of course he is.” She gave me a knowing look. “You children with your strange language, I will never understand it. Let me get you some more bread, it fixes everything you know.”

I laughed as she left, sipping on my glass of wine. “Is that what we are, Nadia?” I raised an eyebrow at Pietro’s words. “Friends?” He added, a little smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “It’s just I’m getting the strangest sense of déjà vu.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

He sent me a boyish smile. “Well, friends don’t generally kiss.”

“When was the last time we kissed?” My tone was taunting, challenging him with every syllable. His eyes narrowed slightly, smirk only growing.

“If you want me to kiss you, Nadia, you need only say the magic words.”

The look I gave him was downright devious. “Why’s that? You’re not struggling, are you? Because I’m more than happy to call it a fair game, after you admit I was right of course.”

He unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, downing his drink, and leaning forward over the table toward me. His knee brushed against mine. “Oh, I’m doing just fine, Prinţesă.” My eyes darted down for just a moment. “All you have to do is tell me exactly how right I am, and I’ll kiss you anywhere you want.”

A flush travelled up my neck, a shiver not far behind. I was a connoisseur of self-control, adept at keeping myself in check, at not giving in. That was how I was trained, plus my healthy dose of innate stubbornness tended to help. Yet now, in the face of Pietro, I felt myself folding, control crumbling, leash waning. He was in control now and he knew it. That wouldn’t fly with me. I left a sultry smile cross my face as I leaned forward in my seat, flipping my hair over my shoulder and using my arms to accentuate my decolletage. My foot slid across the space between us, situating itself between his feet. I dragged the tip of it up the inside of his leg, watching his hands clench into fists as the muscle in his jaw feathered. When his eyes met mine, they were a much darker shade of blue, a dangerous glint in them. He attempted to grab my foot when it ventured to his thigh, but I yanked it back before he had the chance, standing and slipping my coat back on. My hand fell over his shoulder, and I leaned down so we were at eye level, moving closer until I was sure he would feel my breath on his ear. “Don’t hurt yourself for the sake of making a point, Pietro.”

“I know that you think you’re very clever-” I heard Pietro’s voice call as we stepped outside, frustration palpable in his tone. “But your little seduction routine isn’t going to work on me.”

“Oh? Are you sure?” I took a step toward him. “Because I have the strangest feeling it’s already working?” My eyes trailed down to his hand that was situated over my hip. He yanked it away as if I’d burned him, pointing at me accusingly.

His glare had plenty of heat but no real anger behind it. “I’m not going to give up so easily, you know this right?”

“I spent most of my life training to break people down, you know this right?” I began walking down the street, basking in the nippy autumn air.

“I don’t want to be just your friend. That’s what I told you before you went to Morrocco; I meant it.”

His words stopped me in my tracks and when I turned back to look at him the streetlights and starlight bathed him in this magical way that managed to wipe all the thoughts from my mind. “I know,” I murmured.

“So… maybe we should talk about it.”

“You want to talk about it now?”

He shrugged. “There’s no time like the present.”

I bit my lip, laughing a little to myself. “Do you want to be my boyfriend, Pietro?” I teased.

His response had me stiffening in my spot, heart skipping, eyes fluttering. “Yes, very much so.” There was no amusement or taunting lilts in his words, it was deadpan; absolute. I opened and closed my mouth like a fish out of water. “Do you want to be my girlfriend, Nadia?”

I’d never had a boyfriend before. There had been boys, they never lasted more than a night where I told myself maybe I’d feel better if I just forced myself to be normal. There had never been mornings that followed. My heart was racing, and I felt a little lightheaded. Pietro stayed put, quiet but steadfast. He didn’t rush me or flee, he laid himself bare before me and waited, patiently, for me to respond. Part of me wanted to roll my eyes, boyfriend, girlfriend, how tedious. Though, really, I knew that was just because if I was dismissive maybe it wouldn’t feel so exposed. “I’m not sure I’d be a very good girlfriend.”

His eyes softened at me. “I don’t think you give yourself enough credit.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

He took a few steps forward, leaving a big enough gap that he wasn’t crowding me, but I could still feel his body heat radiating onto me. “Well, saying yes is a good place to start.”

 “Ask me again.”

“Do you want to be my girlfriend?”

I smiled at him. “That depends.”

His lips curved up into that familiar smirk. “What does it depend on?”

“Will you kiss me if I’m your girlfriend?”

“How about this, you answer my question first then I’ll answer yours.”

I considered him. I could keep prodding, be stubborn, and have it my way, but then Pietro was standing before me, and the stars were in his eyes as he left the ball roll delicately into my court. He’d challenged me from the start and yet he’d always given me time, slowed down when I told him to, clearly laid my options before me, and let me choose for myself. It terrified me how much I didn’t want to run away from him, from his softness, from his adoring patience. So, despite myself, I didn’t roll my eyes or feign indifference, I gave, ever so slightly.

I took a step toward him. “The answer is yes.”

The words had barely left my lips before he was kissing me breathless. His forehead rested against mine; his eyes still closed. After almost a week of his ridiculous wager, I’d been ready to crack myself, but I didn’t need to tell him that because somehow, he’d known me from the moment we laid eyes on each other.

“You win, Nadia.”

[cantsomeoneelsedoit]

Ch 45: Unluck Bullet

Very normal romance

Andy shoots his four fingers at Victor as four Unluck Bullets that each have a different effect. The first causes a gas explosion:

And it looks like this attack might work on Victor bc he doesn't understand why it's affecting him instead of Andy, plus he underestimated the attack as just "pieces of flesh." He struggles to figure out what this new gimmick is about.

Victor is looking very Vegeta right now, which makes sense since he's a stock shonen rival. He's both impressed and pissed that Andy has gotten this good, and he's doubly pissed that he hasn't figured out Andy's new trick.

The second Unluck Bullet causes a train to derail, which they both decapitate themselves to avoid, leading to some midair exposition.

"Yeah, that's why I changed."

Andy's such a positive thinker, and he won't let Victor bring him down or try to paint him as foolish for having a "worthless preconception."

Andy knows that being able to change (sorry, Gina!) is more important than being strong.

Both Andy and Anno Un have been talking a lot lately about manifesting desires and ignoring the "rules" of reality.

This is the best! Because of their conversation about death, Andy rewrote his own potential as a fighter. He took what began as a philosophical conversation and applied it to reality.

He's evolved past Victor's way of thinking:

Interestingly, this scene is really similar but not an exact match for the vision Apocalypse showed Fuuko in Ch 35. ⬇️

Victor and Juiz are so adorable in this flashback! Their personalities seem the same as they are now, but they look different. Juiz talked about how "Sex" had been added as a rule, and it seems like Juiz and Victor existed before that rule and so they're genderless/agender in these flashbacks. I wonder how long ago it was!

Without spoiling 150 chapters more of the story, I'll just say the existence of souls will be an important aspect of the story moving forward. But for now, I have some questions:

Is Juiz's soul the same every Loop?

Does this imply an afterlife in UU?

Do UMA have souls? Is that what the core is?

Do Andy and Victor share a soul or not?

For now, because Victor doesn't believe in souls, he couldn't harness the power of souls to help him grow stronger as Andy did.

"It's all a matter of how we perceive the rules." Earlier in the manga, there was a lot of focus on classifying and ranking Negator abilities (External/Internal, Voluntary/Involuntary, Round Table rank, etc.) Now we're learning that true strength is in COMBINING those abilities and redefining the possibilities of what they can do.

It's not terribly different from Scouters in DBZ. The rival shows up and quantifies the hero's abilities, but the hero proves him wrong because he's strong in unmeasurable ways.

And who better to show off this development than Victor, our resident Vegeta!

Vegeta, like Victor, is quick to call things "impossible."

The third Unluck Bullet causes the Union plane to fall out of the sky and land on Victor. This makes sense because they were in the area in Ch 1 when they went after Andy and Fuuko.

Then the fourth bullet hits Victor in the cheek, and a little device rolls out of the plane.

It's the perfect tool for capturing Victor! (Also short-haired Victor is really cute! He kinda looks like Fuuko's soul)

Is Victor finally convinced that Andy and Fuuko can take on God? Has he regained faith in Juiz's plan? Is he gonna stay in the time-out ball? And how will Fuuko get out of the book? Next time on Victor Ball Z!

Masterpost

[thechaoticreader]

I have to rant about Tender Is The Flesh!!

Last year I read Tender is The Flesh by Augustina Bazterrica and I haven't seen many people agree with me so if Booktok has been yelling at you to read it and you're tired of the vague positive reviews, this is for you!

*Disclaimer: this is all my opinion/feelings, if you loved this book I'm glad and if a negative review of a book you love will be upsetting please protect your peace and ignore me <3*

General Thoughts & Why I Hate It

Im going to start out by saying I am a vegetarian and used to be strictly vegan! The book is very heavy handed about its eating meat=bad beliefs which I found exhausting. At many times throughout the story I found myself shouting "OH MY GOD I GET IT!!! MEAT IS MURDER. JUST TELL ME THE STORY" into the void. It makes very weird parallels that I don't agree with and there was next to no room for nuanced discussion. It felt like the author was holding my hand and explaining absolutely everything, not letting me infer anything, which I personally don't enjoy. I will say its possible that because it is a translated novel that the above issues only apply to the English translation and that its a fault of the translator rather than Augustina.

Another issue I have is that to me none of the characters actually felt like fleshed out people, rather just objects things happen to/around. The main characters motivations make no sense (especially in the second half), where he doesn't even feel like a person, you don't really get to know him and then what little you do gets completely contradicted in the second half of the book. The main character at the beginning is almost unrecognizable from himself by the end. I can't even call it character development because it feels like he sees one shitty thing than a switch flips and he's completely different. Through the whole time reading, I did not feel any type of way towards any character, I didn't care about any of them which made it hard to care about the novel. When I first finished it I felt no type of way but the longer I've had to sit with it, the more I'm growing to dislike it. The worst part is that it could have been so good, with some more nuance and character development it would have been a very interesting story!

There is also a graphic sexual assault scene which I wish I had known about going in. As a surviver of S/A I try to stay away from novels with it unless I've had time to prepare and be in a good headspace to consume it. So a completely RANDOM S/A scene that doesn't matter to the plot really caught me off guard and almost immediately ruined the book. I'm fine with assault scenes if and only IF it is important to the plot/character development. My problem is when its thrown in to demonstrate a character being shitty or for shock value, which I feel is the reason it was included in Tender Is The Flesh; if you removed the whole chapter it would make absolutely no difference and THATS where I have the problem.

My Problem with BookTok & Advertising

First, booktokers and book tubers saying that its best to go into blind and not giving a trigger warning for S/A. I think its generally irresponsible to not give trigger warnings and to encourage people to go in knowing nothing, its so easy to say "hey this book has _" so that survivors aren't further harmed. This is a general criticism that I'll probably do another post going into further.

Second, people call it a horror novel when its really not, its a dystopian and while not a huge issue, it just sets up expectations that it doesn't live up to! It felt a lot more akin to books like the Handmaids Tale than those in the horror genre. So if you want a horror novel, probably don't pick this up but if you want a kinda disturbing, dark dystopian then maybe this will be your book! Accuracy in genre is important because there are tons of people who love one genres and hate other, like myself who eat, sleeps and breaths horror but has never found a proper dystopian that I even kinda enjoyed. Or, people who love romance and don't care about fantasy may like a romantacy but hate a fantasy with a small romance side plot.

Anyway those are my feelings, I hope it helps someone decide if they want to read it or not! Once again, if you disagree thats totally okay! If you loved the book, I'm so happy for you! My problems with it shouldn't detract from hour enjoyment of it!

[atherix]

HI ITS THE ANON THAT POINTED OUT TUBBO BEING IMMUNE TO MIMICS!! IM BACK AND IM SO INSANE!!!! IM LITERALLY SHAKING YOU IN A SNOW GLOBE RN. Everything about this new chapter is so AAAAA I LOVE IT SM!! also also ive decided to reread the whole series so i could take notes on everything- ive been having a wonderful time <3Something horrible ive realized with the fact that Mimics can read anything’s mind is that they can change into the Warden (if the wardens are actually alive still). (1/4)

HELLO ANON GOOD ON YOU FOR FIGURING THAT OUT!! <3 What kind of snow globe? Is it one of those cool ones you get from a zoo? :D

Thank yoouuuu <3<3 JFJSKJKSK that is a long read :o I wish you luck jgfddkgkfd please ignore any plot holes I may have forgotten to fill in along the way <3

:) Hehehehe now that's an idea isn't it... so this just in I quickly pulled up minecraft to make sure Wardens don't aggro on each other (since they aggro on literally everything else) so :) I'm just sayin, if there's a Warden or even something that looks like a Warden.... (of course, there's no telling if the Mimics can fool a Warden, since the Warden uses scent :) ) But gods, yeah, they would be pretty fucked if a Mimic mimicked a Warden- something intelligent and able to make choices and not run off instinct alone? Rip-

Half Fae is Fae enough but yes, if he was full Fae the backlash would probably have been much worse/outright killed him since full Fae are 100% made of Fae magic and Scar actually has a flesh and blood body alongside his magic so <3 That isn't to say his body isn't made of magic at all though... mm :)

hahahaha oh yeah, the water.... :) the Void-fog was foreshadowed by the "heavy" shadows Mumbo kept losing his own shadows in so <3 The smell of mold and water and Sculk........ That was honestly more to emphasize how long this place has been here, and was a very subtle hint (that won't be understood the first read through) that they're approaching an Ancient City. So the fun thing there isn't that Mumbo really doubts Scar loves him. Mumbo's real doubt is that he deserves to be loved by Scar, which the Mimic kind of twisted and then Mumbo started thinking about it, but he's stronger than that and has Tubbo there to reaffirm it <3 Lmao Scar would tell Tubbo little things that added up to Tubbo <3 Tis why Tubbo so easily trusted Mumbo the very first time he met him- because Scar holds Mumbo in high regard, he MUST be trustworthy!! :D lmao-

It's alright, I am no stranger to posting/messaging at 3 AM <3

I LIVE FOR MIDNIGHT!SCAR AND TUBBO'S RELATIONSHIP it is just so hjfsdjkhgfdjk I adore them <3 The funny thing is that line has actually already been revealed on my tumblr haha I won't reveal it now tho :) I don't feel like it's MAJORLY impactful tbh, it doesn't feel plot-essential to me, but. Ya know. It's fine <3

fhjsdfhjkgksd thank you so much!!! I'm so glad you're enjoying it!! <3 Hhhjjhgh <3

So the word count thing! If you're following me and you see me pop up on your dash (on desktop, idk about phone), you can actually hit my icon on your dash. It'll bring up a pop-up of my blog and if you hit ask on that pop-up blog, rather than going directly to my blog, it'll remove the character limit! It's how I have anons who send me essays <3

[curtklingermanposts]

Judging God

God Should Have To Pay

As irrational as it may sound, countless people sit in judgment of God, Himself. The reason is they blame Him for all the pain and suffering in the world. Of course, when one says to them, “God is love. He is not the cause of pain and suffering,” they quickly respond with, “He could stop it. If He is such a loving God, why does He allow it in the first place.” It’s a similar question to the one which the devil asked Eve, “Did God really say?” In this case, the enemy whispers in their ear, “Is God really good? Look at all the terrible things going on in the world.”

Of course, several of them suffered great loss, or experienced severe trauma.  They are angry, and feel He should be made to pay for it all. What they fail to realize is when Jesus died on the Cross, He not only bore our sins, He paid for that pain and suffering. In fact, He experienced the greatest pain and suffering of all, for all. Justice was served; in fact, the Bible puts it this way: “For Christ also hath once suffered for sins, the just for the unjust, that he might bring us to God, being put to death in the flesh, but quickened by the Spirit” (1 Peter 3:18).

Isaiah 53:4-6 Surely, He hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows: yet we did esteem Him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted. But He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon Him; and with His stripes we are healed. All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned everyone to his own way; and the LORD hath laid on Him the iniquity of us all (read entire chapter).

His Suffering Reveals His True Nature

Perhaps, you have had some of these thoughts floating around in your mind. Let’s think more deeply about these questions. Here’s something blatantly simple: if God truly wanted humanity to experience pain and suffering, no one would ever smile, let alone laugh. They never could, because they could never experience pleasure, nor have a sense of humor. He wouldn’t allow us to have it as a coping mechanism, nor any other. Words like, enjoyment, and fun would never be found in our vocabulary. They wouldn’t mean a thing to us.

Jesus suffered so we wouldn’t have to suffer for all eternity. We’re not home yet; but when we are, there will be no more such things. This points out at least a couple of things. First, He gave us the choice to eternally suffer or not, which is predicated on receiving Jesus, or rejecting Him. Our decision! Even on this side of eternity, much of our pain and suffering is the result of our decisions, choices and behavior -and that does state the obvious. Of course, many of those who play the victim card, don’t see it that way. That would mean personal responsibility.

Revelation 21:4 And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.

God gave us His Word, which is filled with His wisdom, and enables us to avoid all kinds of hardship. He has given us many warnings in order to keep us from driving ourselves of a cliff. If He truly wanted us to suffer, why would He do that? Many ignore His warnings, and then blame Him for the results.

 His suffering reveals His true nature, which is love. Jesus did not have to do anything for us, much less endure the Cross.

Who Are We To Judge?

When thinking rationally, wouldn’t we simply ask, “Who are we to judge God?” Perhaps as believers, we haven’t been bold enough to judge Him as those of the world, but. . . “I would never judge God!” Have you ever been critical of Him? Have you ever accused Him of being unfair? Have you ever been disappointed with God?

When people decide their way is better than the Lord’s, they’re saying His way is inferior to theirs. When they prefer to make their own decisions without Him, they are saying He makes poor decisions. How can anyone say Jesus is their Lord; yet, decide to be the captain of his or her own soul? God will never withhold anything good from us, but what He considers good and what we consider good, may be two different things.

There is a plethora of contrasts, points of argument and so on. Perhaps, the best judgment to make is this: He is God and we are not.

Romans 9:19-21 You will say to me then, “Why does He still find fault? For who resists His will?” On the contrary, who are you, O man, who answers back to God? The thing molded will not say to the molder, “Why did you make me like this,” will it? Or does not the potter have a right over the clay, to make from the same lump one vessel for honorable use and another for common use (NASB)?

perfectfaith.org

[lavendertales]

Temptation - Javier Peña x f!reader**

Chapter 9 of the Unholy series

summary: Javier finally cracks the mystery surrounding your father’s demise. But breaking the news to you turns out to be hard.

word count: 3k

WARNINGS: semi-public action, blowjob, tension.

AGELESS/EMPTY BLOGS & MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!

gif: @cindymooons​ 

series masterlist | AO3

As usual, Javier wakes up alone. He knows that you did not expect him to spend the night, nor would you have wanted him to. Javier is too set in his own lonesome ways to care about having another human being infiltrate his personal space, and so are you.

Yet he cannot deny that this morning, he does feel lonely. For the first time in who knows how long, he feels lonely in that bed.

Once or twice he woke up with some of his former flings, but they made themselves scarce before the sun was up in the sky. He liked it that way. It was peaceful, an easy transaction and a passionate exchange of fluids. Yet this morning, he feels lonely.

But he doesn’t allow himself to dwell on all of the dark thoughts swimming at the back of his head. He has work to do.

He does his usual morning routine, ignoring the ache from his cock, still sore, and the subsequent memories that it carries along.

But it’s so damn difficult to bury them. He can’t just bury the lingering memory of the harsh, yet tender grip he’d had over your flesh, its pillowy warmth spilling in between his fingers, or the way he buried himself inside you to the hilt, taking you however he could.

Six times. Six times he’s made you fall apart on his tongue and on his cock. Needless to say, Javier feels sore this morning, though he cannot say this time that all of his needs have been sated, which is ridiculous to think about.

Physically speaking, yes, he is beyond satisfied. But, in an odd turn of events, it doesn’t feel like it’s enough. Like sex doesn’t scratch the basic itch. Like he requires something more to add to that fulfilment.

What he does know with certainty is that he admitted to you that he was jealous, and that he railed you into near oblivion last night because he wanted to be with you.

It’s bullshit.

It’s not just a means to an end.

I’ve never seen in anyone’s eyes what I see in yours.

You feel really good.

He has to stop dwelling on those words before they physically choke him out.

Besides, he’d much rather do that to you.

God, stop it. Stop, stop, stop it. Stop this fucking madness.

If I don’t end this now and go back to being strictly professional, I’m so fucked.

He has work to do. He has to focus on that.

So he dresses up, drinks the dreadful instant coffee he’d made a few minutes prior, and rushes into the embassy. He faintly listens to whatever angered speech Wysession has for him, whatever shenanigans Steve throws at him, and dives straight into work. He does his best to keep it confidential since it falls below the “official��� label.

No one noticed him taking those folders out of their dusty shelf. Why would they? After cases have been cataloged, chances are no one will even remember or give a damn about the poor civilians who lost their lives for Escobar’s drug war.

He sits comfortably in his chair, browsing the files. Once upon a time, the pictures of the bodies might’ve triggered some uncomfortable reactions out of him, but not anymore. He looks at them with an impenetrable coldness; his eyes glaze over every word with utmost attention. He doesn’t have much to go on except a name, but it’ll do.

“Hey, Jav, a hand?”

Steve’s voice coos next to him, but it irritates. Javier looks up and sees his partner setting up his desk with plenty of boxes. Huffing, he puts the folder away, careful not to reveal it.

“How the hell did you manage to collect so much shit?” he asks Steve.

“It’s not mine, jackass. These are case files. Escobar’s victims.”

“Light reading, huh?”

Steve chuckles, arranging his desk to the best of abilities. When he hears Javier sigh, he looks up. “What?” he questions.

“Seriously, in front of me? I don’t spend enough time looking at your face?”

“Thanks, I’m flattered.”

Steve takes notice of the crusty folder in Javier’s hands, as well as his focused expression.

“What you got there?”

“Case file.”

Steve knows better than to put pressure on him, so he drops it. At least verbally. His eyes glance once in a while over at Javier, almost as if searching for a change on his face. But his partner remains ever the impassible, steel hard man.

Who could blame Javier? With all the changes going on in Colombia, and in the embassy, everyone’s patience was stretched thin. Compassion was almost nowhere to be found, and happiness much less so. All the agents were running on caffeine, cigarettes and a sole desire to catch the most prolific drug dealer. Some even used hatred as either coping mechanism or fuel to their fire. In any case, times were tougher than ever, and it showed.

Javier reads dutifully, ignoring everyone and everything. He’s trying to find a conclusion, some sort of clarification that would explain what happened. It couldn’t have been impossible. The name was right there in ink, there had to be something—

Hang on.

That’s my signature.

At the bottom of the report stands, indeed, Javier’s rushed signature. He had signed the report. Which means he was the one in charge of this case and subsequently, the file. Which means—

I know who he is.

I know what happened to him.

“No,” Javier murmurs after a while. “Fuck.”

Steve lifts his eyes from his desk and notices a pale, almost sickly looking Javier staring at the folder in his hands.

“What’s wrong?” Steve checks. “Jav. Hey.”

But Javier doesn’t respond. He’s speechless, utterly disarmed by the conclusion he reaches.

With cold, heavy hands, he stands up, stuffing the folder in his jacket. He tunes out the rest, even Steve’s increasingly desperate calls of his name. In this moment, he craves a cigarette. A cigarette, a drink, and you.

But when he does see you outside, smoking and chatting with Sofia, all color drains from his skin, and he swallows harshly around the massive stone newly formed in his throat.

Guilt.

Shame.

And most recent, pain.

Sleep eluded Javier.

Two days later, he feels exhausted, unable to consume anything. Every time he’s made eye contact with you, his stomach twisted itself into an agonizingly tight knot and he felt sick. He avoided you like the plague, leaving you to wonder and speculate about the possible reasons why he’d voluntarily back out of a good old bickering.

After four days, even you became worried.

Especially when he dropped by your desk specifically, gulping and wearing an undeniable countenance of guilt.

“Could you leave us a minute, Sofia?” he asks.

Surprised, Sofia nods and leaves you two.

“Isn’t this an interesting turn of events?” you smile wickedly.

Normally Javier would make some sly comment or even go as far as to say how much he’d like to wipe that smile off your face in the unholiest ways, but right now, he feels too gutted to do any of that.

“Javier Peña, looking absolutely defeated, groveling right in front of me,” you say.

Your tone is cocky and oddly proud, a stark contrast with Javier’s mood.

“I guess you heard the news then,” you continue.

Javier frowns, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh. Well then, I guess I can still have the pleasure of saying it right to your face. I got intel that Blackie and his personally operated mini gang will be at some sleazy bar downtown this weekend, so we’re planning an undercover mission and raid for that.”

You stand up, approaching him with a big, proud smile on your face. For a fleeting moment, Javier can soak up the image and his heart swells in his chest. He forgets the temporary pain and shame, and all he sees is your happiness, your pride in knowing you made great progress in the case.

“Oh, and there’s more!” you keep going, unable to contain your excitement. “La Quica blabbed, revealing some personal information about Pablo, which means that—“

“You win.”

In your happiness, you manage to notice his petrified stance, reflecting nothing more but that. Cold stone. Not even anger, or disappointment, nothing of the sort.

“Not even gonna fight back or anything?”

“You win,” Javier repeats, seemingly in a trance.

“What?” you ask slyly, needing to hear the words come out of his mouth.

“Everything.”

You furrow your brows, feeling more puzzled than ecstatic.

“What’s up with you? You look sickly.”

Javier opens his mouth, yet nothing comes out. Not a word, not a sound.

“Wait, if you didn’t know about this, then what did you came here to tell me?”

He fails to speak once more, heart aching at the mere thought. How can he disclose such sensitive information to you in the middle of your proudest moment so far? It is an incredible achievement and progress, and he cannot take that away from you.

It’s not the time.

She’s so happy and cocky about it.

“Congrats,” he clears his throat. “It’s good work.”

“Good? Try great.”

Javier lowers his head in the ground, indirectly divulging more than defeat.

Shame.

Guilt.

Then he hears you huff, and he sees you moving closer to him in an unexpected turn of events. He hasn’t been this close to you in the office’s open space and he feels nervous, even nauseous to some extent.

“I will admit, you did help,” you whisper to him.

Javier shivers when your warm breath touches his earlobe, your eyes staring deep into his soul and way past his earthly confinements.

“How?” he asks, dumbfounded.

“Well, your last stakeout gave us the last known location of Blackie, and when I interrogated La Quica, I questioned him about it. He confessed it’s true, and told us where he’ll most likely be next.”

“Oh.”

He gulps. The more he stares at you, the more he feels his skin burn again, an unquenchable thirst consuming him from inside out.

But he can’t. There’s too much guilt, too much he has to repent for.

“Look, I wanted to tell you—I found something—“

“I know. It was useful, as much as I hate saying it. So… thank you. I guess.”

“Okay, that’s not what I wanted to say.”

“You know, just this once, I’m feeling very appreciative and generous.”

Javier pulls away, gulping yet again and staring at you bewildered, already ruined and broken down in a million and one pieces.

“What do you mean?” he asks, suddenly feeling very exposed.

“I mean, I am having a very good day, which is a premiere, and I am feeling grateful for the little help you gave towards me and this win of mine, so I’d like to do something nice for you.”

“Well that’s unheard of.”

You smile insultingly. “Don’t get used to it.”

You walk ahead, leaving a dumbfounded Javier behind. Then, you turn to give him a suggestive glare, and he trails suit. He’s not sure where you or his legs are taking him, but all he knows is that he has to follow you. All he knows is that if you want him to do something, he’ll do it in a heartbeat, no questions asked.

He has never known a greater danger than that.

His heart stops when you both reach the evidence room. You take a quick scan around, making sure no one sees you get in, and you rush to shut the door behind you. You stare at him with the same lustful glare from whenever you’ve shared your sins, and Javier is weak.

“We can’t,” he mutters, failing to believe his own words.

“Didn’t stop you when you ate me out in this very room.”

Fuck, he does not need that memory back into his mind, not now. But you’re all about being fair and square, and if he’s thinking what you’re thinking, he is so screwed.

So fucking screwed.

“I figured I’d return the favor,” you clarify.

There’s no more saliva in his mouth and no air to be propelled in his lungs.

“Unless you don’t want me to, in which case, I won’t do a damn thing.”

He’s exasperated and tired and stressed and thinking about that gives him a headache and an erection. He’s a loser in that game.

“Now you’re talking crazy,” Javier tries to joke.

“So is that okay? Is that something you’d—“

“Are you asking me if I want you to fuckin’—blow me? Please. I just—“

You smirk, approaching him again and thus causing him to lose his words again. Javier’s heart threatens to burst out of his chest completely, but, to his shock, you choose to kiss him first.

It’s not sloppy and rushed, not really; it’s more tender and wet, deep and passionate in a sense, like you are finally taking your time in exploring each other’s mouths, and it’s oh so heavenly. You cup his face, pulling him close to you, and he reciprocates in an instant, his own hands going to your waist and remaining there. He’s never thought about how intoxicating it feels to simply kiss you, to have you close to him.

But then, one of your hands drops to his nether area and starts palming him through his dress pants, and Javier groans. He groans even louder into the kiss as you subtly push him into the shelves, your free hand working against his belt.

After a few more torturous seconds, you decide you need both hands, so you break the kiss and remove his belt and unbutton his pants right under Javier’s blown out eyes. His breaths are ragged and out of control already, and you’ve only just kissed him. He knows deep down that he shouldn’t be doing this, not now when his conscience weighs heavily on him, but it feels too good to stop now.

And when he sees you on his knees before him, curling your hand around his cock and starting to jerk him off, he’s fucking gone.

“F-fuck,” he grunts, forcing himself to stay as quiet as possible.

“Shhh,” you coax him sweetly, teasing the tip of his cock, using a combination of your thumb and your tongue.

His hand instinctively goes to grab a handful of your hair, the other holding onto one of the shelves. A regrettable word leaves his mouth next: your name. He hears it, and you do too, but it only determines you more. You stroke the base of his cock, the rest lathering in saliva and sucking attentively, as if it’s the most important task. And perhaps right now, it is.

Javier closes his eyes, consumed by one too many feelings to be even mentioned, indulging into the forbidden moment. What was another sin to add to the list, after all? And there’s none more delicious than you, no other torture sweeter or more desirable.

When he makes the mistake of opening his eyes and looking down, his eyes find yours, and he nearly shatters right then. He’s probably not going to last long anyway, but the mere eye contact is deadly enough to make his insides burn and his body crave yours all over again.

“You’re so—fucking good, Christ…” he can barely say those words as it is.

The feeling of his cock in your warm mouth, licking expertly at the right time, is explosive, and your name staining his lips, a longing desire. In this moment, he’s powerless, a pawn at your will.

“Why are you doing this, fuckin’ hell—“

He smirks, long gone past the edges of sanity, and tugs on your hair to make you attentive.

“Oh yeah, you can’t talk with your mouth full,” he teases.

That’s the Javier I know, you think in some sort of bliss yourself.

You retaliate by deep throating him, as much as you can, and you’re beyond delighted when Javier grunts, the sound serving as warning. But you don’t care: you keep sucking him off as hard and as deep as you possibly can.

That is, until Javier pulls you away, staring at you with darkened eyes. He wraps his own hand around the base of his cock, the other on your jaw.

“Open your fucking mouth, now,” he barely gets out as he strokes himself to completion.

You follow the instruction, eyes locked with his and mouth waiting for the treat it’s about to receive.

Sure enough, seconds later, Javier’s face is scrunched in inevitable ecstasy, his cock pulsing and throbbing as he messily spills his cum over your lips and jaw. The feeling empties him completely, leaves him in shambles, and he knows it does no good for his mental state. But it was also craved, notoriously needed.

While Javier wrestles his conscience and inner demons, his breaths slowly return to normal. He watches you stand back up, cheekily removing the excess arousal from your jaw with your index and taking it to your mouth, sucking slowly.

All while staring right at Javier.

“You’re welcome,” you say smugly.

He doesn’t have any clever remark. Not now, not anymore. He’s told you what you need to know: you won everything.

You won the bet, the case, and him.

And Javier was the sore, bitter loser, with nothing more but a heavy conscience and unrequited feelings.

previous | next 

[ddarker-dreams]

FINALLY SOMEONE SAID THE TRUTH.

I admit that i enjoyed act 3 but it feels like really rushed i have so much complain with that.

The build up until act 2 was so good it give us so much premise but the final blow si meh. Sorry that i want to share thing long rant with you

1. Why the final talk is with yae, no offense to her but we need ei to explain not to mention she witness khaenriah downfall so she can give us more information, i feel like they do it for the plot armor so they can just keep dragging this

2. So many things that quite inconsistant, the shogun is show no mercy to anyone that even did a little thing outside what she think its right, how come she can still have a talk with signora, when sara is falling like that, and also there is no clarification about sara right now.

The traveler was so done at first they refuse to help thoma and ayaka at the beginning. But they seem so happy and forget everything how come they are not RAGE ( okay maybe this is to bias and personal) when this nation provide nothing about our siblings information and also why they are not mention anything about their problem in ei stroy quest. Its nonsense! She is right in front of youu, ask about your siblings, ask about khaenriah, ask about ukmown god!!. How come they can just forget like that. Also mihoyo really waste the potential about twin things i thing ei will give us so much help bcs of the sympathy that we both rn lost our twin but noooo.

3. Kokomi seem lost some brain cell, she make a very succesfull grand intro but she become meh in act 3, how come a great strategist like her let the sus sponsorship slip just bcs they are desperate, not to mention her screen time is really small and her role seem so unsignificant and it feels lile she is a plain npc.

4. The awesome world quest that we have done doesnt get any mention at all! Inazuma owe us so much with cleansing sakura, thunder sakura, tatarigami, obarashi quest. It has so much potential that yae or ei or anyone else aknowledge what traveler has been done but nooo.

cracks knuckles... i suppose it's time for my promised dissertation. interestingly enough, you touched on a lot of the main issues i had with chapter III.

i think that if i had to pin the main issue, it's a lack of overall cohesiveness? we were jumping all over the place without the chance to ever flesh things out. inazuma is a smaller cast, but i feel like we didn't get to see any of them shine. since i'm most interested in the genshin characters, i'll break down my problems by going over everyone and their (lack) of impact on the story.

was ayaka not questioned or placed under suspicion for being close to thoma before his escape? i wanted to see her broken up over her duties as they relate to the yashiro commission, paired with having someone she genuinely cares about in danger. it would've been an interesting struggle if she was forced to choose one or the other. instead she just kinda took a back seat.

speaking of thoma, i don't even have anything to say, because he just... was there? for .0001 seconds. said "lol this sucks ig" and that's about it. i know we're going to get a story for him in the future since he's a 5* but i'm not getting my hopes up 😭 then in the raiden shogun's character story, man is peachy keen! be upset with the raiden shogun! have some inner conflict! even if it's just using loaded language because he's under surveillance for going against the raiden shogun, that'd be so cool. saying something like,

"Traveler, what's with that expression? Oh please, there's nothing to worry about. We're under the Statue of the Omnipresent God's protection. Nothing bad has ever happened here." *wink*

i also don't know what to say about gorou. he was... there....... i think. what is he fighting for? what are the stakes for him? what makes him place so much trust into kokomi? i'm out of things to say about him because i don't remember anything he did or said.

kokomi... oh kokomi... i was so hyped. so excited. i thought that maybe we could see a foil to the raiden shogun. that she'd have a moment where she's forced to realize, just like her opponent, sacrifices must be made that will hurt people who will never understand why she made them. or maybe something to show her military prowess. but instead she just accepts a mysterious patron's help (?), sees her people aging like the grateful dead from JJBA, and goes oh well. that sucks. what can ya do. oh bye traveler i guess, good luck with that. ????????????? HUH... similar case to thoma where she's gonna get a character story but like. she won't be the leader of the resistance anymore. that was her whole shtick. they took her shtick away. also she forced me to interact with more NPCs whose names i've already forgotten so i'm tilted about that still.

KUJOU SARA... AN INJUSTICE. A DISGRACE. a slap to my woman loving face. the build up was there. yae miko's comments about sara probably knowing the tenryou commission is involved in shady dealings, but is choosing not to think about it. sara being forced to confront reality and challenge her adopted father with the truth. being able to blaze a new path for herself in the process. when she started running to the raiden shogun i was ultra hyped up. sara, a devotee to the shogun for so long, was about to see her god interacting with the same people who led inazuma to this awful state. how would she react? would she stay ignorant, like yae miko so coyly said, choosing to look away in favor of following her god's footsteps? or would she be forced to recognize the raiden shogun isn't as divine as she once thought, and challenge her belief system?

we open the door to see the raiden shogun. the loading screen ensues. the camera pans to the ominous room, clouded in darkness, hinting at the ominous confrontation that is to come. the music takes a serious timbre. and then...

well fuck that potential character arc i guess. (we still don't know what sara made of any of this since she poofed out of existence from the story at this point)

kazuha also was handed a similar treatment. we've been with him for a while longer now. he is our introduction into inazuma, the one who first gets us emotionally involved by regaling us with the bittersweet tale of friendship that led him to becoming a wanted criminal. a kind soul who loves nature yet was dealt a cruel hand by fate, forced to watch his home nation turn into a hostile place, where his dear friend ultimately perished as a result. we get the scene with his friend's vision lighting back up. he parries a block from the raiden shogun, in the same area where his friend was killed by her. the parallels. the drama. except this time, he wasn't too late. he protected the traveler where he "failed" to protect his friend in the past. did he feel redemption at this? or was it a bittersweet reminder of what could've been?

WELL i guess we'll never know because we didn't get to talk to him again 😭 idk who got a bait and switch worse, him or sara. jesus christ mihoyo.

then we have signora. why is the raiden shogun talking to her? does she know about the gnosis being taken, and if she doesn't, what was her plan to get it from the archon? what does she think about scaramouche? and oh, okay, we're fighting here now. good fight + god tier music. pog pog. okay, now we've beaten her up, and raiden shogun wyd— wait no not signora her lore is still on CUPS not YET raiden shogun and— ah she's dead. okay. non nerds who didn't read artifact lore are going to know nothing about her. signora has such an interesting story, and yet... well. ok.

then we get raiden shogun redemption (?) arc. i was hype for this as well, though at that point, idk why i bothered being hype. i knew they were gonna do a cute power of friendship something or another, and i'm good with that, so long as it's executed well. what i was envisioning was like seven different buffs to correspond with the seven different visions, the dreams of those whose ambitions were stolen serving as the spear to penetrate the raiden shogun's heart of stone. maybe a hydro vision giving us extra healing for a time, with the voice acting over it being like,

"Even if the rest of the world forgets us, let our will carry you through this one final time. Succeed where we couldn't, Traveler."

so on and so forth.

but instead we got— you get the idea at this point. why bother spelling it out anymore.

at that point i was surprised the raiden shogun didn't go "oopsie woopsie!! we made a fucky wucky!!!" because that was the vibe i was getting. i love ei, don't get me wrong, but i wanted to see her challenged with what she had done to inazuma in the past year. maybe meeting NPC #2345259 who lost her sister to the vision decree or something, reminding ei of the love she held for her sister... being forced to come to terms with the extent of what she's done in pursuit of eternity.

anyway. please for the love of god mihoyo hire better writers for the main story. that is all i ask. thank you.

[dreamwritesimagines]

Burn The Witch 5 - Cross Your Heart [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support and feedback my loves ! ❤ Here’s the next chapter, I hope you like it as well and please let me know what you think! ❤ Thank you! ❤❤❤

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, fake dating, mentions of blood, sex, violence, death, manipulation, language, guns, knives.

Summary: Lying is supposed to be easy for spies.

Series Masterlist

You were beginning to think undercover operations were some sort of punishments given to agents, because lying was one thing, but creating a whole life around that lie was another.

Not only were your knives replaced by a bunch of paintings on the wall, you now had some photos in frames; old photos of people you didn’t know, people who were supposed to be your “cover” family.

You’d still prefer to have your knives on the walls though.

“You’re my best friend, you’re supposed to be on my side!” you pressed the phone between your shoulder and your ear, and heard Chloe’s laugh.

“I am on your side, I just can’t do anything about your uniform.”

You plopped down on the couch, setting your heels down on the floor.

“Bucky might be from 1940s, but he knows that it’s the 21st century now,” you said, putting the heels on, “No reason to make me dress like a….weird pin up waitress.”

“It’s a part of your mission,” she reminded you, “What, you can kill a target with a wine glass but a pin up costume is where you draw the line?”

You clicked your tongue, “Anyone can kill someone with a wine glass. It’s not that hard.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Babe it’s not rocket science, you just break the bowl part, then use the stem to stab them in the—“ you got distracted when you opened the kitchen cabinet, “I’m sorry, why do I have so many kitchen supplies?”

She held her breath in excitement, “Do you like them?”

“I don’t know what to do with most of them.”

“Cover Y/N likes cooking!”

“And the real Y/N can’t stand her,” you deadpanned, making her stifle a laugh.

“So he hasn’t texted you yet?”

“Barnes?” you asked, “Not yet. Why?”

“Well, I took the liberty of taking a look at his messages the other day.”

“Oh God, don’t tell me,” you said, “He’s seeing someone else?”

“No no, not at all,” she said, “He’s totally single, and probably ready to mingle. With you, that is.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He and Wilson were talking about you the other day. Well, more like Wilson was telling him to get his shit together and ask you out.”

“I don’t think he’s the type to ask someone out via text,” you said, “I think he will come to the shop one of these days.”

“Why?”

“He looked sort of….” You searched for the word in your mind, “Uh-clueless?”

“Clueless?”

“Yeah, you know how assassins usually flirt,” you ignored her noise of disagreement, “He wasn’t like that.”

“You really need to focus on the personal details of his file.”

You scowled, “What is that supposed to mean?” you asked, “I know his favorite weapons, what knives he—”

“Personal file,” she repeated, “You know there’s more to people than their weapons of choice right?”

“I might have to engage in combat if I’m ever compromised, and do you know how many people walked away alive after engaging in combat with the Winter Soldier in all these decades?” you asked, “Three. Three people; Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff, and they are legends. I might be good, but I’m not that good.”

“Just memorizing his arsenal can’t help you in this mission,” she said, “Did you know that he hasn’t exactly dated since becoming the Winter Soldier? His ex Connie ended up having 3 kids and a long career at the post office—“

“What am I supposed to do Chloe, stalk grandma’s Instagram?”

“No, she passed away 5 years ago.”

“Of course she did,” you mumbled, “Listen, I don’t have time for this. I’m already knee deep in my own cover, I can’t get into Barnes’s past when it’ll give me no advantage in the mission.”

“Y/N-“

“Trust me,” you cut her off, looking in the mirror to fix your uniform, “I have everything under control.”

                                              ***

You had maybe like one thing under control and that was the milkshake you were currently pouring into a mason jar. After a crash course in different recipes yesterday, you barely needed any help from your coworkers and seeing that the shop wasn’t very crowded, you didn’t have to rush.

And now you knew how to make three things; pasta, eggs and milkshakes.

If Keith were here, he would’ve said those were 3 main food groups.

“Tara, we’re running low on maraschino cherries,” you said as you shook the can and your new coworker turned to you.

“Oh that’s okay, there’s another jar are under the counter.”

You put the cherry over the whipped cream, and handed the jar to her. “There you go.”

“Another week of working here and you will come up with your own recipes,” she said, “Tell me the truth, are you like a spy sent by a rival company?”

You stared at her, then forced a laugh.

“I wish,” you said, “Maybe I’d be paid more.”

“Good point,” she said and walked to give the milkshake to the customer while you put the empty jar aside, then went under the counter to search for a new jar.

“Strawberries….” You read the labels out loud as you heard the wind bells chime by the door, “Figs, berries—cherries!”

You reached out to grab the jar and stood up but as soon as you did, you caught the sight of the figure by the door and held your breath, the jar slipping from your grip before you caught it mid-air.

“Bucky.” You breathed out, before you remembered to plaster a smile on your face.

Naïve, soft hearted civilian.

He stole a look around as if he expected someone to attack him at any seconds in a milkshake shop before he stepped closer to the counter you were standing behind.

“Hi.”

“Hi-hi there!” you said, putting the jar down, “You came!”

“You sound surprised,” he smiled and you shrugged your shoulders, shooting him a mischievous look,

“Better late than never, I suppose.”

He hissed in a breath, “Ouch, was it that late?”

“Just a little,” you said “So what can I get you?”

He looked up at the board over the wall, “What are my options?”

“Well, we have Unicorn Cotton Candy, Pumpkin Spice Latte, Candy Cane Passion, Lavender Macaron—“ you stopped talking when you saw the clueless look on his face and cleared your throat, “Or hey, maybe chocolate? We have chocolate milkshake.”

“Chocolate sounds good.”

“Coming right up.” You took a mason jar from the shelf to get to it and he grabbed his wallet, making you raise your brows.

“Don’t even think about it.”

“Oh come on—”

“I’m going to make you an overly complicated milkshake if you try to pay for this,” you warned him, shaking the can before putting whipped cream on top of the milkshake, “It’s on the house, I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” he said quickly, making you point at him with the straw.

“Either way, I’m warning you. I’m armed and dangerous.”

“Consider me intimidated,” he said with a grin as he put the cash into the tip jar and you narrowed your eyes.

“Bucky.”

“Well technically, tip doesn’t count.”

“I wonder where I heard that before,” you muttered under your breath while he walked to pull himself a seat.

“Hm?”

“Nothing,” you said, reminding yourself that your cover probably wouldn’t make dirty jokes and went to place the milkshake in front of him.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” You waved a dismissive hand and rested your elbows on the counter, leaning in slightly.

He was gentleman enough to not check out your cleavage, instead kept his gaze on your face, making you suppress a smile.

“You were right,” Bucky said, his eyes darting around the café after a couple of seconds, “About how this place looked. It is creepily accurate.”

“Really?”

“I mean we didn’t have a neon flowers corner, but…” he trailed off, “Yeah. Yeah, I would say so.”

“Is that why you look like you expect someone to jump out of shadows and attack you?” you asked and his head shot up before he scrunched up his face.

“That obvious?”

“Not that I have lots of experience but so far none of the customers looked this uncomfortable while drinking a milkshake,” you said, “Is it because deep down you actually wanted to try Unicorn Cotton Candy?”

“Oh no, I’m good with classics,” He held up his milkshake, “No I just think that I’m a bit….uh, rusty.”

“Rusty,” you repeated, “On what?”

“On this.”

You batted your lashes, looking up at him and you could almost feel him being lured in.

“I’m sorry, I don’t follow,” you said softly after a beat and he gulped, taking a deep breath.

“It’s just that you’re—“ he cleared his throat, “You’re very beautiful and it’s been decades since I last asked someone out for a date.”

Winter Soldier, credited with over 100 assassinations, you reminded yourself Don’t lower your guard, it’s just a cover.

Don’t believe in your own cover.

You bit down a smile, tilting your head.

“Well, I didn’t think you were rusty,” you said and he raised his brows.

“You didn’t?”

“Not at all,” you said, “For the record, I’m definitely going to say yes.”

“Are you?”

“Absolutely,” you grinned, “Once you actually ask me, that is. With words, not an implication.”

His smile was almost playful, “With words, huh?”

“I’m old fashioned like that,” you taunted him, “Let’s see how we can make it less awkward for you though. Would you feel more comfortable to ask me out if you knew some weird stuff about me?”  

“You know, that would help a lot actually.”

You tapped your fingernails on the counter, looking up at the ceiling, pretending to be in deep thought. Your superiors had always said the best cover stories were somehow based on real life without revealing your identity, so you figured telling him random things about you wouldn’t hurt or put the mission in danger.

“Well, I really like grapes but I don’t like the skin, so I end up peeling every grape I eat, one by one,” you counted with your fingers, “I watched a documentary once and now I can’t swim in any lakes because I keep thinking I’ll get attacked by that weird flesh eating bacteria. When I was sixteen, I was the president of the chess club but I had a boyfriend who didn’t believe in the moon landing—”

“I heard about the moon landing!” he said quickly, “I didn’t get around to watch it yet though.”

“Oh my God, you should.”

“What else?”

“I’m scared of peacocks,” you confessed, “I know everyone says they’re beautiful but they look like they’re waiting for the right time to attack you.”

He looked like he was fighting with himself not to laugh and he pressed his metal fist on his lips, his whole attention on you.

“You can’t laugh!” you exclaimed and he shook his head, trying to look as serious as possible.

“I’m not!” he managed to hide his chuckle with a cough, “Keep going, this is very helpful.”

You heaved a sigh. “Well, do you want to hear the most embarrassing one?”

“Absolutely.”

“I normally keep my phone on mute 24/7 but since last week it’s been on full volume because I was terrified I’d miss something important.”

The amused light in his eyes got softer and he lowered his hand, a smile warming his face.

Hook, line…

“I was um— I was hoping for you to call, you see.” you said, averting your gaze from him to look down for a second, biting on your lip.

His voice was raspy; “Were you?”

You shrugged your shoulders, mumbling an inaudible maybe, and his eyes trailed down to your lips before snapping up to lock your gaze in his.

“What time do you get off work today?”

And sinker.

Time to pull back.

You sucked in a breath through your teeth, “I work at the soup kitchen tonight.”

“Oh –I thought you said it was on Mondays and Wednesdays.”

“I did, I’m just covering for a friend tonight. Family emergency, she says.” you said and pushed your hair behind your ear, shifting your weight, “But my shift is over at 6 tomorrow and I can be ready around 7, I live really close by. If you’re- if you’re free, that is.”

“I am.”

“It’s a date, then.”

“It’s a date,” he repeated and stood up, “See you tomorrow, Y/N.”

“See you tomorrow Bucky.” You smiled as he walked out of the shop and Tara came closer to you.

“Wow, you’ve been here a month and you met someone that hot?” she said and winked at you, “Good job there.”

Right.

Good job.

                                             ***

“So, wait—“ Chloe came closer to sit between you and Keith, holding a huge bowl of popcorn, “He just showed up?”

“Mm hm.”

“And you have a date tomorrow?”

Keith uncapped your beer and handed you the bottle as you rested your feet on the coffee table.

“You’re being careful, aren’t you?” he asked you and you nodded.

“Sure.”

“He doesn’t suspect anything?”

“No, he’s buying this whole naïve soft hearted civilian thing,” you said while Chloe snatched the remote from Keith’s hand, ignoring protests.

“And are you?”

You dragged your eyes from the list of movies on the screen. “I want a horror movie.”

“Well too bad, I want an action movie.”

“We’re watching a rom-com and that’s final!” Chloe pointed at both of you, making you groan.

“Why does this keep happening?” Keith asked to no one in particular and she snapped her fingers.

“It’s my turn and my place so I pick the movie,” she said and shot you a look, “I’m still waiting for an answer, by the way. You don’t….you don’t have feelings for Barnes, right?”

Keith stole a look at you before turning to Chloe,

“I don’t think our dear friend here wants a relationship beautiful,” he told her, “Not after what happened the last time.”

You could feel the goosebumps rising on your arms as a shiver ran down your spine.

“I don’t even know Barnes all that well yet, but I can assure you he’s not the type to—“ you paused, “Do something that cowardly.”

Keith gritted his teeth. “Where is that asshole anyway?”

“Hungary,” Chloe said and you raised your brows.

“Undercover?”

“Yeah. I hope he gets compromised and dies there.”

“Very unlikely,” you murmured, “Anyways, what brought this on? My feelings for Barnes?”

“It’s just that I recently read Vincent Smith’s file,” she said, “You guys remember Vincent?”

“Who?”

“His code name was Marco.”

“Oh, I remember Marco!” Keith said, “That guy took down a whole unit by himself. What happened to him?”

“He is missing.” Chloe said and you pulled your brows together.

“Since when do agents go missing and we don’t know where they are?”

“Since they fall for the target.”

“No way,” Keith chuckled, “Badass spy Marco fell in love? Poor idiot.”

“You’re a terrible person, Keith.”

You sat up straighter, “Wait, did you say he fell for the target?”

“Yeah, I saw the reports from his handler. And now he’s missing, and I don’t want you to run away with Barnes like Marco did with his target.”

You and Keith exchanged glances and you clicked your tongue.

“Chloe babe, he’s not missing.” you said “He’s dead.”

She pulled back slightly, “You don’t know-“

“Yes I do. You don’t fall for the target and compromise the whole mission, not unless you want to end up dead.”

“There’s no report of that,” she insisted and Keith sipped his beer.

“What did his report say, sweetheart?”

“That he was removed from his mission before going missing.”

Keith scoffed, “Rest in peace Marco, you won’t be missed.”

“How do you know—“

“Because that’s the code,” you said, “If the report says he was removed from his mission and went missing, it means he was killed by an agent on our side.”

“We killed our own agent?” she exclaimed and you turned the beer bottle in your hand,

“He stopped being our agent the moment he fell for the target.”

Chloe covered her mouth with her hands, worry etched into her expression, “Y/N, please, please promise me you won’t somehow get too involved in this mission and fall for Barnes and put yourself in danger.”

You let out a small laugh, grabbing a handful of popcorn.

“It’s the Winter Soldier we’re talking about,” you reminded her and chewed on the popcorn, “Trust me, that would never happen.”

“Cross your heart?”

You heaved a sigh and clinked your beer bottle with hers.

“Cross my heart honey,” you assured her, “There’s no way I’d sign my own death warrant by doing something that stupid.”  

Chapter 6

[astrobei]

Also any other fanfic writing tips? Do you have thoughts on chaptered fics vs longer one-shots? Do you ever struggle with characters feeling ooc?

I'm working my way up to finishing a couple WIPs and am very very nervous about posting them on ao3 😬😬

ooshdjsfh i think it’s funny when ppl ask me for writing advice bc i am a Mess but i will try my hardest to be helpful w this!

for the first bit, personally i’m a fan of oneshots, both writing and reading (there are exceptions for both ofc!!) just because i usually don’t have the attention span to write or read chaptered fics unless they’re finished and under 5 chapters ! but both of my chaptered fics are/were chaptered literally because i wrote too much to make it a oneshot without it feeling kind of clunky and awkward LOL i don’t usually write fics with big fleshed out plots anyway, and it’s more like a general storyline with a focus on individual scenes instead of the overarching plot, so i’ll write it all in one go! and i always write more than i think i will, so stories i plan to be like 10-15k ALWAYS end up at least 20k somehow 😭 personally i just rly appreciate when chaptered fics are consistent w uploading (as much as possible for the author) because it’s really hard for me to commit otherwise, which is why i don’t rly write them myself!!

and Oh My God anon,, i struggle CONSTANTLY w characters feelings ooc im always so concerned w my mike especially, since so much of s3 and 4 was more will pov and we didn’t get as much of an insight into mike’s internal struggles and thoughts like we did with will (the castle byers scene, van scene, jonathan talk, etc) so i’m always worried that the way i interpret him is not the same way that others might! and characters like lucas and dustin and max are easier since their povs in the show have stayed pretty consistent since their first appearances, and even will is easier for me to write (although i prefer mike which is pretty obvious maybe LOL) but mike Stresses Me Out a lot,, whew !!

if ur having trouble w that my advice (or at least what i do, take it w a grain of salt siskfjsjf) is think whether or not u could imagine this character saying that in the show. like, if this dialogue was added to a scene would it feel weird and out of place? do they usually use words like that? are there words used in the show specific to this character? (e.g: robin with “dingus”) i do take a lot of creative liberty w characters like mike and will especially when writing fluff fics, since so much of s4 and the end of s3 has been Sad and we haven’t gotten much humorous interaction from them, but i always try to ask myself if it’s true to their dynamic. like, mike would never ever pull off being suave and cool (except maybe in will’s unreliable narrator pov) because he gets flustered and is kind of an idiot and will is canonically a little bitchy and a little snarky and one of the only people who can put mike in his place so .

and thinking abt their motivations and Why they act/think the way they do: in byler’s case for example, will is selfless to a fault where he keeps putting other people before him, he’s so scared of his own needs making him selfish or a bad person that he often backpedals too far trying to amend that (s4!!) but he gets frustrated pretty easily (he’s the one that’s Started both of the infamous byler fights, the one that blows up first) and isn’t afraid to call mike out on things !! vs mike who tries really really hard, and has so much love for the people in his life but he’s inexperienced in it and doesn’t know how to show it in the way they want (saying ily to el, being a good friend to will) and a lot of his own inner monologue being fueled by the fear that the people in his life don’t need him anymore and yk . stuff like that . idk i just think abt these things a lot when i write!

anyways i am not qualified in the slightest to give any of this advice so FEEL FREE TO IGNORE THIS !! but anon if u ever end up publishing those wips (pls do) PLEASE don’t hesitate to drop me a link i’d love to check them out! posting fics can be rly scary but my advice would be to have as much fun with it as u can! play around w tropes and dialogue and writing styles and povs as much as u want. it can be easy to get caught up in writing what u think ppl want to read or thinking u Have to write smth bc someone asked for it but literally just write whatever u want (that’s like . not insane and awful for obvious reasons) and enjoy urself!!

hope this helped !! <3

[caretaker-au]

CHAPTER 10

Bright light spilled into Chara’s vision as the world manifested around them. Their body—heavy and fragile—struggled and dropped them to their knees.

As they fell forward Chara caught themselves with their hands. They stared out at their small, feeble fingers that were splayed on the lavender colored floor, each digit tipped with a dull, flat fingernail. Where were they? And what was that awful pounding sensation? They pulled a hand to their chest. That’s right. Their heart. No longer made from monster magic, Chara’s human flesh felt comparatively sluggish and dense. The body they were never supposed to return to. Chara crossed their arms and gripped themself tight. Fierce emotion flooded through their body: a touch of grief for their own death, relief for their survival, and most of all, rage.

“Asriel…” they breathed, their voice a shaking whisper, “How could you?”

After everything they had done, after all that they sacrificed for him, Asriel had betrayed them. Again. As he always had. It didn’t matter how hard Chara worked or how many timelines they chased, their wretched partner threw away everything they had to protect accursed humans. This time was the worst, however. Asriel’s betrayal ended in orchestrating a shared execution.

“You really hate me that much?” Chara’s voice was little more than a shaking growl. They wanted to scream, to declare that they wouldn’t allow it, that they would find someone else who would respect them and carry out their plan. But they didn’t believe it.

“Chara?”

A small voice broke through the fury. Chara looked up and saw them. A child hesitating in a stone doorway just ahead of them: Frisk.

The child’s expression relaxed into a smile, “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Anger flashed across Chara’s face. They pulled themselves to their feet, wavering slightly. They staggered towards Frisk with heavy steps, increasing their speed into a run. Frisk’s eyes widened for a moment before they scowled. The child braced themself and held out their arms, “Chara, stop!”

The caretaker grabbed Frisk by the collar and wrenched them up against the doorframe. The kid’s teeth chattered as their skull thudded against the stone behind them.

“Why?!” Chara barked, hatred seeping from their every pore, “You took everything from us! Our lives, our future, the salvation of all monsters!” Frisk turned their head away, clenching their eyes tight as Chara berated them. “Nothing was stopping you from leaving. So why?” Chara demanded, “Why did you return? To mock me? To torment me?”

“No…” Frisk answered quietly, “To save you.”

Their answer didn’t make any sense. Chara stared back, unable to even articulate a response. Instead, they slammed Frisk against the wall again. “Liar!” Chara cried out, “You expect me to believe that?”

“It’s the truth!” Frisk squirmed and pulled on Chara’s hands to no avail, “Escape isn’t worth anyone’s life. Not even yours, Chara!”

Chara’s fists clenched tighter around the slack of Frisk’s sweater. With a heave, they tossed the child to the side. Frisk splayed across the floor with a grunt.

“You are wrong,” Chara huffed, “And you… are a fool. Did you not learn the first time? I don’t care about your mercy.”

Frisk pulled themself to their feet. They straightened and returned Chara’s frenzied glare with a quiet gaze.

Chara continued, “I will not stop. This time I’ll take the souls, ignore you, and escape to the Surface. There, Asriel and I… we’ll…” Chara trailed off as Asriel’s face crossed their mind again. They sank to the floor, the air feeling heavier and heavier. “That traitor… he will never… he will never cooperate.”

The realization was like a knife twisting in their gut. Even with his betrayal, Asriel was always the most devoted. No one would be able to replace him. Despair crept into their heart as Chara realized they needed him more than Asriel needed them back. Chara had considered Frisk their greatest opponent, but it was Asriel who truly stood in their way.

Chara’s vision swam, so they turned their head away from Frisk, their hair falling in front of their face. Knowing the human was seeing them like this made their skin crawl, and they wished the ground would swallow them up. As Chara spoke, they held their breath to keep their voice from shaking. “Leave.”

Frisk hesitated, surely coming up with a response. Mockery? Pity? Chara wouldn’t bear it.

“Out of my sight! Now!” Chara shouted; their roar made the air tremble. Frisk didn’t wait to be told again. The sound of scuffling footsteps faded from earshot, and soon Chara was alone in the silence once more.

Finally, Chara let the tears fall from their eyes. They were disgusted with the way their breath hitched and sobbed no matter how much they tried to stifle it. Asriel did this to them. Asriel would have to pay.

Chara indulged in several minutes of sickening self pity before they finally wiped their face. Looking around, it took Chara a moment before they registered just where they were. They were deep within the Ruins, just outside the chamber Frisk had fallen into. But that didn’t make sense. From Chara’s experience, time could only be turned back to the most recently fixed point. Frisk should have been returned to just before their battle, perhaps in the jail. Instead, here they were, back to the moment they first met. Was Frisk not confined to the same limits of time travel?

Chara shook their head. They couldn't think about this now. Only one thing mattered: Asriel’s punishment. Drawing the will to stand, Chara pushed themselves upright to follow the child.

In one way or another, Frisk had made it past all the traps, through the house, and—presumably—out the exit. It was for the best; Chara couldn’t stand to cross paths with the child again. Inside the house, they paused to collect a large padlock they had stored in a table drawer. It was heavy and nearly the size of a text book with ornate designs engraved across it. The lock was imbued with abjuration magic, made specifically to lock the Ruins after Asriel was nearly killed by the human years ago. The lock would render any door unbreachable by human or monster, and Chara held the only key.

Chara carried the device with them into the basement, down the hall, and to the large exterior doors that lead to the snow draped forests beyond. The doors were slightly ajar, revealing a set of footprints that dotted the snow off into the distance.

Chara sighed, taking one last look at the snowy view, before pulling the doors shut. For decades, the lock had only been placed on the outside, removed only when Chara came through to patrol the ruins or escort monsters between Home and Snowdin. Today, for the first time, the doors would be locked from the inside with Chara within. They looped the padlock through the handles of the door, and when they snapped it into place, the doors shuddered and clamped together with a jolt. Chara traced a fingernail down the seam of the two doors. No one would be passing through without their permission.

Confronting Asriel directly was not an option. After all, any progress made with Asriel could be undone by Frisk. Not to mention they weren’t even sure what they could tell him. Asriel’s traitorous inclinations were buried deep into his core, waiting until Chara was at their most desperate to stab them in the back.

But there was one tactic that Frisk would be unable to interfere with. Silence. If Chara withdrew to the Ruins without a word, Asriel would surely blame himself for Chara’s sudden absence. Chara knew Asriel well: he’d beg for Chara’s return and apologize for things he didn’t do, all the while ignorant of his traitorous compulsions. Cruel, perhaps, but nothing was as cruel as what he had done in those erased timelines.

Chara checked their phone. They already had one message from Asriel inquiring as to when they’d return home. The caretaker marked it as read before slipping it back into their pocket.

---

As predicted, Asriel came to the door and stayed all night long. Knocking, calling, pleading-- Chara relished each pathetic attempt at reconciliation. He deserved to be confused, heartbroken, and alone, just as Chara was. Over the course of the day Chara received messages from Asgore, Toriel, and many other monsters. They all asked the same thing: Are you okay? Do you want to talk? We found this human named Frisk, do you know them? Even Muffet demanded an explanation. Chara would have to deal with her later.

Leaving everyone wondering and begging for answers was the only power Chara had left. Word was getting to the monsters in Home as well, evidenced by the additional messages piling up on their phone. Chara ignored them too. Eventually they would realize they were trapped on this side of the door as well, unwilling hostages in Chara’s scheme.

No matter. The monsters deserved to be trapped. Every one of them was just like Asriel: eager to please and sentimental to a fault. Chara had devoted their entire life to serving them and in return they never offered to help collect the souls that would free them. In fact, Chara had to resort to time travel to push them in the right direction for just an ounce of support. They all deserve to rot in this dark, claustrophobic hell.

---

“So you just let a human walk on by?” Muffet inquired in a sing-song voice, “That doesn’t seem much like the great caretaker at all!”

The two of them were sitting in her parlor, each on a lavish chair. A full tea set complete with baked goods sat on a low table between them, though Chara knew better than to partake in it. Spider legs stuck out of the scones like coarse hairs, and they couldn’t even imagine what the tea had been steeped with.

“Yes. Well.” Chara said, looking down at their lap, “There is not much I can do about it now.”

“Oh yes, I imagine the sweet thing is the new royal favorite, aren’t they?” Muffet’s fanged smile turned up in a mocking grin, “The queen has always had a soft spot for filthy little strays. You know that better than anyone, right, dearie?”

Chara bit back a retort. With time no longer under their control, they had to be careful while inside of her lair. It had been a week since they sealed the Ruins, and Muffet was the only person they had spoken to since. The crime lord wasn’t their first choice of confidant, of course, but she had been insisting on meeting and they knew better than to reject her invitation.

“I suppose so,” they responded softly.

Muffet giggled to herself, then suddenly reached for the plate of cookies between them. It was only after she grabbed a couple treats that Chara realized they had flinched when she moved. They tried to relax but the attempt only made them more tense.

“So, is that why you locked the exit? Had a bit of a falling out with the in-laws?”

“Something like that.” Chara frowned, “I’d rather not talk about it.”

“Oh of course, a lady like me wouldn’t dream of indulging in distasteful gossip! Instead, I have a business proposition~”

Chara straightened. In their current circumstance, they didn’t have much in the way of influence or leverage.

“How can I be of service?” they asked.

“I want to relocate,” Muffet paused to bite into one of her cookies. It sounded... crunchy. “You see, the Ruins are awfully drafty, and the cold isn’t good for my constitution. I was thinking about moving in the next year or so, but now that you’ve so... graciously sealed us all in here, I predict the traffic in my shop will be slowing down considerably.”

“Understood.” Chara nodded, “I will make an exception for you and open the d—”

“I wasn’t finished, Chara.” Muffet said, her voice lowering. There was a tense pause before she smiled again, “I want a limousine~”

“A—A what?” Chara asked, incredulous.

“A heated limousine that will chauffer my employees and I all the way to Hotland,” she gestured to the spiders that skittered between the tea cups, “A necessary luxury to ensure we make it safely through the biting cold of Snowdin. Should be a simple task for a monarch, correct?”

“Of course. Leave it to me.” Chara smiled, “Is that all?”

“Not much for business, are you, Chara?” Muffet smirked, “This is where you negotiate the terms of the agreement~”

“No need. I am happy to do this as a gesture of goodwill.” Chara outstretched their hand—it wasn’t trembling anymore, thankfully—and Muffet gave it a dainty shake.

Once Chara was safely out of Muffet’s lair, they heaved a sigh of relief. Somehow they had managed to leave in one piece despite Muffet’s attempts to bait them. Now they just had to figure out how to serve her outrageous demands. Chara fished their phone out of their pocket, dismissed several dozen missed calls and text notifications, and opened their address book. They were going to need to call in some discreet favors.

---

One month had passed since they sealed the Ruins. It wasn’t easy, but Chara managed to arrange for Muffet’s departure without alerting the Dreemurrs. Eventually, the royals found out the Ruins door had been briefly opened which led to a fresh barrage of calls, messages, and knocking on the resealed door, all of which Chara ignored, of course.

Chara walked the streets of Home late at night, the crystals in the ceiling sparkling above. They could feel the eyes of the monsters on them, but after weeks of Chara ignoring and scowling in return, the monsters had given up on approaching them. Wordlessly, they did their weekly shopping at the local market. As a member of the royal family, Chara had never needed to pay for any necessities, and it seemed the benefits even extended here. It was only fair compensation, of course. After all, Chara was still serving the undeserving monsters by patrolling the Ruins every day for human threats.

---

“Ugh, really?” Chara muttered. They were nearly done with their patrol, having reached the large trap of spikes that was circled with a moat. Chara pushed down on the edge of the spike panel’s pressure plate with their foot, but the spikes failed to retract completely, the deadly points standing out by a few inches. It wasn’t a good sign: the springs inside were starting to give out. And if the springs snapped while Chara was standing above it…

Chara shuddered. They had witnessed that messy result and they didn’t care to experience it first hand. Typically, Chara would order replacement parts and perform maintenance themself, but the machinist that created the pieces was in New Home. Unsealing the door again was out of the question.

“Of course this would happen now,” Chara grumbled. They moved their foot off the plate and the spikes shot back into place. How many more compressions would it tolerate before it broke? Before Frisk came to the Underground, Chara could risk it and undo any unpleasant accidents, but if the past five months were any indication, Frisk was not nearly as eager to manipulate time. In fact, time had been rolled back only two times since Chara let the child go.

It was inconceivable. How could Frisk resist the urge to erase the inevitable little mistakes that ruined every day? Embarrassing moments, broken tea cups, scraped knees… all could be fixed in an instant with the right application of their power. To have such power and yet choose to carry the weight of their failures—it defied reason.

More importantly, if Chara suffered a tragic accident while isolated here, no one would come to their rescue… whether through time manipulation or otherwise.

“Unfortunate.” Chara said to themself with a resigned sigh, “I will have to dismantle them. All of them.” They turned around and headed back home. While they didn’t have access to their machinist anymore, they did have a few hand tools and plenty of time.

---

Eight months had passed since Chara had let Frisk go. As they walked the path of the now defanged Ruins, they revised and repeated their old plan over and over. If they could just get one more soul to replace Frisk, they would have the seven required to break the barrier and purify the Surface. The only thing missing, of course, was a willing monster to absorb them.

They reached the end of their patrol: the entrance to the Underground for lost, unlucky humans. The chamber was empty, as it had been every day since Frisk fell in. Chara walked into the center of the room and stared up into the vacant darkness looming above. One hundred years had passed on the Surface and only eight humans had fallen in that time. How long would it take for another to arrive? Ten years? Thirty? Without the help of their powers Chara could very well die before seeing the next human soul.

Chara turned to leave, but did a double take as they glimpsed a glimmer of gold on the ground. They kneeled and pushed the grass aside to reveal a small yellow bud, barely beginning to open.

“It cannot be…” Chara breathed, “A Golden Flower?”

Golden Flowers were common on the Surface, but had no presence in the Underground. Chara was so sure of this that they had incorporated them into their original plan over 20 years ago. By requesting to see the wild flowers on their deathbed, Chara could ensure Asriel would cross the barrier with their corpse in tow.

Or at least, that was what should have happened.

Chara clenched their teeth at the bitter memory. It was the first of many perfect plans ruined by Asriel’s cowardice. The caretaker grasped the plant and ripped it out of the ground by the root.

Immediately, Chara felt a pang of regret. They stared down at the pathetic thing. Their favorite flower, somehow growing in this dark, sunless prison. When had it taken root? Did some seeds blow in from the Surface? Or were they brought in by a... passenger?

Chara shook their head. Regardless of how it was introduced to the Underground, it was now a part of the Ruins—their Ruins. It didn’t deserve to suffer for Asriel’s mistakes. Reflexively, Chara attempted to turn back time, but nothing happened.

With a sigh, they returned the flower to where it was and buried its roots back into the soil. The stem was bent and it wouldn’t stay upright, but weeds were resilient. With a little help, it might still make it.

---

Chara hesitated before their latest masterpiece, knife in hand. Resting on a serving plate was a beautiful, hand crafted chocolate ganache cake. Strawberries perched on top of the silky dark topping, and the intoxicating aroma filled the house. Somehow, even without their powers, it had turned out almost too perfect to eat.

Emphasis on "almost". Carefully, Chara slid the knife through the decadent construction and placed a slice on their plate. They paused to admire the moist cross section before sliding a fork through the end and taking a bite.

Absolute bliss.

"Not bad for a humble birthday cake," Chara said to themself. They were thirty-seven today. Chara looked across the dining table into the empty living room. The only sound was the fire crackling in the hearth, emitting heat for a one person abode. They wished this house wasn’t nearly identical to the one in New Home; the similarities made it too easy to imagine Toriel in her chair, Asgore in the kitchen, and Asriel leaning on the table with his elbows, big goofy grin on his face. The Dreemurrs loved birthdays, always spending weeks preparing for a large and lavish party.

This was the first birthday they had spent alone since they were thirteen. They had forgotten how miserable it could be.

Chara checked their phone. They had over one hundred notifications that had come in just today. They scrolled through to find the only contact that mattered: Asriel.

“Happy birthday, Chara!!” the message read, “Mom and Dad and I are thinking about you lots! We even got you a gift, so I hope we can give it to you one day! Wherever you are, take good care of yourself, okay?” A line of party and heart related emojis followed.

Chara read the message over and over. Asriel’s texts would always fill them with disgust and hatred, but not today. Instead Chara just felt… lonely. It was a pathetic, shameful feeling, but a true feeling nonetheless. Despite all the ways Asriel had disrespected them, Chara couldn’t hide from the fact that they missed him.

The caretaker allowed themself to vocalize a thought they had been pushing out of their mind for months. “Maybe…” Chara spoke, their soft voice breaking the quiet, “Maybe it is time to go home.”

They sighed, resigning themself. The eternal silent treatment was never a realistic plan, and while Asriel was the intended subject of the punishment, it was unpleasant to Chara, too. Scrolling up through his messages, Asriel had sent hundreds upon hundreds over the past year begging them to “just talk”. All had gone unanswered. The confusion and desperation in those messages were clear; he was perfectly primed for a reconciliation.

But Chara wanted more than reconciliation. More important than companionship was freedom. Freedom not just for undeserving monsters, but most importantly, freedom for themself.

“There is still a way,” Chara muttered to themself, “I simply… pushed Asriel too quickly. Asriel always responded better to a softer approach.” Chara stood, pacing.

“We will delay soul fusion until the end of my natural life. Nothing barbaric or tragic. My dying wish will be to live on within him. He cannot turn down my final request.”

Chara nodded, they could see it now. After a few decades, Chara would peacefully pass from their old, frail body into Asriel’s strong, youthful one, a benefit of his species’ long life span.

“Then we gather the rest of the souls. But not right away. Asriel will need some time to adjust to sharing a vessel with me. But he will with time. Perhaps even the child can be convinced to willingly donate their soul to the cause.” Even though Frisk wouldn’t be a child anymore, it was hard to imagine Frisk as anything but a meddling brat. Honestly, they’d probably still be a brat in thirty years.

“If not, that is... fine. The child can be suffered to live.” The decision was a reluctant one, but giving mercy to such an undeserving creature gave Chara a pleasant feeling of self-righteousness. After all, it didn’t really matter if Frisk lived or died. The important thing was purifying the Surface and breaking the barrier. One human would not make a difference.

“Yes. This will work.” A smile crept onto Chara’s face and their heart thrummed with excitement. They would return to Asriel, who would embrace them with utmost relief and joy. After all, absence makes the heart grow fonder, and Asriel had shown no signs of giving up on them.

Chara would enjoy a long life in the company of their loved ones until the day they would embrace their prophesied purpose as the Underground’s savior.

It would require patience, but their splendid utopia was once again within reach. They began planning their grand return.

chapter 10 // end

[ ✧ START ] [ « BACK ] [ NEXT CHAPTER » ]

[mandoalorian]

Borrowed Time [Din Djarin x F!Reader] SMUT

ੈ♡˳‧₊*: • Chapter 8: The Truth ✩࿐ ˚.✧

Summary: You are the princess of Mandalore, held hostage on your own planet by Moff Gideon and his army of Imperial troopers. Left with no choice, you send out a distress signal; a plea for protection— and who comes? None other than Din Djarin, a foundling of The Death Watch. He, by creed, is your sworn enemy. And where you have asked for his protection, he has been told by his mentor that he must marry you and gain the ability to restore Mandalore to its former glory.

Word Count: 2200>

Warnings: more angst and feelings! 18+ SMUT; unprotected p in v (wrap it before you tap it), f receiving oral, fingering… very soft sex andddd a praise kink because it’s Din’s first time giving oral :’)

AN: Please reblog to spread this around! It’s not showing up in tags! i think i’m still semi-shadow banned:(

Series Masterlist

Din didn’t say anything for a long time. He didn’t understand. Not the Manda’lor? How could that be possible? If you weren’t the Manda’lor, then... who were you? As if you were reading his thoughts, you closed your eyes and turned around so you were facing the brick wall behind you, and tried your very best to explain the truth. You had to at least make an attempt. You ignored the choked nervous knot in your throat. You couldn’t bear to look at him.

How could you ever even begin to explain this to him. You’d never spoken about what happened back on Mandalore to anyone. You’d kept it to yourself all this time. It was so painful. But you had to try.

“My mother was Duchess Satine Kryze, and I am, by technicality, the Princess of Mandalore. I always will be. When my mother died, fifteen years ago, I became heir to the throne. I became the Manda’lor, and... everything was fine. I had everything under control, and, dare I say, I was a good leader. Until one night, there was a planned attack by the Imperials on my city and they slaughtered everyone. They raided homes and killed children…” a single tear slipped down your cheek. “Moff Gideon came to see me. He wanted… the darksaber. So he had his troopers raid the palace and they found it. And once he wielded it, he became the rightful ruler of Mandalore. And, I still don’t have it back… I’ve-- I’ve never felt so helpless. And responsible for the murder of my people.”

You were crushed. You thought by admitting all of this, it would take the giant burden you’d been holding this entire time off your shoulders, but it didn’t. It only made you dread all the built up pain and anguish you had in your heart… for letting this happen and for lying to Din. You really had failed everyone around you, but most importantly, you’d failed yourself.

Bringing your hand to your wedding ring, you twiddled it around your finger and took a shaky exhale. “Din, I understand if you want nothing to do with me anymore. I can leave, and you’ll never see me again. I promise you that much. But I will get the darksaber back and I will be the rightful ruler of Mandalore. These were my people he killed. He stole it from me. And I won’t let the Imperial’s take anymore than they already have. Not without a fight.”

Compiling all the remaining bravery left in you, you turned back around to face Din and opened your eyes.

And your heart stopped.

His eyes were big and brown and sad. He had short, shaggy brown hair and a light stubble which grazed his jaw. His pink lips were parted slightly as he looked at you with his own eyes. No visor modifying his vision of you. This was raw, and completely him. He’d taken off his helmet.

You tried to ask him why, but no words came out.

“So that’s why the Imperials were chasing after you?” His jaw ticked but Maker, his voice without the helmet was as soft as silk. Rich and velvety.

He was handsome too. More handsome than you could’ve ever even imagined. In a rugged way, not in your typical Prince of Mandalore way. But you liked it a lot.

“Yes,” you swallowed thickly. “Moff Gideon imprisoned me in the palace and he never wanted me to leave. He made me promise to never tell anyone that he had the darksaber, because no doubt, any Mandalorian who found out the truth would venture after him to try and reclaim it for themselves. I was forced to live this lie. But I had to do something. That’s when I sent out the distress signal to coverts around the galaxy. That’s when you came for me, and helped me escape.”

Din tried his hardest to process your words. It… made sense. His gaze fell from your face and he looked down at the ground. He looked so sad and your heart ached. If there was a way you could fix this, you were pretty sure you’d do anything. In that very moment, you didn’t even care about the Mandalorian throne or the darksaber. You just cared about Din.

“Din, I’m so sorry.” you began, preparing to fully beg for his forgiveness, but before you could say anymore, his lips came crashing into yours.

He didn’t have anything to say to you, really. He was just so enamoured by you, that he didn’t care. You could lie to him a million times over and he’d forgive you, because you were just too perfect. You were, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. And he loved you.

He should be mad, he knew that much. But he couldn’t bring himself to hate you when all he could think about was just how beautiful your lips were. The entire time you were talking, he was fighting the urge to kiss you. Until finally, he just couldn’t resist anymore.

His mouth was soft and fit perfectly against yours. Your eyes snapped shut and a surprised moan fell from your lips as he took you in his arms and held you. You loved the way it felt… his hands on your body and caressing your skin. Was this… the first time he’d kissed? He was so passionate yet gentle, and Maker, you didn’t want it to end. He was absolutely gorgeous, and such an amazing kisser. When you thought he was going to break away, you raised your hands to his face and cupped his cheeks, swiping your tongue over his lower lip and signalling for him to continue the kiss. He did so, and you opened your mouth, granting him deeper access.

A minute or so later, when the both of you were practically gasping for breath, he pulled off you and rested his forehead against yours. If he was unsure about his feelings before, he knew for certain now.

“We’ll have to leave at dawn,” Din said eventually, huffing and looking into your eyes. His hands were still planted firmly on your hips and he nudged his nose against yours. “There’ll be less Imps around, the earlier we leave.”

You were baffled. “I don’t… I don’t understand.”

“We’re getting the darksaber back,” he confirmed. “You’re getting the darksaber back. You are the rightful ruler of Mandalore.”

You couldn’t believe it. He still wanted to help you, even after admitting to him that you’d been lying. He no longer had a duty to protect you, and yet he was doing this not because he had to, but because he wanted to.

“Are you sure?” you gasped, completely exasperated. “Are you sure you still want to help me?”

Din nodded his head wordlessly before kissing you again. “We should rest before our escape tomorrow,” Din breathed. “I have a room here.”

“Take me.” you begged, curling your body into his.

Din’s room at the covert was no different to the many other rooms that were habited by other Mandalorians. It was a small boxy room with a bed in the corner. At least it was a real bed though, and not Din’s poor excuse for a bed back on the Crest. He closed the door behind him and turned on the light, although it wasn’t bright whatsoever. It barely illuminated the room in this dull, amber colour, but it was just enough to cast your shadows on the wall.

You gulped, not tearing your eyes from him once. “I think you’re very handsome,” you blurted out, smiling when you noticed a rosy blush cross Din’s cheeks. “And I think it’s a real shame that you have to hide your face. I just know that those brown eyes could charm you out of trouble.”

Din chuckled nervously. “I think you’re very pretty too,” he said. “But you probably hear that a lot.”

You shook your head, the smile never leaving your lips once. “No.”

When Din kissed you, it felt like heaven. As the moment became more and more heated, both of you ended up undressing, and discarding your clothing and his armour into a pile on the floor.

Din carefully laid you down on his bed and hovered over you, planting kisses down your neck, along your collarbones and down your chest. He brought his hand over to your breasts and began with giving them a few experimental squeezes. He brushed his thumb over your hardening nipple and pinched it, earning a moan of pleasure from you.

Not taking his lips from yours, he dropped his hand down your body and to the hem of your panties, dipping his finger under the waistband and feeling just how wet you’d already become. He chuckled to himself, his thick and deft index finger tracing quick and tight circles across your clit. You arched your back into him, a foggy haze crossing your vision as he worked you into a complete state of euphoria.

You chanted his name like it was a prayer, caressing his biceps and holding onto him. After he drew out your first orgasm, he tapped on your thigh. You lifted up your ass so he could pull down your panties and take them off completely. You were an absolute sight to behold, there was no denying that. Your folds were slick with your arousal and Din done everything he could to contain himself. Licking his lips, he knelt down between your legs and began to lap his tongue around your bundle of nerves, even sucking occasionally on your sweet spot.

“Does-- does that feel good?” Din asked, briefly pausing just before you were about to cum again. Your legs were shaking with pleasure and Din just wanted to make sure you were alright. “I’m-- I’ve never done this before.” he confessed.

“Oral?” you asked breathlessly, rolling your head into the pillow.

“Mhm,” he confirmed, nibbling and pressing lovebites into the soft flesh of your thighs. “Never took off my helmet.”

You moaned something incoherent when the curve of his nose rubbed against your clit and you felt the warmth of his breath fan over your core.

“It’s good Din, so good,” you sighed longingly. “You’re doing so good. Please don’t stop.”

So Din kept at it until eventually you were a heaving, quivering mess, and he drove out your second orgasm. When he pulled away from you, a trail of his saliva pulled between your wet cunt and his lips, but he immediately licked himself clean and leaned over your body so he could kiss you again. The way you could taste yourself on his mouth felt so erotic.

You pulled his hard and leaking cock from the confines of his underwear and began to pump at his length. He was hot and heavy, and somehow, he was even better than you had imagined. Even as you stroked him, you yearned for him, and you could feel your cunt clench around nothing as you wished for him to fuck you already.

Din loved how you were a needy, squirming mess beneath him. He positioned himself at your entrance and slowly pushed his engorged tip inside of you, taking a few moments to allow you to adjust to his length. The wet noises as he thrusted into you were lewd and obscenely loud, and if you were with anyone else you might’ve felt embarrassed -- but as Din built up his rhythm and held on to your hips, you couldn’t even think straight enough to feel embarrassed.

“Din,” you cried out, letting your fingers curl in his brown locks of hair. “Oh Din.”

His own hips began to stutter and with a loud gasp, you felt his cock convulse inside of you and a spurt of his creamy hot seed rope your walls.

Din let himself soften inside of you as he caught his breath, eventually rolling off you and laying by your side. He wrapped his arms around you and spooned you, whispering sweet nothings into your ear until eventually, you fell asleep in his arms.

“You will reclaim Mandalore,” he whispered, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. “I promise.”

_________________________________________

Borrowed Time taglist in the replies!

Permanent taglist: @paintballkid711 @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @xoxo-callie @stardust-galaxies​ @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal l @castiel-barnes @honeymandos @rocketqueen @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth @moth-guillotine @pedro-pascal-love @hayley-the-comet @pinkninja200 @maxiarapamaya @autumnleaves1991-blog @artsymaddie @harrys-stan @kennedywxlsh @cripplingmoon @cheekygeek05 @mrschiltoncat @rye-flower @theamuz @persie33 @sleepylunarwolf @martellthemandalor @pedro-pastel @steeevienicks @rrtxcmt @saphic-susperia @beskarprincessjenny @readsalot73 @softmedics @jade10077 @dodgerandevans @planetariumx @pascals-cat @ajeff855 @spideysimpossiblegirl @smoldjarin

[candlewaxandp0lar0ids]

if I can never give you peace — one || Jungkook

Pairing: Jungkook x reader // Word count (chapter): 6k // Genre: Mafia AU, Hybrid AU, enemies to lovers // Ao3

↳ It starts like quite a few stories do, in your world. Girl meets boy, who happens to be a hybrid, girl buys him at an auction where hybrids are sold, boy falls in love with her, girl gets bored of him. Then it’s not so typical anymore, when the boy ends up forced into illegal fighting rings, until he makes a wrong move and the girl’s father decides he needs to be killed.

Where does that leave you? Well, you’re the one who handled Jungkook’s fight and generally organized his life, and, when the girl’s father, your boss and mafia leader, tells you he wants him ‘put down’, you’re the one who has to get it done. Except, instead, you let him escape, and everything turns out fine.

Until he comes back.

Warnings and tags (chapter): Descriptions of violence, Minor Character Death, Guns, kind of dark in general

Previous · Next

The first gunshot takes everyone by surprise. Unsure glances are exchanged all around, “did you guys hear that”, and disbelief is clear as day on people’s faces. There’s no way this would happen here, right? People are mostly aware of the fact that they’re technically working for a mafia leader, but this is the legal side of the business, and this building is in the middle of the town’s business centre. This cannot be happening.

You stay perfectly still, immobile where you were standing. Out of all the people here, you’re the one who is the most involved in the questionable parts of the family’s activities. In fact, you were just about to go up to Mr. X’s floor to discuss said questionable things — in this case, the smuggling of a large cargo of weapons.

The gunshot is still ringing in your ears when it is followed by another one, and then possibly more, but you can’t hear them because chaos erupts all around you.

People get up, start running around, some towards the elevators, some towards the stairs. Your brain tells you those choices are probably bad. If those gunshots are for the Family — and who are you kidding, they are — then whoever is firing them is coming up.

“Don’t use the stairs,” you order, and some people stop to look at you, unsure of what to do. They trust your decisions, to a degree, but you doubt it’s enough in this situation. “They’re probably coming,” you explain, even if three of the employees have already slipped through the door and left, “and I don’t think you should be in front of the elevator when the door opens.”

Blood drains from people’s faces. Downstairs, there are more shots fired. A woman starts to cry. Your brain is going in overdrive, processing everything, trying to come up with the best decision, and yet it doesn’t feel like anything is actually registering.

“You should barricade yourself in a room,” you say. Your voice is eerily calm, even to your ears, and it feels strange to hear it. It’s like a curtain has fallen between you and the world around you. You understand that this situation is terrifying, that you should have a reaction that is not apathy. You just don’t. “I don’t think you’re the main targets here. I’ll be going up to see Mr. X.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” a man shouts. “You just want to leave us here to be canon fodder! You—”

He’s shut up by your bodyguard pulling out a gun of his own.

“I suggest you do what she’s saying,” he orders, voice deep and gravelly.

On top of being armed, Hector is a bear hybrid you hired about a year ago. He’s tall and large, very impressive physically, which is generally enough to discourage any kind of altercation. He’s also a calm and gentle person most of the time. This is the first time you’ve ever seen him hold the gun he carries.

“You should stay here with them,” you tell him. He send you a disconcerted look.

“Are you sure? Even if they’re not the target, you might be.”

The statement shouldn’t take you by surprise. It’s something you should have considered immediately, and it takes you a second to figure out why you haven’t. If you are a target, that means the attacker knows about the workings of the organization. That would mean that they’ve been planning this for a while, and that they’ve simply gone completely under your radar all this time. Which is a lot more worrying to you than anything else.

“Stay,” you insist. When this is over, it will be better if people here think you had their best interest at heart.

If you make it out, that is.

Hector ushers people inside a conference room, and you walk towards the stairs. From there, you hear gunshots better than you did earlier, and you wince at the sound. You’re not used to it. It’s strange, since you’ve been working for the Family for years now, but you’ve very rarely heard people firing guns. You’ve never even had a gun pulled on you. You’d like to think it’s because you’re too careful, or too smart to find yourself in those situations, but the truth is you’ve just never been in situations where that sort of things would happen.

Sure, someone could send a killer for you — they have, actually — and then the carefully crafted net of precautions you’ve woven around yourself would — did — stop them, but you don’t participate in drug deals and you’re rarely out in the street, and that’s where those things happen most of the time.

You glance down. You’re on the fifteenth floor, so you doubt the employees who ignored your warning have made it out yet. You doubt they will, to be honest.

Glancing up, you wonder if you’ll make it to the twentieth before someone catches up with you and, since it’s a useless thing to think about, you begin your ascension. You’re not the most in shape, most of your daily exercise consisting in walking from places to places. That is a lot of walking, and you can do it without getting breathless, but you never take the stairs. Soon, you’re panting, and you’re about to take a break after three floors when you hear new gunshots that make you freeze.

These were in the stairwell. They echo deafeningly, and, for the first time since this all started, fear actually grips you. You swallow, heart beating loudly, and you keep going. You hear some screams, down there, and the horrible sound of flesh — bodies — hitting the floor, and then nothing. You’re sure someone must be climbing up those stairs, but you can’t hear them at all, and that terrifies you. You have no idea how fast they are, how soon they’ll catch up with you, how—

You slam open the door to the last floor. The time is not to discretion, and anyway, whoever is down there is probably coming for the twentieth floor.

The second you walk out, three guns are pointed towards you, and someone is screaming at you to stay where you are. You obey, until Mr. X’s bodyguards identify you. You had told him that hiring hybrids would be a good idea, since they rely more on their heightened senses and tend to have better reflexes, but you’d been ignored, so you had just shrugged it off and followed your own advice.

“Mr. X is inside,” one of the men tells you, pointing at the door, but not moving to take you there. You walk by him, and they all keep their eyes firmly on the stairwell’s door. That makes you assume the elevators don’t work, otherwise they’d have part of their focus on there.

“Mr. X, do we have any idea what— Miss Xanders, I apologize, I hadn’t seen you there.”

“It’s fine, (Y/N),” Anna says. “We really have more important things to concern ourselves with.”

“Do we know who’s attacking us?” you ask, giving your attention back to Mr. Xanders.

Mr. Xanders is an old man, you feel that he was already an old man when you’d joined. He had Anna quite late, when he was nearing his fifties, and he recently celebrated his seventieth birthday. You would know, you organized the party.

He’s looked old for as long as you’ve worked for him, using a walking stick, small eyes hidden behind large glasses, skin marked with wrinkles. But there was always something sharp and smart, cunning, in his eyes. Despite everything, he felt dangerous, and you had never doubted that he was not a man to underestimate.

Right now, though, he looks tired. Exhausted. He’s staring at his laptop screen and shaking his head, utterly confused.

“I can’t recognize anyone,” he says, and your heart misses a beat. Not good, that’s not good at all. “Can you?”

You walk around the desk quickly, examining the view you get from various cameras placed all around the building, and your hands involuntarily clench into fists as you see how dire everything is. On several different floors, men with machine guns are walking around, and you know for a fact they’re not working for you. You can’t see what’s happened to your people in the low-resolution, but you can guess, and your stomach tightens at the thought.

“How is that possible?” you whisper. “How has no one intervened yet?”

You know the police isn’t too keen on coming here, but this is genuinely insane. The only explanation you can think of is that they’ve been paid-off, and again, you don’t know how you wouldn’t have heard about that.

“That’s not what I asked you,” Mr. X says harshly, and you wince, focusing again on the men on the screen. You scan the men again, quickly. Some are wearing masks, but a lot of them are brazenly showing their faces, and that is one more thing that is not good. They should want to make sure no one would recognize them. If they’re confident enough to do that…

“I don’t know them,” you whisper. Some look vaguely familiar, but you just can’t place it, so you’re sure they aren’t big names. You have definitely not been on the look-out for them.

“Dad, we should really go up to the helicopter,” Anna says urgently.

Mr. Xanders hesitates, then nods, getting up in a movement that is slow and clearly painful. You help him out without thinking much about it, holding his arm and giving him his walking stick.

“How will you do that? The elevators aren’t working and the stairs don’t go to the roof.”

“We’ll reactivate the elevators,” Anna explains with a shrug, and you stare at her in disbelief.

“That will mean those people will be able to move freely in the building. I don’t think—”

“They are already moving freely,” Mr. Xanders barks.

“Still—”

Then, a lot of things happen at the same time. You were standing in front of the elevator, Anna calling it with a special key, the bodyguards surrounding you, eyes and weapons still directed at the stairwell door.

The elevator opens with a ding. And the door slams open.

There are gunshots everywhere. You dive to the ground, or maybe you’re pushed down, you’re not too sure. You look up to see two men falling down around you, the third guard ushering Anna and her father in. You try to push yourself to your feet, but the door is already closing. You call out, you can’t hear your own voice, ears ringing from all the noise.

You meet Anna’s eyes, filled with indifference and a complete lack of remorse, and then the door is closed, and you know they’re gone.

And someone, someone who wanted them dead and just killed two men, is in this room with you.

Slowly, oh so slowly, you turn around. As you do, you feel your lower lip starting to tremble, and you sink your teeth into the flesh to stop it. You push yourself on your elbows, and your eyes fall on a man with bleached blonde hair pushed back with a bandana, a round face that makes him look younger than you suspect he is, and a mocking smirk. Once more, you’re struck by the fact that you don’t know him. He’s alone and he took out two trained guards, not to mention the people he must have killed to get there, and you have no clue who he is.

His eyes confuse you, at first, and then you realize it’s their color that is throwing you off, an unnatural yellow, and the slit of his pupils. He’s a hybrid, you understand, and you curse yourself for how slow your brain is at the moment. You don’t have time to wonder if he’s part cat or part snake before he takes a step towards you. Fear grips you, and you consider crawling back, but you force yourself to stay unmoving. You don’t let emotions control you. That’s not who you are.

Instead, you stare at him straight in the eyes, even as you feel tears well up in yours. You’ve never been afraid of death, and yet it seems that you can’t stop your body’s reaction as you understand that this is it. This is how you die, where you die, this is who kills you.

The man crouches down in front of you, and lifts his gun to press the barrel against your forehead. He looks at you like an animal playing with its food. The situation seems to be amusing to him, and you think he is waiting for you to beg. You have no intention of doing that.

“Just make it quick,” you say.

You don’t recognize your own voice. The man’s smile widens, revealing pearly white teeth and a set of fangs. Tears start to roll down your cheeks, and you’re completely unable to stop them. You don’t feel sad or afraid, you just feel empty, but the tears keep falling. Still, you hold the man’s gaze. You won’t beg for your life.

“What if I let you go?” he drawls, and you can’t help the way your eyes widen at the possibility. Then, he laughs, pleased by your reaction, and you’re horrified to find out that this had an effect on you. The treacherous hope you’d just felt makes the reality of your imminent death crushing. A sob escapes you before you can get yourself under control again.

“Please,” you whisper. “Just get it over with.”

A pout forms on his face, and he shrugs. Then, to your surprise, he removes the gun from your forehead. The next thing you feel is the grip of the weapon, violently connecting with your temple, and then you don’t feel anything at all, not even the floor when your head hits it in your fall.

You wake up to the sound of soft, muffled sobs. It takes you a few seconds to piece things together, your head throbbing painfully and your mind in shambles. You lift your head with a groan, trying to take in your surroundings. Your thoughts are slow and you hate it. It makes you feel so vulnerable and defenseless.

Of course, that gets worse when you realize your hands are tied behind your back. That sends a jolt of adrenaline through your body, and you manage to look around you. It seems like you are in some warehouse, which, in your experience, is not a good thing. That’s where executions happen. They’re places that are accident prone, so the presence of blood could be explained easily, and they aren’t inspected that often anyway.

There's another sob beside you, and when you turn to look where it’s coming from, you find Anna, not just tied up but gagged, tears streaming down her cheeks. You assume that means her and her father were caught before they made it to the helicopter. On the other side of her is Mr. X, who seems to be in the same situation as her.

I’m here to be killed, you think. You can’t see another explanation. Mr. X and Anna are definitely here for that reason, so if you’re there with them— it means you’re here to die. You hope it will be quick, like you had asked that man, but you doubt it. If they took you here, it’s probably because they intend to make an example out of you. Intellectually, you don’t blame them. If this is a takeover of the family, they’ll probably need all the intimidation power they can get to keep the situation under control. It’s a ballsy move, certainly, and you would be at least a little impressed if you weren’t thinking about the creative and painful ways they can choose to get rid of you.

“Is she awake?” a voice asks. You turn your head quickly, too quickly, and another groan escapes you as your head painfully reminds you of the blow you just took.

You meet the mocking eyes of the man who knocked you out, before he looks away from you, at a large man you don’t think you’ve seen before.

“He wants to see her.”

The man nods, and then he’s on you in just a few steps, roughly forcing you up, his grip tight around your arm. You groan again as he drags you through the warehouse, to a large black car. You have just the time to think that someone must not want to be seen, if they’re in that, before you’re pushed into it. You lose your balance and land on your knees, and that’s when legs appear in your field of vision. They’re clad in black suit trousers.

You slowly look up. First, you discover elbows resting on spread knees, tattooed hands joined between them. Then there’s an elegant white shirt, unbuttoned at the top, muscular shoulders, a strong jaw, an amused, mocking smile and—

Your mouth drops open. Today is definitely proving to be a trying day for your reputation of never expressing your emotions, no matter the situation.

“Jungkook?” you ask, in disbelief.

Because it’s him. There’s something harsher in his eyes, his hair is longer, dark locks falling down to his jaw, and he’s lost any remaining softness he still had two years ago, when you last saw him, but it’s definitely him. He looks confident, and he’s more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him, clearly knowing that he’s in full control of the situation.

“Hey,” he says. “Wanna take a seat?”

He watches you struggle to get to your feet, something that turns out not to be that easy when your hands are tied behind your back, and doesn’t make a movement to help you. When you manage to sit opposite him, you’re still watching him like you’ve seen a ghost.

“What are you doing here?”

You know you should be able to piece things together to get an answer now. The deferential tone the man had when he talked about him earlier, everything that happened since these first gunshots… In another situation, it would be obvious to you. But because it’s Jungkook, you can’t bring yourself to come to the natural conclusion.

Jungkook had an out. He could have left this world behind altogether. So why wouldn’t he?

“Come on, you’re supposed to be smart,” he says, mocking, and his smile is harsh and condescending. “I’m taking over for the Xanders family. I think that should have been pretty clear.”

There’s a moment of silence, a long moment, as he waits for it to sink in. He’s in no hurry.

“But why?”

He shrugs, lean back against the leather seat.

“Because I can. Don’t you wanna why you’re here?”

That… would be a good idea, actually, and you’re bothered by how long it took you to think about it. You’re also bothered by how you lost track of that the second you saw Jungkook. You blame it on the surprise and on the fact that you’ve known him since before you became as— you’d like to say ‘efficient’, but the right word is probably ‘emotionless’. Empty.

“Why am I here?” you ask, frowning. If he wanted to kill you, he would have done it outside. It could be that he just wants to gloat, but something tell you he has—

“I have an offer for you,” he says, and then he grins and reveals his teeth. “It’s my way of saying thanks for how generous you were when you gave me five minutes to save my life.”

His tone is so abrasive it almost makes you wince, but you’re already falling back into your normal self. ‘Offer’ is a good thing, it means negotiation, conversation, things you can do, things you’re good at, things you can focus on to block out everything else, like the pain in your head or the guilt that settles in when he describes your actions.

“What offer?”

The grin disappears. He doesn’t seem happy he didn’t get a reaction from you.

“Work for me.”

That… makes sense, you suppose.

“I’m taking over for Mr. X. You know everything around here, and some people say you’re the best there is at what you do.” Then he shrugs, and casually pulls out a gun that you think was tucked in his back pocket. “That, or join him out there. I’m not sure you’ll like the outcome for that though.”

Despite the obvious threat, you can’t help but seriously consider the offer. If there’s one thing you’re sure of, it’s that it’s not a good one. Even if he manages to replace Mr. X, you doubt all the people who work for him will obey him. Stabilizing the whole thing will be a titanic task, but that’s not even what worries you — you can appreciate a challenge. No, the issue is that if you switch your allegiance, people will remember it. You will make a lot of enemies, and that doesn’t even include the people who simply will not trust you because you used to work for someone else. It’s a poisoned gift, really, and you’re sure Jungkook knows it.

“How do you plan on making the families follow suit?” you ask with a frown.

He rolls his eyes.

“Do people ever tell you how boring you are?”

They do, actually.

“This is not the only coup happening today. Some people who have already agreed to work for me will get in power. And the others… will take some convincing, but I’m sure they’ll come around.” He gives you a joyless, aggressive smile.

You’re still focused on his first words. You were already so puzzled that you wouldn’t have heard about what’s going on today — about how Jungkook is back in town, about how he’s been planning an entire takeover — but this is on a whole other level.

“How did you do that?” you ask, and when he lifts an eyebrow, you know you didn’t manage to keep your surprise out of your voice.

“Which part?”

“How did I not hear about that? I mean, Mr. X could sneeze and I would have known about it. People couldn’t open speakeasies without getting approved by me first — and they tried more than once.”

Jungkook looks at you, and disbelief passes on his face. This is what gets you? You couldn’t be bothered to give a shit about anything earlier, now you seem barely affected by the fact that he was threatening to kill you, but that caught your interest. Not just that, but you almost look impressed.

Okay, maybe you’re not as boring as he’d said, but you sure are fucking weird.

“We can smell you,” he says, tapping his nose. “It’s not too hard to figure out who you’re in contact with. Just had to make sure to avoid them. There were a few close calls, but we took care of it.” Then he shrugs. “It wasn’t as hard as you think it was. You’re not as cautious around hybrids.”

You stare at him for a while. He starts picking at his suit, looking annoyed by the turn the situation has taken, and you think about what he said. He’s right, you realize. You fucked up here — badly. You should have taken hybrids’ senses into consideration. You’d like to tell yourself that you didn’t think about it because there were no hybrids in high places, in the organization, but that’s not a good excuse. You file the information in your brain. You’ll do better.

“I’ll do it,” you say, and Jungkook glances at you.

“What changed your mind?”

“I’m— curious, I suppose. I’d like to see where this thing is going.”

Jungkook considers taking back his offer. He didn’t know what he thought would happen, but he expected it to be more interesting than this. Instead, you sat there, face as stiff as ever, and now you’re talking about being curious, which sounds wildly out of character, if you ask him. Yoongi’s told him you cried when you thought he was about to kill him, but he doubts it right now. It doesn’t look like anything can get through that thick shell of yours — and even if it did, he doesn’t think there would be a lot underneath it.

But the thing is, he was telling the truth earlier, when he said you were rumored to be the best there was at your job, and Jungkook is nothing if not a perfectionist. He likes to surround himself with the best. Which, unfortunately, means you.

“Suga!” he shouts, opening the door.

The man with the slit pupils jumps in easily, and looks at you with a disapproving twist of his lips.

“I’m not killing her, am I?”

He sounds disappointed.

Jungkook shakes his head in response.

“That’s Suga,” he tells you, pointing at the man. “He’ll explain how we work to you.”

You nod.

“I think he should kill you,” Suga informs you off-handedly, dropping on the seat next to you. “I think you’ll betray us.”

“If she does, I’ll kill her, if she fucks up her job, I’ll kill her, ” Jungkook says, and you have no doubt he means it. “Consider this your five minutes. Let them go, and you won’t have another shot.”

“That’s fine by me,” you say evenly. Betrayal has never been an option for you. You had no loyalty towards Mr. X, but the threat over your family was too big to risk it. And now, with Jungkook— you guess you’ll have to wait and see. You don’t think you’ll betray him, but if things turn sour… You suppose you’re not above it.

Maybe it should worry you, how little you value your own life, but you brush it off quickly. Thinking about it too much could compromise the way you do your job, and you can’t have that.

“So,” Jungkook says, leaning back, eyes watching you carefully. “What do you suggest we do with the Xanders?”

Suga opens his mouth, but Jungkook lifts a hand, signaling that he wants your answer. You wonder if this is some kind of test.

“Killing them would be the best decision,” you say, somewhat reluctantly. You know your decisions in the past, your suggestions, have lead to the death of people, but you’ve rarely been so direct about it. Then again, death is part of the game, when you work this kind of job. Mr. Xanders is about as close to an actual monster as it gets. And Anna… Well, maybe Anna isn’t. You don’t like her, and you absolutely believe that she was happy to enjoy everything that came with what her father did, but she’s not him. Which is a low bar to clear.

“She’s not wrong,” Suga echoes, sounding annoyed.

“Letting them live would be seen as a proof of weakness and they would try to come back. It’s just— a bad idea.”

You can see Jungkook’s jaw tensing. Next to you, Suga starts to make his leg shake. You suppose he has the same kind of bad feeling you do.

“What if we kill Mr. X but not Anna?” he asks, and Suga groans. Jungkook rolls his eyes and develops. “Yoongi, we’re not taking over the legal part of the business. We can just— leave that to her, and not bother about it.”

“We’ll have to figure out something else to launder money,” you say, because that was the main point of that side of things, legal just in name really. That is not your biggest concern, though. “But if you kill her father and not her—”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Yoongi snaps. “She needs to die.”

He’s right. It’s just the smart thing to do.

“People here aren’t impressed by mercy,” you insist, and that’s when you realize you’ve lost that fight already. Jungkook knows it. There’s no way he doesn’t. He’s made his decision, even if it’s a bad one, and trying to change his mind is useless. So you’re quick to jump to the things that need to be done if he lets Anna live. “You need to get her to sign emancipation papers.”

Jungkook tenses suddenly at the suggestion and a low growl comes from his throat as he bares his teeth at you threateningly. Yoongi barely moves, but you see his hand settling on his hip, near his gun, which you guess serves as a reassuring gesture. The car fills with tension, and you swallow. You feel small and defenseless. It’s not that rare a sentiment, but you suddenly become extremely aware of the fact that you’re alone with them, hands still fucking tied behind your back, and there’s absolutely nothing you can do.

“Anna doesn’t own me,” Jungkook snarls.

“Legally she does,” you explain. You’re choosing your words carefully, making sure not to anger him any more, but you’re still staring right at him. “You may have forged an ID or something, but if she lives and she can prove she hasn’t freed you— the consequences will be bad.”

There is a second that feels like an eternity, Jungkook just staring at you, lips now in a tight line, before he shrugs and you can breathe again.

“Okay. Let’s do that.”

Yoongi groans and sends you a furious glare that you don’t understand. You agreed with him. What did you do to deserve that?

“I’ll take care of Xanders,” Jungkook adds. “C’mon. Let’s go.”

“Can someone— Can someone untie me?” you ask as they’re moving towards the door.

Jungkook glances at you.

“We’ll see when we come back.”

A grin flashes on his lips when your lips twist into an offended expression, and then he jumps out of the car, followed by Yoongi, and leaves you alone in there.

Fuck.

What an asshole.

Jungkook walks towards his captives with long, confident strides. Yoongi is right behind him, of course, his shadow, the perfect killer. He may disapprove of Jungkook’s plan, if you can even call it that, and he sure doesn’t like how easily you dropped the topic, but he’s still loyal to him. If he fucks up, he’ll clean up after him.

Jungkook savors the moment when Anna’s eyes fall on him. He can tell she recognizes him immediately by the way they widen and how she tries to speak through her gag. It’s been years since the last time he saw her. Much longer than the last time he saw you, which leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. He’s thought about this so much. A long time ago, he dreamt of her telling him she wanted him back, but over the years, it mostly turned into him finally taking revenge, and he intends to fully savor it now that it’s happening.

He removes the gag from her mouth, and takes an unhealthy pleasure from the way she sobs out, loud and desperate.

“Jungkook, Jungkook, baby, please, please…”

Jungkook only needs to glance at Yoongi for him to set her free, albeit after an annoyed roll of his eyes. The second he does, Anna falls from the chair, right into his arms. Jungkook knows that she’s only trying to save her life, doubts she’s thought of him for more than a split second since he’s disappeared, but that doesn’t mean he’s not going to enjoy it.

“Hey baby,” he grins, and he watches as she winces when she sees his sharp teeth. Right, she didn’t see him after that.

Fuck. It’s been a long, long time. She really didn’t give a fuck about him, huh?

And yet he can’t kill her. And yet he knows her bright, pleading eyes, the light weight of her body, the curve of her neck by heart.

“I’m going to need you to do something for me,” he says, voice deep and eyes boring into hers.

She blinks.

“And if I do you won’t— you won’t kill me?”

Jungkook’s opinion of Anna is far less charitable than yours. He thinks she’s an opportunist, will do anything to preserve herself and, sure, she’s not personally involved in her father’s business, but she wouldn’t bat an eye if she was. She likes to play the innocent girl who’s horrified by what’s going on with her family, but she just isn’t. As simple as that.

“Nah. I won’t.”

It doesn’t take long before Anna is kneeling on the floor, writing down what Yoongi is dictating to her, reading from his phone. Jungkook could do it, knows the text by heart, learned it a long time ago when he still hoped for it, but he just stays there immobile instead, watching her at his mercy.

It’s not as nice as he’d imagined.

Finally, she hands him the piece of paper with trembling hands, a small smile forming on her lips as she thinks that her nightmare is over.

Jungkook takes it, reads it over, and nods. Then he pulls his gun out, and Anna’s smile vanishes. Jungkook thrives on her reaction, on the idea that he has complete power over her in that moment. It feels dark and twisted, but fuck, it also feels good.

“But I—”

He shoots and Anna yelps, protecting her ears in reflex.

It takes her a second to realize he wasn’t aiming at her, and relief washes over her, before she understands what it means. She turns around, slowly. And screams.

A clean shot, Jungkook decides, looking at Mr. X. The man had been glaring at him the entire time, and he doubts he would have groveled like Anna had. Now, his blood is splattered on the floor, head thrown back, mouth open, staring at the ceiling with empty, dead eyes. Jungkook doesn’t care when Anna runs to him, sobbing, calling for him, trying to shake him awake.

“We’re going,” Jungkook announces to Yoongi, who finally seems a little less angry with him.

He doesn’t look back at Anna as he walks away.

You rub your wrists, then your shoulders after Yoongi has cut you free. Jungkook doesn’t say anything about it, just sits back in the luxurious car. You thought he would look content, happy with himself. He doesn’t.

When the car stops in front of your building, you’re not sure what to do. Part of you still can’t believe he’s letting you live.

“We’ll come and get you tomorrow to get things started,” Jungkook informs you while staring out the window. “You know, you probably should have moved two years ago,” he adds, and for some reason, that really rubs you the wrong way.

“I changed the locks,” you answer, and he grins.

“You still haven’t figured out how I did it, right?”

You frown. You haven’t.

He looks genuinely pleased by that.

“What should I call you?” you ask. “Do you want to be the new Mr. X?”

He growls at the suggestion, but seriously thinks about your question.

“Call me— Call me Mr. Jeon,” he decides spontaneously, without explaining his decision, and you nod. This should help make things more professional, isn’t if this isn’t actually a professional setting.

“Fine, Mr. Jeon. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You’re pleased to find that your voice is back to normal, calm and even, not letting anyone know of whatever you’re feeling.

Except Jungkook and Yoongi can probably hear how fast your heart is still beating, but that’s a problem you’ll have to deal with some other time.

You step out, and linger there a second too long, the door open. Finally, you gather the courage to turn around and look at Jungkook.

“Why are you back?”

You mean a lot by that. In the city, sure, but also in that setting. You’d always thought— you’d always thought Jungkook was better than that. You’d always thought he should get the opportunity to get away and he’d be fine. That’s something you can’t shake away, can’t push under the rug.

He couldn’t escape.

He stares at you blankly.

“Where else am I supposed to go?”

Then he leans in and closes the door, and you’re left alone on the pavement.

Tagging list: @chaiwivluv​ @mintyrae​

[sasuhinasno1fan]

A wish for a different life - Adrien AUGreste Day 15

A little late but here we go. It's almost over! I don't know if I'd write a fully fleshed out story with this idea. The timeline in terms of how I watched the episodes was a bit all over the place, but I hoped you guys like it. Hopefully I won't be late with tomorrow's chapter.

Freedom

Adrien wrapped foil around the curls he was trying to make for his wig, desperate to ignore that item sitting on his desk. It was a bit hard when one of those items was currently eating the cheese he and his mom had spent the evening making.

“Blacky wants you to take over.” Was what Plagg said in response for getting an answer.

“Take over being Catseye? I’ve done this twice, how on earth could she think I was better suited for this? She’s been doing this since before I was living here.”

“She likes Roaar better.”

Adrien decided then and there that he wasn’t going to touch the whole situation and left the box on his table. And then hide it in his closet when the nerves that Hawkmoth would track the ring down came to mind. He left the apartment the next morning with his mom talking about how a co-worker was going to be giving mozzarella curds and they were going to make his nonna’s recipe, also how excited she was that Luka said yes to the date. His friends were also excited, Juleka teasing him and in a Rose like move, grabbed his hands a lot to tell him how honestly happy she was that he and her brother were going out.

“He really likes you and he’s really excited.”

The date was pushed back for a week, Luka really wanting to have a good pay check for their date, refusing to listen to Adrien when he said he’d pay.

“Next time. I just want to make this first date special.” Luka explained when he came over during lunch, despite the fact he was supposed to be online for class.

He continued to ignore what was in his room when he got home to find his mother had gotten everything set up and they spent the rest of the evening making mozzarella until it was in tiny balls and oozing in creamy goodness. He did bring Plagg some, but for the most part, he focused on homework and trying to work on his next cosplay, pretending the box didn’t exist.

Except it did. It existed in the back of his head and would go away. Why had Catseye given the Miraculous to him? She was a great hero, pretty amazing actually since he’d been on the end of getting rescued a fair few times. He was a fan and a huge supporter of her; he hadn’t forgotten his argument with Alya about her role as a hero. He’d used the Miraculous twice, one because she couldn’t at the time and the other because she needed to use another and she trusted him with it. She and Scarlet Bug worked like a well-oiled machine the last time he saw them, so what happened?

He needed answers. Plagg was being vague so there was only one other person he could ask.

“Do they do patrols?” he asked, pulling the flat iron away from his wig.

“they’ve got one planned tonight at 10 pm. It’s never long since they just report any crimes to Roger and such and focus on any possible akumatizations. It’s rare they happen late though. Only way your gonna meet him at the meeting spot is with the ring though. Besides, you can change how you look with the same Miraculous. No more Cat Walker.”

Adrien bit his lip and looked at the clock. 9:45. He had no clue how this hero thing worked when he wasn’t being chased by an Akuma so he thought he might as well get practise in.

He put away his things, made his alibi with his mom to going to sleep and stuffed a pillow under his covers. He felt weird lying to his mom like this. He never had a reason to lie about big things. Small lies, sure, who didn’t, but something like this? He wanted, so badly, to tell her. But Hawkmoth was lethal. Hero Day was nearly a massive mess when he decided to finally show himself. The scarlet butterflies were scary and it felt like it was confirmation of just how far he’d go for the Ladybug and Cat Miraculous. If he told his mom, there was a chance he’d find out and it would be the start of the End. It kept her safe, but he still hated it.

“Ready kitten?”

“Ready. Plagg, Claws Out!”

This time as the black magic covered his body, he thought about how he wanted to look. He checked the mirror and couldn’t help but smile. Black leather with green accents, steel toe boots and a set of real tail and ears. He even added a slight nod to Catseye with a green ribbon and bell on his collar. He carefully jumped out the window and before he knew it, he was in the air, using the baton to shoot himself higher. When he was Cat Walker, it felt easy. His body somehow knew what to do. It was odd but in leather, more than in that uniform, he felt like he could do anything. He felt like the leather was his access to freedom. Adrien was never gearing to become a hero. He still mostly wanted answers, but there was a part of himself, a part that sang as he called himself Chat Noir, that felt like he could do anything and that the world was his oyster.

He finally landed on the roof of a high-class apartment building that overlooked the Eifel Tower. Leaning on the railing in his spotted red and black, was Scarlet Bug. With him, dressed in purple and a tail, was Tigresse Pourpre, Catseye with the Tiger Miraculous.

“So does someone want to explain what’s going on?”

“Wow, look at you.” Scarlet Bug complimented. “I like this much better.”

“Very kind, but you’re not distracting me. Answers please. Catseye was prefect so…?”

“It was less of a ‘who’s the better holder’ and more of ‘this is who we bonded with more’.” Tigresse Pourpre started. “It wasn’t that I felt like I wasn’t a good holder. I know I am; I found a bit of courage wearing the ring, but it didn’t start out like that. I was terrified to put it on, not just because of the saving the city aspect but I felt like doing this would be taking a part of myself away. And honestly, I think that when you do what we do, you shouldn’t feel that scared and like your ripping a part of yourself. When I put on the panjas bracelet, something clicked. I don’t know if it was because I bonded with Roaar easier than I did Plagg or something else, but it felt like the piece of myself I was ripping away was part of me. It felt like, I was given a freedom I didn’t know I lost. I knew I had to trust Plagg and the ring with someone who could do an amazing job with it, and I choose you. not just because you’ve done it twice, but you’ve done it twice and made it look easy. From passing the other Miraculous to others, it’s felt that when it’s easy for them, it’s for a reason. It was meant to be with them.”

“But you were chosen.”

“because of a test. We’re not saying it’s a bad test, I just think the guardian put a lost of trust in one simple action. For all he knew, it could have been a fluke and we could have been horrible.” Scarlet Bug explained. “He’s right in thinking that there should only be two active ones, but it’s getting risky to have to leave in the middle of a fight and get a Miraculous and find the person to give it to. We’ve been trying to get him on board with a small permeant team. We’ll start with us 3 and go from there. Small permeant team and added allies when we need it.”

“People are going to have questions. Catseye disappears and…Chat Noir takes her place?”

“Well, that part we’ll get Alya’s help on. Not enough where Hawkmoth can start making guesses as to what’s going on, but an explanation that she’s still here but going by a different name. Plagg thinks you’re a great fit and so do we.”

Adrien looked down at the now black ring. They had it all figured out and he kept thinking about what Tigresse Pourpre said about feeling like she was ripping a part of herself away to wear the ring. He couldn’t imagine what it felt like to feel a pressure in doing something. Yes, being a hero, especially one as young as he was, was a pressure filled thing, but there still has to be a part of you that wants to do it.

And he wanted to.

“Ok. If you think this can work, I’ll do it.”

                                         ___________________

Plagg was purring away on his pillow while Adrien kept looking at the ring now adorning his hand. Was this scary what he agreed to do? Of course, it was. But he wasn’t doing this alone. He had Scarlet Bug and Tigresse Pourpre and the Kwamis. He was nervous to meet the guardian when they decided it would be best. He remembered hearing the two heroes complain about him, especially when it came to Catseye being involved. It reminded him of his whole rant he had to Luka. he wondered what he’d think if he was allowed to be told.

He wondered if Luka would hear the song of being free ringing in his heart. It felt it was screaming since he put on the leather. He wondered why though, when he felt like his life was amazing already? Why would there be a part of him screaming for freedom?

[fandomlovingfreak]

Glacial Passion (7/?)

Regulus Black/Reader

Rating: NSFW (at end of chapter)

Trigger Warning: Arranged Marriage, sexual content (consensual)

Word Count: 3715

MasterList Link I AO3 Link I Wattpad Link

Summary: Glacial, cold, icy… all words that described Regulus Black’s grey eyes. Was there truly no emotion behind those eyes, or did a caring man exist beneath? Could she defrost those glacial eyes?

Disclaimer: Regulus Black (Walburga Black, Orion Black, and Sirius Black) is a character from Harry Potter by J.K. Rowling. Reader or y/n is not owned by Rowling. This work has not been created for profit or financial compensation, and is a transformative fair use work in accordance with Section 107 of the United States Copyright Act.

Notes: No notes really. Sorry for the wait.

Enjoy

***

Mother & Father,

(y/n) and I will be continuing our honeymoon for at least an extra week. We will be traveling outside of Paris. I will send an owl once we are settled in the hotel.

Walburga stares down at the letter. 

Cold shock fills her at her new daughter-in-law willingly is staying past the allotted time Regulus had planned for the couple's honeymoon. 

Walburga thought them to be so indifferent about one another that they would have arrived home days earlier than planned, not extend their time alone together.

Hopefully, though, this meant the next heir of the House of Black would be on the way.

Part of her knows her son will continue to be stubborn, casting those infernal charms. Walburga didn't understand why her son insisted on-- engaging with his wife if he was just going to waste the attempt with a literal flick of his wand. The way he ignored his duties to his birthright was infuriating. She had thought she had raised this son to honor his pure blood and pedigree. To never ignore the responsibilities he had to his family.

Walburga glares at her husband. Blasted Orion had been the one to teach Regulus the contraceptive charm. Although she is glad no bastard children are running around, something she knew Regulus was aware could not happen, she wasn't happy that her golden boy is presently defying her wishes. If Orion hadn't insisted on taking her son to his-- whores, they wouldn't be in this position. Regulus shouldn't have been exposed to those dirty blood, good for nothing tarts. 

Tainting one's flesh was as good as tainting one's blood, in Walburga's mind. Not that she'd express her thoughts to anyone of their status. Men of Pureblood never seemed to view things of this matter as she did.

She knew this from experience.

Walburga sets the letter down on the breakfast table, "Regulus and (y/n) will be extending their-- holiday for another week yet."

"Is that right?" Orion says absentmindedly, continuing to scan the Prophet. She can tell he isn't listening to a word she says. Even after all these years, Orion's inattentiveness still boils her blood to an extent. You would think one would get used to being ignored, especially after all the years she has had to get used to it.

"I wonder where he will be taking our daughter-in-law."

"Yes, very weird."

Walburga's expression sours-- further. She snatches up the letter from Regulus and storms out of the breakfast room without another word.

***

I bustle around the room when Regulus is away, posting another letter. The afternoon and night before had been nice, to say the least. Regulus had been sweet, almost affectionate, the entire time we spent together. It was a big change in a short amount of time, which worried me a bit. Hopefully, he wouldn't revert back to his old ways in the next few days. Merlin-- I hope he won't at all.

I rearranged the bed pillows for the sixth time, trying to distract myself from my thoughts.

The door's key noise disturbs my thoughts as Regulus steps into the room.

"Hi," I rub my hands down the front of my dress.

We stare awkwardly at one another for a moment before he speaks.

"I've been thinking about traveling outside of Paris. Would you be interested in extending our-- honeymoon?" 

I'm taken aback by his sudden choice in conversation, "Where outside of Paris?"

"We can go wherever you please," he holds my hand, pulling me closer to his chest. This is the closest we've been since before he committed to trying our relationship out.

I clear my throat, "I-- guess that I'm just not really picky about where we go."

He smiles, "Well, then I guess you'll just have to trust that the places I want to go are places you want to go."

***

Together we pack up our belongings, casually swapping small talk.

"Do you want to write to your parents?" Regulus looks up from packing his trunk. "I mean, you haven't seen them since the wedding."

"What?" I give him a weird look, "No. I don't have anything to say to them."

Regulus looks slightly alarmed, "What do you mean?" 

"No offense to you, but my parents practically forced me to marry you. I'm not too keen on speaking with them right now."

"You shouldn't just-- I mean, they're your parents."

"Doesn't mean what they did wasn't insensitive. I wasn't theirs to just... give away."

He reflects on my words before taking my hand in his, squeezing comfortingly, "Sorry."

"For what? I know you were coerced into marrying me. It's not your fault."

"I know that. And at some level, I was pushed towards-- doing the right thing-- but I also had the right to refuse, and you were not granted such a right."

I nod, looking away as tears threatened at the corners of my eyes, "It doesn't matter--"

"No, it does matter. You do matter." I meet his eyes. They're steely, the furrowed brow and sour expression I know are not for me. "Don't you see why I use the bloody contraception charms now? They've taken too much from us already (y/n). They're not going to take that away from us as well."

I blink again, "That's why?"

"Of course it's why. We're not-- we're people for Merlin's sake. You're not property (y/n). I won't let anyone treat my wife like that." I'm not sure what to say to him. Thank you? Maybe that would be appropriate. "Besides, we're too young to think of such things. Maybe in ten years--"

"Ten years?" I laugh, "you really think I can keep them at bay for ten whole years? Your mother would be calling in every fertility specialist in the wizarding world, insistent that something must be wrong with me. Certainly, she wouldn't believe the problem was you."

Regulus sighs, "Okay, fine. Not ten years, maybe-- five?"

"Regulus," I laugh, "I know you don't like it. I am completely aware that you don't like being pushed around and knowing that I feel bad for trying to trick you into doing what I wish. But, like you said earlier. You can refuse, do as you please, but I only have one option laid out before me as your wife. And, I can't wait forever for you. I don't have that option. In a much wider social stance, people will talk and make my life miserable. Along with that, your mother and my own will also make my life miserable. There's nothing I'd like to do more than to-- take time for us, or even just me, but that just isn't the life we can lead."

Regulus looks down at his packing. I have to change the subject, feeling that we've exhausted this conversation enough for now.

"Who are you sending letters to?" 

Regulus looks up, "Well, the first one was for my brother, and the one this morning was for my parents."

"Oh, I didn't know you were talking to your brother." I'm suddenly reminded that Regulus hadn't answered my questions.

"So..."

"Yes?"

"Can I ask you now to tell me about your childhood now?"

Regulus looks uncomfortable immediately. He rubs the back of his neck, "Um-- Sure."

I reach for his arm, hoping that my touch is just a little bit comforting, "You don't have to, Regulus. If you don't want to."

"No," his eyes look so... serious as he collects his thoughts, "I want to be honest with you, and this is a part of who I am." I smile at him, my fingers moving to intertwine with his. "My parents are-- well, they clearly are in a situation like ours. Except it has been a very long time now, and nothing good came from the union."

"Well, not exactly nothing," I squeeze his hand.

Regulus rolls his eyes, "I'm not sure Sirius and I are something good, but okay, yes. Not everything was bad if you insist." His reserved smile has butterflies exploding in my stomach. "Anyways, my father has always chosen to be... well, he's always strayed from my mother. Even when I was a child, I'm sure he chose to be unfaithful even before Sirius and I. And-- uh..."

"What?" I'm not sure I want to know. He's developed a pink flush on his cheeks, not meeting my eye suddenly.

"Well, I was just going to-- confess, I suppose, about his favorite whorehouse."

Frowning, I ask what he means by confessing? What in the world is the connection between Orion's favorite whorehouse and Regulus.

It dawns on me exactly what he's confessing to, right as he speaks.

Regulus reddens further, "I'm sure you understand where I am going..."

I guess I have no reason to be upset over Regulus's past trysts. He was older than me, and most importantly, he was a pureblood man who was expected to... well, act as a pureblood man acts. And that included sleeping around as a bachelor, or in the Black family's case, sleeping with a select group of people their patriarch has chosen.

"Orion thought that we should uh-- learn in preparation for our marriages. Get out any wildness in our systems with the protection of women who were paid and wouldn't try to blackmail with a bastard child." 

I feel the cold glacial feeling of guilt rise up from the pit of my stomach all the way to my skin. Had I been-- Had I been causing him to relive a painful moment when I demanded--?

"And well, there are plenty of other things that were-- questionable about my parent's parenting style. My mother, you probably recognize she is a cruel, cold woman. A part of our recently exchanged letters, my brother and I were talking about a memory of our mother. Before she was the woman, you know, she was, well, a much more loving mother to the both of us. You actually were the one who brought forth the memory."

"I did?"

Regulus nods, reaching to cup my cheek in his hand, "It was the night we went to that-- the restaurant my father suggested. You said something about-- uh, a potential child giving you the love you seek from me."

I look away, feeling embarrassed by my words. To some extent, I do-- or did believe that having Regulus's heir, that a child's love could replace the feelings that should be between us as a couple.

"I--" I'm not even sure what to say. "That was wrong of me. I mean, eventually, it has to happen but pushing you-- or well attempting to trick you actually, because I thought..." What did I think? That he was hopeless? That I'd be stuck in a marriage that would parallel his parents and every other miserable Pureblood couple that has come before us.

"You have to remember that I am far from-- where you want me to be." Regulus's thumb traces under my eye, "But I certain I want what you've been asking me for."

***

Our packing takes longer than we'd expected as we spend more moments in conversation about our pasts, present, and hopeful future.

Regulus tells me about his first owl, a little brown owl originally named Maverick but nicknamed Rick because Regulus hadn't been able to pronounce it at age six. He tells me about family vacations that ended in disaster and his first date with a half-blood girl in year four that went terribly wrong. He reluctantly tells me about losing his virginity after I argue he already knew my story. With each moment, I feel more connected to him. How you feel at the beginning of the relationship when you're getting to know someone, the silly stuff that matters because you want to know them.

Checking out of the hotel is a bit-- strange, to say the least. As my husband talks to the witch at the front desk, who introduced herself to me as Seren, has been grinning an extra amount at Regulus, who appears to be oblivious to the flirtatious nature of the girl.

I'm surprised by the annoyance I feel as she flirts with my husband right in front of me. Without a second thought, I reach for his hand. I make sure that the ring Regulus gave me is obviously placed as I look Seren straight in the eye. Her eyes fall on the large purple jewel before her eyes shoot back up to mine. She at least has the decency to look embarrassed, her cheeks pinkening. Regulus frowns slightly at the interaction before going back to paying the witch.

I can't say that I'm not glad when we officially check out and walk out of the door. The jealousy is alarming, but what am I supposed to do when someone is ogling my husband? 

"I'm not completely oblivious, you know." Regulus glances at me, a small amused smile on his face.

"To what? The girl flirting with you?"

He chuckles, "That and your possessive behavior."

I look at him outraged, "I was not possessive."

He holds up my hand, "What was this about then? You casually wanted to hold my hand?"

"So what if I did?" 

Regulus rolls his eyes, "If that's what you really believe you were doing and not claiming me--"

"Claiming you?" I snatch my hand away.

"What else are you doing when you're showing off that ring?"

"I'm hardly claiming you. She was just-- too comfortable for my liking."

Regulus makes a sound in the back of his throat, "If you say so."

I bite the inside of my cheek, "Why didn't you do anything?"

He tries to hide a smile, "I hardly was indulging her."

"You didn't tell her to--" fuck off.

"I guarantee you, my dear wife, I have been deflecting her attempts all week." Oh, so maybe this wasn't exactly Regulus's fault... completely.

"You have?"

He stops me on the sidewalk, "Yes, of course. Do you really think I would flirt with another woman? Especially now?"

I shrug, "I guess-- no. I don't think you'd do that."

He shakes his head, "Of course I wouldn't."

***

I hold (y/n) tight against my chest as I apparate us to our new destination, remembering how she reacted the last time we apparated. 

The moment we're safely on the ground, I continue to hold her, asking quietly if she's okay in a hushed tone. (y/n) nods, her fingers gripping the sleeve of my coat.

For a second, I contemplate pressing a kiss to her temple as I rub my hand up and down her back, but I stop myself before I go through with the reaction. Even with the small progress we've made, it feels too intimate, even as a gesture of comfort. 

"Tell me when you're ready," I whisper.

Slowly, (y/n) pulls away from my embrace, (y/e/c) eyes opening hesitantly.

"I really don't like it." She says hesitantly.

"I can tell." We stand still for another beat before she confirms she is in better shape.

"Where are we?"

"Cork, Ireland." 

Her eyes widen with curiosity, "Really? I've never been. Dad's been a few times, but obviously, with school and other things, I hadn't had the chance to successfully convince him to take me with."

"So there were places you wished to visit." I can't help but tease her as she prattles on about the things her father has told her about the city we're visiting.

"Of course, but you spring things on me too quickly. I can never recall things when I've been surprised."

I chuckle, "Fair enough. We should check in soon; it's nearly ten. Whoever's running the front desk won't be happy we've arrived so late."

***

By the time we've checked in and opened the door to the suite, it's nearing ten-thirty. 

(y/n) takes a quick peek around the room before turning back towards me, "I suppose we should unpack--"

I don't let her finish the statement as I take two large steps towards her, cupping her face in my hands and kissing her soundly on the mouth. She makes a sound of surprise but doesn't pull away or smack me or something she ought to do, really. I'm not even sure where this need to kiss her came from. Maybe the way the soft light of the dimmed bedroom lights landed across her person, making her picturesque, ethereal even.

All I do know is that I must have her this instant. Must feel her soft skin under my fingers, feel her silken warmth as we move together atop the sheets of the hotel bed.

I have to have her, and I can only hope she feels the same way.

Tentatively, I run my hand down her spine, fiddling with the ridiculous amount of buttons that I could easily open with the flick of my wand. Something about the thought of painstakingly unbuttoning each individual button was incredibly erotic.

"I can never seem to control myself when you're around," I whisper as I kiss below her jaw. The way she seems to melt under the words has me smiling against her neck as I continue to kiss down to her exposed collarbone. These damn dresses she wears always showed off just enough cleavage to draw my eyes towards the neckline. "Do you wear these dresses on purpose? Torturing me all day, having to see only the tops of your breasts." Her breath hitches, egging me on. "Do you like it when I talk about your body like that? Like the way, just the sight of some of your naked flesh has me turned on? Hm?"

"Regulus--" My name comes from her lips like a prayer. 

"Tell me what you want." My hands worship her body, squeezing her covered tits. I would do anything to get this blasted dress off of her.

"I-- I want you."

"Want me to do what? Use your words, kitten."

Her lips, red and abused, open and close attractively once or twice before she finds her words, "I want you to fuck me."

"Fuck you? You want my cock, huh? Is that it? In any way that I'll give it to you?"

She blinks, a bit confused, but nods. I can't believe I've rendered my wife so speechless, so cock-hungry she can barely articulate what she wants.

"Let's get this off then," I tug at the neckline of her dress, "turn around, kitten." She quickly obeys, and I get to work on the buttons, finding I can release her from her dress easier than I had previously imagined. 

The fabric hits the floor as I gaze at her naked back, "turn back around. Think you've teased me enough. I want to see those tits."

Slowly, she faces me once again.

"I think I wanna fuck these," I say as I reacquaint myself with the feeling of her breasts in my hands.

"You want to-- what?" I often forget that my wife's sexual experience starts and ends with what we've done. She's looking at me like I've said something odd.

"You want me to show you? I think you'd look lovely with my cock between your breasts." I discard my pants, shirt, and jacket, pulling her towards the bed, lightly guiding her down to the floor as I sit.

"What about fucking me?" She frowns up at me.

I chuckle at her indignant frown, "Don't worry, darling. I plan on cumming inside of you. Now, push your tits together nice and tight around me. There we go."

Hesitantly, she does as I say. The sight alone has me twitching. 

Gently, I thrust up. If I thought the view before was good, seeing her innocent face watch as I seek pleasure from a new place on her body. She's radiant, on her knees, watching my cock disappear and reappear. 

"Do you like that, darling? Like watching?"

Her eyes flit up to meet mine, "Yes." It takes nearly everything within me not to cum on the spot. Merlin, what was this girl doing to me?

"Do you want me to fuck you, kitten?" I hold her chin, so she has to look at me.

"Obviously." There's that attitude I expect. Chuckling, I pull her from her knees, maneuvering her on her back.

"So impatient. Just itching to feel me deep inside ya, huh?" She nods, "words, darling."

"Yes, please."

The first inches feel like coming home. She makes those breathy noises I love, pleading with me for more, to give her everything and anything I can. 

It's a symphony in the room, the headboard of the old creaky bed knocking against the wallpapered wall, the noises (y/n) makes every time she moves her hips against mine... There's no doubt that we're alerting the rest of the occupants exactly what we're doing in room twelve. 

This thought stirs something inside of me. Clumsily, my fingers find her clit hoping to get her exactly where I'm at.

"Don't stop, don't stop, don't stop--" her voice is utterly fucked as she practically chants these words.

"Cum for me, kitten. Don't hold back." Merlin-- please don't hold back.

If our neighbors weren't aware of the little-- musical act happening in our room, they were now. (y/n) writhes beneath me, fingernails digging into the small of my back.

"Fuck--" I don't hold back as she clenches down hard. 

Was it ever this good with someone else? I can't think of a single woman who makes me cum as hard as I do with (y/n).

As the weaker aftershocks continue to rack my body, I lay down next to her, pulling her into my embrace. I reach for my wand in my discarded jacket, silently casting the charm.

(y/n) looks like she wants to say something, but I stop her, kissing her forehead.

"I promise, someday. But not today." (y/n) doesn't say anything but nods as she gets more comfortable in my arms. "You know, this is the first time we've done this."

"What do you mean?" (y/n) laughs, "we've done this a few times now."

"Not that. I mean, usually, one of us runs off after we've done that. This is the first time you're voluntarily in my arms."

(y/n) makes a soft noise of agreement, "That's true."

I smile. This was progress.