#idk how to tag trigger warnings sobs

[honeypiehotchner]

Devil's Backbone (Unsub!Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- part twelve

Welp. Once again I have nothing to say for myself. I find this way hotter than it should be. Nobody @ me idk what happened to me

Warnings: 18+ duh, this one definitely teeters more on the non-con/dubcon line than the last, just a heads up! listen there's...so much. gun play, knife play, face fucking, choking, unprotected sex, reminder that he is not a Good Guy and this is meant to make you hot and bothered (emphasis on bothered)

Don't forget to follow @honeypiehotchnerlibrary and turn on post notifications to be "tagged" when a new chapter goes up!

Twelve: [REDACTED FROM THE RECORD]

Your mind fought your body as Aaron pressed into you, grinding against you, listening to you whimper. 

The cold barrel of his gun traced your jaw. It made the unbearable heat flood your entire body, and you felt ashamed. This was wrong. This wasn’t supposed to feel good.

“I think you’re just as gone as I am,” he whispered, his voice thick. “I could shoot you. Right here, right now. Instead,” he paused, pressing the barrel to your lips, “you’re squirming underneath me like a whore.���

“I hate you,” you snapped, taking a deep breath, trying to compose yourself.

“No you don’t,” he cooed, taking his gun away to cover your lips in a blistering kiss. He ignored your protests and worked his tongue between your lips until you surrendered, relaxing against his body, giving in. “There she is,” he laughs, returning to your neck. “Undo my belt,” he said. He lifted his head, looking into your eyes. “Try anything, and I’m pulling the trigger.”

You believed him. You nodded, your eyes heavy. 

“Good girl,” he murmured, pulling some of his weight off of you. “Go on.”

With your arms released, you worked him out of his belt, unzipping his pants, slipping your hand inside. He fell against the car the moment your hand wrapped around him. His hips jerked into your hand, his lips pressing against yours again.

His sounds were addicting. Listening to him fuck into your hand, his shaky breaths on your lips. You felt in control, just once. Until he took it back.

“Down,” he groaned, his hands pressing onto your shoulders. You resisted, shaking your head, until he pressed harder, and with the gun. “I said down.”

You sank to your knees, knowing what came next. He pulled his boxers down, and gripped your hair with one hand, shoving you forward.

He hit the back of your throat immediately and you gagged, not prepared for the intrusion. You barely had half of him, and he forced more, until your nose was against his stomach. You squirmed, trying to get away from him, from the pleasure that you hated you were feeling. He noticed. He gripped your hair tighter, and shoved his foot between your legs.

“Since you clearly need something,” he laughed darkly. “Grind on me, baby.”

He lifted his foot and the bump against your clit was all you needed. Your pleasure won over your logic. Nothing felt more right, grinding against him, swallowing his cock down your throat, letting him hold you down. 

“That’s it,” he hissed, pulling back to give you air before you went back down, and he held you there. He gripped your throat with his free hand, feeling his head beneath your skin. “Fuck.”

You felt him twitch only once before he spilled down your throat, refusing to let you up. You coughed and choked, your vision speckling right when he pulled you up. He hauled you up to your feet by your hair, pressing you against the car, covering your lips with his. He ground his hips into you and you sobbed. How was he still so hard? It made your core ache with a need you had never felt before. 

You were close to an orgasm, and he ripped it away from you, but now he was bringing you back to the edge. He gripped your hips, pressing his knee between your thighs as he lifted you up. 

“I have never,” he groaned, leaving bruises beneath your pants, “wanted to cut someone open as badly as I do with you.”

Fear ricocheted through you at his words.

“But I won’t,” he grumbled, pulling back to look at you. “Because what fun is it, to end it here?”

He set you down and spun you around, pulling your pants and underwear down in one swift move. You leaned over onto the hood of the car, accepting your fate, accepting your shame because you wanted it. You wanted this so bad, you spread your legs without being asked.

He traced your spine with the gun, then you heard him toss it to the ground. If you weren’t out of your mind, you’d reach for it, but it was far from your priorities. 

“I know how we can make this interesting,” he whispered, and then you felt a blade against your lower back. “Don’t make me hurt you, and I won’t. This can be pleasurable.”

You rested your head on the hood of the car, taking a deep breath, whimpering when you exhaled without meaning to. 

“Shhh,” he soothed, rocking his hips against you as he drew circles on your back with the knife. “I’ll give you what you need.”

He pushed into you with no warning, immediately hitting your cervix, causing you to cry out in pain. He began rocking in and out of you until the pain resumed to pleasure, and as he brushed your G-spot, he dug in with the knife. You felt the skin break, but felt no pain, only a sting, and it was intoxicating. You wanted more.

He felt your walls flutter when he did it, and he laughed, leaning over you to whisper in your ear. “I knew you’d like that.” The knife found your neck, lightly tracing your main artery. “Sick and twisted. Just as bad as me.”

Your eyes rolled when he rolled his hips, nicking you with the knife just under your ear. Nothing compared to the white hot pleasure that ripped through you with your first orgasm, or the way he chased you right to your second.

“Now that is addicting,” he breathed, pressing his hips into you. “If only you weren’t following orders.”

You didn’t know what he meant by that. Did he want to kill you, but would he refrain since your whereabouts were known? You never had time to think about it. He continued fucking into you until you couldn’t see straight.

You didn’t remember how many marks he left on you with the knife, just that each one felt better than the last. And that more than once, the feel of the knife nearly sent you over the cliff of an orgasm.

You were done only when he was done, and Aaron made sure you had four orgasms before he let himself cum inside you, sending you flying into a fifth climax. He wanted you fucked purely dumb, so he didn’t have to worry about you fighting him. And it worked.

He righted himself and returned his gun to his holster, choosing to use yours to make you obey him if necessary, but he didn’t think he’d run into any problems. You laid there against the hood of the car for a while, with your pants around your ankles, his cum running down your thighs. It was a sight he wished to take a picture of.

Until he remembered he had a bigger issue at hand.

“Get yourself together,” he instructed. “You’re driving me back to the motel.”

You nodded and pulled your pants up, your legs shaking as you attempted to move. You didn’t think you’d be able to drive, but you didn’t exactly have a choice in the matter.

You climbed into the driver’s seat and tried not to think about what you did. But the cuts from the knife screamed when you rested your back against the seat. A black shirt was your best decision this morning. “Now,” Aaron said, settling into the passenger seat, now pointing your gun on you. “We need to talk.”

[dani-ya-dig]

Ok now that I’m fully awake. It’s time try and organize my thoughts on that audio oh my god.

Also trigger warning for mentions of suicide under the cut

That’s actually the first thing I wanna talk about, and is the only gripe I have with the entire video. Why the fuck wasn’t mentions of suicide tagged in the description??

Like I understand the concept wasn’t dwelled on and Sam didn’t outright say “I’m gonna fucking kill myself” but he PRETTY EXPLICITLY talked about how he planned to commit suicide even if he didn’t say those words. idk “chosen morality” doesn’t seem like the right warning for that? I’m not gonna complain abt it like too much, I just was a little confused on why it wasn’t tagged.

But anyways onto my jumbled up thoughts about the actual audio! Because as a member of the Sam Collins fandom, I have thoughttsssssss!!

THIS AUDIO MADE ME SOB! I couldn’t sleep because of how sad I was over it. Sam and Darlin need to be happy just for fucking ONCE, god give them a BREAKKKKKK.

The idea of them just silently holding each other on their roof with the night sky above them, a few tears probably falling from both of them. IM DUHXSJDIJFDJFHFHJ

AND MOTHERFUCKER THE VIDEO ENDING ON “Brown. My eyes were brown” I FELL TO THE FLOOR SHUT THE FUCK UP!

On a happier note about that, I KNEW Sam’s eyes were brown. I feel like almost everyone did tbh. I’ll tell you what gave it away though, the gentle way he says “please” to Darlin in some of his audios. Automatically gave it away that he would have had the biggest brown puppy dog eyes you have ever seen in your life. I’m physically sick over it, it’s not even funny.

Now back to the thing I desperately don’t wanna think about. Sam telling Darlin that he wasn’t planning on living forever.

That’s where the dam broke for me, I started bawling. It totally makes sense, I get it and I can’t say that it’s not a choice that makes sense given that Sam never wanted to be a vampire in the first place.

Do y’all think that he was planning to watch the sunrise on his roof? Because that was my first thought and it hurt real bad. Sam finally getting to feel the sunlight after so many years of having been deprived of it, only to be ash when the sun was fully in the sky.

Also I know damn well he probably would have done it after Darlin died and that’s what hurts so bad. If Darlin chose to be a vampire I think he would happily spend however long their eternity would be by their side, but once they were gone he probably wouldn’t feel a reason to stay. Especially because if Darlin turned into a vampire the two of them probably would have completely pulled away from all mortals before that would happen.

On that note, I don’t think Darlin is gonna want to be turned. I never really thought they would, unless they were under very specific circumstances. Sam telling them to spend time in their wolf form and with their pack before deciding solidified that for me 100%. I don’t think they would be able to lose their wolf which we know is a pretty big part of shifters, talking from Milo’s audio where he breaks down worried he was never going to be able to shift again. I don’t think they would be okay with the idea of watching their friends, and their family all start to wither away and eventually die while they remain.

Now, do I think Darlin is going to want to be turned? No. Do I think the dynamic of Darlin choosing to remain mortal opens a lot of really good angst possibilities? Yes. Do I fully trust Erik to not turn them anyways? Not really no.

If I had to put a bet in for how it would happen if Darlin got turned, it would be by Quinn. Quinn would find out or catch wind of the fact that they chose not to be turned (if he didn’t already know they would chose that) and turn them anyways just to hurt them.

(I think Alexis turning them is an interesting idea to think about, from any angle but I highly doubt that’s gonna happen lmao)

All in all I genuinely think that was the only audio that has affected me that much (aside from maybe listening to the inversion for the first time??)

[butchyeons]

up in space

check it out on ao3!

najeonghyo poly domestic au (ft. ryeji). this fic focuses on jihyo, who’s a traveling nurse, coping with a patient she was really fond of’s passing. also she’s trans and futch bc i said so. jeongyeon and nayeon her emotional support butch and femme respectively. they are very in love!!

trigger warning for discussions of cancer and death. i also use the d slur once but not in a bad way?? if any of that bothers you feel free to skip this one! this fic is a heavy read, so pls be warned!

other tags: hurt/comfort, angst, implied sexual content/jokes, grieving, fluff, domestic stuff idk, discussions of being trans/taking estrogen shots

tysm for all the support on my fics so far! it rlly means a lot. hope you all enjoy- and let me know what you think! this au is rlly special to me and i’ll probably write more in the future bc i love them.

———

Losing a patient was never easy. But this time, it was so much different.

Jihyo did her best to focus on the road- on the long expansion of highway ahead of her. Each time she thought about it, more tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, just like how they had been for the past three days of her shift.

Jihyo wanted to blame it on the estrogen, like she always did. But after being on it for five years, there was only so much blame she could place on her shots. In the back of her mind she could hear Jeongyeon chuckling at her, could see Nayeon giving her that look of sympathy.

“Yah, Jihyo. After a while it becomes less of the hormones and more part of being a woman.” Jeongyeon had said over dinner one night, after Jihyo had spent her whole afternoon crying her eyes out about work. Again.

Jihyo thought that she really understood it now.

Yeji was a sweet girl. She had been in and out of the hospital for years, fighting leukemia. She was diagnosed at a young age, grew up with it. Jihyo met her when she was freshly 13. On the day of her 13th birthday, actually. Jihyo watched as her family- her mom, dad, older sister, and her best friend- brought her a cake and sang her happy birthday. She had one of the brightest smiles Jihyo had ever seen.

Jihyo traveled from hospital to hospital- it was her job to go where she was needed, to specialize in a little bit of everything when it came to pediatrics. But in all her time as a nurse, the hundreds of thousands of patients she saw, she had never found herself as attached to one as she did Hwang Yeji.

She always reminded Jihyo so much of herself. Of that scared little girl that had always lived deep inside her, even before her transition. How that scared little girl never gave up, no matter how bad it got.

When she noticed how that best friend of hers- Ryujin, that was the girl’s name- would stare at her like she put the sun in the sky, she knew. And when she noticed how tightly Yeji would hold Ryujin’s hand as she got the needle in her port changed, how Yeji practically clung to Ryujin during her nausea episodes, she knew.

It reminded her a lot of something she lived through.

The sight of Nayeon in her own hospital bed, her leg shattered, half sobbing as she got the news that she would never be able to walk without pain again- how she wouldn’t be able to return to teaching, effectively getting her passion stolen away in a single afternoon. Jeongyeon held her hand, her expression stern, her eyes never once leaving her wife’s face as the doctor explained the next steps- the surgeries, the physical therapy. Jihyo stood there too, on the other side of Nayeon’s bed, exhausted from having to speed halfway across the country at Jeongyeon’s call. She felt like her heart had broken into a million pieces, scattered in every direction by a wind so strong that she’d never be able to find them all again.

Jihyo had only been with them for a year, then. But when she looked at them, she saw an entire universe. She already knew both of them better than she knew herself. She already knew her specialties, the place she held in both of their lives- fitting in exactly where she needed to, when she needed to. She also already knew then that she would spend the rest of her days with them, if she could.

So when Yeji mentioned her girlfriend to Jihyo one day while she was fixing her IV, Jihyo smiled. She listened, like she always did. She told her she was happy for her, talked about her partners, too. How they were the same. How they had each other, no matter what. Yeji smiled back.

“I hope I can have that one day, too, Ms. Park.”

It was just shy of Yeji’s 16th birthday when Jihyo came back to find her bed empty. It had been a month and a half since Jihyo had been assigned to that hospital. The last time Jihyo spoke with her, they talked about school- how Ryujin had taken their soccer team to the national championships after one last tie-breaker goal in overtime. Yeji was sad she couldn’t be there. She wanted nothing more than to be with Ryujin, was what she told Jihyo.

When she was talking, she was falling asleep. She had been doing that more lately. Jihyo did her best to keep her awake as she changed the needle in her port, told her how good she was doing. Jihyo couldn’t help but notice that she looked so pale, how her vibrant smile had dimmed just slightly. She told Yeji to tell her parents that she said hi, to tell Ryujin congratulations and good luck. She said she couldn’t wait to see her again.

Jihyo gripped the steering wheel impossibly tighter. Her eyes stung, angry thorns of tears working their way up to the surface. She tried to focus on the road- the darkness making everything a bit harder to see. She needed to get glasses. She needed to get home. She needed to get to them.

———

It was nearly 2 am by the time Jihyo pulled into the driveway. The lights were still on in the house- clearly, they were still up. Jihyo mentally scolded them for staying awake for her. But the moment she walked up the steps, only for Jeongyeon to open the door before she could even get her keys out, she forgot all about it.

Jeongyeon didn’t say anything, just held her arms out. Jihyo stepped into them, dropping her backpack on the porch somewhere beside her. Her head found its usual spot- the junction between Jeongyeon’s neck and her shoulder, her nose pressed against the older woman’s pulse point. Jeongyeon just held her, like she always did.

Jeongyeon was all muscle- solid, heavy. She worked outside and it showed. She was rough around the edges, her fingertips worn like the sandpaper she used daily. Jihyo never felt safer than she did in Jeongyeon’s arms.

“Nayeon told me everything- baby, I’m so sorry.” Jeongyeon whispered, her lips brushing against the top of Jihyo’s head.

Jihyo couldn’t miss the way her voice cracked. That’s when she couldn’t hold her tears back anymore.

Jihyo didn’t say anything- she couldn’t, didn’t need to. She just cried. She cried the big, ugly tears she held back for the past three days. She pressed herself into Jeongyeon’s shoulder, her face contorted in pain as she let it all out. Jeongyeon just held her, swaying them both as they stood on the porch, underneath the singular dim light that Jihyo had been meaning to change.

Jihyo had been through so much. Her transition was rough- what she expected to be a casual step into womanhood felt more like a downward freefall with no parachute. She lost everything- her home, her family, her entire support system. But it all seemed so trivial compared to this. At the end of the day, she was breathing. No matter how far she fell, she had someone who could catch her. Two amazing people, actually. And they caught her every single time she fell- over and over again.

The other nurses told her Ryujin was there when she passed. They said they had to practically rip her body out of Ryujin’s arms. They had never seen someone so young but so full of love. Yeji had someone who caught her, too. Even if there was nothing left to catch.

Jihyo asked whatever God was listening to make sure that those two girls met again in the next life, and in every life afterwards. It was the least they deserved. The thought of those two never meeting again in this one made her sob even harder.

“I know, baby.” Jeongyeon whispered, her hand holding the back of Jihyo’s head to her chest, her other arm still wrapped securely around her waist. “I know.”

———

When Jihyo finally calmed down, Jeongyeon helped her inside. She left her in the living room, taking her backpack up to their room. Jihyo could only really stand there, swaying slightly as she stared at the ground- unstable without Jeongyeon to hold her up.

Nayeon, who had been sleeping on the couch snoring peacefully with her jaw half slack, finally stirred. Her eyes slowly opened, a smile forming on her lips as soon as she registered the figure in front of her to be Jihyo. She tried to sit up.

“Jih- ah!” She yelped as she shifted, her leg caught at an awkward angle from how she’d been laying.

At the sound, Jihyo came back down to earth. She quickly rushed to her side, helping her adjust. One of her arms supported Nayeon’s lower back, the other going under the backs of her knees. She helped lift Nayeon up to that she was sitting up straight, her legs out in front of her. She counted to three out loud, waiting for Nayeon to give her a nod, before shifting her again so that her back rested against the back of the couch, her feet on the floor in front of her.

“You really shouldn’t sleep like that, Nay…” Jihyo muttered, no real bite to her words, as she kissed Nayeon’s forehead.

“I know, I just wanted to see you.” Nayeon replied as Jihyo sat down beside her.

“I’ve told you not to stay up late for me.”

“Don’t care.”

“Nayeon-“

Jihyo was cut off as Nayeon pulled her in for a kiss. Their lips met softly, Nayeon’s hand cupping her cheek, helping angle Jihyo’s mouth better to meet hers.

If Jeongyeon was rock, Nayeon was fire. Jihyo always melted right into her. No amount of walls Jihyo had built up could ever resist the pure heat that radiated off of Nayeon. At first it was scary- she had never met someone who made her feel so vulnerable, open. But now the heat was welcomed- needed. It kept Jihyo alive. She wouldn’t want it any other way.

“There’s dinner in the fridge if you’re hungry.” Nayeon whispered as she pulled away, her hand still caressing Jihyo’s cheek. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too. I ate on the way home earlier.” Jihyo whispered, her eyes closed. “I’ll have some for lunch tomorrow.”

The couch shifted behind Jihyo. She felt a familiar arm wrapping around her waist, steadying her.

“You better.” Jeongyeon whispered, her nose finding Jihyo’s neck. “She made it just for you- the pickiest eater I’ve ever met.”

Jihyo chuckled.

“You both signed up for my picky eating the night you picked me up at the bar.”

Jeongyeon huffed, pulling Jihyo’s back against her front. She pressed a kiss to Jihyo’s neck.

“And you’ve been a pain in the ass ever since. I love you so much.”

“I love you more.” Nayeon added, leaning in to kiss Jihyo again. “So much more.”

If Jeongyeon was the moon and Nayeon was the sun, Jihyo was the constellation that lay between the two of them. She needed them as much as they needed her.

“No fighting.”Jihyo whispered between kisses. “I’m too tired to deal with it.”

Nayeon chuckled as she pulled away, her thumb stroking Jihyo’s cheek.

“You started it.”

“Did not.” Jihyo said, smirking.

Before Nayeon could go back in for another kiss, Jeongyeon groaned. She pulled her face away from Jihyo’s neck, both of her arms still wrapped around the younger woman’s waist.

“Can we go to bed?” She asked.

Jihyo tilted her head back, resting fully against Jeongyeon’s front.

“You don’t even have work tomorrow.”

“I wanted to get some work done around the house.” Jeongyeon grunted.

Jihyo hummed.

“Can it wait a day?”

Jeongyeon huffed through her nose, pressing a kiss to the side of Jihyo’s head.

“Do you need a day?”

Whenever Jihyo had an exceptionally bad shift, she always needed a period of decompression. And usually that decompression consisted of laying around with her girls, watching mindless dramas or reality tv, and lots of kisses. And sex, too. But mainly the first three.

“I need a day.” Jihyo replied.

“You can take as much time as you need, Ji.” Nayeon said as she scooted herself closer. “I know how much you cared about her.”

Jihyo sighed, but smiled sadly. Her thoughts were racing still. It felt like an open wound directly on the center of her heart- everything kept bothering it. There was so much she wished she could’ve said or done. She didn’t even get to say goodbye.

“I love you both.” Was all Jihyo could say before the tears came back again.

———

None of them spoke anymore that night. They didn’t really need to. Jeongyeon helped Nayeon get up from the couch, her arm secured around her wife’s waist as she led her back to their bedroom. Jihyo followed behind them, sneaking off into to master bathroom after giving them both one last kiss.

She needed a shower- needed to wash the hospital smell out of her hair, to get the days of built up sweat off of her skin. She did her best to not think about it anymore- tried to focus on the things she could be doing instead, on what she had right in front of her. Her therapist told her she tended to dwell on the “what ifs”, which always blinded her from the “right nows”. And right then, she was home, safe. Surrounded by love.

She was so damn lucky to have them- to be loved by them. They saved her life, and she saved theirs. That’s how they worked. That’s how they would always work.

After she finished blowdrying her hair, too exhausted to do her sacred skincare routine, she slinked out of the bathroom. Nayeon was already asleep again- snoring loudly. Next to her, Jeongyeon was still looking at her phone. As soon as Jihyo got into her pajamas, she leaned over and turned the bedside lamp off. Jihyo crawled in between the two of them, doing her best to not jostle Nayeon, who just shifted slightly, her arm instinctively throwing itself over Jihyo’s waist in her sleep.

Jeongyeon adjusted herself so that Jihyo was resting her head on her chest, like always. Jeongyeon was warm- she got so warm when the three of them slept together that eventually she just opted to sleep in boxers and nothing else- but Jihyo needed it. Her body shivered a bit, still adjusting to the temperature shift from the bathroom. Somehow, Nayeon wiggled even closer to her, her arm getting even tighter as she was still snoring.

No matter what happened, Jeongyeon and Nayeon always kept Jihyo tied down, grounded. No matter how high up she floated, they always managed to pull her back in. They had a gravitational pull all of their own- the sun, moon, and stars all in one bed together.

“Love you.” Jihyo muttered, her eyes finally closing easily for the first time in days.

“Love you too. Always will.” Jeongyeon answered.

It didn’t take long at all for both of them to fall asleep.

———

The next time Jihyo worked at that hospital, the head nurse, Dahyun, stopped her.

“Hey, Jihyo. Someone came by and left this letter for you a few days ago.” She said, handing an envelope to her.

Jihyo raised her eyebrows, examining it. It was a yellow envelope, her name written on the front. It was held closed with a sticker of the smiling cat emoji. She thanked Dahyun as she folded it in half and placed it in one of the pockets of her scrubs, heading off to help another patient.

When she got to her lunch break, she finally got to check it. She sat in her car, her lunchbox out on the seat beside her. Inside, Nayeon had made sure to pack all of her favorites to last her for the few days she was gone, along with her usual handwritten note wishing her good luck (which was Jihyo’s favorite part of lunchtime). She picked out one of the sandwiches and a bag of chips before closing the bag back up.

She reached inside her pocket and pulled the envelope out. Jihyo carefully opened it, doing her best to not rip the cat sticker, taking out the letter that was inside. It was written on notebook paper in blue ink- the page covered in other tiny, scribbled drawings of cats. The handwriting was a bit messy, but still somehow neat- extremely unique. When she noticed the name at the top, Jihyo smiled.

Ms. Park,

This is Shin Ryujin. I’m not sure if you’ll remember me, but you took care of my girlfriend, Hwang Yeji, up until she passed. I wanted to write you this letter as a way of saying thank you. You helped her through some really hard times, without even knowing. Her parents weren’t really happy about us being together. Of course, they wouldn’t leave her, but they scolded me and her a lot. It sucked to have that on top of everything else.

But what didn’t suck was when you were there. You were a really good shoulder for her to lean on. She was always so happy telling me about you and your partners (wives? I hope you guys get married or something). You helped her accept a lot of herself. That helped me accept a lot of myself, too.

She wanted to be a nurse, just like you. She wanted to open her own hospital, eventually. All she ever thought about was helping others, no matter how sick she got. She even still tried to give blood when we did blood drives at school for her. She was the sweetest girl I had ever met. I think I’ll love her until the day I die. I hope you feel that way about your girls, too.

Even though there was nothing that could be done to prevent what happened, you really saved her life. You saved mine, too. Please, keep doing what you do. You really were a lifeline for two clueless lesbians, haha. Hopefully you’ll help more in the future. In fact, I know you will.

Thank you for everything. I can only hope to meet you again in the future. I’ll never forget you. I hope you never forget us.

- Shin Ryujin

P.S. We won the championship! Thank you for the well wishes. Yeji passed a few days after. I told her I’d win for her- and I did.

I think I’ll keep doing everything for her.

Attached to the letter was a picture of them. It was a selfie- Ryujin holding the phone up while Yeji smiled that same brilliant smile that Jihyo always knew. She was bundled up in a jacket, sweater, and a beanie, while Ryujin only had on a sweatshirt. They were at the beach- the ocean waves crashing onto the shore behind them. The bottom of the photo had a date written- February. Yeji had passed in late April.

It was a lot for Jihyo to read, to take in. She felt a pit form in her stomach- a black hole that would open up and swallow her. She set the letter and photo down, taking a deep breath to steady herself. She looked out at the side of the hospital building- trying to count the bricks on the side of the wall, trying to give herself something to keep her grounded.

It really wasn’t enough. She needed something stronger, needed her gravitational pull- she needed her universe.

Jihyo immediately pulled her phone out and called Jeongyeon. Really, her number was off limits except for emergencies. But she figured she would let this one slide. She quickly found Jeongyeon’s contact and pressed the call button.

The line rang a few times before someone picked up. Jihyo was met with the clear sounds of a jackhammer whirring in the background, along with men yelling at one another. And then there was Jeongyeon’s laugh.

“Mind your business- Seriously, Changbin. Get back to work- I’m your boss. I can do what I want. Shut up.” Jeongyeon yelled- clearly, one of her guys was up her ass about her taking a phone call.

After a few more moments of bickering over the sounds of heavy machinery, Jihyo listened as a door slammed- all the noises cutting out in an instant. She smiled when Jeongyeon huffed.

“This better be good, Park Jihyo.” She said, annoyed. But that act faded immediately, like it always did. “Are you okay?”

“Yah, Jeongyeon. I’m pregnant. It’s yours.” Jihyo said, grinning as she took a bite of her sandwich.

“I’m finally gonna be a dad?” Jeongyeon asked in that stupid, playful voice of hers, feigning excitement.

“Seems like it. Was daddy just not good enough for you?”

“Oh that’s never enough, baby. Need to actually get you-“

“Oh my god, Jeongyeon- shut up.” Jihyo said, cutting off the older woman, nearly choking on her food. “You’re so- god you can’t even- you’re disgusting!”

Jihyo sputtered over her words as she coughed. Jeongyeon just laughed. Typical.

“God- are you busy?” Jihyo asked once she was able to breathe.

“I’m at work, Hyo. Yes.”

“Well do you have a second?”

“For you.” Jeongyeon sighed. Jihyo could hear her smile through the phone. “What’s wrong? You never call at this time. Did something happen?”

“Well, no. But yes.” Jihyo answered, setting her food down to tap at her phone. “Wait. Let me add Nayeon- I need you both here for this.”

Jeongyeon hummed. Jihyo started the three-way call, the line ringing a few times before Nayeon picked up.

“Hi baby!” She said cheerfully. “Oh wait, you’re both here- did something happen? You never call at work.”

Despite their obvious differences, Jihyo thought it was almost comical how similar Jeongyeon and Nayeon were. Jihyo sighed, smiling down at the call screen.

“I got a letter today. I wanted you both to hear it.”

So, Jihyo read it out to them. By the end of the second read, she was fighting back her tears again. When she told them about the picture, it was nearly impossible to speak without her voice cracking.

It was the estrogen- had to be that. She just took her shot yesterday. That’s what she told herself. That’s why everything felt so heavy, why her voice fluttered between octaves, a bird angrily trying to claw its way out of a cage. The typical symptoms of second puberty- of womanhood.

Jeongyeon and Nayeon were both silent. A few moments passed before there was a sniffle on Jeongyeon’s end.

“Hyo, oh my god.”

Jihyo couldn’t hold back then. She grit her teeth, leaning back into her seat, her body trembling as she gripped her phone- trying to hold back the sobs. She gasped for air without meaning to. She wished she was home, wished she was between her sun and moon.

“You saved her life, Jihyo.” Nayeon whispered.

In Jihyo’s mind, all she saw was the night they met. She had never even been to a gay bar before- but she was down on her luck, needed to have a good time. She still felt like she was pretending, felt like she was dressing up as the idea of a woman. She needed to be around people like her. She had been taking her shots for a month then- living in her car as she traveled from hospital to hospital, praying her patients and coworkers would just be decent. Decency was found few and far between back then.

She was just about to call it a night when a couple came up to her. They asked for her name, asked if she lived in town- said they’d remember seeing a pretty face like hers. When she explained she was just in for a few days before she took off on call again, they asked if she’d like to go home with them- to stay for the night, to have some fun. And how could Jihyo deny the most gorgeous butch and femme she had ever seen of anything, especially after they bought her a drink and showered her in compliments. And then the one night stay turned into a permanent residence, into stability. Decency turned into real, genuine love.

A whole ocean of people were in that bar that night, but somehow the tides pulled them towards each other. She wasn’t even trying to be seen- wanted to let the waves just take her where they felt. But every day she thanks whatever divine being blessed her with the lifeboat that was Yoo Jeongyeon and Im Nayeon, how they pulled her on board and allowed her a spot in their crew. She had her life saved. And more importantly, she got to keep doing the same for others because of it.

“E-Even if she didn’t make it, you saved her.” Nayeon said, clearly choked up on her own tears. “Both of them.”

Jihyo nodded. She had finally calmed down. She stared at the half eaten sandwich, sitting haphazardly in her lap.

“I saw so much of myself in her.” She muttered. “I saw so much of us in both of them. She deserved so much more than she got. Both of them did.”

There was a moment of silence again. The black hole in the pit of Jihyo’s stomach was gone.

“You’re really amazing, Jihyo.” Jeongyeon said, her voice distant. “I don’t even have the words.”

Jihyo let out a huff, smiling. She could feel the floorboard of her car underneath her feet, registered the texture of her shirt as she brushed some breadcrumbs away. Back down on earth.

“You two are biased.”

Both of them made noises of protest, which crackled over the speakers of her phone.

“So what if I am?” Nayeon asked. “You’re one of the most selfless people on this planet. I’m lucky to have you- Jeongyeon and I both are.”

“I will say it until my last breath and mean it every single time-” Jeongyeon cut in. “You are amazing, Park Jihyo. God. You are a life saver- literally.”

Jihyo leaned back in her seat, finally taking another bite of her sandwich. There was no point in arguing with them- that’s how it always was. But their words helped her feel real again. She felt like a human being by their sides.

“Fine. Whatever you say.”

“We wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true, and you know that.” Nayeon said softly.

Jihyo smiled, her face still wet from her tears. Her speakers vibrated when Jeongyeon chuckled, sniffling again.

“God- you call me at work and make me cry. The guys will never let me live this one down.”

Jihyo rolled her eyes, wiping up the last remnants of her emotions with the sleeve of her undershirt.

“So what? They’ll never understand what it’s like to be a woman. Not like we do, anyways.”

Nayeon hummed in agreement, her sweet, bunny-toothed smile clear as day over the phone. Jihyo wished she could see it. Jeongyeon laughed- that bubbly, staggered laugh that Jihyo absolutely adored.

“You’re damn right they won’t.” Jeongyeon said firmly.

———

From that day forward, Jihyo kept the letter and picture in her glovebox. She got over it the best she could- she had to. She knew better than to dwell on it for too long, to spend too much time thinking about the “what ifs”.

But when she was having an exceptionally rough shift, she looked at them. When she was mentally beating herself to a pulp, telling herself how she needed to be better, she thought about them. When she broke herself down to her barest, most raw essentials, examining every part of herself thoroughly before putting it all back together, she reminded herself that there was a point. She had to keep going. If not for herself, for other people. She had people to help, lives to save.

If Ryujin could keep going, she could, too. She had someone to fight for- and so did Jihyo. She had two people.

She was back home, snuggled inbetween Jeongyeon and Nayeon in their bed that was so clearly not made to fit all three of them. Her back was pressed as close as it ever could be to Jeongyeon’s front as Nayeon kissed her, their noses bumping into one another from the weird angle. It made Jihyo giggle, made Nayeon smile even harder. Jeongyeon pressed a kiss to the back of Jihyo’s head.

“Would you two love birds cut it out so I can sleep?” She mumbled, her voice muffled by Jihyo’s hair.

“You’re off tomorrow.” Nayeon said bluntly between more kisses.

Jeongyeon groaned. “I have to get the light on the porch fixed.”

Jihyo eyed Nayeon, who gave her one last kiss, before shifting so that she faced Jeongyeon. Nayeon’s arms replaced Jeongyeon’s easily, finding their usual spot at Jihyo’s waist.

“It’s not that hard to change a lightbulb, baby.” Jihyo whispered as she took Jeongyeon’s face in her hands, her thumbs circling the apples of her cheeks. “I think you’re just getting worn out.”

Jeongyeon rolled her eyes, pursing her lips into that signature annoyed smile she always did.

“It’s because of you two.”

Jihyo smirked, Nayeon made an annoyed sound somewhere behind her. She pulled Jeongyeon in for a kiss- deep, but soft. Their lips moved the same way they always had, always would. When Jihyo felt Jeongyeon’s tongue swipe against her lower lip, she shifted again- sitting up to straddle the older woman’s hips, her hands finding her bare chest- never breaking their kiss. Of course, Jeongyeon was already shirtless, heat radiating off of her tanned skin from how closely the three of them were pressed together. Nayeon moved closer, clinging to her wife, her mouth finding its way to Jeongyeon’s collarbone. When Jeongyeon whimpered, Jihyo finally pulled away.

“You love it though, really.” She said, smirking. Her grip tightened, earning another small sound of need.

The sight of Jeongyeon underneath her, of Nayeon holding onto her as if she’d slip away would never fail to make Jihyo feel like she was in heaven. The way their bodies moved together, how natural it all felt- Jihyo was the luckiest person in the entire world. Her whole universe squeezed onto a king sized mattress; the sun, moon, and stars all contained in three tired, old dykes.

Jihyo rolled her eyes. Nayeon pressed a kiss to Jeongyeon’s cheek. Jeongyeon just smiled.

“I do.”

———

Jihyo stepped down from the ladder, wiping the sweat off her brow that had formed in the brief time it took for her to switch out the old lightbulb on the porch. It was the dead of summer now- the sun baring down its rays angrily, warming everything up to what felt like a boiling point.

Beside her, Nayeon sat in one of the chairs, in sunglasses with her favorite sundress on, three glasses of fresh lemonade on the table next to her. Her legs were propped up on the wicker footrest they bought after her accident. A random piece of white wood furniture among all the black metal. It didn’t match the set, but it worked. Jihyo always thought it was funny that she could relate to a footrest.

“She’s still got it in her, doesn’t she?” Nayeon asked, referring to their third half.

Jihyo turned, watching as Jeongyeon fought to turn their push mower on. She gave the chord a few more good pulls, trying her damnedest to get it started. That thing had been giving her hell for the past few weeks- it was on its last leg, needed to be replaced the moment they got it. But the three of them were stubborn, wanted to get their money’s worth out of the 20 year old hunk of metal that they bought used at a garage sale. All ₩40,000 worth.

“I’m more so concerned about why you feel the need to babysit.” Jihyo said, sitting down in the chair beside Nayeon’s.

She took a good look at Nayeon- at the way her bottom lip poked out, pouting as she judged her wife. She pushed her sunglasses up on her head, revealing those beautiful, round eyes. Her face scrunched from the sunlight, her nose crinkling. Jihyo thought she was the prettiest person to have ever existed.

“There’s a masc shortage, sweetheart.” Nayeon said, shifting to get her glass of lemonade off the table. She took a sip. “I can’t have anyone trying to steal her from us.”

Jihyo chuckled. She watched as Jeongyeon finally gave up, letting out an annoyed groan as she kicked the side of the lawnmower. As if by magic, the machine whirred to life. Jeongyeon let out her excited squawks, jumping around it in a circle with her arms up before turning to look up at them on the porch, a giant grin plastered on her face, adorned by those beautiful crescent moon eyes.

Jihyo waved, smiling back. Nayeon clapped beside her, cheering. Jeongyeon took a bow before adjusting herself and cheerfully flexing her biceps- putting on a show for her two favorite girls, as always. Nayeon whistled, and Jihyo rolled her eyes, laughing. She looked like an idiot. Jihyo loved her more than words would ever describe.

“I don’t think anyone besides us wants her that badly, Nay.” Jihyo huffed out, taking a sip of her drink.

“I’d sure hope so.” Nayeon said, looking over at her. “I’m selfish. No one deserves her more than we do. I don’t wanna share.”

Jihyo shared the same sentiment, but didn’t say it. She sat back on her seat, watching as Jeongyeon finally got to mowing the grass- sweat already ruining the muscle shirt that clung to her torso. She glanced over at Nayeon again, who was smiling so brightly, laughing as she watched Jeongyeon do her best to maneuver that piece of junk around the front yard, pulling her sunglasses back down over her eyes.

These were her people. They were her reason for existing, for continuing to exist. They made life seem so simple- so perfect. She had something to fight for that was real, tangible. She was so lucky to have this, to have them. To have them share themselves with her, to lay everything about themselves out on the table for her. Over and over, they shared everything. Jihyo never knew she could have this much love for more than one person- she never knew soulmates could be a trio until she met them.

“I’m gonna go get dinner started. Wanted to make kimchi stew for you.” Nayeon said. “Help me up?”

Jihyo set her drink down. Wordlessly she got up, going over to Nayeon’s side, taking her empty cup from her. She lifted Nayeon’s ankles up and off the footrest, gently setting her feet down on the ground. She moved to wrap her arm around Nayeon’s waist, counted to three, waited for Nayeon’s approval, before hoisting her up. They stood there for a moment, ignoring the heat, pressed as close together as they possibly could be.

“Thank you, baby.” Nayeon said softly, pulling Jihyo in for a kiss.

“It’s not a problem, Nay. You know that.” Jihyo said, smiling as Nayeon pulled away.

“I know.” Nayeon whispered, tapping Jihyo’s cheek a few times with her fingers. “But can’t a girl say thank you to her emotional support futch every once in a while?”

Jihyo snorted.

“I guess she can. Especially when you say it so sweetly.”

She helped Nayeon get inside along with their empty cups, her arm never leaving the older woman’s waist until they made it to the kitchen. Nayeon insisted she could handle it from there. And really, Jihyo knew she could, but the worry would never leave. She had come a long way since the accident- her body bounced back shockingly well. She just needed a little help getting started still, and Jihyo was more than happy to provide it.

After a few more kisses and some filthy comments about what they’d be doing later from Nayeon, Jihyo went back out to check on Jeongyeon. The lawnmower had finally given out, but thankfully Jeongyeon had just finished the yard. She was sitting on the steps, slamming the glass of lemonade that Nayeon had left behind for her.

“You good, Jeong?” Jihyo asked, her arms crossed as she stood behind her.

Jeongyeon finished the glass, grinning from ear to ear as she tilted her head back to look up at Jihyo.

“Never been better, Hyo.”

Jihyo rolled her eyes and helped pull her up. Jeongyeon stretched her arms out, her back cracking loudly. It made both of them laugh. Jeongyeon took the opportunity to pull Jihyo into one of her bear hugs.

“God- Jeongyeon- you’re so sweaty.” Jihyo protested. Her arms wrapped right around Jeongyeon’s waist, her head finding its spot on her shoulder. “Get off of me.”

“You love it though. Can’t get enough of it.” Jeongyeon teased, pressing a kiss to Jihyo’s temple.

“Shut up.” Jihyo hissed, finally pulling away. “Go take a shower.”

Jihyo went back into the house and Jeongyeon followed her. While Jihyo stopped to take her shoes off, Jeongyeon got right behind her, landing a smack on her ass and causing her to yelp.

“C’mon baby. You wouldn’t be complaining about it if I took you right here- you love it that much.” Jeongyeon said, smirking mischievously before running off, back to their bedroom.

“Shut up!” Jihyo yelled, regaining her balance. “Oh my god. You and Nayeon are so nasty! No decorum around here.”

“Wouldn’t be fun if we had any, and you know it.” Nayeon said, peeking her head out from the kitchen. She had her usual grin on her face.

Jihyo rolled her eyes. She walked back to the kitchen and rejoined her partner, helping Nayeon prep the ingredients for the stew. After a bit, Jeongyeon finally came back down- freshly showered, her short, wet hair messy from where she lazily towel dried it. As Jihyo was cutting up pieces of tofu, she watched Jeongyeon walk up behind Nayeon, her arms wrapping around her waist.

Jihyo smiled at the sight of the two of them. Nayeon smiled, leaning back against her wife, whispering something up to her that Jihyo couldn’t quite catch. Jeongyeon just chuckled, her nose pressing into Nayeon’s hair.

She couldn’t help but think about them again- about the life they could’ve had together. She couldn’t help but see a future for them every time she passed by that hospital room. The way Yeji would speak and Ryujin would just listen, smiling. How Ryujin would hold Yeji’s hand the entire time. They deserved something good more than anyone else. She was happy they had each other until the end.

She could only hope to have a love like that. Well, she didn’t really need to hope for it- she had it. It was already right in front of her, their force of gravity pulling her in over and over again.

[localunovaenjoyer]

hello! ♡ my name's X or kaii, and this is my pokemon sideblog <3 here is my main.

about me:

he/they/void, genderfluid

canadian, learning jpn

yes i have adhd. yes i have autism. i know both are obvious :sob:

minor, please no nsfw

im a writer! here's my writing blog & my ao3! (theres nothing pokemon yet)

spontaneous activity, my fixation comes & goes. but my main has an updated list of my blogs if u really wanna find me elsewhere (i have too many)

i enjoy lots of other fandoms! kimetsu no yaiba/demon slayer, genshin impact, & team fortress 2 are just three of lots. (yeah ik 3 very vastly different things :sob:)

i run a pkmn rp blog! i might make more when im more comfy as a rper ^^

side note: i havent actually,, played any of the games, other than masters ex, but im reading pokemon adventures to make up for that. also i WILL talk about pokepastas here!!! so if thats not your thing this blog isnt for you!

dni: zionists, homophobes/transphobes, racists, xenophobes, anti-neoprns & xenogenders, just generally if ur an asshole. otherwise i block freely, dont take it personal

more non-essential info & credits under cut ♡

about my writing:

i write a lot of dark topics. a lot of my writing digs into mental health, psychological & body horror, as well as surrealism. big emphasis on horror. BIG EMPHASIS.

most of my stuff is fanfiction, and i try to stay true to canon, but my headcanons can & do leak through sometimes.

^ that said, i have an entire world consisted of original characters & worldbuilding that im working on. idk if ill be posting it any time soon but i think its worth mentioning ^-^

i use it as an outlet & coping mechanism, but my content definitely isn't for everyone. if youre ever interested in anything im writing, pleaseeee look at the trigger warnings because things can get heavy. theres a reason my twitter mutuals dont trust me with their faves lol

faves:

omg don't make me narrow this down..

um ok i rlly love bw and bw2. so incredibly attached. especially to black, lacktwo & n, my darlings. i have a massive unova bias ok

also calem/x (i call him calem more often) (yes i stole his name (x)) (i love bullying him in fanfics)

also red blue & green. & gold & silver. and will & morty.

GLADION

SCOTTIE, BETTIE, & PAULO. yes theyre from a spinoff game, NO i dont care!

fave pokepastas:

im saying this right now, hypnos lullaby is what got me into pokemon and you can Tell

ask any of my friends who my fave is and youll immediately get 3 words; grey & shinto.

also glitchy red, snow on mt silver, tarnished gold, lost silver, BLUE TEARS, & the vegetable moreep of kalos (underrated pasta go read it pretty pls)

you actually dont understand how much i love blue tears (im actually writing a 'parody' i guess? with my own spin) & grey

tags

♡ - [ x reblogs = reblogs

♡ - [ x's talks = regular posts

♡ - [ self-reblog = reblogging my own posts

♡ - [ pkmn posting = regular pkmn stuff

♡ - [ pkpasta posting = pokepasta stuff

i think thats it? i hope thats it! if i remember anything else ill add more! credits to cafekitsune for the dividers~! byebye ^-^

[ask-ancient-china]

Oh man, I read your post about the three kingdoms, and I don’t know if you’re willing to do overly dark themes, but the Silla-Tang alliance effectively crushed Baekje into dust, and I would love to see that from China’s POV. Like, would he see bits of himself in Silla because he too murdered his “siblings” to survive or what?

((Damn dude I shit you not I wanted to mention the part about Baekje in that last post, but I was already ranting 😩 anyways trigger warnings for the dark stuff below the cut

But yeah I feel like China would probably be pleasantly surprised. Though I doubt he murdered his siblings cuz I didn’t personify the various Kingdoms in ancient China, Yao has definitely done his fair share of unorthodoxies to satisfy his ambitions, so China was probably already seeing a reflection of his younger self in Silla because of that. And when Silla emerged victorious, China’s just like *wowowowow heck I did not see this coming lol :D now this is something interesting.*

In the end, I think China would be very excited to see what our homeboy Silla would do next like he’s just found a new TV show to binge and then Silla turned around and kicked his ass out of Korea lol

[outsidethinking]

The fact that when I’m stressed I can feel no hunger is really the most unhelpful shit because when I forget to feed myself for two days (current) I uhhhh become so anxious all I can do is cry and think about offing myself

Then I drink some sweet tea and raise my blood sugar and it’s like oh maybe things will be okay

[kunikinnie]

Hello. I hope I won't bother you too much with my request. Can I ask fluff imagine for Mori, Fukuzawa, Fyodor (separately) and their fem!s/o, which they accidentally injured during a strong and heated quarrel? How would they try to make amends? Happy ending, please.

a/n: sorry this took so long! Idk how to fluff this so here's an hurt to comfort thingy if that makes sense? :') I don't usually write for Fyodor so he might be ooc... I hope it's not too far off, though HAHA tagging: @stygianoir, @irethepotato

warning: some unhealthy things here and there, I think?

accidentally hurting their s/o during an argument

featuring: Mori, Fukuzawa, Fyodor x F!Reader

Mori Ougai

In the Port Mafia, disobeying orders can lead to severe punishment. That was what lurked in Mori's mind when he confronted you.

Of course, in this context you were not a subordinate and he was not your superior. You were equals and he did his best to treat you like one. He was so used to having control that in times like this, it was especially difficult for him to keep his cool.

It was clear you were not backing down no matter how logical and clear his rebuttals were. That's fine... usually. His patience must have been thin tonight as his scalpel suddenly grazed your face.

It took the both of you by surprise. It's never happened before, and the flurry of questions and emotions in you had come out in the form of hot tears.

"W-wait, darling I'm sorry-"

You ran out of the room before he could stop you. It's not that he was too stunned to move, it was just he knew exactly where you'd run to.

He walked up to your bathroom door and knocked on it, but there was no answer. The sound of the running faucet water and your sobs might have muffled it, so he continued to knock on it until you grunted in reply.

"...let me help you with that. Please."

From what he remembered, the the cut was a bit deeper than a mere scratch. It won't do to leave it improperly treated - well, more the impact of his actions than the actual wound - or it may leave a scar that will never heal.

Fortunately, you finally opened the door to him. Your beautiful face was covered in tears and tap water with some blood still dripping down. The moment you came out, he went in and grabbed a first aid kit.

He wordlessly treated the area. You said nothing as well. But the tension between you two seemed to go down just by a fraction. The gentleness of which he took care of you must have been the reason.

Once he was done, he grabbed your hand and cupped it on his own cheek. "Forgive me, Y/N. You can slap or stab my own if you wish."

The strange offer made you laugh. "There's no need for that. You're always so dramatic."

After a moment of bewilderment, Mori smiled in relief. He was worried that it would be difficult to win you back.

"But you can't go unpunished. Hmm. Maybe take some time off and take me somewhere?"

His usual teasing smile came back. "If that's what will make you happy, then consider it done."

Fukuzawa Yukichi

Arguments with Fukuzawa, although are rare, usually tend to get heated quickly. You wouldn't even have made it to the arguing stage if the matter wasn't serious.

It was even quicker whenever it came to you risking your safety. It just triggers his fears to fly out in the form of anger.

"What were you thinking, Y/N?!"

Everything you said somehow didn't ease him at all. The justifications just didn't sit right with him, or the way you seemed to not listen to anything he was saying exasperated him further.

Hurting or threatening others generally speaking is no longer an option for him. Even in his anger he tried to control himself to the best of his ability; what led him to grab your wrist and almost break it he would never know.

It was your sharp cry that snapped him out of it. The look of fear that his targets once showed him moments before their death now on your face - he did the unthinkable and now his core was shaken.

He swiftly but gently pulls you into a tight hug as you sobbed into his chest. Regret had now threatened to squeeze his heart until it died.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry-"

Whispered apologies and reassurances of love almost turned into tears. Had you not softly grasped his back, he might have thought he had lost you right there and then.

"I didn't mean to hurt you, Y/N. I didn't. How could I-"

Slowly your bodies slumped down to the ground. His body was wrapped around yours tightly as he sobbed in the crook of your neck.

It ended up as you comforting him instead. While you were hurt (literally and figuratively) from the near-twisting of your wrist, it didn't bother you as much as it did him. Perhaps it was from you being able to understand his automatic reaction despite the initial shock.

It saddened you more that he was afraid he'd gone back to his old ways. After all you've been through together, you'd know more than anyone he had changed for the better for good.

You then started to stroke his head. It was slow, gentle, and comforting; it was like lovingly stroking a cat who had just been out in the rain.

After a while he lifted his head and your hand fell down to his cheek. You stared into his red, watery eyes. It felt inappropriate but you suddenly chuckled. He stared at you in astonishment and confusion.

"S-sorry it's just... you remind me so much of the stray cat we fed the other day."

Upon processing your words, his expression softened and he kissed your forehead. "Thank you for being so kind. You ended up being the one taking care of me."

"It's okay. I'm sorry I upset you that much. But I just love you so much I can't help myself and..."

"I love you so much, Y/N. And I promise you it won't happen again- I don't know what I'll do if you leave my life. So please, be careful next time."

Fyodor Dostoyevsky

Now here's someone who is very much capable of hurting and enjoying hurting others. His sadistic tendencies somewhat extend to even those he cares about.

There is a certain limit to how much he'd tease and test you. He needed to know how far you were willing to go for him, after all, and so far he's glad to know it's much more than he expected.

He's not the type to be openly affectionate nor stone cold with you. The signals are always mixed with him, but the one thing is crystal clear is his boundaries (specifically when it comes to his schemes). He never tells you about it, not even an inkling, and it annoys you how you're only left to guess if something terrible is going to happen to him until it actually does.

You arguing for it was out of love for him. Both of you understood that. But Fyodor isn't exactly used to yielding to anyone and his frustration at that must have ticked something in him.

His physique isn't strong at all - in fact, one would fear he'd collapse any moment - but the sting of the slap on your face was more painful than any other injury you've sustained in your life.

There were no tears. But the way you stared at him, dumbfounded and frightened, and how slowly you tried to back away had surfaced an unacknowledged but very great fear he had been burying all this time.

"Y/N, don't go."

His voice was strangely soft and sincere; it almost sounded child-like.

You turned around to see his begging face - one you'd never thought you'd see - and the way he just looked so vulnerable made you run back to him.

"I'm sorry, Y/N."

His cold, bony hand reached out to yours and squeezed it gently, but he said and did nothing. How peculiarly timid he was all of a sudden; he couldn't even look at you in the eyes.

"It's all for you. All of it, for you. So please trust me."

A voice in your head told you it was a farce - that whatever you saw right now was another one of his shrewd acts- but another, louder voice told you it was a genuine expression of love on his part.

"...can I really, after this?"

His pale lips kissed your hand. "Of course. The same way I trust you no matter how risky you are to all operations."

You scoffed at him. Risky? You? Since when?

He then smiled at your reaction. You didn't have to say a word for him to know you had already returned to him.

"Don't be offended, dear. That's simply the truth."

"You're the worst."

Not much happened after that. It passed the lips of no one either. But you did notice that he became a little bit more physically affectionate that night - not that you mentioned it outright to him, of course.

[coolhipshark]

hi guys I'm back <3 but only because I'm so s*icidal and depressed I have nowhere to go <3

[nishisun]

tomorrow can wait.

(dorm buddies special chapter) (reposted)

summary: it’s the last day of your honeymoon so you and tsukishima took advantage of it.

warnings: thigh riding, edging, unprotected sex, riding, fingering, oral (female receiving), dacryphilia (?), clit spanking (like once), idk if i’m missing anything

dorm buddies masterlist

It had been a tedious day for you and tsukishima, you both tried to visit as many places in the foreign city before going back home tomorrow. it was your idea of course, tsukishima would rather stay at home and cuddle, but he couldn’t say no to you.

you’re finally back from the the touring, now inside your luxurious (and very well air-conditioned) hotel room. you both had just finished showering since it was pretty humid outside, now laying down comfortably on the king-sized bed with tsukishima scrolling through his phone and you laying on top of him.

let’s just say one thing lead to another.

now straddled on one of tsukishima’s thighs, rubbing yourself back and forth on him, all clothing discarded somewhere in the room. both of tsukishima’s hands were placed on each hip, controlling your movement, causing you to whine.

“look at you,” he breathed gently, “desperate to get off my thigh. you that needy?” he mutters, you barely registered anything he’d just said, you can’t even bother to ask because you were too focused on gaining your release. your face is heating up a lot, though. the way his voice rasp in your ear makes you even needier.

“c’mon y/n,” he whispers tenderly, mouth pressed against your ear, “i know you can give me a better answer. be a good girl and use your words.”

“hmm, yes, kei.” you gasp when he spanks your ass quickly and speeds up the movement of your hips. “hah! i’m close!”

he removed his hands from your hips, now leaning back with the support of his arms.

“why?” you nearly yell, you were so close to achieving your orgasm. why did he suddenly stop? “why’d you stop?”

he tilts his head to the side before getting up, causing you to stumble onto the floor. “lay down on your back.”

doing as he asks, or rather, demands, you lay on your back, legs spread perfectly where tsukishima can see your glistening pussy.

he wastes no time moving down your body, leaving a wet trail of kisses on your skin. he carefully wraps his arms around your thighs, placing a kiss on each one. he looks at you for a brief moment, kissing every place except for the place that needs to be kissed the most, causing your hips to buck every now and then.

he finally stops teasing a licks a long stripe along your pussy forcing your head to throw back.

“hah!”

tsukishima’s fingers make their way up to one of your breasts, gently grazing his fingertips on your nipple as his tongue massages your clit, gently sucking the tiny bud.

“kei, please.” you sob. tsukishima looks up at you with a smirk on his face as he observes you writhing against him.

“please what, baby? what do you want? hm?” he unlatches his tongue from your clit, replacing them with his fingers that gently ghost over your slit.

“fingers, please.”

“aw,” he coos, resting his head on one of your thighs “you’re so polite”

“only for you,” you whine.

“where do you want them? want my fingers inside you?” he’s obviously taking advantage of how submissive you’ve gotten. he only knows you get like this when you’re extremely fucked out.

“Hah! Yes please!” your legs are visibly shaking, there’s tears falling from your face and it solely makes tsukishima harder. seeing the way you squirm under his hold makes him want to fuck you until you beg him to stop. he continues rubbing his pointer finger against your slit, causing your hips to buck against his hand.

“no.” his hand lands harshly on your clit, making you loudly sob in response. “if you do that again, i’m leaving you like this.”

“i’m so sorry!”

“it’s okay, baby. i know it was on accident. here, let me kiss it better, okay?”

you nod, as he immediately sucks your clit, he can feel your legs tensing under him, trying your absolute hardest not to buck your hips into him. you just don’t want to upset him.

“you’re doing so good. taking it like a champ, right baby? such a good girl.”

“y-yeah.”

he places one hand in your hip as he slowly plunges one finger inside your hole. he doesn’t move it, admiring the way your pussy flutters around it. you whimper when he finally moves his finger, curling it up just the way you like it.

“you needed this, didn’t you? it’s been a while since i’ve gotten to play with your pretty pussy. i’ve missed it.”

“mmm,” you let out a moan, “‘s missed you too.”

tsukishima chuckles, he loves the way your words slur when you’re like this, you probably don’t even notice how fucked out you sound.

it doesn’t take long before he adds another finger, stretching you out while his tongue laps your clit.

“God, ’m so close.” your hands grip his hair as you grind against his tongue. his fingers pump into you at the same speed, more forcibly making you gasp for air.

“i’m c-cumming!” one hand flies to your face quickly to cover your mouth, preventing yourself from loudly squealing as you violently cum on his fingers.

he slowly withdraws his fingers from your cunt, unlatching his mouth from your clit.

he leans toward to kiss you, tasting yourself, when he slides his tongue into your mouth. you pull away shyly, facing the opposite direction.

“please, don’t tell me you're shy.”

“do you ever shut up?”

“you’re one to talk. i’m pretty sure the people walking by our room could hear you.”

he chuckles when you instantly cover your face.

“i’m not done with you.”

tsukishima pulls his boxers off, placing one hand on each side of your head, moaning when you feel his tip come in contact with your clit.

you’re overwhelmed by his senses, his flushed skin on yours, the way his hair is now rough due to all the tugging you were doing earlier, and the way he softly nibbles on your neck.

you begin grinding your hips absentmindedly with the slight friction you’re receiving, causing tsukishima’s hands to instantly fly on one of your hips to stop you.

“needy, huh? and so disobedient.” he scoffs, squinting at you before sitting up. “c’mon. come ride me.” he leans on the head of the bed, patting his leg gently. you quickly nod, crawling over to him. he places both hands on your sides smirking.

“what? can’t do it?” he challenges.

“fuck you.”

you slowly sink down on his cock, the both of you moaning in unison at the contact. you firmly place both of your hands on the side of his shoulders as he gives an experimental thrust, causing you to yelp.

“don’t do that!”

“sorry, baby. i can’t help myself when it comes to you.”

once you’ve gotten used to his size, you slowly move up and down his shaft causing him to groan in pleasure.

“fuck.”

hearing tsukishima moan gave you the confidence to pick up the pace, grinding your hips and moving up and down as tsukishima’s hand moved to toy with your clit. he’s grunting with every move you make and your head falls back while you continue to ride him.

“you’re doing great, baby.”

“shut up. i’m trying to concentrate.”

he moves his other hand off your ass and brings it back down harshly, cause your whole body to jerk foward.

“Haah!”

he smirks when you don’t attempt to pick yourself up, laying on his chest as both his hands land on your hips thrusting into you at a brutal pace.

“shit,” he drags, “look at that, baby.” you don’t look, your mind is entirely too hazy, your head continues to rest on his shoulder. at this point you’ve gone limp.

he looks down to where the both of you are connected, slowing down his movements so he can watch the ring of your milky white cum on his cock get bigger in size every time he takes a thrust. after one thrust, he’s seemed to discover your special spot that makes you clench around him dangerously tight.

“shit, relax baby.” he groans, you let out a pathetic moan in response. “you really are a pillow princess, huh? making me carry out all the work. all bark, but no bite.” his lips ghost along your ear, you’re too fucked out to even form a sentence, the sole thing coming from your lips is a whimper.

“kei, i’m gonna cum.”

“yeah? you’ve been a good girl. cum for me.”

so you do.

your orgasm triggers his, he cums hard and deep inside you, his dick pulsing inside you. you fall on top of him, unable to move any of your muscles. tsukishima is quick to wrap his arms around you, both of you panting messes.

“you did so good. i love you.”

“hmmm,” you hum, “love you more.”

— i put this on queue for 6:00pm and it posted at 2 something........... so i reposted

— if you get tagged again PLS FORGIVE ME🙏🙏 tumblr is acting up

— i was reading the last chapter of dorm buddies and then i realized i forgot abt yams😢

taglist: @m01k @sunasro @cvlliesstuff @appleciderslut @lilacnoodles @sinistersith @d0llpie @kac-chowsballs @resetrestartandreplay @satomiis @xo-lovelyreign-xo @idiot-juice-enthusiast @definitelynotbianca @my-weeb-ass @yourlocalbabybird @bokutosuwus @tadashisprout @daninaninani @r4twh0r3 @tazinva @neokawa @mirikusashes @helloshoutohere @goldenchaos7 @wingsofmydemons @fearlesskz @moonieho @denkis-slut @nikanikabitch @peteunderoos @itsjustsavs @lalisbitch @micheleinumaki @tsukkisbbyg @kuroosluv @immxnty @rory-cakes @thechaosoflonging @ish-scribbles @randomesk-yuku @emazzello @fivxss @morosis-haze @setterswife @rarr-com1452z @excujeemi @flamingosis

[error404vnotfound]

OKAY HI IT'S ME I SUBMITTED ARTHMAEL

couple things:

the wizard is a boy and his name is Hasan

Lynne is in fact the damsel in distress and i love her very much

marabilia is in fact a place, yes. it's a bunch of kingdoms that agree to be nice to each other because they share continent

the fantasy in these books is all about the vibes so don't think too hard about the worldbuilding and magic system (there are five of them) (the first four are mostly standalones but the last one requires you to read all of them)

if anyone else is gonna read this please look up trigger warnings or ask me about them because it's not all sunshine and roses

about why i submitted arthmael:

he's just so fun. his whole attitude is hilarious as is his journey because oh honey you got a big storm coming. and then he grows and learns so much but keeps being snarky and fun. also he's the ultimate simp. and his and lynne's story is the only one that has made me cry and sob like the world was ending when they experienced joy, so there's that too

I also took the liberty of commenting on some of the things OP said too because this reaction was very fun to read

Well, I guess you're kind of a little shit so it makes sense, Arthmael

you are SO RIGHT. he IS a little shit. i love him so much

He says he doesn't want to go try to charm the princess, he'd rather just go off on his own (also there's a whole bit about how only a man can rule Dione or something and the king of Dione won't accept his daughter to become a ruler)

the princess has her own book (book 4 Jaulas de Seda) (and yeah the whole succession issue is the main plot point)

But I guess the point is probably that he needs to learn some lessons along the way, or something like that, idk. I'm sure there's a reason for why whoever entered him into the tournament likes him so much

he is a clown and very fun and the way he learns his lessons is hilarious. i also reread the book back in October and had a whole live blogging mental breakdown while doing so because. i love them all so much

Idk, like I said, the damsel's storyline is the one that interests me the most rn, it might actually get me to read further (good job, blurb, you got me)

Lynne's whole arc is heartbreaking but like. in a good way

Apologies to fans of this book series, I hope I didn't seem too rude

this was super entertaining i loved it (feel free to tag me if you keep doing this. or ask me anything that you don't understand too)

Sueños de piedra (ch1)

Okay, I promised (to myself) to check out whatever media won the ultimate obscure blorbo tournament ( @who-do-i-know-this-man (I wasn't sure whether to tag you or not but in the end I figured I might as well, hope you don't mind I guess))

Turns out that it's a guy from a 2015 Spanish YA fantasy book

And turns out there's a free sample available! Which is lucky for me because I'm currently very broke

Sueños de piedra by Iria G. Parente and Selene M. Pascual

I don't speak Spanish so I'm gonna rely on the translator quite a lot lmao (well I understand some Spanish actually, but definitely not enough to read a whole book)

The title translates to something like "Dreams of Stone" I think?

Once upon a time in a kingdom far, far away, a prince rewarded a wizard for helping rescue a young girl in trouble. Charming. Too bad none of this is true. In reality, the prince dreams of glory and revenge; the magician, with her spells not always being a disaster and the young woman in trouble, with fleeing from a past that torments her... and from the memory of the man she has killed. Once upon a time...

(Yes this is just Google Translate, sorry)

Okay so, prince, magician and a damsel in distress? Prince wants revenge for something, who knows what, magician is having trouble doing the magic, and the damsel is in fact a killer? Ok ok

The dedication goes as follows:

To all those who embark on a direct journey towards their dreams every day. May you always reach your destination.

Okay so Marabilia is a place? That's apparently also the name of this book series. Is this like the kingdom then? So it consists of three islands, two small ones and one big? Or is it supposed to be a continent? It definitely seems too small to be a continent

I know the blorbo is called Arthmael de Silfos so I'm guessing he's from the Silfos area in the north of the big island then. I can see what's probably a city called Duan and a forest called "Merlon Forest". We also have different towers around the big island, one of which seems to be called the Tower of Black Magic. (I didn't even need to use the translator for those yay xD)

Okay the first chapter is called Arthmael so I guess we're meeting our blorbo already, which is nice

— Let me make it clear: are you going to give my crown to a bastard?

Okay..... the very first line and I already think Arthmael might be a bit of a spoiled brat (I assume he's in fact the prince)

Apparently Arthmael just found out that he has an illegitimate older brother but I guess this brother's mother is noble anyway so it's legit? I dunno yet. Arthmael thinks this guy is blackmailing his father somehow and is already considering poison as a solution

And anyway, what kind of a name is Jacques for a king?

lmao, so much shade to all the kings called Jacques

Okay so Jacques's family is very powerful and loved by the people of Silfos and the king fears a civil war if he disrespects his claim to the throne. Alright. Kinda weird since based on Arthmael's thoughts, this society has a similar attitude to bastards as in European history, but okay then. I wonder if Jacques is even actually the king's son or is this some kind of a ruse?

Arthmael is very cheeky and even references his dad's love life directly to his face, his dad is not very happy

The king tells him to just be a good boy and hopefully they'll find him some crown princess to marry so he'll get a kingdom that way

I guess these different areas on the map are kingdoms then, that makes sense. They look like very small kingdoms but this is a small place in general.

Arthmael doesn't seem to mind this idea except that there's only one possible princess like that in Marabilia and that's Ivy de Dione. Not sure what's wrong with her.

Well, who knows? Maybe, if I wait a few moons, some other bastard, in Verves or Idyll, will come out from under a rock and come offer me her hand.

Somebody's very snarky, that's cute

Arthmael is very haughty about how the people have always known him as the crown prince and accepted him as such, Jacques laughs and asks what has he even done for the people. He's like well he hasn't really done much yet because he was planning to do things once he became king, but he's been supporting the local business (taverns) and employing servants (lmao). Also apparently there are some girls he's seeing...

Apparently Jacques's family are big traders and business people (despite being noblemen) and create lots of jobs, and also big on charity, so everybody loves them

Arthmael is jealous of how proud his dad looks when Jacques says this, and how he's never looked at him like that

Well, I guess you're kind of a little shit so it makes sense, Arthmael

— If the smartest thing is to become the idol of a few starving people in order to be king, I can do it too.

Oh my god, this little brat

He declares that he's going to be a hero, to overshadow the charity of Jacques' family, because heroes are remembered by history while philanthropist aren't

So he plans to become a storybook Prince Charming, saving damsels in distress etc.

Jacques finds this understandably hilarious, the king is not amused

Once Jacques leaves, the king again offers to arrange a marriage to Arthmael, specifically with the princess of Dione

I'm almost tempted. I have never been to Dione, but they say that their ships are the lightest and fastest, and that sailors come to their shores from the other side of the sea, speaking strange languages that only they understand. Who come from lands where women wear short dresses, if they wear anything at all. Places where war is so normal that, as soon as a child is strong enough to pick up a sword, they push him to the front lines.

Alright then, I see what he fixates on

Was there anything wrong with the princess then or?

Barbarians. I remove the thought from my mind.

Oh okay. What a charming young man /s

Dione is like right next to Silfos according to the map btw, is this like one of those neighbourly feuds?

Okay he says it's because he doesn't want a foreign kingdom, he wants to keep his home, which is fair I guess

The king is like what do you want me to do, kill Jacques and his pregnant wife? And Arthmael is just like yeah great idea, because he's a dumbass. The king is like wtf

Apparently Jacques' family is from that Duan city that I noted earlier, and his mother died a few days ago and apparently "her loss is greatly felt"

The king regrets spoiling Arthmael too much, and talks about how Arthmael doesn't understand anything about suffering or anything and only cares about girls

Arthmael is already considering faking his death to make them all feel sorry, because of course he is, he's exactly that kind of guy

He says he doesn't want to go try to charm the princess, he'd rather just go off on his own (also there's a whole bit about how only a man can rule Dione or something and the king of Dione won't accept his daughter to become a ruler)

His dad tells him no, just stay here and be a good boy, don't make everybody gossip about drama in the royal family

Arthmael is like hey you managed to hide your bastard son for years, you can hide my disappearance

They fight a bit more but then Arthmael just storms out, grabs a few things from his room and leaves

a change of clothes, a bag of coins, my sword, and my favourite cloak. I do not need anything else.

Okay then, good luck I guess

To be a hero you only need a brave heart. Or so they say.

I feel like you also need to not be a selfish prick but maybe that's optional

Okay end of first chapter!

Our blorbo seems like a real brat!

But I guess the point is probably that he needs to learn some lessons along the way, or something like that, idk. I'm sure there's a reason for why whoever entered him into the tournament likes him so much

I'm guessing the damsel in distress is not the princess? Probably? She wasn't called a princess anyway. TBH she's the character I'm currently the most curious about. The next chapter is from the point of view of someone called Lynne and I hope that's her. Could be the magician too though I guess? No wait, I think the magician is a guy. Altho idk maybe Lynne could be a guy's name, I don't fucking know.

I'm guessing that Arthmael will try to rescue the damsel so he can be a hero, because that's what heroes are supposed to do, but then it'll go wrong somehow? And then the magician will get involved somehow, I have no clue.

That's all my predictions I suppose. Altho I'm guessing that Jacques might turn out to be a villain somehow, I didn't get the vibe that he was particularly great either, just not as much of a brat as Arthmael, and it would then be something for Arthmael to do when he gets back home. Then again maybe the book will surprise me, who knows. To be honest, it would feel a bit like a cop out if it turns out that the guy he hates actually is evil, but it could be handled well, and it's not like I like Jacques either so far. He seems extremely sus too

No guesses as to what the title refers to yet, it could be anything

Idk, like I said, the damsel's storyline is the one that interests me the most rn, it might actually get me to read further (good job, blurb, you got me)

I still have a surprisingly good amount of the free sample left, there's actually nine chapters here, so idk, maybe I'll keep going? We'll see

I'm pretty happy with how much I was able to follow the text even on my own, altho I definitely had to rely on the translator. I would not have had the patience to try to translate all of this myself. But I definitely understood multiple full sentences! Yaaay xD

Apologies to fans of this book series, I hope I didn't seem too rude

[blurrycow]

Life Is Too Short To Last Long

Synopsis: Five Hargreeves is on a self-destructive rampage, and Viktor needs to stop it before it gets worse. 

Word count: 2931

Trigger warnings: mentions of death, death, suicide, blood, cursing. Like Five buddy are you ok

Author’s notes: HERE IS THE REPOSTED VERSION OF THE FIC WHERE I KILL FIVE!!! PLUS CHAPTER TWO!!! ahaha so I did try to get this over 2k and!! It worked!! So that’s why it’s got so many run on sentences and lengthy descriptions, sob. Anyway I hope you likey because this is my pride and joy and like the first actual REAL fic I’ve ever finished (and I may make a third part, so stay tuned!) Also, Five is super ooc in the second part, but that is because he is dead. So.  Tags: @conchshell, @stupidcanofpeaches, @assaily, @burnmyself, @sharkneto, @hargreef, @rllybritrlly (idk if you read fanfic brit but i like torturing people so…. youre on the taglist now lol)

Hi, sorry for the tag guys! But I DID end up finishing this and I think it’s pretty good if I do say so myself muahaha 

“Come on, Five,” Viktor pleads, but Five only presses his hand closer to his chest. Viktor can feel all of his ribs through his shirt. Five is so skinny. How did he not see it before? Who knows how long it’s been since he ate? Since he sat down and took a break? How long has it been since he’s gotten a shower or relaxed?

“Just do it,” His brother begs, holding his hand like a lifeline against his heart, and Viktor stops short. Five never begs. He’s aloof. He’s prideful. He’s cold. But above all, he does not beg. 

Viktor swallows and shakes his head. “I can’t.” He’s not lying. The cold pierces through the night like a sharp knife, gleaming and hard, the type of cut that you don’t notice until you’re bleeding out on the floor. 

Viktor is the one metaphorically bleeding out on the floor. 

Five’s eyes grow hard and cold, the greenish blue laced with anger and pain. Viktor is startled by their intensity. “Just do it,” he repeats, and his voice is shaking slightly, warm breath releasing in pale grey puffs into the light of the streetlamp and the dark road. A place for a nighttime stroll or midnight donut run. Not a place for a killing. Not a place for a suicide. 

Viktor feels the tears coming, but he swallows down the lump in his throat. “I don’t know why.” Maybe he can prolong this. Maybe if he makes Five explain, he can talk him down.

Five shuts his eyes, lashes fluttering on pale cheeks. Viktor can feel his heartbeat, pounding shakily but holding steady. “Because the Commission implanted a disease in my brain.” 

“And what does this disease do?” Viktor grills desperately, hoping with all of his will that his siblings are coming soon. If anyone can help Five it would be Allison’s rumors or Luther’s strength, or Diego’s knives and Klaus’s wit. They would all be so much better in this situation.

“It makes me want to destroy you,” Five says, opening his eyes again, and they are very shiny, like an ocean in the sunlight. “It makes me want to kill you all and myself, so I’d rather you get it over with before I have to kill all of you.”

The night is quiet. A gust of wind chills Viktor to the bone. He’s never felt this cold in his life. “You’re my brother. I can’t hurt you.”

Five lets go of Viktor’s hand, suddenly feral, savage, a wild boy turned rabid. He grows teeth, snaps, snarls. “You have to, Viktor! If you don’t kill me, I’ll kill you! It’s a kill or be killed world, and the only thing to do is kill me, because you can’t die, not when I’ve been working my whole damn life to keep you alive!” 

Viktor is silent. Guilt chews its toxic way through his stomach, eating out his organs, leaving him desiccated and immobilized on the floor.

“You did it once. You can do it again.” 

That’s what does it. That’s what fells the final blow. Viktor remembers the agony, the anger, the lash, the worry. 

He’d killed his family. Five’s time spent in the apocalypse was his fault. 

Viktor has to put him out of his misery, no matter how much he wants to hold on. 

He stares at this boy, this boy that is not the same as he remembers, and Five is spitting and maniacal, shouting something about how Viktor needs to kill him, to just channel his power and blow his brains out, but Viktor has stopped listening.

There’s really no other choice but to kill Five, then. To kill the only brother he’s ever really loved. 

How sad is that? How tragic must the Hargreeves be to be put into situation after situation, and now their backbone is offing himself at Viktor’s hand?

But time stops for no one, not even the Master of Time, and Five is already foaming at the mouth, hungry and ready for blood, and Viktor has to choose: does he want to die or does he want Five to live?

Five slams Viktor’s hand against his chest again, weakly, like he’s running out of steam. “I told you why. Now do it quick.” His eyes are bloodshot and pained, and glistening with something that looks like tears. But it can’t be tears. Five Hargreeves never cries. Crying is too weak. Crying is too human. 

And Five Hargreeves isn’t human. He’s a cold, unfeeling killer. This is what the world has shaped him to be. 

Viktor is teetering on the edge of humanity, ready to fall. 

“You goddamn coward,” Five whispers, sensing the change in the atmosphere, and Viktor goes over the edge, toppling into the dark pit of oblivion, past his soundproof chamber and critical whispers and into the shadows where it is dark and cold and black, and there he sees a boy, standing alone. 

The boy is holding a leash empty of pets, and his hair is dark and unruly and falling in a curtain over his face. He is thin and short, with icy blue eyes far too intelligent for his face, and he is wearing a blue uniform piped with red. The boy opens his mouth, and blood spills out over his teeth, staining them red, dripping down his chin in lazy rivers that spiral in scarlet kaleidoscopes. The leash drops from his hand as he collapses, and Viktor hears his own voice within the boy’s tortured scream- KILL ME. 

He flies back to the present where things are overwhelmingly hot and Five is back in front of him and the streetlights gleam pale fluorescents and the wind whistles like a cheery barber and Viktor is filled with a strong and sudden conviction that this is what he is supposed to do. 

He’s gotta be a good brother, right?

He nods, looks at his brother. Five nods back, mouth in a tightly pained grimace. They both know what comes next, and although later the guilt will come, the overwhelming loneliness and hurt and shame, for now Viktor can only see the fact of what is happening right now and what will come. 

His plan will be put into action, and Five might never forgive him, but he can’t just let him go. 

Viktor unleashes his power in a burst of blue white, and the world is bathed in pale light.

***

He lands on the ground hard, feet unsteady by the force of the blow. 

The ground is unseeable, and Viktor can’t see his ankles or feet, because they are wreathed in black smoky sludge. 

For some reason, this does not bother him. It does not worry him that he cannot see his feet. Usually it would, he thinks, and then laughs at himself. Why is he thinking about his feet?

He looks up. He’s alone on an empty street, the smoky black sludge coursing down the decline but not pulling him along with the current. It is dark, not the dark that smothers the night, but the dark that wraps you in a comforting blanket. There are no stars, only an endless path of evenly spaced street lamps on either side of the road he is standing in. It’s quiet. Viktor takes a breath. 

He does not note the sudden change in temperature, or the way the trees droop like abandoned dogs. It does not bother him.

Or, at least, he thinks it doesn’t. 

The world feels very simplistic, a mirage of black and white. It’s beautiful. The sludge keeps its course down the pavement, and the black sky keeps on twinkling. The glaring white lights from the streetlamps only add to the atmosphere. 

A sudden ringing of a bell, a chime. Viktor turns his face heavenward. It is the first sound he has heard since he arrived, wherever he is. Whatever he is. 

He tilts his head back down to look back at the path and in front of him is a short, chubby girl, with long brown hair and straight bangs and pale white eyes rolled back in her head. 

Viktor knows this girl well. He has been her. He has felt her pain and felt her worries and felt her embarrassment and sorrows and scars and he knows, with conviction, that she is here to chastise him. 

He is not scared, for some reason, but his skin crawls. 

“Viktor, Viktor,” the girl cries, distressed, tears rolling down her face, fat and always coming in their amusement. “Viktor, what have you done now?” She appears to be looking for him with her pale unseeing eyes and Viktor tries to walk closer, to console his younger self, but the sludge prevents him from moving. “I don’t know,” he tries to say. “Why are you here?” but his mouth doesn’t let him, and when he opens it the only thing that comes out is open air, cool and unfeeling and emotionless. 

The girl says, “The pain will come soon.”

“Viktor, you have made a grave mistake,” says another voice, and when he looks again, the girl is gone and in her place is a tall, bulky man with an olive trench coat and closely cut butter-yellow hair. There is the vaguest notion of recognition behind those white eyes, and Viktor startles by the intensity of it.  

Another blink and the man is now a curly haired dark skinned woman, and she leans forward, lips by Viktor’s ear, and he tries to jerk back from her touch, but he can’t move. The woman whispers, only you will realize what you have done, and leans away and when he sees her again, moon-white eyes pale and unseeing, she is another person, a man, with short, curled hair and a mischievous grin, and the man says, “You will regret this,” and then skips around Viktor in a circle and he tries in vain to escape the sludge and paralysis, and the black sludge is rising, rising, coating his legs and the bottom of his torso and is crawling higher and higher still, up to his neck and chin and Viktor cannot move and he seems to be suffocating from the power of the black sludge and the man with the grin laughs, happy, so happy to see his pain and suffering, so happy to see justice carried out, and then the man is gone and in his place is a boy. 

The worst part is that the boy does not do anything. He just stands there, watching, knowing, and his eyes are not white, they’re blue-green. A startlingly familiar color. He stares at Viktor with recognition and disappointment. 

“Viktor,” he says. “This was not the plan.” 

And then Viktor remembers, in a racecar rush, vibrant and killing. 

The pain, the flash, the regret. It comes in like a waterfall, almost crushing him alive. 

“Five,” he says, almost desperately, pleadingly. “I couldn’t.”

“You need to go back,” Five says, quickly. There is no question, no hesitation. Viktor wishes he had that confidence. “You can’t stay here. You don’t belong here. You weren’t supposed to kill yourself too.”  

“Neither do you,” Viktor argues. “You were too young.”

“I was fifty eight,” snaps Five. “I was done anyway.”

I was done anyway.

How had Viktor not seen it? 

“Why didn’t you tell me,” he whispers, not really a request. “I would have helped you.” He doesn’t add: I’ve been there. I know how it feels to be alone. 

To want to just… be gone. 

“I wasn’t your problem,” Five waves away his words, eyes everywhere but Viktor. 

“I care about you. You’re my brother.”

“Well, you shouldn’t. Care about me, that is. All it’s gonna bring you is trouble.” 

“You shouldn’t be here,” Viktor says, reserve going steely. How could Five just leave them like that, again?

He wanted to leave. 

Why would he want to leave? How could he willingly kill himself? 

But it was Viktor who killed him, really. 

“Just go,” Five says, turning away; and Viktor is suddenly mad because it sounds a whole lot like what he said before, before he pointed the hand at himself, before he told Viktor to just kill me, you damn coward. 

Viktor’s not the coward, Five is. Five’s the one who’s been running his whole life, first from their dad, and then from the Commission, and now he’s running from life into the comforting arms of Death. 

Five’s the real coward here. 

Viktor tells himself this, and it helps him stay calm as he says, “What made the Commission so angry as to plant the disease in your brain?” He needs an explanation. Maybe things can make more sense, maybe he can make a plan, maybe, maybe, maybe. 

Five rolls his neck to the side, and it makes a cracking sound. “Pissed em’ off, that’s what. I refused to kill Kennedy, and when I went back to get the briefcases in the first apocalypse, they did it. While I was sleeping. It only hurt a little bit,” he adds when he sees the expression on Viktor’s face. 

Somehow, Viktor does not believe him. Five’s pain threshold is like a tastefully decorated altar. It’s not really a threshold, and Allison had told them long ago that if Five downplayed something, it was definitely worse than he said. 

Allison! What had happened to her? Viktor hasn’t seen his sister since three days ago, when he and Five broke off, away from the Sparrows. The others scattered elsewhere. None of them have reached out, or tried to communicate. 

At least, not that he knows of. He hasn’t reached out to his siblings either, mostly because he can’t. 

He really misses his sister. He misses his dumbass brothers, too, despite all odds. 

“Viktor?” 

Viktor looks up, and he’s made a plan, he’ll stall, just keep Five with him for as long as he can. “Sorry. I don’t think you can stay here. I won’t let you. If I go back, you’re coming with me.” 

Five’s blue-green eyes darken, pupils contracting, until they are swallowed by an ocean of color, an abstract art of madness and torment. “I can’t. If I go back, I’ll just kill you. This is the only way.”

“There is always another way,” Viktor says, voice rising. “You taught me that yourself. There is always another way, and there is more than one way out. We can tie you down so you don’t hurt us. We can, we can confine you so you’ll still be with us somehow, I-” 

“Do you hear yourself?” Five cuts in, snapping like a rubber band on the edge of a knife. “Do you seriously think I’ll agree to that? Why would I want to live in a world where I can’t do anything?”

He’s right, and Viktor knows it. The only reason Five is here in this medium space is because Viktor is. And because Viktor won’t let his memory go. 

He’s selfish. The kind thing, the good thing to do, would be to let Five go to wherever it is he wants to go, and not hinder him in his travels. Viktor can honor his brother’s memory in his own, and let the spirit go free. 

Klaus has told him enough about the dead for him to know that spirits don’t like to be contained.

“I don’t know,” Viktor says, softly, like falling snow. “This feels like Ben all over again.” 

He doesn’t think that he can lose another brother, watch another fade away for real. 

Viktor looks up again, and Five has moved to stand beside him, a comforting presence. “If you go back and I stay… there might be a chance that the timeline is changed. If I’m dead, I can’t be in Dallas in the past. That means that I’ll probably be with the Sparrows.” 

Viktor sniffles. “I don’t know if I can handle that after seeing Ben.” 

“It’s okay,” Five says, a little awkwardly. “I’ve already lived a long life anyway. I don’t mind.” 

He still looks about twelve. It’s weird to hear him say that.

And Viktor still doesn’t want to let him go. Although it would be the kinder thing to do. 

“The girl already met with me,” Five says, “And she said that I was ready to go. Whenever you are.”

“The girl-” 

“She doesn’t want to meet with you. She said it’s not your time yet. So you can go. Whenever you think you can let me go.” 

VIktor wipes his nose on the back of his hand and holds his arms out. 

Five stares at them a little bit in confusion, and Viktor says, “One last hug, before I leave?” 

Five smiles, just the tiniest bit out of the corner of his mouth, and Viktor thinks that he wishes he  would have smiled like that more when he was alive. 

His brother is warm, and his elbow pokes into Viktor’s stomach, but he finds he doesn’t mind. Five rests his head on top of Viktor’s shoulder, because he’s tall enough to do that now, Viktor sighs. 

“I’m gonna miss you so much, Five,” he says quietly, and Five doesn’t reply, only buries his face deeper into Viktor’s hoodie. 

Viktor wonders how long it’s been since Five’s been hugged like this. 

Finally, his brother pulls away from the hug, and Viktor smiles at him a little. 

“Bye, little brother,” Five says, crooking another sideways grin. 

Viktor wishes he could capture him like this forever.

Remember him smiling.

He lets go, and the light is an overwhelming symphony in the dark. 

[avenger-hawk]

Moonlight incites dark passions like a cold flame. Saving a life has many meanings, reasons and consequences. For both the saved and the savior. The second birth of an obsession that has always been there, the sun's descent into darkness and the moon's drowning into oblivion.

Pairing: Narusasu (top Naruto, bottom Sasuke)

Warnings: Darkfic!!! Power & control dynamics, obsession, dark possessive psychotic Naruto (definitely not a selfless ball of sunshine), brainwashed/guilt-tripped Sasuke, emotional manipulation, angry dark sex, violence (physical and psychological) all the unhealthy pack.  Also, dom/sub dynamics, not really BDSM but kinda, anti-ending undertones.

Don’t read if you’re looking for romantic stories, if you don’t want their bond and Naruto’s personality to be depicted darkly and if you can’t handle darkfics. 

Also on Archive of Our Own.

[mypoisonedvine]

Dishonorable Discharge | dark!Bucky Barnes x sister!reader

please please please do not read or interact if this content would be triggering or upsetting for you in any way.  i do not condone the topics or behaviors that i write about.

summary: you and your brother were always thick as thieves, even if you weren’t technically related.  you weren’t ready for him to leave to go off to war, but you were even less prepared for the shell of him that would return.

warnings: noncon smut, sibling incest (I mean she’s adopted but still), breeding kink, innocence kink, loss of virginity, mention of hypothetical underage activity?? idk how to tag that but everyone in this story is 18+!

word count: 3.6k

tagging @lestersglitterglue​ cause they asked real nice!

Even though you were adopted, people always said that you and Bucky had a family resemblance.  It wasn't your respective appearances per se, but rather the way your eyes both sparkled.  Your parents sometimes joked that the two of you were more brother and sister than most brothers and sisters were— and they were right: even with the age gap, often the two of you felt like twins.  It was hard to imagine that your biological parents could've kept you and that you never would've known him... it felt like he had always been your brother, your best friend, your partner in crime; your Jamie.

You had been awful when he deployed.  You'd sobbed and screamed and beat his chest with your weak little fists.  You'd told him that if he left, you would hate him forever; that if he left, he might as well never come back.

Of course you regretted it once you got older and realized how stupid you were.  But you were only fifteen then, and heartbroken, and too selfish to understand that there were things more important than the promises you'd made to each other as children.  You were so afraid that he wouldn't come back and that you'd lose your only real friend in this world; and, like it often does, that fear turned to anger.  

By the time you were seventeen, you finally stopped crying and tried to make a life for yourself.  You tried to see it all as an opportunity: he'd always been the popular one, meaning you were stuck being known as "Bucky's little sister" rather than as your own person.  Now you could just be you for once— as soon as you figured out who you were without him.

By nineteen, you had lost hope that he would return.  You pretended to be at peace with that.  You pretended not to hate yourself for pushing him away when you needed each other most.  Silently, you thought of him every day; secretly, you went to church every night to pray for him.

It was the sort of neighborhood where you could leave your door unlocked, so you did.  Still, people usually knocked first.  You were wearing a nightgown you only wore around the house because it was much too short and small for you now, but with the hot weather, it was necessary.  You hadn’t expected to hear the door open, so as you nervously peered out from the hall to the foyer, you were beyond surprised at what you saw.

The man in the doorway… he looked familiar.  He was wearing your brother's uniform.  But his eyes were different.  That sparkle you shared was long gone.  And without it, you weren't sure he was your brother anymore.

"Jamie?" you asked, unable to believe what you were seeing.

Recognition crossed his face like he was hearing the name of someone he used to know.

"Jamie," you called again, your voice breaking as you ran to him; you wrapped your arms around his waist and held him tight enough to make up for all the lost time.  "I thought I'd lost you," you sobbed, "oh god, Jamie, I thought you were—"

"Shhhh," he soothed, finally reciprocating the hug as one hand stroked the back of your head.  

"Don't ever leave me again," you begged.  "I can't lose you again."

"I won't go," he promised softly.

And just like that, you were the same little girl who'd clung to his legs and begged him to stay all those years ago, but this time you'd gotten what you always dreamed of.  This time, he wasn’t going to leave.

“You still like your eggs basted?” you asked him with a toothy smile, doing your best to keep things light.  You had so many questions for him but you wanted him to just feel at home first.  You two had always told each other everything, so you figured it wouldn’t be long until he told you what he’d been through in the last several years.

When you turned to receive the answer to your question, though, you found him spaced out in his seat at the dining table, staring off into nothing.  You could tell he was thinking about something just from the way his eyes were glazed over; you could tell he was thinking about something unpleasant from the way his fist was tightened.

"Are you okay?" you asked gently.  Silence.

You left your place by the stove, crossing the kitchen and kneeling down so you were eye-level with him.  Hesitantly, you reached out to brush your hand against his face.  He was certainly older-looking, and stubble dusted his jaw where it met with where his hair had grown out.  You wondered if it was as strange for him to see you and how much you’d aged as it was for you to see him like this.

“Jamie,” you whispered, “come back to me.”

Finally, as your hand cupped his cheek, he turned to look at you.  Even with a face that was hard to recognize at times, the eyes that met yours were undoubtedly your brother’s.  Darker, yes, and clearly tired from everything they’d seen, but as blue and perfect as always.

"When you call me that,” he spoke, eyes scanning your face, “it's like no time has passed at all.  It's like I'm still the same boy I was the day I left."

You swallowed.  "But you aren't, are you?"

He shook his head, just barely.

“Hey, listen to me,” you instructed, getting more serious and refusing to let him break the eye contact.  “It doesn’t matter what you’ve seen, or what you’ve done.  You’re my brother.  You’re my best friend.  You’re my whole world—”

You choked up a little, but kept going.

“—and I’m glad you’re home, okay?”

“Okay,” he agreed, smiling that crooked smirk that made your heart melt every time.

“You still want those eggs?”

He nodded a little.

“Basted?”

“Yeah, basted,” he agreed, turning back to the table as you stood up and returned to the stove.

“Your room’s the same as it was when you left,” you told him as you cracked the first egg into the hot pan.  You were sort of nervous to bring up anything about that, but you thought he might find it comforting.

“I don’t think I’m ready to go in there yet,” he admitted.  

“Stay in my room tonight, then.  It’s almost the same as it was then, too…”

“I’m amazed that bed can still fit you; are you sure we’ll both be able to sleep on it?” he asked.

“Oh, I was gonna give you the bed and make myself a pallet on the floor!” you clarified, wondering how he ever thought the two of you could share a bed; you hadn’t since you were little little-- like, under ten-years-old little.

But when you turned to look at him again, he seemed genuinely disappointed.  "Of course I can't let you sleep on the floor.  You take the bed; I've got a lot of practice with sleeping on the ground anyhow."

That was the last thing you wanted, him reminded of what it was like out there.

"We'll share the bed," you announced.  "If I take off all the plushies and decorative pillows, there might just be room for you."

"Woah woah woah," Bucky raised his arms as if to motion for you to slow down.  "We can't just go evicting Mr. Hoppy!  He's been a full-time resident of your bed for the past twenty years!" 

You both laughed, and it was almost like old times.

"He'd happily move over for you, Jamie."

The two of you brushed your teeth side-by-side in silence; you waited for him to finish his shower while you turned down the sheets, scooping up everything decorative on the bed and tossing it into the chair in the corner.

You choked a little when he stepped into your room with only a towel around his waist, using another to rub his hair dry.

"Don't you have some pyjamas?" you asked awkwardly.  "No matter— I actually have some of the pants you used to wear right here."

You pulled the checkered pants from your closet, and handed them to him as he nodded gratefully; you barely turned around fast enough to look away before he dropped his towel.

"Why do you have these in here anyways?" he asked as you tried to ignore the sounds of the fabric brushing over his bare skin.

"I wear them, sometimes," you admitted, feeling your face get a little warm, "when I miss you."

"Well, I'm here now," he hummed, wrapping his arms around you from the back and pulling you into a hug.  You could feel the warmth of his chest and arms burning right through your silky shift.  You almost wished you had worn something thicker; and yet, somehow, you also wished that there was no fabric in the way at all.  

Slipping under the comforter together, you wondered if it was odd that he was cuddling up to you.  You didn't mind it, since it was the most like the brother you remembered that he'd been all day, but some part of you was worried what people would think if they knew.  

You brushed the thought aside.  Nobody would know anyways.  

He placed a kiss to the top of your head as you basked in how small it made you feel.  "You smell the same as before, sissy."

You used to hate that nickname but now it was beyond welcome.  It reminded you of simpler times.  

"I hope that's a good thing," you replied.

"It's a wonderful thing.  The day your handkerchief stopped smelling like you was the day I thought I would lose all hope," he recalled.

You remembered when he took it; he said he wanted something to remember you by, and you'd responded by telling him to just forget about you because obviously he never loved you at all.

"I was so cruel to you that day," you cringed.  "I hate myself so much for that..."

"Hey, hey," he got your attention with a soft plea, guiding your chin until you were looking up at him with watery eyes.  "You were a kid.  I was, too.  You acted out, it happens."

"But I said things that weren't true, Jamie— awful, terrible things…"

"I never believed them," he assured you with a smile.

"We promised to never lie to each other," you whimpered, "and I broke that promise."

He shook his head.  "It's all in the past now.  Just be honest with me from now on, and I'll keep every promise I made."

You remembered a pinky swear made up in the highest branches of a tree: a promise to never be apart.  He'd broken that one, but maybe he wouldn't do it again.  The thought made your heart flutter.

"Be honest," he instructed you again.  

"Always," you agreed.

"Do you love me?" he asked, so quiet it was barely a whisper.

"O-of course," you answered quickly, stuttering not because of any lack of surety but simply from wondering how he could ever question that.

Slowly, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours, his thumb and forefinger still holding your chin.  For a brief moment it felt believable as a familial kiss.

But then it didn't.

He began to move his mouth against yours, and instantly you pulled back, looking at him with what you figured must have been an expression of stunned confusion.  "Jamie," you mumbled in disbelief.

"I missed you so much," he purred, seeming to ignore your reluctance.  "Don't break my heart, sissy, I just want a kiss."

"I can't kiss you like that," you shook your head.

"Please?  You have no idea how lonely I've been, how hard it was without you…"

You felt guilty for his pain, and you had always hated to deny him of anything.  The absolute second that you gave him a hesitant nod, he dove right back in, kissing you deeper and harder than before.  His tongue forced its way into your mouth but you couldn't pull back; his arm had somehow gotten to the back of your neck, holding you close to him.

You whimpered with confusion when you felt his other hand moving up your leg and slipping under your nightgown.  He smiled against your lips when his fingertips brushed over your hips and he realized that you weren't wearing undergarments.  You internally cursed yourself for it, even though it was normal not to wear anything underneath a gown like this.  What was abnormal was what he was doing.

"You're so smooth, and soft," he murmured, just barely pulling back from the kiss, "and I know you want me so bad—"

Just as his hand started to move dangerously close to somewhere it was definitely not supposed to be, you reached down and stopped him by grabbing his forearm.  

"D-don't," you managed to stammer out.

"Don't?" he repeated incredulously.  "Well, why not?"

"It's wrong…" you explained weakly.

"Such a good little girl, just like always," he chuckled. "You haven't changed at all.  Except, of course, this incredible body…"

It was much too easy for him to wriggle out of your grip, pulling out from your nightgown only to reach up and roughly grab your breasts through it.  Your face was burning and your gut sank with fear— and yet, there was a paradoxical tingle of arousal burning between your legs.

"You've grown a lot while I was gone," Bucky noticed aloud, groaning softly as he felt you up.  "Almost didn't recognize you when I stepped in.  I saw those gorgeous legs of yours and thought, 'who's the fox and what's she doing in my house?'  Of course, by the time I'd realized it was my kid sister, it was too late."

"It's not too late," you desperately assured, "you can stop now, and we won't tell anybody, and it'll be like nothing ever happened—"

You stopped as he started laughing lowly, shaking his head.  "Sweetheart, I'm not coming back from this, don't you understand?  You were all I thought about while I was gone.  You're the only girl I ever loved."

His hips pressed forward and you gasped when you felt his erection pressing into your thigh.  You bit down on your lip to keep it from quivering; for some reason, you didn't want him to know how scared you were.

"Feel that?" he asked, grinning when you nodded nervously.  "That's how much I love you."

You stammered helplessly as he reached down between your legs again.  

"Time to find out how much you love me," he purred, and you were frozen; paralyzed.  Two of his thick fingers swiped through your folds, gathering the arousal they found there.  "Oh, you love me quite a lot."

"I— I don't—"

"Take this thing off," he demanded suddenly, grabbing your nightgown.  You shook your head.  "I'm not gonna ask you again," he informed you sternly.  "Take it off or I'm gonna rip it off'a you."

You shook your head again, tears flowing freely until you felt wet patches beside your face on your pillow.

Bucky growled and manhandled you onto your back, grabbing at your nightgown and pushing your arms out of the way when they reached up to cover your chest.

He tore through it like it was paper.  "Look at you," he murmured in awe, "all grown up."

"James," you sobbed, "what are you doing?!"

"I'm taking care of you!" he responded, seemingly confused that you would even ask that.  "You're my baby sister; I promised to always take care of you and I meant it."

"This isn't right," you whispered, partially to him but mostly to yourself.

"This is the only thing that's right," Bucky disagreed, leaning down a little to hover over you as he began to push his pants down.

You recoiled when you saw his cock; you hadn't seen one before, except in drawings.  They hadn’t prepared you for this.  His looked big, red at the tip like it was angry; leaking and throbbing like it was desperate.

"You a virgin, sissy?" he asked in a way that made it hard to tell if he was being genuine or mocking you.

You nodded; you'd promised to be honest, after all.

"You were saving yourself for me," he informed you, and before you could deny it, he continued, saying everything like it was obvious fact.  "You knew you needed me. You knew you'd only be satisfied by your big brother's cock."

You shook your head as tears welled in your eyes, your protests muffled as he roughly kissed you again.  You tried to push him away but he was like marble, hard and unyielding.  You felt his sex sliding over yours and it made you feel dizzy and a little nauseous.

"You know how long I've dreamed of being inside you?" he asked darkly, his lips brushing against your ear.  "You know how long I've wanted to get a taste of this perfect little cunt?  I'll give you a hint: it was before I left."

He ignored your sobs of fear and cries of pain, and pushed his hips forward; he groaned as his cock forced your walls to part, and you felt like the wind had been knocked out of you.

"Oh god," he moaned weakly when he bottomed out, "oh my fucking god… you feel so perfect, sissy.  You feel so fucking good, I swear I could come right now.  I could fill you up—" he pulled back out most of the way and shuddered— "right fucking now."

"N-no, Jamie," you sobbed, "you have to pull out, you can't come inside!"

"Why not?" he pouted, slamming into you so hard that you were forced to choke out your cry of pain.  "I think you want it.  I think I deserve it.  I could get you pregnant and then you'd be mine forever."

"No!" you sobbed.  "Please, you can't!"

"I can," he assured you coldly through his teeth, his arm wrapping around your neck to hold you steady as he fucked into you.  "I can, little girl, and I'm gonna."

Tears streamed down your face, even as you let yourself admit that your brother's movements inside you did feel… intriguing, to say the least.  He buried his face into your neck, fucking you deep but slow.  You'd never felt so full before; you wrapped your legs around his hips before you could stop yourself.

"Fuck," he groaned, "you want me so damn bad, don't you?  You always wanted me.  I remember how you got so jealous when I lost it to Betsy Miller."

As sick as it was, you had; and even now, imagining him doing this with her made your stomach twist.

"You want me all to yourself, don't you, sissy?"

Shamefully, you nodded.

"Aw, it's okay," he soothed.  "You've got me, sis.  'M never gonna leave ya.  We're gonna be together forever, just like we always said."

That was all you'd ever wanted.  Why did it sound so terrifying now?

"I can feel you squeezin' me, babydoll.  I know you wanna come all over my cock," he taunted.

"N-no," you stumbled over your denial, but pleasure was searing through you faster than you could handle it.

"Beg me to fill up this little pussy," he instructed as his eyes got darker and a hand wrapped around your throat.  "Beg or you don't get to breathe."

"Please," you moaned through your tears, "please, fill up my— my little pussy…"

"Yeah?  You want my come?"

He started thrusting faster and you could feel the way your arousal had spread to coat both his thighs and yours; why was your body so responsive?

"Please, Jamie, I want your come," you repeated.  "I need it…"

"I know you do," he snarled, looking down at you with half-lidded eyes.  "I know you do, baby, I know you need my come."

"Please…" you repeated one last time, the word coming out choked and weak as you felt your own orgasm starting to crash into you, your whole body tightening involuntarily.

"Fuck, I can feel you coming— 'm close, sissy, I'm not gonna last much— oh fuck—!"

His hips stuttered to a stop and you winced as you felt him flexing inside you, pumping his load into you for what felt like ages.

He collapsed on top of you with a sigh and a smile.  "I wanted to last longer, even jerked off in the shower to try to take the edge off but… you just felt too good."

You were silent and still beneath him as he rambled, kissing away your tears between each word.

"I'll take better care of you next time, sis, don't worry.  Wanna make you come with just my tongue," he announced excitedly.  "But that'll wait until tomorrow.  Tonight you just relax, and don't move too much so I can stay inside you.  It's the only way I'm gonna be able to sleep."

He hugged you all night, drifting off even while you were wide awake and staring at the ceiling.

You were horrified at what your brother had become, and at what he had done to you.  But that wasn't what kept you awake.  No, you couldn't sleep because you were too busy trying to deny how much you had enjoyed it.

[blazingparker]

But When My Time Is Up, Have I Done Enough?

tag list: @pantastic-peach @winterthal

here it is - the fic inspired by They Both Die at the End by Adam Silvera. I cried while writing it, so I apologize in advance for any emotional damage I do with this one. idk I hope I wrote it well enough to make people upset, as bad as that sounds!! If it’s any consolation, they don’t both die in this one.

read it on ao3!

trigger warning: death

---

Present Day

How do you live in a world fixated on death?

That was the question everyone was asking themselves these days, what with the creation of The List.

The List had popped up overnight a year ago, a website with a mile-long list of names, under three simple words: Rest In Peace.

At first, no one thought anything of it. Who cared about some random, anonymous person who had compiled a list of names with a slightly ominous header? If anything, some people found it fun to look at the list and see if their names were on it.

Until they found out what The List was for.

Every day, without fail, every person on the list passed away. Some died of old age and natural causes, some in tragic accidents. The first time it happened, it was dismissed. It was scary, sure, but it had to be a cosmic fluke. But when the list continued to predict the deaths every single day with unfailing accuracy, things changed.

The list was posted at midnight exactly, and most stayed up until then, anxiously refreshing the page before scanning it for their names. In cities across the world, sighs of relief and sobs of anguish escaped. Some retreated to the sanctuary of a warm, comforting bed while others placed frantic calls to loved ones.

Each day was supposed to be treated like a blessing, but it was hard to truly live when constantly surrounded by the reminders of death. The List was seen by many as a blessing - a way to tie up any loose ends and spend your last day on Earth doing everything you’d always wanted to do. But sometimes you couldn’t help but wonder - wouldn’t your time be better served doing all those things before your name ended up on The List?

That was how Peter and Tony always tried to live each day.

They checked The List every day like everyone else, knowing one day one or both of their names would be on it. They were Avengers, for crying out loud. They were at risk of death far more than the average person, and had had several close calls. When their names weren’t on it, they shared a soft kiss, murmured to each other about how grateful they were for another day, and headed off to bed to curl up in each other’s arms and drift off, comforted by the promise of another day.

That didn’t happen this time.

A few minutes after midnight, Peter reluctantly removed himself from where he was plastered against Tony’s chest while they watched a movie together.

“Excuse me, I don’t recall giving you permission to leave,” Tony protested, holding his arms out to the sides in the universal what the hell gesture. Peter just smiled back at him, shaking his head in fond exasperation.

“I’ll be right back. You know I have to check,” the younger man insisted before silently padding off to a different part of the penthouse. Tony sighed, pausing the movie and fiddling with his phone as he waited for Peter to come back.

His entire world slowed to a stop when, instead of feeling Peter settle back in his arms, he heard sniffling. Despite the icy chill of fear rapidly making its way through his body, Tony sprang up and turned around to see Peter standing behind the couch, eyes red and rapidly filling with tears.

“Peter?” Tony whispered, unable to take even one step forward towards his boyfriend. He knew what this kind of reaction meant. “Which one of us is it?”

Instead of giving him an answer, Peter averted his gaze and bit his lip. “What would you do if it was your last day?” He asked, voice cracking in the middle of his question as tears began to silently stream down his face.

Tony inhaled sharply. It was his name, then. Why else would Peter be asking him that question?

As long as Peter lived on, Tony could live with this fate.

It’s not like he’d have to live with it for very long anyway.

“Well,” he started, feeling tears prick in his own eyes but he did his best to shove them back. “Luckily, I have a boyfriend who encourages me to live every day to the fullest anyway. So I don’t really have a long list of things I’d want to make sure I’d do.” Tony’s feet finally unfroze from the ground and he made his way to Peter’s side, wrapping an arm around him. How many more times would he get to do that?

“Sounds like a good boyfriend,” Peter whispered back with a wet chuckle, looking up at Tony. The older man gently wiped his boyfriend’s tears away, leaning in to press a long kiss to his forehead.

“I think I’d head to bed, wrap my arms around him for a while. And then, when the sun starts to rise, I’d suit up and enjoy the sight with him. You know why?” Tony smiled as he leaned in and pressed another kiss to Peter’s cheek.

“Why?” Peter asked like he didn’t already know the answer.

“Because the only thing prettier than a sunrise is you,” Tony murmured, finally capturing Peter’s lips in a soft kiss. Their bodies pressed together as their mouths moved, everything tender and nothing urgent even though now they both knew their time was rapidly running out. Peter was the first to pull away, sniffling and managing a small smile.

“That’s still just as cheesy as the first time you said it,” he said with another little laugh, and Tony shrugged.

“It got you to go out with me, didn’t it?” He asked, and Peter rolled his eyes. Tony took his hand and led them to the bedroom, laying down and drawing Peter into his arms. Peter, for his part, latched onto Tony with all the stickiness he had, and probably a little super strength, too. The two laid like that for a while, relishing in the sound of each other’s breathing and the soft thump of their heartbeats.

---

4 years earlier

“You know, I think May would have wanted you to get out there more.”

“Oh hell no, you are not using my dead aunt as a way to flirt with me. Right, Tony?”

Peter fixed Tony with a glare from where he was sitting across the lab, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the billionaire currently leaning back against a table, arms crossed over his chest and one eyebrow cocked confidently. The eyebrow slowly slid back down as Tony’s eyes widened and his mouth opened slightly.

“No! Of course not.” Peter huffed out a breath, turning his gaze back to his web shooters.

“I’m using your aunt to explain why you should go out with me.” Peter dropped the parts he was holding in shock, eyes immediately moving back to fixate on Tony.

“Anthony!” He yelped, picking up the pieces of his web shooter with a muttered curse. For his part, Tony simply chuckled and made his way over. While Peter tried to collect the pieces of his work with trembling hands, Tony leaned down, resting his elbows on the lab table and looking at the younger man intently.

“I’m being serious, Peter.” Something about his tone made Peter freeze, looking over at him with wide eyes.

“Um, what?” He asked intelligently, a blush rising to his cheeks as Tony laughed.

“Go out on a date with me. One date, and if you hate it I promise I’ll drop it. Just give me a chance?” He looked so eager and earnest that Peter found himself unable to deny him.

“What would this date entail?” He asked first, wanting to play with Tony a bit, as the older man had just done to him. There was no way he’d actually planned something out - spontaneity was a hallmark of Tony’s personality.

“Easy,” Tony said, starting to tick items off on his fingers. “Pick you up, which is slightly ridiculous since we both live in the tower but whatever. Flowers. Lilies specifically, since I know those are your favorite even though you tried to tell Barton you didn’t have a favorite.”

Peter blushed.

“A picnic date on the rooftop around six. I’ll make you that pesto pasta that you love so much, and chocolate covered strawberries because even though you try to hide it, I know you have a sweet tooth. Then, talking as you watch the sunset and I stare at you.”

“Stare at me? Why?” Peter couldn’t help but laugh.

“The only thing prettier than a sunset is you,” Tony shot back smoothly, a small smirk forming on his face as Peter blushed even darker and looked away. He’d walked right into that one. Taking a few deep breaths, Peter looked back at Tony and stood up.

“What about a sunrise?” He asked. One last attempt to make Tony slip up.

“It’s got nothing on you.” Peter smiled a little bit to himself.

“Great. I’ll see you on Friday,” he said before making his way to the door of the lab.

Thanks to his super-hearing, he didn’t miss the celebratory whoop that Tony let out when the door closed behind him.

---

Present Day

“Tony?”

Peter’s voice brought him out of his head as he stared at his clothes. They were supposed to be getting dressed, but how could he do that knowing that this was the outfit he’d likely die in? Tony just looked at his boyfriend, unable to put his feelings into words. Peter, ever the angel, understood without him having to say anything. He moved to Tony’s side, looking over the options before picking up a hanger holding a navy blue long-sleeve shirt.

“You know, I’ve always loved how this looks on you,” he said. That was all the encouragement Tony needed to take it from him.

“Thank you,” he murmured, drawing Peter in for another soft kiss. Before things could heat up, Peter pulled away with a whispered reminder of their sunrise date. The two finished getting dressed then, grabbing some fruit from the kitchen and putting it in their picnic basket. After that first date, which Peter had loved so much, Tony had kept a picnic basket on hand for whenever the urge struck them. With how much they loved to watch sunrises and sunsets together, it had been a good investment.

The pair made their way up to the roof, sitting further back from the edge than they normally did but still staying pressed close together. They ate in silence, the air charged with all the things they wanted to say but couldn’t. Couldn’t because they didn’t have the words. Couldn’t because it would make things all too real.

The sky grew lighter, painted with soft pinks and yellows, and an ever-deepening shade of blue as the sun steadily rose higher in the sky.

Not a bad last sunrise, Tony thought to himself.

The city started to wake up beneath them - if it had ever slept. Peter could hear it far better than Tony could - car engines sputtering to life as people climbed in for their daily commute; the bell ringing on coffee shop doors as others headed in for their much-needed caffeine boost. The fluttering of bird’s wings as they awoke and began their journeys for the day, the whistles to hail a taxi and the hum of constant traffic.

New York City was coming to life just as Tony’s life was coming to an end.

The thought was almost too much to handle.

“I love you,” Peter said softly, breaking the silence just as Tony’s thoughts were on the verge of spinning out of control. Their eyes met, and Peter looked like he was holding back tears again. “I just-I really need you to know just how much I love you, okay? I never thought I could love someone this much. It’s just one of so many things you’ve shown me over the past five years, and-” Peter swallowed down a sob, “and I’m so grateful. I love you.”

Tony was speechless, leaning in to give him a long, searing kiss. When he absolutely had to pull away, he whispered his words against Peter’s lips.

“I love you too. More than you’ll ever know.”

---

3 years earlier

“Do you ever wish you didn’t live in New York?” Peter asked one day. Tony reached out and caught the hacky sack his boyfriend had been repeatedly tossing up towards the ceiling and then catching as it fell back down.

“What makes you ask that?” He asked, peering down at where his boyfriend’s head rested in his lap. Peter shrugged.

“I’ve never lived anywhere but here. I know you’ve got the place in Malibu, and it’s awesome, but you don’t live there. So I guess I was just wondering if you stay here because you want to, or because it’s where the Avengers are.”

Tony hummed softly, contemplating his response before realizing that his not knowing the answer was the answer.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “I mean, this is where I grew up. It’s where the Avengers are, where the company is. Most importantly, it’s where you are.” Peter blushed, smiling softly to himself at that. “I don’t think I’ve ever wished to live elsewhere, but I never exactly chose this place, either.”

“You fell into it,” Peter said with a nod of understanding.

“Exactly.”

There was a pause then, where Tony gave Peter his ball back but the younger man only squeezed it gently, gazing up at the ceiling.

“Wanna tell me what’s going on in that oversized brain of yours?” Tony asked, poking Peter’s cheek gently and laughing when the man attempted to nip his finger.

“I never really chose this place either. I was born in Queens and when I was younger I had grand plans about seeing the world. But then I became Spider-Man, and…I couldn’t do that, you know?”

Tony didn’t know.

“Why not?” He asked, thoroughly confused.

“They needed me, and it’s not like I’ve ever had the funds to do something like that anyway,” Peter explained with another shrug. “Just a silly dream.” He squawked indignantly as Tony stood up, abruptly dislodging him from where he’d been resting comfortably. “Hey!”

“Come on, Parker,” Tony said, standing before him with an outstretched hand. “Time to go plan that dream.”

“What? Are you serious?!” Peter asked, and Tony nodded. “Holy shit!” Peter yelled in excitement. “Holy shit, this is crazy! Oh my god, I love you!”

They both froze.

Neither one of them had said that before.

Peter, to his credit, didn’t shy away or take it back. He looked Tony in the eyes and opened his mouth to repeat himself. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” The words fell from Tony’s lips so easily he couldn’t believe he hadn’t said them before. “Fuck, Peter, I love you too.” He fell back onto the couch, hands grabbing desperately at Peter’s shirt as their lips met.

---

Present day

After their silent breakfast on the rooftop, Tony and Peter retreated back to the penthouse and laid down on the couch together. Their hands wandered over each other’s bodies, just exploring and attempting to commit every little detail to memory.

“What else would you do on your last day?” Peter asked eventually, voice soft as he looked up at Tony.

“I think I’d make a fantastic lunch. All our favorites, you know? Maybe even bake something. I know my boyfriend has a sweet tooth.” Tony winked down at Peter, whose smile was rapidly becoming even larger.

“Well, what are we waiting for then?” He asked, hopping off the couch and holding out a hand. Tony took it, kissing the back of it reverently before following Peter to the kitchen. The smaller man headed their box of recipe cards, Tony protesting that he could get it and Peter turning around and ignoring him in favor of getting it anyway.

Well, fine. It wasn’t like Tony was going to complain about the view.

“So, when you say all our favorites, you mean…?” Peter asked, trailing off as he placed the box on the counter and looked at Tony.

“I mean all of them,” the other man said seriously. “The pesto pasta you love, my mom’s lasagna, that salad we made one time with the almonds and the feta cheese,” Tony said, listing off their favorite dishes to have.

“Well, it’s a good thing we went grocery shopping, then!” Peter said with a laugh, opening their recipe box and pulling out the cards they needed. Tony smiled, watching him for a moment as he started to read over the ingredients and flutter about the kitchen, pulling out various spices and pasta boxes and meat.

The two cooked the way they always had - with JARVIS playing some music quietly in the background so they could take frequent breaks to grab onto each other and sway, dancing in their kitchen like the lovesick couple they were. Sauces were smeared on cheeks, and laughter echoed throughout the penthouse.

The laughter and conversation flowed easily on through lunch, nothing like the near-silent breakfast on the roof. Tony could almost forget what had happened that morning, and what was to come later. He distracted himself by watching Peter’s tongue dart out and lick his lips as he finished his meal and set down his fork.

“And what will we be having for dessert, Chef Stark?” He asked, eyes twinkling as he teased Tony.

“If I’m lucky? You,” Tony said, allowing his gaze to rake up and down Peter’s body appreciatively. Peter gasped in mock scandal, placing a hand to his heart as Tony walked over to him, pulling him to his feet and pressing close.

“That’s not a proper dessert,” Peter tried to tease again, but the effect fell flat when his voice came out breathy and his cheeks flushed pink.

“Oh yeah?” Tony murmured, moving his hands to hold onto Peter’s hips and leaning in to kiss at his neck. “Then why does it always taste so good?” He emphasized the last two words by rolling their hips together.

Peter struggled to answer, breathy moans falling from his lips as he tried to think of words. “Um, because-because-”

“Tell me all about it once we’re in bed, my love. If you can say anything but my name,” Tony all but growled into Peter’s ear before picking him up and carrying him off.

---

One year earlier

“What the hell were you thinking, Tony?! You could have been killed!”

“Oh, so this is my fault, now? I was attacked!”

Peter and Tony were standing inches from each other in the living room of the penthouse. Both were dirty and a little bloody, Peter still in his Spider-Man suit and Tony in his regular clothes. The Mark XV had long been sent down to the labs for repairs.

“Yes, you were attacked, but your response should have been to play defense and wait for me! Not go flying off into a horde of zombie creatures on your own!” Peter yelled.

“My name’s not on The List today, I’m not going to die! I was fine - I am fine!” Tony shouted back, gesturing to himself.

“Who gives a fuck about The List, Tony? You gave me a heart attack! You could have turned into one! You could’ve gotten really hurt and died tomorrow instead! How do you think that would make me feel? You can’t do this to me, Tony! I’ve lost everyone - I can’t lose you, too!” Peter screamed, and Tony immediately took note of the tears streaming down his face.

Well, shit. He felt like a total asshole now.

“Peter-hey, Peter,” he said, voice infinitely softer now. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right.”

“Really?” Peter asked, hiccuping as the tears came a little faster. Tony would have laughed if his boyfriend wasn’t in such deep, genuine distress.

��Yes, really. That was stupid and reckless of me, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have acted like I was a solo act. I’m not anymore. We’re a team, and I should have waited for you. I won’t do that again, I promise. I swear to you that I won’t.”

Tony meant it.

Peter was right, he had lost everyone who loved him. It was selfish of Tony to take off into battle without considering how Peter might feel or the effect it could have if something happened to him.

He was part of a unit, and he needed to start acting like it.

“You’d better not. If you do, I’m gonna kick your ass,” Peter said, deadly serious for once. Tony nodded.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less. But, I’ve made you a promise. I don’t intend on breaking it. I know how important this is to you.” Tony held his arms out, and Peter only hesitated for a second before leaning in and wrapping his arms around his boyfriend in return. The two stayed like that for a while, hugging in the middle of the apartment with Tony rubbing Peter’s back and whispering affirmations of how much he loved him as Peter tried to take deep breaths and slow his tears.

“Thank you,” Peter whispered eventually, pulling back from the hug just enough to lean up and give Tony a quick kiss.

“Now do we get to have the makeup sex?” Tony asked, and Peter was unable to keep his laugh to himself. He decided not to speak, simply pulling away and walking towards the bedroom. He pretended not to smile as Tony eagerly chased after him.

---

The alarm signaling an Avengers-level threat started blaring through the tower, disrupting Tony and Peter from their hazy cuddling.

“Why?” Tony groaned, dragging the word out as he threw a pillow towards the door to their bedroom, as though he could hit some magical switch to turn it off. “Come on, it’s almost time for dinner. Why do we have to deal with this?”

Peter just giggled, leaning in and nuzzling him, peppering kisses over his cheeks and jaw.

“Because we’re Avengers, and that means we never get a good moment to ourselves,” he joked before reluctantly leaving the bed. “Come on, let’s go.”

They’d had an excellent afternoon, all things considered. After the amazing sex, they had laid there for hours, talking about everything and nothing all at once. For a few moments, they’d gotten up and danced slowly around their bedroom before falling right back onto the mattress. It was everything Tony could have ever wanted.

As they suited up, Tony couldn’t help but think that if he had to die today, then saving people wouldn’t be a bad way to go. Not after a day like today.

“Ready to go, Iron Man?” Peter asked as they entered the elevator, smiling up at Tony. His mask was in his hands, and he looked slightly pale. Tony would bet good money on the reason for that paleness.

“Always, Spider-Man,” he replied easily as the elevator brought them down to the helicopter landing pad. Tony leaned in and stole a kiss from Peter, leaving his boyfriend breathless and blushing like a teenager as the doors opened.

“Alright, now that you two are here we can get started. We won’t have to travel far, since the problem is right here,” Steve started as soon as Peter and Tony walked up to the group of Avengers waiting for them. If anyone had seen his name on The List, no one said anything. No one made a snarky comment about Tony wrapping his arm around Peter’s waist, either.

“There’s a group of aliens-”

“Sakaarans,” Thor supplied helpfully, ignoring the slight look of annoyance on Steve’s face at being cut off.

“They’re wreaking havoc across the city. Let’s handle this like we did with the Chitauri a while back - just take them out. They’re a finite group with a ship, no portal this time. Just good, old-fashioned combat,” Steve explained. “Rhodey, I want you dealing with that ship. Everyone else, fan out and take out as many as you can.” He looked around, seeing the nods from their group of heroes. “Alright. Avengers--”

“Assemble!” Tony cut in. At the look of annoyance he got, he started backing towards the edge of the landing pad. “Uh oh, I’ve pissed off the Capsicle,” he snarked. “Let’s go, Spidey.” Peter quickly hopped up, sticking to the back of Tony’s suit in a hilarious version of a piggy-back ride. Tony blasted off, heading straight for Central Park where a large group of Sakaarans were terrorizing civilians and destroying anything that dared get in their way.

“You guys have absolutely no respect for park maintenance,” Tony quipped as he zoomed in closer. Peter hopped off his back, shooting a web and swinging through the trees as he webbed up Sakaarans. Tony simply weaved straight through them, blasting as many as he could with his repulsors and straight-up body slamming the ones that got in his way.

Not unlike the Battle of New York, the chaos and destruction extended in every direction. Avengers and SHIELD agents alike were bringing down as many of the Sakaarans as possible. Only when Rhodey radioed in and confirmed the destruction of the massive ship did anyone breathe a sigh of relief. The fight was far from over, but at least now they knew that no more were on their way.

Slowly, the Avengers worked their way towards each other. They finally met up a few blocks west of Central Park, where Tony and Peter had first started their fight. The remaining Sakaarans advanced from every angle. There weren’t many left, but they were deadly and most of the heroes were sporting injuries that proved it. Natasha was favoring her right foot over her left, Steve had a deep gash running the length of his forearm, and even Rhodey’s suit was looking worse for wear.

“Alright, let’s take these guys out,” Tony said, mimicking cracking his knuckles. He turned to Peter, faceplate flipping up long enough to give him a meaningful look. Though Peter couldn’t take off his mask, Tony didn’t miss the minute movement of the eye pieces or the slight tilt of his head.

The first of the Sakaarans charged at them, weapon out and ready to blast. The Avengers leaped into action, each doing their damn best to keep themselves from harm and protect their teammates.

Thor got hit first, grunting as he bent over and took a minute to recover.

Agent Hill went down next, Fury covering her body and shouting for a medic.

Facing down the last handful of Sakaarans, Tony knew there were too many weapons trained on them for the odds to be in his favor. There was no way all of them would miss him.

This had to be it. Tony knew it, and he was ready.

What he wasn’t ready for was their abrupt change in position, the Sakaarans shooting upwards as Peter swung past.

He wasn’t ready to watch in horror as one blast hit its mark, hitting Peter in the chest and sending him flying back, slamming to the ground and rolling across the pavement before coming to a stop.

He wasn’t ready for Peter to lie still and not get back up.

“No!” Tony yelled, pure rage and fury in his voice. He could see the Avengers quickly dispatched the last Sakaarans, but he didn’t focus on that. The repulsors flared up as he shot across the street to where Peter was laying.

“Peter, hey. Peter. Peter,” Tony said, the armor opening up as he reached Peter’s side. He all but collapsed next to his boyfriend, whose chest was barely rising and falling. Tony felt tears pool in his eyes, ignoring the blood as he drew Peter into his lap and ripped off the man’s mask.

“Hey,” he whispered, choking on a sob. “Come on, talk to me.”

Peter’s eyes slowly fluttered open, and he looked up at Tony. The little shit had the nerve to give him a sad smile, his hand reaching up. Tony immediately caught it in his own, his grip gentle.

“Hey Tony,” Peter whispered back, drawing in another shaky breath. Tony felt tears streaming down his face, dripping onto Peter’s suit. “It’s okay,” he murmured.

“It’s not okay! This was supposed to be me!” Tony whispered. He would have screamed it if he could have. It was like someone had sucker punched all the air out of him.

“No, it wasn’t,” Peter murmured, trying to shake his head.

Tony couldn’t breathe.

All day, he’d thought it was his name on The List.

And all this time, it had actually been Peter’s.

“No,” he breathed, hating how Peter nodded in response. “No-why did we spend your last day doing all the things I wanted to do, then? Why weren’t you selfish? Why didn’t we do what you wanted? Why didn’t you tell me?” Tony gripped Peter’s hand a little tighter.

“You’re what makes me happy,” Peter wheezed out. “I didn’t care what we did, as long as we did it together.”

Tony actually did sob out loud at that.

“I can’t lose you,” he gasped out, holding onto Peter tightly.

“It’ll be okay, Tony,” Peter whispered back. “I love you so much, and I know it’s going to hurt. I lived through it. But you’ll be okay.”

“How can I be okay in a world without you in it? I love you so fucking much. How could I ever be okay again?” Tony asked, voice smaller than it had ever been.

“You’ll learn how. I know you will.” For a moment, there was silence. If Tony couldn’t see Peter’s chest rising and falling, he would’ve thought he was gone already. Peter’s eyes shifted from his face to the sky, taking in the changing colors.

“It’s a pretty sunset,” Tony forced himself to say.

“The only thing prettier than a sunset is you,” Peter whispered back. The two locked eyes, and Peter took one more stuttered breath before letting it out.

He didn’t take another breath in.

[radiorenjun]

nightmare surfs || hrj

¤ pairing: huang renjun x reader

¤ genre: angst, slight fluff, idol!renjun

¤ warnings: nightmares lol, the reader has a panic attack, crying, pain, idk mentions of the readers health worsening, soft kisses

¤ summary: you've been suffering from random nightmares as of late. You didn't know how but when they get too far, you're glad you have something (or rather, someone) to seek comfort.

¤ wordcount: 1.3k

¤ song rec: freaks - surf curse

¤ a/n: I cried while writing this lmfao

¤ disclaimer: I am NOT ROMANTICIZING having panic attacks or having mental breakdowns. I just wrote this somewhat based off of my own experience to vent. Look away if these sort of things trigger you

¤ tagging: @neowritingsnet @nct-writers @neoturtles @culture-cafe

Your body flinched as your eyes shot open, blinking as your brain tried to decipher that you were no longer in the hellhole you were previously in merely moments ago. A dark empty feeling sank in your chest, something you've never felt before. It was an ugly feeling, you couldn't get it out. Your senses were heightened as if something was going to hurt you, yet you didn't know what to do. The dark feeling lied deep inside of you and you didn't know how to make it stop or go away.

You couldn't breathe. As if the lump in your chest had spread through your lungs, inevitably enabling them to stop letting air flow through. You sat up against the headboard of your bed, trying to calm yourself down as your mind scattered into a mess right before you. Trying to breathe through your nose, you ran a hand through your hair, gripping it tightly as you closed your eyes as tightly as you could.

I dream

"Hey," a familiar voice called out softly. The sound of sheets rustling beside you grew deaf to your ears as your head began ringing loudly, flashbacks of the nightmare you just had replaying itself over and over again in your head like a broken record player. You then felt finger wrapping themselves around your wrists, gently tugging your hand away from your hair. You slowly opened your eyes at the sudden soft touch, surprised to see Renjun's soft yet concerned gaze on your face.

"Breathe for me," he whispered, his fingers moving to hold your palms in his, massaging your hands soothingly in an attempt to calm you down. "Breathe in," he coaxed gently, his melodious voice reaching your ears as you slowly obeyed his words, trying your best to shoo the thoughts away as you took a deep exhale. The pain in your chest wasn't going away as Renjun continued to help you breathe your thoughts out, it scared you.

Of you

It scared you even more that you wanted to cry, but as if your tears had run out from your previous crying sessions, you couldn't. Your eyes burned with tears but they couldn't stream down your face, they stayed stuck to your waterline. "It's okay, it's going to be okay," Renjun told you as your eyes shot down to your hand being caressed in his, your throat running dry as you were unable to form words. You weren't sure if it was because you were overwhelmed with all the different emotions at once or if it was because you had him right in front of you, comforting you right when you needed him.

You watched as he released one of your hands to cup your cheek, running his thumb soothingly against your skin. "It's okay to cry, don't hold it back. It's not healthy to bottle up your emotions like that, I know you're scared right now. But you're okay, I promise," he reassured, giving you a soft smile.

God, that smile.

It was enough for the tears to finally flow from your eyes, a simple reassurance that you were allowed to cry. You were allowed to feel scared. To feel sad. You were allowed to embrace your emotions and let it all out. You didn't even realize the tears flowing from your eyes like a water tap until you let out a small sob, the memories flooding back into you once again as you gripped Renjun's hand tightly. Your free hand coming up to his wrist, holding it tightly as if you were to let go, he would disappear right in front of you. A part of you knew that he will. He will disappear. He wasn't yours to keep.

Almost every night

"That's it, let it all out," he pulled you to his chest, wrapping his arms around you to give the biggest and tightest hug he could muster as you broke into a fit of sobs and hiccups. You clung onto him as if he was your only reason to live, as if he was your air, as if you couldn't live without him. At the moment, you truly felt as if he was your reason to live. Your hands clutched onto the fabric of the white shirt he was wearing, burying your head into the crook of his neck as you let out silent sobs. Your tears soaked the fabric of your shirt, but neither of you cared.

"Please don't leave me," you begged, your voice cracking as you spoke, sniffling loudly as you shut your eyes tight. You felt his grip tightening around your body, his arm hugging you closer by the waist as his other hand made its way to run his fingers through your hair in a weak attempt to sooth you. "I'm right here, I'm not leaving," he pressed soft kisses against your temple, his voice growing heavy as a lump started to build itself up in his own throat at the sound of your harsh sobbing.

Hopefully

"Don't leave," you whispered into his skin, sniffling back your tears as you started nuzzling into his warm skin in contrast to your cold one. He rocked your body back and forth as if you were a small child, shushing your cries softly as he pressed a longing kiss to your hair, playing with it in between his fingers as tears began to leak from his own eyes at the sight of you in great pain. "I'm sorry I can't take the pain away," he mumbled into your hair, pressing another soft kiss as your heart swelled for him. You shook your head at his words, mumbling how it wasn't his fault.

Your chest never stopped hurting as the nightmares kept replaying in your head. You didn't want to go back to sleep, you wanted to bask in Renjun's warm embrace as long as you could. You wanted to bask in the feeling of having someone to comfort you when you needed it the most. It felt like heaven. To be in the arms of your loved one. To be able to cry your emotions and stress out. You refused to let go of his embrace, you didn't want him to let you go.

"God, you're getting worse. Your nightmares are getting way worse," he hissed at your ear, causing you to shut your eyes tight. You tightened your grip on his shirt, nuzzling into his shoulder, inhaling his sweet scent as you chose to ignore his words. "Are you listening to me? You're getting worse," he repeated once again.

I won't wake up this time

Your eyes shot open, your body was covered in a cold sweat. Your head was on the pillow, tears staining your pillow and cheeks, your blanket was messy. It was barely covering quarter of your body in the cold air conditioned room, as if you were thrashing wildly in your sleep. There was a dull ache panging inside of your chest as you slowly sat up, choosing to ignore it as you reached over your nightstand for your phone to check the time.

3:28 AM.

You saw a few texts from your friends who were staying up late gaming. You felt numb as you opened the groupchat, seeing the messages your friends sent before placing your phone back on the mattress. Placing your palms against your forehead, you groaned internally as your phone screen illuminated the dimly lit room. A picture of Huang Renjun, your favorite idol, on your lockscreen as you began to shed tears.

Your mind liked to play mean tricks on you. You didn't mind them anymore, you were used to it. But you couldn't help but admit that this dream was the worst one yet in comparison to the other nightmares you've had the past few months. It left your heart stinging and aching, it left you crying and sobbing through the night. It leaves you in the reality that you had no one to comfort you when you needed it the most. It was a sign that you truly are getting worse

@RADIORENJUN 2021. All Rights Reserved

[harbouredsoulss]

Strong

Author’s note: I had no intentions of posting this yet. I was going to focus on other characters, especially since my last post was an EZ one, and then post this at another time. But after last nights episode I knew I had to share this one 😅

This is Part One, there will be a Part Two coming soon!

You can also read my other fics here on my MASTERLIST.

I hope you enjoy this. I know it’s nothing like my previous fic, but idk I kind of like it 🤷🏼‍♀️💖

My Tag list is still open so please hit me up if you would like to be added! 

EZ Reyes X [OC] Mara 

Warnings: Violence! Death. Fluff. Sadness. 

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: Sometimes being close can chase away all bad things.  

____________________________________

His arm was wrapped around her waist pulling her body flush against his, lips pressed urgently against hers. They were so caught up within their yearning for one another that it took a moment for the sounds of the gunshot to register. It’s sound resounding around them.

EZ jerked away from Mara quickly, and pushed her body to the ground, eyes roaming the area, seeking out the shooter. The area was dried grassland, littered with trees and shrubs here and there. Thankfully they had some sheltering their position, though, it wasn’t much. The other people in the area scattered, fear and adrenaline encouraging their movements away.

EZ couldn’t be sure on where the shooter was. He did his best to cover Mara’s body with his own as he attempted to locate the shooter, albeit vision slightly obscured by the vegetation surrounding them. He made for his own weapon, checking to make sure his ammo was all accounted for, and flicked the safety off. 

Terror was a new feeling for Mara. It was strange for her to have this overwhelming feeling of dread when out with EZ. It hit her like a freight train, which was completely unexpected. She knew it wasn’t his fault, he would want nothing but safety for her and given most of their time spent together was filled with just that and pure bliss, this new feeling was an adjustment. 

“Stay here,” he ordered roughly, pushing her body closer to the shrub that concealed them, “don’t move.”

She began to protest as he crouched away from her, gun cocked, and at the ready, but he silenced her with a look. It was a fierce glance over his shoulder that froze every fibre of her being. She grasped the seriousness of the situation; however, fear is what fuelled her protests. Fear for EZ. Fear for what could become of him. She knew he was strong, and most importantly, smart, nevertheless, being smart was not going to save either one of them from being shot dead if they came in contact with the shooter. 

Time felt like it dragged on as she sat there cowering behind the greenery. EZ had left her side what felt like hours ago when it in fact, was mere minutes.

A spark of confidence rippled through her, giving her just enough nerve to look around, to find EZ and with a few hesitant steps away from where EZ ordered her to stay put, It doesn’t take too long for her to catch sight of her lover and see that he has already encountered the man who was behind the gunshots.

They stood within a few steps from one another. The gunman’s weapon locked on EZ, aiming directly at his face. The shooter was tall, taller than EZ and was hooded, wearing a white ski mask on their face. Their eyes were glowing a bright red. The sight causing a chill to course throughout Mara’s body.  

“Any last words, hermano?” the gunman asked. 

Darkness seemed to circle around EZ as he stood there staring down the barrel of the gun. Mara began sobbing as the gunman took another step towards EZ, close enough now that the weapon pressed against his forehead. She got up as quickly as her body would allow, taking as many shaky steps as she could manoeuvre towards the scene before her.  

“Don’t shoot him, shoot me,” she begged, hands pressing together, almost as if she were praying.  

The gunman didn’t seem to hear her cries or he chose to ignore them as his finger pulled the trigger releasing a bullet that went straight through EZ’s skull. Mara was beside herself, as she watched the man, she loved fall to the ground. Her screams filling the entire parkland, as did her sobs. The world around her begun to blur as her grief prevailed, the sky once bright and blue now turning a sinister grey. She had made her way towards his lifeless body, arms wrapping themselves around him, pulling him close towards her chest. Her hands begun caressing his cheeks, her voice cracking as she told his lifeless form that everything was going to be okay. 

She looked, tears clouding her vision, and stared at the monster before her. The monster that took her boyfriend’s life. He was now nothing more than a silhouette before her, which caused confusion to wash over her. It didn’t make any sense. She tried blinking multiple times in an attempt to clear her vision, but to no avail he was still nothing but a silhouette. A body of darkness. No physical features possible to make out. 

“Who are you,” she screamed, rocking EZ’s body back and forth, eyes squeezed shut “what are you!”

It was in a sudden blink of an eye that she was pulled from her grief. Rough hands gripped her shoulders, shaking her body, similar to how she shook EZ’s lifeless form, back and forth. She opened her eyes wide, voice echoing around her as she continued to scream. Bright light filled her vision, which caused her eyes to squint so she could take in her surroundings. She found EZ then, towering over her. It was his hands that gripped her shoulders, holding her at arm’s length, concern etched on his face.  

“Hey,” he whispered, voice soft in an attempt to soothe her, “shhh I’m here.”

A sob escaped her then as he pulled her closer to him, engulfing her in an embrace. 

“I’ve got you,” he whispered again, hands rubbing her back in an up and down, soothing motion. 

Her hands explored his body, in an attempt to anchor herself to the real world and to keep the nightmare at bay. His skin was soft and warm, exactly how she expected him to be. Unlike the cold lifeless form in her nightmare.  

“I’m here,” he repeated, pulling himself away from her, worried gaze taking her in. 

Mara hadn’t been aware she was still crying until EZ wiped the tears from underneath her eyes. She looked up to him, lip trembling as she took in his expression. It was the same concern he expressed in her dream, which automatically transported her straight back to that place. The domino effect then came into play as each image began to unlock another, causing her to sobs to harden.  

“It was so real,” she wept, this time using her hands to grip his biceps, squeezing hard, “you were- he was- I thought you- I-”

“It’s okay,” he said cutting her off and used both hands to grip her cheeks, turning her face up towards his, “you don’t have to explain.”

He leaned closer and pressed his forehead against hers, lips mere inches apart. She could feel the hesitancy on his part. He wanted to kiss her to take her mind off the pain but he didn’t want to take advantage of her distress. EZ didn’t know that this is what she wanted. Mara wanted the distraction; she welcomed it. She wanted to feel him in every way physically possible; to know that this moment was real and what she saw was anything but. 

There was no begging on her part, instead she pushed herself closer towards him, closing the space between them, and pressed her lips against his. Their kiss was gentle at first with EZ not wanting to push her into any situation she was not ready for, given her current state. 

Mara couldn’t have cared less. She pushed herself on top of him, allowing EZ to fall backwards on the bed so she could straddle him. His hands left her face as he fell and gripped her hips to keep them both steady. She kissed him deeper then, allowing her tongue to slip against his own, tasting him. 

He pulled away briefly, breathing heavy.

“I’m here,” he whispered, fingers kneading the skin at her hips, teasing her softly, “we don’t need to do anything to prove that.”

She understood what he meant, and that he was right, she didn’t need to do this. But she wanted to, desperately. She wanted to feel every inch of him inside of her body. 

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