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braiawrites · 10 months ago

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Lost & Found - Chapter 8

Summary: Jude, Cardan, and Pellia head to Hollow Hall, where they encounter a few surprises—including a betrayal that could end everything. || Inspired by this prompt by @newblood-freya

Words: 9168

Rating: T

Warnings: Violence, death.

Links:

Fic Masterlist

CHAPTER SEVEN

Prompt by newblood-freya

Read it on AO3

Writing Masterlist

A/N: I barely edited/proofread this. What's that one meme? "No beta. We die like men." Something like that. Yeah.

Also, about what happens in this chapter...? I'm sorry in advance.

***

By the time Jude made her way back to her room, the pixie had helped herself to her host’s brushes and hair ties and rooted through her drawers looking for creams and cosmetics.

Cardan couldn’t blame her for the frustration she’d shown upon finding absolutely nothing; he had already decided that once he was turned back into himself, whether they were enemies or not—and truly, he wasn’t certain where they would stand—he would have to talk with Jude about her dismal lack of reverence for her poor skin.

Pellia had also taken it upon herself to loot the makeshift armoury beneath the bed and had found a sleek, curved knife—an assassin’s blade, she’d said, pointing out the hidden poison compartment in its hilt—which was now thrust through her belt. She’d also liberated a whetstone and was now sharpening the blade of the stolen guard’s sword, with no small amount of cursing as her shaky hands made the task more difficult.

Cardan didn’t miss the way Pellia flinched and froze momentarily at the creak of the door when Jude entered, balancing a tray of food on one hand and a steaming teapot in the other. He headbutted the door closed as she brought the tray to her vanity.

“Dinner rolls, vegetable and chicken soup, fruit—and tea, to help with the pain,” Jude announced.

“Chicken soup?”

Jude gave a one-shouldered shrug. “My sister likes to bring us human things sometimes. Here.” She nudged the tray toward Pellia. “And stop going through my stuff.”

The pixie smiled sweetly at the last part, fluttering ruby lashes at the mortal girl as if to say, Who, me? But she didn’t comment as she moved from the bed to the vanity. Cardan envied her ability to remain insolent in the face of Jude’s sharp-enough-to-cut-glass glare.

Pellia didn’t even flinch, just lifted the teapot one-handed, swore as she nearly dropped it, adjusted her grip, and poured, sloshing tea over the sides of her cup as she did. She set the pot down with a clunk and a grimace.

“What’s in it?” Pellia’s teacup was only half full, droplets running down the porcelain sides. She watched through the steam as Jude listed off a handful of herbs on her hands. Those ruby brows went up, an expression she seemed to make often.

“Girl, that’s not painkilling; that’s, like, all-sensation-in-my-entire-body killing.”

“If you don't want it—”

“No, I absolutely do. Please,” she added with a wince as Jude gripped the pot’s handle. Cardan wasn’t certain whether that wince had been borne of pain or out of the mere fact that she’d said please so genuinely, without a hint of sarcasm. He got the feeling it was both in equal measures.

As Pellia ate, Cardan joined Jude at her wardrobe to save her from committing egregious fashion sins. He hissed his disapproval to veto the tunic she was reaching for—grey on grey was not the look, especially when the leggings were a cool shade while the tunic carried warm undertones—and nosed the one beside it.

“Jude,” Pellia said quietly from her spot at the vanity. “We need to find Balekin as soon as possible. I read the letter to Madoc, and—hold on. Did you just take fashion advice from a cat? I wish I had that on video.”

Jude’s cheeks warmed slightly and Cardan meowed indignantly. I may be a cat but I still know how to dress! he wanted to shoot back.

At the same time, Jude demanded, “Why were you going through my stuff?”

“What else was I supposed to do?” Her tone was, somehow, both genuinely confused and unbearably haughty, but before Jude could respond, Pellia waved it off and pointed out, “Anyway, you know cats can’t see the same colours we can, right?”

Cardan would have protested, but he had noticed colours were different, especially in the beginning. He was mostly used to it now, though, and he knew some of Jude’s wardrobe from memory anyway. This top in particular was a desaturated dark blue with green undertones, long sleeves, and a deep V-neck that she had first worn about a year ago. He knew that because the image of her in that shirt, the way it hugged her waist just right, had blazed in his mind every time he’d closed his eyes for a solid week afterward. He knew good fashion when he saw it.

“Stop changing the subject,” Jude snapped.

“I wasn’t, I just thought you should be aware that you are taking fashion advice from the equivalent of a half-blind—”

Cardan’s angry growl cut her off.

“Okay, alright, sorry,” she retreated. “Don’t get your tail in a twist, kitty.”

“The letter,” Jude demanded.

“Right, yes. The deal I made with our favourite prince was that he wouldn’t harm my sister so long as I did what he wanted. But if Balekin thinks I’m dead, then there’s no more deal. There’s no one holding him accountable.” Her hands curled into fists on the hem of her borrowed tunic. “I don’t want to think about what he might do to her then.”

“You—”

“Should have thought the deal through more and made him promise to release her once I’d caught Catboy over here?” she snapped. “Yeah, I know. I was a bit panicked, considering my fourteen-year-old human sister was kidnapped by Elfhame’s soggiest piece of toast.”

“I—what?”

“Haven’t you ever, like, spilled water on your toast? And then it gets all gross and mushy? It’s literally the worst.”

Jude shook her head. “I can’t say I have. But regardless, I wasn’t trying to blame you for it. I was just going to say, you don’t look like you’re in the best shape to go tonight. Maybe we should wait a day.”

“No.” Pellia’s tone was sharp, her eyes flinty, her mouth set in a determined line. “I can do what I have to. I don’t care about myself; I just need Amber to get home safe.” More quietly, she added, “Please.”

Jude breathed deeply, then sighed. Slowly, she nodded. “Fine. I can tell I won’t be able to convince you otherwise, so we’ll go tonight. But for now, rest.”

Pellia nodded, one corner of her mouth tweaking upward in an almost-smile. “Thank you,” she said, and the gratitude in the pixie’s red eyes was the nicest emotion Cardan had seen yet. It almost made her seem approachable.

“Try to eat something,” Jude instructed, heading into her small bathing room. “I’ll be back.”

Pellia gave a distracted wave of assent and mumbled something that could have been, “Try to stop me,” through a mouthful of soft bread. She ate quietly for a while, supplementing the meal with sips of tea.

“This stuff’s strong,” she remarked with a nod of approval toward the teapot. “Painkilling, indeed.”

Cardan would have missed the next thing she said, breathed into her teacup as she sipped, had he not been bestowed the lovely gift of heightened cat hearing: “Maybe if I drink enough it’ll kill my emotions, too.”

He twitched his ears, letting out a short mrrow of laughter. The pixie glanced at him and huffed, something between a smirk and a wry smile crossing her lips. “Don’t act like you haven’t thought the same thing. You want some?”

In previous times, Cardan might have said yes. Yes, tea to fix the ache in his heart. Yes, tea to let him drink away the piercing, twisting blade in his gut each time his father overlooked him or his brother tossed an insult his way. Yes, because he was empty and miserable and he loathed it, loathed himself, loathed everything about this world and his place in it.

But now? Now he wasn’t so sure.

Pellia, apparently, hadn’t missed a single one of the thoughts or feelings flickering across his face. She hummed, setting her cup down to take a spoonful of soup.

“Perhaps I did you a favour then, dear prince.”

Cardan flattened his ears at that. Certainly he had been more content in these weeks with Jude than he had been—perhaps ever in his entire life—but he wouldn’t go so far as to say she was deserving of his thanks.

“Or not.” Again, Pellia had read his thoughts on his face.

The hair along his spine puffed up involuntarily. It was unnerving—how she could read him so easily, even in this form, even having never known him.

“Don’t worry, kitty,” she smirked. “I won’t tell her how much you’ve enjoyed being her pet. It can be our little secret.” She punctuated the statement with a wink. In response, Cardan gave her an eyeroll of epic proportions.

It only served to make her laugh, which seemed to cause her pain, judging by her wince and the way she downed the remaining tea in her cup. Despite himself, Cardan felt a small amount of smug satisfaction at that fact.

It didn’t last long. Her eyes fixed on his in a way he just knew was meant to be antagonistic. Then she dipped a corner of her bread in the soup and proceeded to chew with her mouth open. He glared back, ears flattened, and hissed his most menacing hiss. He wished Jude would hurry up with her bath. At least she wasn’t annoying on purpose, unlike Pellia, who seemed to delight in getting the last word.

Rather than sit here with the pixie, Cardan headed for the balcony door, which Jude always left slightly ajar for him. But as he slipped outside, he heard Pellia call, “Don’t you want to stay and supervise me? Make sure I don’t get into trouble or steal her prized possessions or something?”

He turned back with a grumble because, damnit, she was right. If he left, nothing was stopping her from putting her grubby little hands all over everything in Jude’s room. Not that he would be much help if she did decide that was what she wanted to do—he was a cat and she was clearly trained in combat and treachery—but at least he would know she had done something. He could tell Jude, and Jude could end the pixie’s whole career with one punch. He’d seen her training, knew how fast she could move and what strength was hidden in her mortal bones. Jude was beautiful and deadly, and Pellia was roughly five feet tall and had just spilled tea on the desk while trying to pour herself another cup.

So Cardan stayed, and Pellia continued to be dreadful by the mere fact of her existence and without even doing anything at all.

They were quiet for a long while, Pellia staring across the room to the window as she ate small portions at a time, and Cardan shifting awkwardly every now and then. Pellia turned her unnatural gaze toward him, considering. His skin prickled. He wasn’t fond of the way she seemed to be sizing him up, fitting pieces of a puzzle together in her head, manipulating him into some undoubtedly terrifying plan as though he were a pawn at her disposal. He fought the twitching whiskers that were the cat equivalent of a laugh. She noticed regardless, and her own lips quirked up in a tiny, barely-there smile that didn’t match the hollow, aching look in her eyes.

She glanced away, blinking. When she looked back again, Cardan almost couldn’t see that depth hidden behind her bravado. Almost.

“Listen, kitty,” she began. Her mouth opened slightly, and she floundered a moment before she was able to force the next words through her lips on a quivering breath. “No matter how we prepare, this isn’t going to go how we plan it. Guaranteed.”

She set her tea down and wiped her hands on Jude’s borrowed clothes. Her fingers drifted absentmindedly to the dagger in her belt, following its curves, tracing the seam around the top of its hilt. She nodded to herself, as if confirming something, before her eyes flicked up to meet his own again.

“We need to plan for betrayal. From all sides.” Cardan's skin prickled under the intensity of her eyes boring into his. Slowly, he nodded, flicking his ears forward.

I’m listening, the gesture said.

A grim, determined smile played across the pixie’s face. “Okay. So here’s what I’m thinking…”

~ ~ ~

Jude towel-dried and braided her wet hair after her bath. She had taken her time to soak and wash as she sorted through everything that was unfolding. Pellia’s explanation of why she was here in the first place, as well as confirming Balekin as the mastermind behind it all, had helped, but it didn’t solve things completely.

Neither Jude nor the pixie knew why Balekin had bothered with Cardan’s cat-metamorphosis in the first place, instead of just killing him the way Jude suspected he’d had done to Dain. Although, she supposed, considering Dain was widely thought to be the most popular contender for the next High King, it would make sense that Balekin might want him out of the way. And Cardan—pre–cat era, of course—was cruel and a menace, and would have presented less of a threat.

“Still seems like it would have been simpler to just kill him,” Jude mumbled to herself, then immediately felt bad for entertaining the thought.

She dressed quickly before leaving the bathroom, a habit she had gotten into since discovering her feline friend was actually the missing faerie prince.

In her room, she found that Pellia had finished eating and passed out on the bed, curled on top of the sheets. Her dishes were arranged neatly on the vanity.

Cardan chirped softly in greeting from his spot by the window.

“Has she been out long?” Jude whispered.

Cardan flicked his tail and stood for a long, languid stretch.

Jude sighed. “You could at least try to communicate with me.”

The annoyance that flared in response to Cardan’s answering yawn was quickly dampened as he twined between her feet, demanding to be picked up. She obliged.

“By tomorrow, you’ll be yourself again,” she told him, scratching the soft fur on his jaw. He purred at her touch, and she tried to pretend it didn’t make her heart ache. She wasn’t sure when she had grown so fond of him. Maybe, after this was over, she would get a cat. It wouldn’t be the same, though.

A sudden apprehension struck her. “Either that, or we’ll all be dead.”

Cardan’s purring halted abruptly at the words, and he twisted in her arms to meet her gaze, his amber eyes steady and determined. Softly, he rested one fuzzy front paw over Jude’s heart, giving her a slow blink.

There was something in his gaze, an emotion that took Jude a moment to decipher: trust. A small, hesitant smile fought its way onto her lips, and Cardan chirped softly, stretching out to poke her nose with his own.

Then he flopped bonelessly back into her arms, lifting his chin so she could scratch his favourite spot.

Jude rolled her eyes and released her grip on him. “Oops.”

He scrambled as he tumbled from her arms, somehow still managing to land gracefully, and flicked his tail at her as he strutted away, nose in the air.

She didn’t bother trying to hide her smile as she began gathering the supplies they would need to confront Balekin, leaving the cat prince of Elfhame to sulk.

~ ~ ~

The moon was sinking low in the ever-lightening sky as the trio made their way toward Hollow Hall once more. Pellia set the pace, a steady march, while Jude brought up the rear with the lithe black form of Cardan riding fluidly on her shoulder. She had quickly discovered that walking behind her was the only way she could reliably keep track of the pixie’s movements. The red-haired girl moved so quietly, her steps often syncing with Jude’s own. Despite their truce, Jude didn’t entirely trust the other girl at her back.

They walked in silence for the first half of the journey, the only sounds coming from their soft footfalls on the leaf-littered floor and the whisper of wind through the Milkweeds. Then Pellia stopped abruptly, and Jude promptly collided with the other girl’s back. Cardan meowed in alarm, scrambling to keep his place on Jude’s shoulder. His claws dug through her shirt and into her skin.

“Thanks for the warning,” Jude quipped, as equally annoyed at the cat prince as at Pellia.

“Ow,” Pellia accused. “That was rude.”

“You just stopped with no warning.”

“My bad. I didn’t realise I needed your permission to stop walking.”

“You—”

“Look,” Pellia interrupted, pointing at a low bush a few steps into the underbrush. Its dark leaves were glossy and adorned with sharp points. There was some kind of black berry clinging to the stems. The pixie crouched next to the bush and began picking the fruit.

“You’re hungry?” Jude didn’t know Pellia very well, but after the way she’d refused to wait any longer to go after her sister, she was a little taken aback by the pixie’s apparent lack of focus. Then again, stopping for a picnic was certainly unexpected, and nothing about Pellia had been predictable so far.

“No, idiot,” Pellia clarified. “It’s sanguineberry.”

Jude stepped forward to take a closer look. The berries, which she’d thought were black, actually appeared to be a deep red in colour and were the size of cherry tomatoes. They were clustered in twos and threes, but Pellia twisted them off the plant one at a time.

“Never heard of it.”

“I wouldn’t have expected you to.” The redhead shrugged. “Most people think it’s mildly poisonous—stomach cramps, excessive sweating, maybe vomiting a bit of blood for a day or two if you’re really unlucky—so it isn’t really gathered much. But actually—” she unsheathed the assassin’s dagger and pierced the flesh of a particularly large berry—“it’s a powerful analgesic.”

Pellia brought the punctured berry to her lips and sucked the juice out. It deflated like a juiced orange.

“Pellia!” Jude exclaimed, trying to grab the fruit from the pixie’s hand. She was too late. The pixie had already swallowed it, leaving the skin slightly deflated. Jude’s hands curled into fists. “I really don’t think vomiting blood is something you need to add to your condition right now.”

The pixie just laughed. “Do you actually think I’d eat something that I just told you was poisonous?”

“It is a distinct possibility.” From his spot on her shoulder, Cardan made a sound that was suspiciously close to laughter.

“Shut it, catboy,” Pellia rolled her eyes. “It’s only the skin that you can’t eat. Look.” She peeled the skin back to reveal a pulpy red interior. It looked like a warfield. “The juice is safe to ingest—and, like I said, it’s a great painkiller.” She grinned a seemingly-bloody smile, her teeth stained from the sanguineberry juice. “If you eat the skin though, then it’s a pain causer.”

“Ha ha,” Jude deadpanned. She was about done with this conversation. “Time’s ticking. We need to go.”

Pellia nodded, suddenly serious. “I just need to collect some of these first.”

At Jude’s slight frown, the pixie smirked. “Don’t worry about it. It’s all part of the plan.”

~ ~ ~

“Where did you come from?!”

The guard on patrol outside Hollow Hall was easy to sneak up on and easier to dispatch. Pellia had barely finished quipping, “Your mom’s house,” by the time Jude had the guard on the ground, face in the dirt. He was thrashing, demanding to know about his mother and whether she was safe.

“My humour is lost on you,” the pixie sighed.

“That was supposed to be funny?” It seemed more like psychological warfare than humour to Jude, but then, maybe that was what Pellia found humorous.

“At least he gets it,” Pellia shrugged, gesturing to Cardan, whose whiskers were twitching in a cat’s smile.

They left the guard—incapacitated but alive—behind and headed for the door. They halted at the sound of a voice.

“Alas returns the lost prince,” it said.

Cardan growled. Jude’s hand dropped to the hilt of her sword. Pellia let out an impressive string of curses at the sight of the enchanted door and its inhuman face. Her dagger had suddenly appeared in her hand.

“I thought you’d been here before,” Jude said. “This seems like a pretty difficult thing to miss.”

“I didn’t use the front door that time,” Pellia said, scowling at the enchanted face. “I’d heard about this thing but what the hell—who dreamed you up?”

“What would your mother think of that vocabulary?” the door chided. “Or that nursemaid of hers, for that matter? What was her name—Annie? No: Angela! I’m assuming she’s the one who raised you? Spirited you away so you couldn’t follow in your mother’s footsteps?”

“How do you—actually, nevermind. You’re creepy and I don’t need to tell you anything.” Pellia moved to shove the door open, but it spoke again.

“Ah, ah. Tell me where you’ve been hiding all of these years?” it rasped. “It mustn't have been on the Isles, or I would have known.”

Pellia gritted her teeth so hard that Jude could have sworn she heard them creaking. Her grip on the dagger’s hilt was turning her knuckles white. “One more word and I dig the point of this into your eye,” she threatened.

The door swung open.

With a last glare at the enchanted door, Pellia dragged Jude and Cardan inside. She led them out of sight of the entrance and its magical guardian before turning to face Jude.

“From here on, we split up,” she said.

Jude nodded. “Are you sure you don’t want to find your sister while I go after Balekin?”

Pellia gave the other girl a half-smile. “I’m sure,” she said. Jude’s frown deepened as the pixie added, “I need you to promise me something.”

“What…?”

“I need you to promise that, no matter what you see, you won’t interfere. Balekin is my fight. I just need you to find my sister.” Pellia’s eyes were blazing once again with that same determination. It sent a chill down Jude’s spine.

After a moment’s hesitation, she agreed. “Okay. You get Balekin. I’ll find Amber.”

“Thank you. And good luck.”

“You too.”

Pellia turned her ruby gaze on Cardan, and they locked eyes. “Ready, catboy?”

Mrrroow, he responded.

Pellia smiled then slipped away, practically melting into the shadows.

~ ~ ~

“She’s kind of annoying, but I hope she doesn’t get herself killed,” Jude said. She was following Cardan through the crooked stone walls of his one-time home.

Was it still? He wasn’t so sure. Although he could never say so, when he closed his eyes and thought about home, the image he found was starting to look less like Hollow Hall or the Palace and more like whitewashed walls, wooden beams, and smoky windows. It was starting to look like the arms of a mortal girl who had dedicated so much time and effort into returning his sorry self to fey form.

Cardan turned into a small room—a closet, really, and scratched at the carpeted floor. Jude got the hint, running her fingers over the rug until she found the catch in one corner where it didn’t quite fit so snugly against the wall. She drew it back to reveal a trap door and, beneath that, a ladder extending into the darkness.

“Fantastic,” she muttered. “I hope I’m not about to lower myself into a hole in the ground for no good reason.”

Cardan was half-amused and half-insulted by the implication in her words. She’ll be there, he wanted to say, but he could only chirp reassuringly.

Jude scratched under his chin with one finger before inviting him to climb up onto her shoulder.

Happily, he purred.

At the bottom of the ladder, the tunnel ran out to either side. He kept watch to make sure no one was coming, his feline eyes comfortable in the dim light. When they reached the bottom, Cardan gave a soft mrrow and gestured to the rightmost path.

The tunnel was wide but low. Had he been in his own body, Cardan would have had to hunch slightly to avoid scraping his head against the earthen ceiling. As it was, Jude had a couple of inches to spare, even at the lowest points, and Cardan was able to cling to her shoulder as she walked. This suited him just fine—he didn’t find the damp, earthy scent particularly appealing, and he didn’t want it all over his paws, thank you very much.

The tunnel began to slope downward and continued like that for another hundred metres or so. Amber’s makeshift cell was at the bottom of that slope.

The rooms beneath Hollow Hall weren’t meant to house prisoners—not really. They were a safety precaution and a way to sneak around, known only by Balekin, Cardan, and a small handful of Balekin’s inner circle.

Amber was being held in the hastily blocked off back half of an alcove that Cardan distinctly remembered as having been used to store unopened wine casks at some point. On a hook set into the hard-packed earthen wall was a key, dangling alone on a large keyring. The metal bars of the cell looked like they had been repurposed from a fence or a gate somewhere. A bucket in the corner served as a chamberpot, and a few cushions and a blanket was her bed.

All in all, it was better than Cardan had expected, considering his brother’s habitual treatment of humans.

“Amber?” Jude asked, stepping into the alcove. The girl at the back of the cell looked up. She couldn’t have been more than fourteen. Her mousey brown hair was tattered, her brown eyes wide and cautious as they took in the girl and cat before her. A smatter of freckles stood out against sickly skin that hadn’t seen sunlight in weeks.

“You’re a person—a human,” Amber said, studying Jude. “Are you… awake?”

“Um, yes.”

The girl sat up a little straighter. “The others weren’t. The servants. They’re like zombies.”

Cardan could hear Jude swallow. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the way her brow furrowed, her jaw tightening.

“I’m awake,” she promised. “I’m Jude. I’m a friend of your sister’s.”

That got the girl’s attention. Amber’s whole face lit up and she was suddenly on her feet. Cardan couldn’t imagine feeling that much excitement toward any of his siblings, even the not-so-bad ones.

“Pellia’s here?” Hope was blossoming on Amber’s features, brightening her eyes and bringing her back to life.

“She is,” Jude said, grabbing the key to the cell door. “We’re getting you out.”

With a metallic click and an aching groan, the door to the cell swung out, and Amber followed, throwing her arms around Jude. The young girl’s relief was palpable. When her eyes started to water, it sent a pang through Cardan’s heart, so strong he had to look away.

That was why he was the first to see the figure that loomed out of the dark tunnel: Madoc.

“I was hoping it would not come to this,” the Redcap’s voice rumbled off the walls. Jude spun around, shoving the girl behind her.

“Madoc,” she said. Cardan knew her well enough by now to recognise the slight tilt of unease on her mouth, the way her breathing sped up ever-so-slightly when she was surprised, just for a heartbeat, before she steadied it again. He felt the hair along his back stand straighter in response to Jude’s emotions.

Apparently Madoc could read her too. “You think I was unaware all this time that you were sneaking around with that?” He jerked his chin in Cardan’s direction, a disdainful sneer curling his lips.

“A cat?” Jude said, eyes narrowing.

Cardan hissed, half at Madoc and half at Jude for acting like he was some common stray—he knew her angle, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

“You are too intelligent to think I would believe that you have not figured out who that is. You broke into my office, stole my correspondence, and expected that I would not notice? Unlikely.”

Jude shrugged. “Worth a shot.” She was edging away from the open cell and toward the freedom of the alcove, nudging Amber along with her.

“Not really.” Madoc rested a hand on his sword hilt, a subtle threat. “Stop shuffling and put the girl back in the cell.”

Jude’s hand found the hilt of her own sword. “No.”

The identical shiiiing! of two swords being unsheathed simultaneously sang into the damp earthen tunnels. Cardan leaped to grab hold of Amber, trying to drag her out of harm’s way as Jude and her foster father faced off.

There was no escape with Madoc blocking the alcove entrance, so Cardan nudged the mortal girl toward the wall, where she could slip behind the open door. That way, Madoc wouldn’t be able to corral them back into the cell. A quick glance up showed him a wide-eyed, white-faced Amber. He clambered up to her shoulder and leaned in, forcing a purr in an effort to comfort her.

As steel rang against steel, Cardan tried to figure out if the trembling he was feeling was Amber’s or his own. Probably both.

He flattened his ears as Madoc slid his blade down the length of Jude’s, bringing him inside her guard. She tried to shove him back but he disengaged with a quick twist and sent her stumbling back. As she fell, the sachet of protective herbs she kept on a cord around her neck slipped from under her tunic. Madoc lashed out with one green clawed hand, snapping it from her neck.

Cardan could feel the magic tingling in the air as the Redcap opened his mouth to speak.

He couldn’t let Madoc glamour Jude.

That was the only thought on the cat prince’s mind as launched himself, all claws and teeth and feline fury—straight onto Madoc’s face. Hissing and spitting, Cardan clung to the older fey, raking his nails across green skin until blood oozed from various wounds.

Madoc screamed—in pain and anger, deep and earth-rumbling and vicious. His sword fell from his grip, hitting the dirt floor with a dull thud. He clawed at the cat whose nails were so deeply embedded in his skin, howling the whole time. His hands were bruising, grasping Cardan around the chest and neck, and try as he might, the prince couldn’t fight him off.

Thankfully, there was no need: Jude, recovering her feet and her weapon, saw the opportunity as it presented itself. She planted one foot against the wild, reeling Redcap’s hip and shoved.

Her foster father stumbled back, arms cartwheeling as he tried to keep his balance. Cardan sprang away as he fell into the cell. Amber, still behind the door, slammed it shut, and the lock engaged with a loud click!

No one spoke. Jude pocketed the key, and she and Madoc stared at each other for a long time, their panting breaths—one tired, one angry—the only sounds in the subterranean room. Slowly, Jude picked up the sachet of herbs from where it had fallen. She re-knotted the broken cord and strung it over Amber’s neck.

“To keep you safe from glamours,” she explained, but her voice seemed quiet and far away, as though it had been swallowed by the earth.

Blood roared in Cardan’s ears. He tried to take stock of his body—was everything intact? He twitched his tail, his ears, then did a full-body shake. Nothing hurt too badly. His ribs and neck were a little sore from where Madoc had grabbed him, but nothing was broken, no blood drawn.

Not mine, at least, he thought, flexing blood-sticky claws. He shuddered. There was no way he was cleaning that off the cat way.

A hand brushed his shoulder and he looked up into walnut eyes. Jude. He climbed into the proffered arms. She felt warm and solid, and Cardan could almost feel the tension of the past few minutes drain from his body.

“Thank you,” Jude whispered.

She cast one more glance at her foster father, whose hands were wrapped around the metal bars, before taking the Amber’s hand and leading her out of the alcove.

“Let’s go get your sister.”

~ ~ ~

The silver-eyed prince was in his room when she found him.

The heavy wooden door was cracked open, a sliver of wavering torchlight spilling out into the hallway. An invitation, taunting. Apparently, Balekin was expecting her.

So much for the element of surprise. She almost wanted to laugh, to release the nervous energy that was curling in her stomach, rendering her body electric with anticipation.

This is it. She was either going to free Cardan and save her sister… or die trying. Hopefully the first option, but still, her mind spun. Everything felt so similar to the first time—when she’d arrived in Faerie to confront Balekin, furious and fear-filled—and look how badly that had gone, her mind insisted.

She shook her head, as though doing so could dislodge the thoughts from her brain. She’d been stupid that time, rushing in with no plan, wielding weapons and white-hot rage as her tools of revenge. This time, she was ready. This time, she had a plan and allies and she knew what she was facing. This time, she was writing the rules.

Pellia drew her sword, the one she’d stolen from the Palace guard what felt like aeons ago. Raising it to deflect a surprise attack, she pushed the door open with one foot and stepped inside.

The centre of the room was empty except for the large area rug covering the flagstones, the furniture pushed back against the walls. In a large armchair at the far side of the room, his loose white shirt unbuttoned halfway to expose his bare chest, sat Balekin.

“I was starting to think you weren’t coming in,” he sneered. He held a goblet in one hand, swirling its contents idly. A naked sword was propped against the armrest next to him. “Where’s your entourage?”

Pellia said nothing, just moved farther into the room.

“Nothing to say today? No witty remarks?”

She stopped at the edge of the rug and Balekin tsked. “Boring,” he said. “I thought you’d be more interesting now, not less. Maybe your sister’s life on the line is taking its toll, hm?”

“And whose fault is that?” Pellia responded, red eyes meeting silver.

The prince smirked. “She would have been safe if you had upheld your end of the bargain.”

“I did my part!” The words slipped from her mouth without any forethought. Her sword point was aimed at Balekin’s chest, like he wasn’t half a room away. Pellia gritted her teeth, calming her voice. “I did my part,” she repeated. “I was working for you. I was following your orders. I couldn’t have done anything else.”

Balekin hummed noncommittally. “I must say, I thought you would be a little more difficult to catch. You disappointed me, Nerium.”

“You’d know about disappointments,” she said acidly. “And can we talk about the whole ordering-to-kill-me thing, ‘cause that wasn’t part of the deal! They fucking tortured me, and I didn’t talk, but you couldn’t even do a little thing like not order my death?!”

“You were a liability.”

“Fuck off.”

“And so the teeth come out,” he chuckled. “Does that not feel better?”

“Things will be ‘better’ when I have my sister, and you’re six feet under,” Pellia snapped.

Balekin smirked. “Bold words, considering you’re the reason she’s in this situation in the first place.”

“Respectfully,” Pellia said, trying hard to keep a leash on her temper, “if one more dumbfuck sentence like that comes out of your mouth, I am going to violate the Geneva Convention.”

When Balekin’s face flickered with confusion, she said, “War crimes. I’m going to commit war crimes.”

The dark prince smirked. “You plan to fight me? In that state?” He laughed, a full-belly laugh that made Pellia want to throttle him.

She knew it wasn’t the best plan. She knew she was weak, still unhealed from her injuries and recovering from torture and starvation. But she had no other choice. She would fight, and maybe she would even get in a few good cuts before he took her down. She just had to keep him occupied long enough for Jude and Cardan to free her sister.

“Are you scared?” she taunted.

Balekin chuckled again, recognising the bait for what it was. “I am not the one who should be afraid,” he said, draining the contents of his goblet and trading the cup for his sword. He rose to his feet. “Try not to bleed all over my carpet.”

Torchlight flickered off live steel as they circled, each tracking the other’s every move. Their feet shuffled across the rug. The fireplace crackled in the background.

Maybe, if she was lucky, Pellia could get the first hit—incapacitate him early and end the fight before he could take advantage of her injured state.

Fast as a snake, she struck, aiming for the muscle between his neck and shoulder with an overhead slash. Balekin met her attack, deflecting her sword and shoving his own point-first toward her throat.

She swayed out of the way just in time, though his blade did catch the side of her neck. Blood welled from the scratch. Pellia ignored it, stepping into him in an attempt to catch him off guard. Steel screamed against steel as her blade slid down the length of his. They were locked toe-to-toe. She gritted her teeth as the prince pressed down harder. This may not have been her brightest idea, and she knew he recognised it too.

“Bad choice,” he said and hooked her ankle with one foot. Pellia went down. Her back hit the ground hard, driving the air from her lungs. She had just enough sense to roll out of the way before Balekin’s sword plunged down, piercing the rug where she had been a heartbeat before.

Pellia scrambled to her feet, eyes wide, and brought her sword back to the guard position. She was moving on autopilot, her muscles taking over while her dazed mind caught up. Balekin let her rise, smirking.

They circled again, the prince’s movements smooth and predatory while Pellia was still trying to catch her breath. Her fractured rib burned, but she pushed the pain aside, blinking rapidly. She just had to keep him occupied until Cardan found them.

This time, Balekin attacked first. He went low, slashing for her thighs, and Pellia brought her own sword down to meet him. The clash of their weapons rang off the stone walls.

She disengaged, knocking his blade away, and that was when she saw the opening. With all her strength, Pellia lunged forward, her swordpoint thrusting for his heart—

Balekin’s smile was that of a predator, baring its teeth as it moved in for the kill. He swayed out of harm’s way, caught her wrist in one hand, and threw her across the room.

Pellia soared.

During the brief moment she was in the air, she found herself hoping that Cardan wouldn’t be too angry with her for failing. She hoped he and Jude would find Amber and help her get home. She hoped her sister would be okay without her.

Then Pellia slammed into the ground.

~ ~ ~

Jude followed close on Cardan’s heels as he led the way through the stone corridors of Hollow Hall. She held her sword ready in one hand, holding onto Amber’s wrist with the other. She tried not to be frustrated at the slow but steady pace they were setting—it wasn’t fair to expect Amber to keep up after having been locked in a cell for who knows how long.

Still, she worried about Pellia facing Balekin alone when she was already injured. She would need to be one hell of a fighter to have a shot at winning that match up, and while she carried herself like someone who was capable, Jude didn’t get the sense that Pellia knew when to back down.

Which is why, despite her promise not to interfere, Jude wanted to be there to step in if it looked like Balekin had the upper hand. But first, she had to get there.

The sound of clashing steel rang out in the next corridor. Jude slowed as she rounded the corner. Halfway down the hall was an open door that spilled light from within and, about ten feet earlier, a shallow alcove. The trio stopped before it.

“Stay here,” Jude said to Amber, tucking her into the space. “And hang onto this—just in case.” Jude unsheathed the long dagger at her hip, handing it to the girl.

“Is Pellia in—” Amber started, brown eyes wide. She was craning her neck to see past Jude to the open door.

“Yes,” Jude said, pushing the girl back gently and forcing her to meet her eyes. “And I’m going to help her but you need to stay here, got it? I can’t help Pellia and watch out for you.”

Swallowing, Amber nodded, taking the weapon.

It was confirmation enough for Jude. She headed for the open doorway, Cardan racing at her heels—and stopped just inside the threshold, in time to see Pellia crash into the rug-covered floor.

Jude winced, stepping farther into the room, sword raised. Cardan hurtled past her to stand between the downed pixie and the menacing form of his older brother. Balekin regarded the cat calmly, spun his own sword, and glanced sideways at Jude.

“Oh, look: your friends have come to your rescue,” he taunted as Cardan hissed, hair puffed and claws out.

Pellia was on her back, eyes closed and chest heaving as she tried to recover the air that had been forced from her lungs. Cardan put one soft black paw on her shoulder. “Took you long enough,” she coughed.

Balekin looked almost annoyed. “Having others fight your battles for you, Nerium?” he said. “I thought you had more pride than that.”

Still breathless, Pellia struggled to sit up. “I do,” she said, swaying and blinking hard. She looked at the mortal girl, red eyes meeting walnut. “Jude, you promised.”

Jude’s lips thinned, displaying her scepticism. She searched the other girl’s face, trying to find something to indicate the pixie was okay, but Pellia was pale and swaying unsteadily.

Yes, she had promised not to step in. But if she didn’t, the chances of Pellia being alive to take her sister home at the end of this were slim. Jude tightened her grip on her weapon.

“Pellia—” Jude started, but the pixie cut her off.

“No,” she snapped. “This is my fight.”

Balekin laughed. “Stubborn to the end. Will you still feel that way when I run you through?”

Pellia smiled back, cold and ruthless. “Violence isn’t the only way to do battle, Balekin. You’re playing my game now; maybe next time you should read the rules.”

She grabbed Cardan by the scruff of his neck, hauling the cat toward her and climbing to her feet. He scrambled as she lifted him into the air, flailing against her hold until she drew her stolen dagger. She placed its tip against the delicate skin of Cardan’s throat, and he stopped struggling.

She’s going to kill him, Jude thought, stunned. She could feel the blood draining from her face. After everything, she’s going to kill him. And she’s going to use my knife to do it.

Balekin was less stunned. “You won’t kill him,” he chuckled.

“No?” Pellia gritted her teeth, adjusting her grip on the hilt. “And why's that?”

“What would you gain? Killing him won't get you your sister back.” Disdain coloured the prince’s voice, but there was something else, something other—the slightest tinge of uncertainty hiding in the space between his words.

Pellia nodded, considering. “Maybe not. But what do you really know about me?” Her breathing was heavy and pained. Her eyes bore into Balekin's with a fury so hot it could have started a wildfire. “Killing him might not get me my sister back, but it sure as hell will cause you some issues,” she spat.

The fey prince was quiet for a long moment, calculating. Jude’s heart dropped all the way to her stomach. Her eyes flicked back and forth, from Pellia to Balekin, from hot, wild rage to cool, quiet calculation. Then Balekin straightened, an ugly half-smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“I do not think you have an accurate read on my relationship with my little brother,” he explained. The words were oily smooth and indifferent. Jude wanted to scratch them off her skin. “I would not cry if he were gone. I do not care for him the way you care for that mortal brat.”

The reference to Amber caused the pixie to flinch. "I didn’t say you cared," she snapped back. “I don’t think for a moment that you'd be sad over his loss—you’d have to have a heart for that.” She held Cardan higher and stepped closer to Balekin. “I just think it would cause you some problems. How can you be his benevolent saviour if he's dead? How can you manipulate someone who owes you nothing?”

Balekin opened his mouth to speak, but Pellia shook the cat, pressing the knife closer. Cardan squawked in alarm, and his brother fell silent.

“Isn't that your plan?” she ranted, voice rising. “Isn’t it?! Massacre your family, but keep him—” she nodded to the cat hanging uncomfortably by his scruff “—safe, so you can play the saviour? So he’ll be indebted when you find the antidote to the spell that made him this way? I’m not done,” she snapped as Balekin drew breath to speak.

Veins were pulsing in the dark fey prince’s forehead, his eyes a rage-filled inferno. His jaw was so tight Jude could almost hear his teeth creaking under the strain. Any moment now, he would erupt.

“You don’t care about Cardan,” Pellia continued, “only his royal lineage. You just need someone to put the crown on your head. Well, news flash, buddy,” she scoffed, “it won’t be him.”

Balekin lunged for Pellia with an inarticulate roar. She must have seen it coming as Jude had, though, and a quick sidestep carried her out of harm’s way. The fey prince’s momentum carried him forward to trip over Pellia’s extended ankle and he skidded across the floor to stop at Jude's feet.

Jude, who jumped backward to avoid a collision. Jude, who looked up and felt the blood drain from her face. Jude, who couldn’t hide her look of complete and utter horror at the sight before her. Her heart felt as though it had stopped, and also as though it were trying to beat out of her chest. Her body was numb. She stared.

Balekin turned, too, his sword falling from his grip as he beheld the scene taking place.

“You bitch—” he snarled.

Across the room, Pellia crouched to lay the still body of Cardan on the floor. Darkness coated his cat's chest, a red stain seeping into the carpet beneath him. Jude’s dagger in her hand ran red from hilt to tip.

When she spoke, the pixie’s voice was quiet. Flat.

“What's your plan now, Balekin?”

Jude could barely tear her gaze away to see the prince’s reaction. His face contorted with fury, a hate so black it nearly seeped the light from the room. Balekin screamed and charged for Pellia—then stopped.

He looked down. The silver point of Jude’s sword protruded from his stomach. The anger fell from his face as she tried to figure out what it meant, what had happened. When Jude yanked her blade from his body with a slight squelch, he swayed, stumbled forward, then fell at Pellia's feet.

Jude barely noticed. She was halfway to Cardan, scrambling, the floor feeling oddly immaterial beneath her feet, when Pellia’s voice rang out, laced thick with glamour:

“Stop,” she commanded, and Jude felt her feet freeze beneath her.

Those stupid herbs. In trying to uphold her end of the deal, in trying to help Amber before all else, she had given up the one thing that had protected her against the glamour. She threw herself against the magic restraining her, but still her feet remained locked to the ground.

Panic began to creep through Jude’s veins and hot tears burned her eyes.

“Let me go!” she screamed, thrashing in Pellia’s magical hold. "Let me see him!"

The pixie looked taken aback for a moment. “I’m sorry for the pain this has caused you, Jude,” she said. She sounded sincere. It meant nothing.

“Fuck you!” Jude’s voice broke over the words. Her heart felt like it was being ripped in half. “How could you?! He did nothing! You were supposed to help him—you're a liar!”

Pellia shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she repeated, then, glamour lacing her voice again, she ordered, "Please, be quiet."

The air rushed from Jude's lungs. No matter how much she screamed and sobbed, no sound came out. With silent tears streaming down her face, she collapsed to her knees.

Pellia turned back to Balekin. Panting from the pain of his wound, he had struggled his way onto all fours and drawn a knife. It was a simple matter to knock one hand from under him, sending the prince crashing face-first into the carpeted floor. Pellia lowered herself to a crouch beside him and laid the edge of her dagger under his jaw.

“Ah, ah,” she tutted. “Let's not do that, shall we? You lost. Now tell me: what did you use to bind the cat spell?”

“What does it matter?” Balekin snarled. “You’ve already killed him.”

“Humour me.” Pellia’s voice was sweet and deadly, dripping honey over a razor sharp blade. “I’m ever so curious.”

When he still refused, she applied pressure to the weapon at his throat. A thin line of blood sprang up where the blade met flesh, and the prince flinched.

“The ring,” he spat, voice dripping with contempt. “The match to the one you put on him.”

Pellia smiled, cold and sharp, giving him some space to move. "Remove it for me." Balekin's fingers trembled as he did, though with rage or fear Jude couldn’t be certain. The stone set into the band was the same warm orange as the cat's eyes. Jude’s heart ached at the thought of never seeing those eyes again. As Balekin dropped the ring into Pellia's hand, the air in the room seemed to crackle. Through wet eyes, Jude looked to Cardan; shimmering white light glowed over the cat's changing body.

“Thank you,” Pellia said from her spot with Balekin. Neither she nor the prince seemed to have noticed Cardan’s transformation.

“Would that misfortune follow you, any path you take,” the injured prince spat—an ancient curse.

Pellia raised her eyebrows at him, unphased. “Go stick your dick in a toaster, fucknugget.” She glanced over her shoulder to where the naked-but-very-much-fey body of Cardan now lay.

“It’s over, Catboy. You’re good now.”

Jude didn’t understand what she meant at first. Her confusion was answered a moment later as Cardan sat up, graceful as ever and uninjured. Then it hit her full force as she realised—Cardan had just sat up, graceful as ever and uninjured. The shock of it was enough to stop the tears sliding down her cheeks.

“Jude,” Pellia said, “I release you, as long as you promise not to stab me.”

Still trying to wrap her mind around what was happening, the girl nodded, and the glamour broke. She hurled herself across the room at the newly-returned fey prince and dipped to her knees beside him, hands hovering, unsure whether to hug him or hold his hand or die of embarrassment over the sheer amount of relief she was feeling—or over the fact that he was sitting there, fully nude and still glowing with the effects of the spell, which she was just processing now. Jude felt her cheeks flame at the realisation. Cardan, on the other hand, seemed completely unaffected.

Instead, he gave her a crooked smile. “Hello, Jude,” he said.

She could feel herself turning an even deeper shade of red. “Um—hi,” she stuttered, her tongue feeling awkward in her mouth. “I’m—I’m glad you’re back.” She studied a particularly interesting spot on the stone wall behind him, refusing to meet his eyes.

That didn’t last long. Cardan began to sway as the light around him faded. Instinctively, Jude reached out to steady him. He fell against her.

“Jude,” he said again, insistent as his voice started to slur with sleep. “You need to know….”

Then he passed out.

~ ~ ~

Pellia watched as Jude hurtled across the room to Cardan's side. It had been difficult for her to intentionally allow the girl to believe she had killed Cardan. After all, Pellia knew firsthand what it was like to have someone important stolen from right under your nose—the feelings of helplessness and despair and anger that it provoked. She comforted herself with the knowledge that it had been a quick affair, just long enough to force Balekin to remove the ring that bound the spell.

Pellia wiped sanguineberry juice from the assassin's dagger before sheathing it at her hip. Her body ached, protesting its recent treatment, and she knew it would only get worse as the adrenaline faded. She wished she had thought to save some of those blessed painkilling berries, instead of putting them all into the poison vial hidden in the dagger's hilt.

“Pell?”

The pixie girl spun toward the voice. It came from the main doorway, where a slight figure stood, shrouded in shadow. Pellia swallowed.

“Amber?”

“PELLIA!” Amber exclaimed. She rushed forward, tackling her older sister in a bone-crushing hug, tears streaming down her face.

“Can’t breathe—” Pellia winced at the pain in her ribs but held on just as tight. She pulled back for a moment to fervently check her sister’s face. Amber was pale, her cheeks sunken and eyes haunted, but it was her.

Pellia took a breath that morphed into a sob. She'd done it. Amber was here. She was real and solid and alive, and she was here.

“I’m so glad you’re safe,” Pellia whispered., burying her face in her sister's hair as they sank to the floor.

Amber held on tighter. Her tears turned to sobs as the two girls clung to each other, neither wanting to let go. “I—I thought I was—" she hiccuped and started again. “I thought I was never gonna see you again.”

Pellia's heart cracked. “I’m sorry,” she breathed. “You’re safe now. I’m so sorry.”

The younger girl shook her head, her face still buried in Pellia’s shoulder. “You were right,” she admitted. Her voice cracked, and she clutched at Pellia's clothes, holding on as tightly as she could. “It’s scary here.”

Pellia’s heart broke in her chest. “I know,” she whispered, stroking her sister's hair. “But it’s gonna be okay. I’m gonna take you home.”

***

A/N: That wasn't that bad, right? Happy ending? For everyone except dear Balekin? Also, I know this started mainly with Jude and Cardan. I'm sorry to anyone who is disappointed about the copious amounts of Pellia screentime. I haven't read FotA in like three years and I don't remember enough to write them in-character. So yeah, Pellia took over.

Theoretically, there is one more chapter to be written. Will I actually write it? Who knows. (Probably, but it'll take A Bit.) (I've learned my lesson about posting as I write... So much respect to people who are dedicated and organized enough to do that. You really gotta have the plot figured out first. Anyway. Lesson learned. If I ever write anything else, I will finish the story before posting.)

Thanks for reading, friend. Hope you enjoyed. <3

Tagging: @stardustsroses @nahthanks @jurdanhell @my-one-true-l @thefolkofthefic @greenbriarxrose @bookavert @queen-of-demons-and-hell @theviolettulip @lysandra-ghost-leopard @playlistmusings @black-like-my-soul @mirubyai @eldritchred @hpcdd3 @myunfortunatenightmare @angelpaulene @localgoof @garnet-baby @iamaprincessallgirlsare

#lost & found fic #fota #folk of the air #jurdan #folk of the air fanfic #holly black #elfhame #tfota #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #the cruel prince #how the king of elfhame learned to hate stories #htkoelths #tcp #the wicked king #twk #the queen of nothing #tqon #qon

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separatist-apologist · 3 years ago

Note

Listen…There’s so so little HelionxLoA smut out there🤧🤧 so naturally I came to the Queen of Vanserra/Spellcleaver writing to request literally anything you want to write for them, I just need content about them cause all we have is CRUMBS😭🤧

love your writing boo have a wonderful day💕

Look, if you think you can show up in my ask box demanding Helion content you are absolutely right. Honestly, more of this please. We could put Helion in ALL KINDS of positions, I know he'd be up for it.

Anyway, this is NSFW, 18+, edited with my hands tied behind my back.

Helion pulled himself out of the gleaming pool of salt water, blinded by the overhead sun. Meeting, meetings, meetings, he thought despondently, wrapping a towel around his waist. What good was being the High Lord if your time still wasn’t your own? Helion wanted to float in sunlight until his skin burned. He wanted to float until he felt nothing but oblivion, until he was one with the world.

Instead he’d sit at his desk and a stack of papers while emissary’s for whatever boring High Lord wanted to talk to him droned on and on about trade routes and taxes. Helion had hoped to never be High Lord, had hoped the magic might skip him entirely and then Amarantha, the cunt, fucked that all up.

Not that Helion didn’t still indulge, of course. Just not as often as he would have liked.

His bare feet smacked against the marble, still slippery from the water and he smirked at a gentleman who glanced at the towel hanging from his hips. He knew what they were wondering. What was beneath? Nothing, he thought with relish.

“Give me twenty minutes,” Helion told one of his advisors as he made his way towards his bedroom. “Who is waiting?”

“An emissary from Autumn, High Lord.”

Helion rolled his eyes. “Give me an hour, then,” he replied with a relish. It hardly punished Beron, given he’d sent one of his simpering, spineless courtiers in his stead and yet Helion still could not help but be petty. Let the courtier go back to Autumn and complain about Helion’s lack of time for them. Perhaps one day Beron would take the hint.

He flung open his bedroom door with a relish, intending to bathe and, afterwards, take a nap. Maybe eat after that, read a few chapters of his book and then, if he felt like it, hear out whatever Beron wanted.

Helion froze in place, eyes huge, hand still on the doorknob behind him. The Lady of Autumn, his lady, Amera, stood in the middle of the room wearing nothing but a flimsy, cotton shift that did absolutely nothingto hide her body from him.

This is a dream, his mind shouted. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d imagined her standing in his bedroom with those russet eyes filled with wanting. He reached for his side and pinched hard, waiting to see her dissolve into nothingness.

She took a step forward. “You’re not imagining things,” she told him, her voice somehow prettier than he remembered. He rubbed his jaw; aware he must look half insane standing as he was. Helion, unable to put together words, at least managed to lock the door behind him. Had he said an hour? Autumn’s courtier would go home unanswered.

“How?” He asked, fisting his hands at his sides. His eyes drifted towards her pert breasts, the rosy nipples stark against the near transparent fabric.

Her eyes sparked with amusement. “You haven’t heard?”

Helion’s knees began to shake as a smile spread across her beautiful face. “Eris is High Lord, now.”

“How?”

Mischief replaced her amusement. “How, indeed.”

“So you’re…” He couldn’t get the word out, couldn’t bring himself to say it only to be rebuffed. Centuries of waiting, of wanting, of yearning and now Helion needed her to say it.

“Yours?” She supplied. Finally, his body worked and Helion, unable to stand it a moment longer, surged towards his lady and yanked her into his arms. He meant to kiss her but his legs gave way and Helion knelt before her instead, hugging her middle.

“Stay,” he begged like he’d done many, many times before. She carded her fingers through his wet, tangled hair. “Please stay.”

“For how long?” She responded and Helion couldn’t believe it was real. It wasn’t really happening. He was dehydrated, still floating in the pool, fantasizing like he so often did. He squeezed her body, his hands taking on a life of their own as they began to slide the long shift up her thin legs.

“Forever,” he choked, catching the scent of her arousal before he hand the shift anywhere close to her cunt. She chucked over him, as though the scene unfolding amused her.

“Is that all?” She asked him and Helion growled, pressing his mouth against her thigh.

“No,” he replied, ripping the fabric bunched in his hands. She gasped but Helion would shred everything she brought from Autumn, every article of clothing, every pretty memento and, in time, every bad memory. He stood, ripping his way up to the neckline while she looked up at him with clear eyes. He’d forgotten how little she was in comparison and the urge to protect her flared to life.

She slid the sleeves of the now ruined undergarment to the floor, never breaking eye contact. “Is it as you remember?” She asked him, pressing a hand to his hard chest. He swallowed hard because no, she wasn’t as he remembered. Too thin, too pale…he could fix that.

“Better,” he said instead, sucking air in sharply when she pulled the knot out of his towel, letting the fabric drop to the floor. She cocked her head to the side, red curls spilling down her back. A smile curved over her pretty, red lips and Helion almost let her sink to her knees in front of him.

“No,” he all but snarled, catching her by the elbows. “Absolutely not.”

She frowned, opening her mouth to protest and while Helion would have liked nothing more than to feel her mouth around him again, he would have her body, or he would have nothing at all. He scooped her up, reveling in the feel of her bare skin against his own and swallowed any protest she might have offered with his lips. He felt fevered, hungry, and desperate for the female he spread delicately across his bed of white and gold.

He stopped his kissing just long enough to position himself on the bed, half covering her body with his own. She tasted exactly as he remembered, like roasted chestnuts and bright, sun washed apples and Helion was lost. He ran a broad hand up her thigh and over her stomach, over and over, reveling in the feel of her soft skin beneath his calloused hands.

Helion’s cock ached even before she reached between them and began to stroke. He groaned against her cheek, his eyes rolling back into his skull. Had anything ever felt so good? “Let me touch you,” she murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his neck.

“I want to touch you,” he replied, settling a knee between her legs as he cradled her face in his hand. “I want to taste you.”

She sighed sweetly, shaking her head back and forth as though the whole thing were infinitely funny and not something Helion had been thinking about for practically his entire life. Three centuries. That’s how long it had been since he’d last touched her, tasted her…really spoke to her. He’d heard her offer him forever, but Helion couldn’t quite believe it. Their time was always numbered, always stolen in between hiding from Beron and he’d learned to take what he could before she vanished again.

He needed her to feel good, to think about his skin against hers, his mouth, his everything. He needed her to miss him the way he missed her.

“Why not both?” She asked a moment before he caught one of her rosy nipples between his teeth, breathing hot air against her breast as he teased gently. Her eyes fluttered shut and her hips bucked gently, rubbing against his thigh. The radiating heat was enough to almost convince Helion to abandon his plan of slow seduction in favor of rough, near animalistic fucking. Next time, he swore, not convinced there would be a next time. He needed to hear her scream his name so loud Rhysand and Thesan would hear over the border.

Down, down, down, he slid, his tongue trailing a path over her pale, freckled skin. He parted her thighs as her breath caught overhead and Helion thought he might cry at the sight of her, spread out like his favorite meal. Mine, you are mine—

He brushed his thumb over her wet, pink opening, delighted when her whole body seemed to quiver at the touch. He ground himself into the mattress in an attempt to alleviate the ache building but rationally, the only thing that would satisfy him was her clenched around him.

“Helion,” she gasped overhead, the sexiest thing he’d ever heard in his life. He wanted to hear her say it again. He took his thumb and rubbed an excruciatingly slow circle over her quivering clit as he watched over. Her back arched in response, her eyes flying open.

“Helion, please,” she begged this time. Not enough, he thought to himself, circling again, a smile curved over his lips.

She screamed softly with frustration, her eyes locked with his. Beautiful, so fucking beautiful—

“Helion!”

That was good, he decided, in part because he was also desperately wanted to taste the arousal he could smell. He dropped his head and licked, replacing his finger as Amera fisted her hand in his hair.

“Better,” she half-gasped. “Please don’t stop.”

As if he could. He’d just begun besides, intoxicated off the sweet, musky taste of her arousal. Wet, he thought, his tongue sliding back down her cunt towards the opening he very much planned to be in just as soon as she came in his mouth. She was so damn wet it was driving him insane.

He couldn’t resist sliding his tongue into her body, his nose rubbing against her clit, to fuck her with his mouth. She writhed overtop him, her slick coating his face in the most satisfying way. To Helion, he felt the wet like a brand upon his skin, a warning to any other who might come near him.

Yours, I’m yours—

Back to her clit, his tongue skilled, his fingers parting her so he could have more, all of her. Helion was greedy and always had been. He hated the thought of sharing, of only getting the pieces she could give. Everything was available to him now.

He wanted it all.

“Helion,” she gasped again, her thighs clenching around his face. Helion smiled, his mouth moving faster, methodically, exactly the way he remembered. Her hands tightened in his hair, pulling almost painfully to hold him exactly where he was. Her hips bowed off the bed the same moment a scream ripped through the pulsating silence, his name mingled somewhere between. He didn’t stop, riding her through and, perhaps, hopeful she’d let him keep going.

She yanked hard, demanding him to come back to her. He’d intended to slide himself right in, anticipation warm in his stomach but it was clear Amera had other thoughts. She sat up quickly, her eyes liquid flame, and pushed him to the bed before he could do little more than exhale.

She straddled him without a hint of hesitation, positioning the head of his cock over her dripping pussy. Helion cried out when she sank down quickly, taking every inch of him all at once. His eyes snapped open as she began to rock, her breasts bouncing in his line of view.

He was tense, taut with burning desire. It was all too much and Helion knew he wasn’t going to be able to drag it out the way he’d wanted to. She was so tight it felt like a second skin. It was all Helion could do but hold her hips, his fingers grazing the swell of her ass.

She dug her nails into his chest hard enough she was close to drawing blood. She remembered, he thought in a daze. He liked that edge of pain, the feral part of fucking that left gouges in his skin as a reminder of what they’d done. He couldn’t bring himself to bruise her skin, not when he knew she’d spent centuries hiding them. She could hurt him however she liked but Helion could not hurt her at all.

“Come for me,” he begged, so close he was hanging by a thread. He was counting in his head, trying to prevent himself from spilling though electricity hummed through his veins, urging him to let go and give in to the building heat that had settled in his sac. “Please, Amera—”

She came again, the walls of her cunt fluttering around him with intensity. He lost his control, roaring so loud he knew the Autumn emissary knew why he was waiting. His muscles locked for a moment as release poured out of him, his warm come spilling from her pussy back down his shaft to pool on the sheets below them.

He reached for her, still sheathed within her, and kissed her roughly, desperately. This had always been the part where she left him and Helion couldn’t help his terror. Don’t leave me, he begged silently. Stay.

She caressed his face, smiling as she looked down at his face. “You shouldn’t keep Eris waiting.”

“Let him,” Helion replied, his voice hoarse. “I’ve waited long enough.”

“I’m not leaving,” she promised but Helion crushed her to his chest all the same.

Forever wasn’t long enough.

#helion #helion x loa #helion x lady of autumn #hot sun dad #hot pumpkin mom #honestly this is what helion deserves #give him a happy ending i s2g #acotar #day court #helion defense squad #spell-cleavers is this your ask?#you don't have to be anon #i would do anything for you

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iron-parkr · 3 years ago

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Hi, y'all.

Not sure if anyone'll see this or if anyone cares tbh. That's not me trying to get pity points or anything, I just know I've been gone for a hot second. I didn't mean to disappear for so long. This little hiatus was very much unplanned and unintentional but is not permanent. I'll explain under the cut.

You don't have to read all of this but long story short, the last couple of months have been A Lot.

Content warning up ahead for vague mental health stuff, animal death, medical stuff, broken bones, and religion (if anyone needs a warning for that)

I originally probably stepped away from Tumblr for a minute by accident because I got overwhelmed by the March OC Bingo stuff on top of my school stuff and whatnot. I'm hoping to maybe retroactively fill my Bingo card, but I honestly can't make any promises. The next few weeks are really busy, but I'll get to that in a second.

A big reason I accidentally pulled away is that my family had to make the incredibly difficult decision to put my dog to sleep in April. We'd had my dog for about 11 years and he literally felt like a third brother to me. Saying goodbye to him was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. I was incredibly lucky that I was away at school and surrounded by friends on the actual day it happened, but I won't lie, it was fucking awful. My mental health was absolute shit. I got extra lucky that day because I was on a spiritual retreat that weekend and it helped guide me toward rekindling my relationship with God, which brought me a lot of peace exactly when I needed it. I'm by no means religious, even after the retreat, and I would never ever try to shove my nebulous beliefs down anyone's throat, but I personally have begun to find comfort in God again after years of struggling with faith in the wake of religious scandals and difficulties with organized religion, and I attribute that with keeping me sane after that weekend.

Reason #2: A little under two weeks ago, I had a little accident and ended up fracturing a bone in my foot and spraining my ankle (on the same leg). I was on crutches for a few days, but luckily I'm able to put weight on it in a boot, so I'm more mobile now. Overall, it's been genuinely one of the most frustrating things I've ever experienced. Not only are the broken foot and sprained ankle physically painful beyond belief, but it's just mentally and emotionally draining because I'm the type of person who hates having to ask for help and I've had to force myself to suck it up and ask for help so many times. I have no idea how long I have to wear the boot, and there's a chance I might need to do physical therapy after I'm cleared to take the boot off, it's all kind of up in the air.

Reason #3 is a bit more exciting - I'm graduating college! I finished my last semester of classes and exams this week and tomorrow (Saturday) I'll be graduating from my university summa cum laude with a 4.0 GPA in both semesters of my senior year (hopefully, still waiting on a couple grades but it's looking good) and making the Dean's List all 8 semesters of undergrad. So, yeah, the last few weeks have been hectic with senior events, finishing up classes, and getting ready for graduation. It honestly still doesn't feel real. When I was 15, in high school, I swore up and down I wasn't going to go to college because the future seemed so overwhelming and terrifying, and now I'm only a few hours away from graduating. It's just... absolutely insane and I can only hope 15 y/o me would be proud of 22 y/o me.

Even though I haven't been posting or creating any edits on Tumblr, I've continued to write this whole time. I created an OC for Dragon Ball Z because it's my current hyperfixation and I'm currently working on the first draft of her second chapter. I've also been spending a lot of time on Kate Winchester, my Supernatural OC, rewriting the chapters I'd previously written and outlining a roadmap for the portion of the story that takes place before Supernatural begins. And I finally started looking at and working on Maggie Stark's next chapter, which feels really good considering I have a better idea of how to connect the cliffhanger from Chapter 5 (which was unplanned, surprisingly enough) to the plan/roadmap I already had. As an aside, I have a feeling that I'll also end up semi-hyperfixated on HP and Aquila, Liza, and Gracie once I get down to Florida and visit HP World at Universal Studios, so that's another fun thing to keep an eye out for.

I'm hoping to ease back into posting here on Tumblr, but I can't guarantee that I'll have pretty edits and gifsets out the wazoo. The next month or so is hectic but really exciting. I'm home next week, then I'll be in Spain and Rome on a pilgrimage trip until the beginning of June. After I come home, it'll be prep time because I'm supposed to start my Disney College Program at Disney World in mid-June. The broken foot may throw a wrench in those plans, which is a definite worry, but I won't know for sure until I see the doctor next week.

All that to say, I'm sorry for disappearing. You know life, it kinda sucks sometimes. And if you made it this far, thanks for reading and caring. But I'm hoping once I'm finished with school, and then once I get settled into life as a Disney World cast member, I'll be able to be more present on here <3

#this got so long i'm so sorry #just wanted to be transparent #it's been. A Lot to deal with #but here's hoping i can be more present and post more going forward #let's not reblog this if that's okay #unless you have to bc i know people are being shadowbanned #kate talks

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waatermelon-sugaar · 4 years ago

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Under My Skin: Chapter 1

Series masterlist

Word count = 4,6 k

Chapter Warnings = swearing, canon-typical violence, bad writing

Summary = You hate Poe Dameron. Simple, right?

Edit = Cross posted to AO3

Part 1 of 4 (I think)

Poe Dameron didn’t like you and you didn’t like Poe Dameron.

“Because!” You grouse to Rose as you make your way to the cantina, “he thinks he’s so much better than everyone else, no one could ever come close to his skills, and he always gets the best missions, and he’s good, but he’s not that good, he acts like he’s god's gift to women - no scratch that - to the galaxy, and he’s so arrogant!” You’re growling in frustration as you round the corner, suddenly lowering your voice as much as you can because Dameron is right there at the end of the corridor, deep in discussion with General Organa and Finn.

Rose’s only response is to whack you over the head as she walks through the swinging doors in the centre of the corridor. You’ve never been so glad you don’t have to walk past Dameron in your life. “What was that about?” You hiss as you catch up with Rose, grabbing your own tray and helping yourself to dinner. “You didn’t have to hit me in front of General Organa.” Rose snorts. “Yeah the General was the one you were worried about.”

Trays full, the two of you spot an empty booth and hurry towards it, sitting opposite each other. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You won’t shut up about Poe.” She jabs her fork at you, causing bits of potato to fall to the table. You can only gape, words escaping you momentarily.

Momentarily.

“What! I won’t - Dameron - he - he and I - urgh! - never in my life - he’s annoying!” You settle on finally, fully aware that you’re now whining. “He frustrates me!”

Rose raises an eyebrow, “Well maybe you need to work out those frustrations.” You shake your head, deciding to ignore her for now as you concentrate on eating. “You do need to get laid.”

You yelp, coughing when you try to swallow too quickly in shock. And then- “I can help with that, sweetheart.” You whip round, eyes narrowing when Dameron’s behind you, his flight suit tied around his waist, exposing his dirty vest and irritatingly strong arms. The only person who can beat him in arm wrestling is Finn - you can no longer count the amount of times he’s beaten you.

You take another scoop of dinner before talking with a full mouth. “Ok, one, I’m not your sweetheart, and two, Rose is wrong, and even if she was right, I definitely don’t need your help with-” you pause, swallow, and gesture vaguely in his general direction. “That.”

This, annoyingly, only seems to make him grin more. “That? You’re not gonna call it what it is?” You lean back, pulling your most unimpressed look onto your face, as he continues, still smirking, even having the audacity to wink at you. “Hot, animal sex.”

Rolling your eyes, you scoff, turning back to your dinner. “Whatever you say, Dameron.”

“Does it make you feel better, being mean to me?” Dameron asks as he squeezes onto the small piece of bench next to you. You huff, moving up so that you’re not touching. You don’t like him, but you’re not rude.

Ignoring his question, you deflect. “Where’s Finn? Don’t you want to sit with him?” It takes more effort than it should to sound like you’re asking out of interest, and not because you want him to go away. Which you do.

“He’s still talking to Leia.” Your eyes flick to Rose, and she knows what you’re thinking. You twist your body to face Dameron, bringing a leg up under you. “Is this about the mission?” Her voice is low as she leans across the table, forgetting about the rest of her dinner.

The last few days have been hell. Rumours have been flying around base, centered around a box full of Jedi crystals. Kyber crystals, you’d told Rose the other day, not that the name cleared anything up. You’d poked around the base’s library on your datapad when you had the odd chance, but the Jedi were now the stuff of legend, just stories told to children about ‘the good old days’.

The rumours made things worse - you’re not sure how much of it to believe - there were so few people who were even Force sensitive but as far as you were aware there were no Jedi left. Luke Skywalker was lost, and therefore probably dead. And even if Jedi did still exist, weren’t they supposed to be the good guys? Why hadn’t they come to help fight along with the Resistance?

But Dameron decides to play dumb. “What mission?” His eyes are too wide to be innocent and it annoys you. “Finn’s talking to Leia about…” he pauses, eyes desperately searching the cantina as he tries to think of a good excuse. “The quality of the food!” Turning to you, his eyes are intense. “I know you want more chocolate pudding.” You ignore how he knows that, instead focusing on glaring at him. “Dameron do you think I’m a good pilot?”

“Look,” he turns to face you, ignoring his own food even as you continue to eat, “it’s nothing to do with your skills as a pilot.” He pauses, but you interrupt before he can give you some empty platitude. “I think it is - otherwise why am I not being included?”

“Hey, will you listen,” he turns to you, poking his finger at you for emphasis. “This mission is top-secret and the risk of the First Order finding out is high so-” This time you properly interrupt, flicking his finger out of your personal space.

“So you just decide to talk about it in the corridor by the busy cantina, where everyone and their mother will see you?”

This shuts him up.

The two of you are looking into each other's faces, inches apart. And it’s annoying because Dameron is unfortunately handsome. Why? Why is he of all people so good looking? Rose coughs obnoxiously loud, causing the two of you to break eye contact and turn to look at her. You lean back from him, trying your best to look thoroughly unimpressed as he stands, picking up his tray and when he speaks, huffing, his voice is sharper than it was before.

“Look, I only came over to say that we’re going to have a mission briefing tomorrow at 6. Ok? So, just-” He leaves, mumbling the rest of the sentence under his breath as he walks across the cantina towards Rey, leaving you with your mouth hanging open, looking and feeling like an idiot.

“Well,” you say as you turn back to Rose. “That’s why I hate him.”

“You’ve got a mission, aren’t you pleased about that?” You can tell you’re annoying her now, but you roll your eyes. “Yeah, with Dameron. He’s just going to be hanging over my shoulder and passing judgement whenever he can. I’m not getting my hopes up.”

Every time you came back from a mission Dameron was there. Always. Just waiting to tell you what you should have done, how you should have flown, how he would have done it. As though the only reason he hadn’t done it was because he was too important.

You knew you didn’t fly how most people did, it had cost you marks in your final exams at school, and it cost you a place in a higher squadron, but it was hard to find the will to change when the poster boy for the Resistance saw nothing but incompetence when he looked at you. Bastard, you couldn’t help but think as you stabbed the last of your greens, wishing it was his face.

***

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

The mission had been going so well. You’d dropped into the planet’s upper atmosphere, bypassing the planet’s security, got inside the compound, obtained the uber-secret box (your briefing hadn’t quite covered what was inside, annoyingly) and you’d been about to sneak out when you’d decided a bit more snooping was necessary.

The box had been in the centre of a library/museum set-up and even you could tell that these were rare books. So you’d told Dameron to inspect the objects while you scanned the books, pulling out a few that caught your eye.

The first warning you had been given was a blaster grazing your arm, causing you to yelp in pain, dropping the books and duck to the floor as another shot had ripped through the shelves - an inch or two above where your head had been. So a crap shot then.

Paper had fluttered down around you as you looked for Dameron. The shelves would provide good cover but unfortunately it also meant you couldn’t see your shooter. Pulling your blaster out from its holder, you aimed a couple of returning shots into the darkness at the edges of the room as you looked for Dameron.

You found him near the exit, standing over a number of droids. He’d been holding the box with one arm, the other bleeding heavily, but you’d managed to escape, tangling with another droid who’d punched you as you left the way you came, avoiding the crap shooter on your way out. You didn’t want the First Order to know who’d been there.

So now you and Dameron were walking back to the ship, cutting through undergrowth as you desperately tried to remember the way, face throbbing in pain. Dameron had fallen quiet very quickly, and you were alarmed to see how much blood he had lost so far. His face was pale and all you could think was that it was your fault. If you hadn’t’ve tried to poke around and look for other useful bits and pieces, you would have got out with no trouble.

Oh shit.

You were definitely lost now. You’d taken a gamble on the last turn and this was wrong. There should be a stream somewhere to your left which led back to the ship. Where was it? This was so wrong. And how were you going to admit this to Dameron? “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You swore under your breath.

“What’s wrong?” Dameron’s voice wasn’t right. He’d lost a lot of his power, and you turned to face him, watching as a small drop of blood fell to the floor. You don’t want to say it, you know he’s going to hold this over your head later, your first truly important mission and you’ve fucked up so bad. “I -” you hesitate, mouth open, so unwilling to say it, especially to Poe, you have to force it out. “We’re lost...I don’t know the way back.”

And...oh god, you’re not going to start crying are you? You can feel the familiar burn on the back of your eyes so you blink, looking away from him. But Dameron starts struggling, using his injured arm to try and reach down, looking for something. You move closer, grabbing his wrist and forcing him to stop moving, to stop aggravating his injury. “What are you doing?” And your voice is mean and you don’t know why but his skin is cool, cooler than it should be causing your heart to skitter out of control.

Dameron looks up into your face and his eyes are a little unfocused. Shit. “Looking for a tracker - the ship -” His voice doesn’t sound normal. But you have to be the calm one, you have to be the one in charge so you push the panic down, trying to speak normally. “Where is it? You shouldn’t be using that arm.”

“In my pocket, I -” But you’re one step ahead, unceremoniously dropping his wrist and reaching in, pulling the tracker out. A thin disc with a central button, which you press, and a red light spins around the edge before settling a direction to your left, forcing you to turn about 45 degrees.

You set off, pushing through the undergrowth and snapping branches from trees, kicking any debris out of Poe’s path as he stumbles behind you. Panic is still rising in you, you can’t be the reason the Resistance’s best pilot dies. Oh fuck, oh fuck, fuckin’ motherfucker, please, please, plea-

You pause for a second, trying to get your breathing back under control, even as it skitters away from you. You glance back at Poe, who nods at you.

BB-8 is waiting back at the ship, preliminary checks before take-off having been completed. You help Poe lift into the co-pilot’s chair you’d been occupying earlier and squeezing into the pilot’s chair. You don’t remember the flight back, don’t remember dodging the planet’s security as you took off, all you remember is how pale and quiet Poe is. He watches you the whole way which would normally annoy you, but you don’t think his eyes are fully focused.

You’ve done better landings when you get back to the base, but you don’t really care, Poe’s breathing is different, you can’t stop the panic rising in you, and the second you’ve opened the door you’re yelling, voice already hoarse. “Medic! Medic! I need - I need a medic!” People swirl around you, when did they get here? But you don’t want to let go of Poe, one arm around his back, his uninjured one around your neck while you keep a tight hold of the box.

You fight as someone tries to unfurl your fingers, Poe’s weight disappearing and you’re crying now, hardly able to open your eyes. You don’t feel the sharp sting of the tranquilizer, instead blindly fighting the rising darkness inside you, unable to recognise it for what it is. Voices are all around you, muffled like you’re underwater and lights are appearing in bright spots above your head. You’re floating, falling backwards, further and further, until everything turns black.

***

The debrief was not fun.

Barely out of the medbay, you’d relayed to General Organa what had happened, how it had been your idea to stay back, how you’d got lost in the forest after, how you made a mess.

Due to your injuries, it had been just you and her, and even now, safely in your bunk, you couldn’t decide if that was better or worse than having to tell a whole command room. Sure, you’d been spared public humiliation, but at the cost of having General Organa’s full attention on your failure.

You’d pulled your curtain across your bunk, and you felt as though you might have to stay buried under your covers for at least a week to emotionally recover from the whole ordeal. The worst part of it was that General Organa hadn’t even seemed disappointed, or angry, just...like she expected it.

And Dameron was still in the medbay. It was coming up to 4 days later, but you’d maintained your distance, not sure your fragile heart could stand the pain of knowing his condition was your fault, no matter what anyone said.

You wanted to see him, to apologise, but at the same time the idea of facing him made you feel sick. It was your fault he was in the medbay, you should have prevented it. In fact, the only reason you even knew he was still in the medbay was because you assumed there would be some kind of announcement or celebration when he was better.

A knock on your door made you jump, and then frown, however the door began to open before you could respond which you supposed was kind of your fault, you should have locked it, now you were going to have to talk to someone-

And General Organa walks into the room.

You stand up so fast, you get a rush of blood to the head, your vision going black slightly at the edges. “General, I-” you start talking before you even know what you’re going to say, so shocked to see your hero in your room. Your eyes flick over to the mess of clothes you haven’t bothered to wash in the last week, tissues on the floor, half eaten snack bars and their wrappers littered around as you wished the room was a lot tidier.

“I wanted to check how you were getting on.” Her voice is soft, but still carries that familiar authority as she pulls out the chair from your desk and sits on it.

Your mind goes blank. General Organa...wanted to check...on you?

You manage to pull yourself together, sitting back down on your bed with a suddenly excellent posture. “Good, thank you General.” You can hardly look at her, it’s like she emits light, and it’s too bright, too much.

You’re hyper-aware of your every movement, this is the first time you’ve properly talked to her, you want her to like you, and oh my god she’s in your room? Her eyes never leave you, so you stare at your hands, fingers twisting in your lap. “Call me Leia.” She pauses, but it’s not enough time for the implications of that to sink in. “It’s understandable if you’re still feeling rough.” Oh stars you’re going to cry.

Your eyes are watery and you know looking down only increases the chances of them falling, but if you look up, she’ll see. “I wish I’d done things differently.” You say, and your voice sounds rough.

The room is swimming when you finally look up, but General Orga - Leia is smiling softly at you. “I think about every second of that mission and for every decision that I made, I wish, I wish I did the opposite thing.”

“Why?” The question is asked so simply, and there are so many answers, they crowd your mind. “You were successful, weren’t you?” Still you can only gape at her. Successful? Dameron is still in the medbay-

“I know what it’s like to blame yourself for a mission going sideways.” Leia continues, “But you retrieved the box, you’re both alive, Poe is healing well, the medics say the bleeding has stopped and his stomach is on the mend now.” His stomach? You frown, his stomach wasn’t injured, it was just his shoulder, but Leia mistakes your frown for further dissent.

“I know you think it was your fault because you said let’s stay behind, but what if you had found something important? And Poe agreed, didn’t he? It’s not just on you. You just have to learn when the risk is worth the reward.” With that, she stands, so you do too. “I’ll formally debrief the two of you together when Poe’s out of the medbay, but I thought you needed to know this.” You nod, unable to speak again, but this time for an entirely different reason.

It’s almost too late before you can speak again, Leia halfway out of the door, but she turns back when she hears your voice. “Thank you.” And you mean it. Leia didn’t say much, and nothing new, but she was right. The mission was technically a success. Things went wrong, but you were both alive.

Sitting back on your bed, you feel lighter, more like normal. And a part of that normality is annoyance towards a certain pilot. He was injured in his stomach? The more you think about it, the more a cold fury rises in you. Why wouldn’t he say? He was carrying that heavy box and - you let out a growl, surprisingly loud in the quiet room.

You make your way to the medbay, becoming angrier and angrier with each step. No wonder he had so much blood loss! How dare he not say anything! How could he not tell you? Did he not trust you?

You ignore the signs that tell you visiting hours are over, and maybe it’s the look in your eyes that stops any medics from reminding you as such when you march up to the front desk. “I need to see Poe Dameron, which room is he in?” You feel a tiny bit bad for being so demanding to an overworked medic, but you can’t think past how Poe Dameron lied to you.

You’re shaking as you walk to Dameron’s room, not bothering with pleasantries as you bang open the door. He’s lying in the bed, BB-8 charging in the corner and had you been calmer you would have noticed how Dameron jerked awake when you slammed his door shut. You ignore how he’s hooked up to various machines and drips, bandages covering his body.

“You were shot in the stomach?” Your voice is mean again.

Dameron just blinks groggily at you, a combination of drugs and tiredness, but you push down any pity, letting righteous anger flood your veins with fire. “What?” His voice is hoarse from misuse and sleep.

“You were shot in the stomach?” You repeat, keeping hold of that cold fury as you look down at his face. This extra minute is all Dameron needs to wake up properly and realise why you’re so upset. “No- just, just stabbed.”

“Just!” - and it’s like you’re watching yourself, no control over your actions and even to your own ears you sound hysterical, the volume of your voice rising.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You demand as he presses a button, lifting the top half of his bed up. Tears are once again pricking your eyes, but this time you will not be crying, so you wipe them away quickly, past caring.

“Because,” Dameron huffs, realising that's not a full sentence. “I don’t know - you...you had enough on your plate, I didn’t want to add to it.”

“You should have told me.” Your voice is dangerous now, your whole body thrumming with an unshakeable anger, even as you stand completely still. A strong undercurrent continues to carry you onwards in the conversation, and you know you’ll need to leave before it runs out. “You carried that box for fuck knows how long, and what? You were just hiding your injury? You just wanted to be a hero, or embarrass me?”

Dameron stays silent, glare heavy in his eyebrows. It’s too much, you want, you need answers.

“ANSWER ME!” You roar, lashing out in defence.

“I had to!” He’s shouting now too, pushing against the bed with his strong arm. “It was hard enough to snap you out of it when we were in the compound - I wasn’t going to add to it - I had to know you could fly us home!”

His words are like they punched you, a heavy exhalation, and it’s as though all the anger was tightly held in your lungs. “I flew us home.” Your voice sounds small as you take a step back. Dameron’s found the one chink in your armour again, just like he did when you first met, the one weak spot of your insecurity and smashed it to smithereens.

There’s silence in the medbay, pushing against your eardrums as though to emphasise just how the loud the two of you were. There’s a brief flicker of curiosity in the back of mind, wondering why the nurses haven’t intervened yet.

You can’t look at Dameron anymore, instead taking in the number of different machines he’s hooked up to, watching the drips, how his heart rate starts to lower as he forces himself to calm down. “So you didn’t trust me?” You don’t want the answer, but you can’t stop the words.

He takes his time answering again, but you still don’t look at him, hands playing behind your back with the hem of your jumper. “If you don’t trust me - you should have asked Leia to switch me out!” Shut up, shut up, shut up, why can’t you stop talking, you stupid-

“Maybe I should’ve!” His voice doesn’t change, there’s no difference in his heart beat, although it’s on the high side of normal, matching yours, but something changed. There’s a split in the room, a chasm separating the two of you that wasn’t there before.

“Well why didn’t you?”

“Because I felt sorry for you!” Your eyes snap up, looking at his face in terror. “I wanted to give you a chance! I didn’t think you’d fuck up like that.” If Dameron’s earlier words were a punch to your gut, these sent you sprawling. Short of an atomic blast inside you, any feeling left inside you was obliterated. Hot embarrassment crawls up your arms and you want Dameron to feel the same pain.

“Fuck you.”

The words hang there, each second an eon. Poe instantly regrets his words, knowing he’s gone too far. He opens his mouth to apologise, but the words don’t come.

Neither of you say anything, glares still spitting red-hot fire, when you suddenly want to leave. You don’t want to see Dameron’s face again, not for a long time. So you clench your jaw, throwing up your middle finger and slamming the door behind you.

***

Isolating yourself doesn’t seem quite so appealing once you’ve left the medbay, so instead you make your way to Rose’s room, grabbing a bottle of firewater from the cantina as you pass. You need a drink.

When you arrive, you’re not sure you want to talk about the recent shitstorm your life has recently become so the first words out of your mouth when Rose opens the door is- “Do you like Jannah?”

It’s a little mean of a conversation to spring on your friend, but you’re a lot of things, and blind is not one of them. You’ve seen how the two mechanics look at each other. Especially when they think the other won’t see. Holding up the bottle as a peace offering, Rose smirks at you before leaving her door open as an invitation.

Rose denies having a crush on Jannah as you work through the bottle, only conceding on the point that Jannah is very pretty. You’re probably a little too quick to agree, blaming it on the drink that’s currently making you feel like you’re floating a couple of inches above the ground.

Comfortable silence falls on the two of you as you sit there, the floor a little cold under you, leaning against Rose’s bed.

“I’ve been thinking-” Rose starts but you interrupt before she can get any further.

“Dangerous.”

Rose doesn’t dignify this with a response, instead waiting until you wave a hand at her to continue.

“We’ve got a coordinating day off next cycle, if you wanna go to Sanctuary III. They’ll have a festival then, I can’t remember which but it should be good fun.” You can tell she’s keen, so you’ll go with her, but you find it hard to inject any enthusiasm into your voice.

Rose picks up on this, sighing as she refills her glass. “Alright don’t seem too keen on the idea.”

Your shrug, not really wanting to talk about the real reason you can’t find any excitement. “Sorry. I’ll go with you. It’ll be fun.”

“What’s wrong?” Her voice is gentle, and her hand is on your arm, and it’s so reassuring, so warm, your skin sings under her palm.

You talk to your feet as you tell Rose what Dameron said. “-and he - it was horrible, Rose,” you sniffle, tears springing into your eyes again. “And I - we’ve never got on, he’s, y’know, annoying, we’re always bickering, but I just - I never thought that he actually - it’s my fault he’s injured, and maybe he does hate me and-”

You stop your tirade and for the first time, just let yourself cry and breathe for a second. Rose’s arm comes around your shoulder and you lean into it, slightly. “It’s fine - I mean I never liked him anyway, now I can just move straight into the dislike section, maybe even hate I dunno.”

“Ok you should know that that’s not healthy first of all.” Rose’s voice floats out from above your head. “Second, I’m sure he didn’t mean it, and anyway, who cares what he thinks? Leia thought you did well. And third, this is all the more reason to do something on our day off!”

You give a weak chuckle and nod. You spent the rest of the night, playing cards and chatting about lighter topics until both of your eyes start to burn and you make your way to bed.

***

Thanks for reading! Reblogs and comments mean the world to me 🥰🥰🥰

Chapter 2

#poe dameron x reader #poe x reader #...eventually #Star Wars #poe dameron #fanfic #please be nice lol #so nervous I'm grinding my teeth #but I couldn't look at this anymore it was just getting worse by the second #if anyone wants to listen/know about the playlist I made for this let me know #I have a problem with both italics and commas #who knew #I physically feel sick posting this oh god #should be writing my uni essay instead #if I missed any warnings/triggers please let me know

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canyouhearthelight · 4 years ago

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The Miys, Ch. 127

Annnnd a-one, and a-two, and a queue-queue-queue!

This chapter has one of my favorite things in the world to write - Interpersonal relationships (if you are surprised, I’m going to assume you are new here....).

Specifically, one of my biggest pet-peeves is when friends or siblings are written in a way that shows that the author doesn’t actually have any friends or siblings they are close enough to that all rules of societal politeness go whizzing into some far-off dimension as soon as they are in proximity.

When I get to write a chapter with such close friends/ersatz-siblings and also have @baelpenrose cackling and egging me on, it literally makes my whole day.

P.S: If anyone has wondered about the ages of the characters, several are clearly lined out in this chapter......

EDIT: Fixed some insane formatting issues.

“The food festival, Sophia? Really?” an incredulous voice asked before the door to my office even opened all the way.

I resisted the urge to scream, but did surrender to pinching the bridge of my nose and breathing slowly. “Hello, Arthur. Do come in. Long time no see. Of course I’m not busy…” My one day each week to have a few hours to myself - no mentees, no assistant, even Tyche was off work….

“We saw each other last night when I came over for dinner after sparring with Conor, and you’re never busy on Saturdays, Alistair makes sure of it.” He dragged a chair in front of my desk for what I felt was the sole purpose of putting his boots on my desk instead of the conference table.

“I thought you two didn’t even like each other, how did you - “

He waved a hand dismissively. “Enemy of my best friend’s enemy is my friend, that sort of thing. Anyway - “

“Did you just call me my own worst - “

“You are, let’s not pretend otherwise. Anyway.” Arthur arched an eyebrow at me and waited for any further objections, but I couldn’t think of any. “The Food Festival. It’s my one favorite tradition on this ship until armed combat becomes a spectator sport, and you are putting Parvati and Hannah in charge of it?”

After a beat pause to make sure he was done, I glared at him. “Everyone has asked me that, and I don’t understand the issue. They’ve both helped in the past, even before they started training to replace me. I’ve handed more and more off to them each time, and they did great! Plus, they have three months, it will be fi - Wait, why do you even care, Arthur?”

He held up one finger with the authority of a deity who would have smited me if he could. “One, Parvati Fletcher does not like mapo tofu. You do. Specifically, you like it from that one vendor who grows her own Sichuan peppercorns and uses them like they are an infinite resource. Two, I spend entirely too much time working with Zach Khan, and he won’t shut up about how stressed Hannah is. Three - “ I was seriously starting to get concerned he actually could smite me at this point - “As much as I love you in the most platonic way possible, you are an obsessive, compulsive perfectionist who insists on doing everything herself and running herself into the ground so that everyone else has the time of their lives. So why are you trusting this, the largest and oldest event on the Ark, entirely to other people?” Dropping his boots from the desk, he leaned forward, palms down until we were nearly nose to nose.

“Sophia Reid, I swear on any god I can kill if you are dying…”

“WHAT!?” I squawked, jerking back and standing so fast I knocked my chair over. “For the love of little fish, I’m not dying! I haven’t had a near death experience in four years, thank you.”

“Three, not counting the fact that there is a reason Alistair makes you drink anything through a straw anymore.”

“How did - Nevermind.” I shook my head and tried to focus on the topic at hand. “No, I’m not dying. Nor am I injured, having a midlife crisis, rethinking my life choices any more than I ever do, or so much as in possession of a stuffy nose.” Taking a deep breath, I rolled my eyes and started counting off before I could stop myself. “Conor and Maverick and I are fine. No, I’m not arguing with Tyche again. Yes, I’m still going to therapy. Else is fine. No new sentient plagues or rogue cult leaders that I’m aware of. Nor have I become immortal, queen of the universe, savior of humanity, pregnant by Noah, or possessed.” Carefully, I picked my chair back up and sat down.

“Good...to… know?” He gave me a funny look. “Who asked the most disturbing one?”

“Immortal or Savior of Humanity?” I asked for clarification. “Those were Maverick and Derek, respectively.”

The look only got worse. “I meant ‘pregnant by Noah’, but fascinating to see where your priorities lie….?”

“Oh. That was Charly.”

“Dammit,” he swore softly. “I had her pegged for ‘possessed’.”

“I’m pretty sure she is, but the suggestion that I am came from Tyche, on no fewer than 3 occasions, by 4 different entities. She seemed pretty hopeful that Else was potentially mind-controlling me in an effort to make me take a nap,” I admitted.

“That tracks.” A nod of approval prefaced the question I had been avoiding - successfully, thus far, I might add. “Now that you’ve ruled out every possible plausible reason that you would entrust this to literally anyone other than a clone of yourself, why?”

“Why what?” My face was composed in an expression of innocence so convincing that I probably deserved an Oscar.

“I can and will convince Charly to turn all your coffee to decaf, so help me, Sophia.”

Realizing that he was, legitimately, worried about me and at the limits of his usually-impressive patience, I held up my hands in surrender. “Fine. You get the scoop. Please record this and send me the loop, so I can just flick it at people who ask, please?” When he nodded, I exhaled slowly. “It is no secret to anyone that I never wanted this job. I made the mistake of establishing the Food Festival, which as you point out is the largest event of the cycle on the Ark - the last three years, literally everyone attended in some capacity.” When he opened his mouth to argue, I held up a hand to stop him. “Don’t get me wrong. I love the Festival. What basically started out as a potluck because we were homesick and needed to meet - you know, the rest of humanity - is a huge, three day holiday. It’s amazing!” I spun in my chair, arms flung wide for emphasis, before stopping to face him.

“It also consumes my life, for months, to prepare for. And that’s just implementing changes to make it more accessible so people don’t miss out! That doesn’t include adding things to make it more interesting or keep it from getting boring, or whatever. I literally don’t have time to do any of that!”

“So, you’re inflicting this on them instead?”

“Inflicting?” I snorted. “Hardly. This is their final exam, their capstone project, their dissertation. If they pull this off, I will gladly hand the entire office over to whoever is elected, cheerfully and knowing the Ark is in good hands. But, they have to pull this off. It’s the only major part of being Councilor of Resources and Relations that they haven’t done yet by themselves.”

He rubbed his face, looking somewhat impressed. “That’s honestly not what I was expecting.”

“I don’t think it ever is, honestly.” I shrugged at the question he glanced towards me. “For Evan, it was coordinating the weapons exhibitions. Charly managed to pre-empt her own by designing more efficient aqueducts and filtration for when we reach Von - you know, the ones that also produce light?”

“Of course she would invent glow-in-the-dark plumbing. Who else?” Something caught up with him. “Evania Josue got away with planning an event? Seriously?”

“Oh, that’s right… you weren’t on Level One…” I murmured. When he only looked more confused, I clarified. “She was Maverick’s co-pilot when we needed people to pilot the Ark, which was not designed to pilot manually, via dead reckoning, using cameras pointed out the few viewports we have, for several weeks after the sensors were sabotaged.”

“She was whose co-pilot?”

“You really never heard this story? You practically live with seven people who were there…”

“Usually I get the bits about ‘Sophia nearly got her brains bashed out’ and ‘that traitorous bitch’, then start tuning out while I try to decide what it would take to get Charly to teach me necromancy… If Evan was the co-pilot, then why is Maverick….”

“Not in line to replace any Councilors? Arthur, we know that would be a disaster for him.”

He nodded reluctantly. “Your younger partner is a nice boy.”

“For fuck’s sake, he’s thirty seven!” I groaned.

“Nice man, whatever,” he waved off. “Which is exactly what I would like for you as a partner. You need nice partners, and blunt siblings. But I see what you mean about him being a Councilor… he’d be miserable.”

“What was yours?” I asked mischievously, dropping my chin onto my hands.

That earned me a flat stare, until he finally surrendered when I didn’t flinch. “The Twentieth/Early Twenty First History curriculum.”

“Seriously?” That had literally been the first thing he had done when Eino tapped him as a possible successor.

“I didn’t budge on points even he admitted he would have, out of fear of offending people.”

“Which is a fear you very much lack,” I pointed out.

“The truth is the truth. Coating it in sugar only makes it taste worse.” He shrugged nonchalantly before suddenly looking dangerously like he was thinking again. “There’s two of them.”

“Yes, Arthur. Hanna and Paravati are, in fact, two distinct and separate women-type-lady-people.”

“Thank you, Fee, I was well aware.” I suppressed a growl at the nickname - he knew I hated it. “I meant, only one can win the election, smartass.”

“Better to be a smartass than a dumbass,” I muttered.

“Sophia, you are forty five. Please grow up just a hair?”

“Tyche doesn’t want to be HR forever, you know.”

That brought his mind to a visibly screeching halt. “Wait, what?”

“What what?” I asked. “She does it because she is phenomenal at it, but it isn’t her passion. She only stuck around as long as she did to make sure I didn’t trip over a chair and brain myself while I was at work. When I’m gone, she’s gone, loser take the spoils.”

He whistled softly before shaking his head. “It’s bizarre to think of you two retiring around the same time I’m just starting the position.”

“I’ll have been a Councilor for a decade when I step down,” I pointed out. I almost included unless I die first, but that never seemed to be as funny as I thought it was.

“But you aren’t that much older than me,” he sighed dramatically. “Anti-aging technology is frustrating.”

“Annnnd this is a natural extension of your career, with a ten year break thereabouts the middle.” My grin was so bright it made him scowl before I finally got a begrudging smile. “Think of it as getting elected head of the school board.”

The groan he let out probably echoed for several levels throughout the ship. I had basically just pointed out that he was becoming that which he most hated.

Or not. He seemed to recover with a gleam in his eye. “Pfft. Dean of Students, at the very least.”

<< Prev Masterlist Next >>

#the miys #humans are weird #found family #siblings #humans will pack bond with anything #aliens #post apocalyse #post post apocalypse #science fiction #original science fiction #haw #hfy

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unioncolours · 3 years ago

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A 2nd Majsasaurus Year!

Today, 22nd of September 2021, it’s been two years since I officially joined the magical world of fandom. 22.9.2019 I uploaded the first chapter to my fic Shadows and Sand, and the rest is history.

I did a deep dive into my first year as a fic writer and active member of fandom last year, when it was my first anniversary. You can read it here!

In that meta discussion about my membership of fandom, I presented it as if walking on clouds. I was so, so happy and talked during all the discussion about my happiness in fandom.

Since that post was written, my life and also my perception of the fandom I am part of has changed. Change isn’t always bad, as I really had a honeymoon phase with fandom over a year ago, and the low after hit hard.

But let’s see what I’ve been up to and what I’ve been writing! The following year provided much change and fun things! Please keep reading 💜⬇

The first fic I wrote since 22.9.2020 was a Sakura x Ino fic. I had for a longer while been interested in writing a woman-loves-woman ship, which I had never done before, and as a wlw-person myself the urge to explore that part led to Promise me this is just a kiss. The pairing itself was chosen on rather random, it had to be two women and I like Ino, so I chose the most popular Ino-wlw ship for this for convenience.

I really liked writing the fic and it was well-received! It was the first time I had written a fic that was entirely centred around exploring feelings and having sex.

After this I jumped directly onto the next idea that had been boiling inside me for a longer while. Up to this point, all I had written, except the wlw-fic, had been set in the Naruto canonverse and I was itching to try to work with a multi-chaptered modern au! The pairing was of course my beloved Shikadai x Inojin.

It was during the creation of this fic I began to struggle. This was a new genre, as this was romance only and all my other works had been action and fantasy based, except the sex fic of course. I was maybe over critical and stressed, which resulted in me having a hard time writing it. But I made it. Was the sky always this beautiful? ended up being 35k long, and in hindsight, I freaking love, love, love how it turned out in the end and what it represented. I am very proud of this fic.

I “upgraded” as a fan by the end of October when I bought myself a digital drawing tablet. I began drawing fanart of Shikadai and Inojin and preferably them two together, haha! I still draw a few days a month and find it extremely fun as a side hobby beside the writing.

We are now in November 2020. By this time, I had completely finished my zine fic, Under the Scorching Sun, which I had written during September and October, for the Shikatema zine I was kindly accepted to. I was proud of what I had created and was eager for the rest of the contributors to wrap up theirs, so we’d have a wonderful zine for sale in 2021. It was lovely to write ShikaTema again. As the zine fic was about to be released in months from when I had at first finished it, I wanted of course to write something fans and friends could immediately take part of on the internet. I had hyped myself up to a state where I wanted to write a third and final story in my series To love and never let go, my epic series about Shikadai and Inojin.

Now, I should maybe have waited another month, but I was worried the readers would give up on me if I didn’t write it right away. In December, I began writing To find hope in the Universe, with my usual speed and love for the art.

What I by then didn’t realise or even recognise was that I was very slowly turning burned out. I ignored all the signs.

In December I wrote simultaneously as Hope in the Universe a fic that was part of the Shikatema server’s Secret Santa event. The fic’s name was The Ghost Stories of our Hearts, and it was ShikaTema, as the event’s name suggests. It was fun to write and despite the final big fic, Hope in the Universe, pressing down on me, I finished The Ghost Stories of our Hearts and was very happy with the result. Sadly, at this point the burnout began taking control over me, and I never managed to reply to the comments.

The 15th of January, I began uploading To find hope in the Universe. It was a lovely experience, even if it was tainted by negative feelings coming from my decreasing happiness and the fact that it didn’t do as well as To dance above the Stars, the second fic in the series. To deal with two very contradiction emotions, loving my work, the characters, how I have painted an entire world around the characters and how I knew some people honestly loved my hard work, and then the negative feelings coming from not feeling good enough and depressed, was a difficult thing to navigate and still is when I think back to that time. It didn’t help that during the process of uploading the fic I went through grief, and I chose distraction as my coping method. I kept writing and working, the only thing I ever knew.

Our pre-order of the Shikatema zine was in full motion by this time and it was a nerve-wracking time! Mostly because of excitement but also worry. I’m super happy for my friends who were part of the zine, with whom I could share all the excitement and nervousness with. The zine ended up making good sales, which made me happy among the uploading of the long fic.

To find hope in the Universe was completed 31st of March 2021. When I uploaded the final chapter, I felt nothing. It was so weird, so spooky, to have finished a long fic and a series on top of that and not feel anything. But deep down, beneath the layer of depression, I felt great pride.

That was the emotion that broke free once the burnout left me. Pride.

I had created this empire of Shikajin, a whole alternative timeline, an alternative canon from my own head and to this day, that is my internet legacy. I love Trial of the Heart, which I wrote in 2020, but if I have to choose between ToH and this series, I will choose To love and never let go in a heartbeat.

So, even if it felt depressing and hopeless in the moment, I look now back with pride and happiness. Never forget that. Never forget that I made that.

April was a curious time. I swore to not write anything, because I had by now recognised that I was burned out and needed to rest, yet managed to scrape together three smaller fics.

The first one was another wlw-smut fic, TemaSaku this time called Another Light. I wanted to explore that part once again. I wrote it in canonverse and honestly think the fic ended up extremely nice. Perfect amount of feels and sex. It didn’t feel hard to write at all, because the setting, characters and emotions were so different from the fics I had written the last five months.

Now more interesting things lay on the horizon! A new zine, the Ino-Shika-Cho zine called Beyond a Bond had an interest check during the spring, and later the contributor application. I urged in the interest check to please give us the next gen kids, Shikadai, Inojin and Chocho – my kids and babies, and when it turned out they were going to feature, I had to apply as a writer. For this application I wrote a one shot, called It’s just hair, and I loved this spunky little story featuring the best babies that I created.

I also edited one of my tumblr fics, And then I kissed him, into a longer, better version that I later in May uploaded onto AO3. It was once again a Shikajin, a sequel of Trial of the Heart, and it was a fun little project.

Now May came and I sent in the application for the zine early, which I now am relieved I did. I am happy that I did the work for the application in April instead of May, because in May I had a few breakdowns and another grieving period, which lead to complete creative paralysis. I didn’t write a single word during May, only uploaded the two one shots I had prepared in April.

What I did do in May was to read through the Shikatema zine I had contributed to! It arrived in the mail! I was so nervous; my whole body was shaking when I opened the package right outside the post office. The zine now resides on the parade place in my little zine shrine in the bookshelf. Thank you to the mods who made this a reality!

To my great happiness my zine adventures continued as I was accepted to the Ino-Shika-Cho zine as a writer and was assigned to write my favourite characters. I felt so relieved and overjoyed, mind blown by the sheer talent among the contributors.

On the other fandom front, June didn’t continue any brighter, with stress and mental pain still having a strong grip around me, despite the very happy news that I am still so grateful for. I wrote a Yamanaka family fic which to this day hasn’t seen the light of AO3, because of negative emotions surrounding it. I turned into a complete wreck compared to me in June 2020. In June 2020 I was flourishing, I loved what I did, I loved fandom and I loved the friends I had made through Discord servers. Now I could find myself crying my eyes out over a wip not going the way I wished it would. What had happened to Bex 2021?

I was so incredibly frustrated with myself, groaning in defeat when my hands just couldn’t write. I managed to push through 6k of what I called my “emo au” – more of that later – and finish the Yamanaka fic which is still buried, and on top of that I had the zine and another fandom event, The Naruto Photo Album, to create content for. Why couldn’t I do it? Why couldn’t I find happiness in something that once was my reason for happiness?

In the end, I managed to write 15k in June. My former monthly word count used to be 30k. One could think this would turn into the end of my fic writing career, or the beginning of a longer hiatus, but I am stubborn and want to meet the expectations of the people who love my content, so I didn’t want to give up. I wanted to try. I wanted to be whoever I was before.

Funnily enough, the healing came in the shape of the most self-indulgent fic I have ever, ever written, a fic I like possessed began writing July the 1st 2021. It was nothing less than a freaking fairy tale AU, namely a Shikadai x Inojin Peter Pan AU. I can hear you laugh at the silliness of it, but this whimsical AU gave me back my love for writing. I hyper-fixated on this story quite a bit and stopped writing on everything else, something I almost never do.

Only happy boys fly ended up being 21 000 words long! I knew it was a niched story, and true to my guesses, the story has to this day very low stats. Today, two months after it was published, it has just above 100 hits and 10 kudos, so for all I know, only ten people read and liked it. I try to not care too much, since I love the story and in some way, that story saved me from going batshit insane over my emotions about writing.

At this point I had begun writing my fic from the Ino-Shika-Cho zine, finding joy in silly scenes with my favourite characters and trying to heal. The writing process was frustratingly slow, but one word at a time I got forward and as of today, the draft is done. The pre-orders are in December. At the side of the zine fic I wrote a short fluffy Shikajin story, CLEAR, a story with almost no plot, because I knew how much self-indulgence could help me.

And then, I finally began writing for real on my emo au, A gang of fallen stars, which has the first few chapters up right now! I have for the first time in six months a longer fic (if we don’t count the Peter Pan story) and it feels… good. This fic is once again a modern au, but in darker tones than my other modern au from November 2020. I honestly like what I have so far, even if I during June and July almost planned to never finish it. I am so relieved I managed to begin the upload. In September the Photo Album was released and I could show my two fics I wrote for it.

It sounds like this year has been nothing but misery, and at times it felt like it. However, there are a few fandom friends who brought light to my life when I couldn’t see it. The first ones to mention are of course my partners in crime, @notquitejiraiya and @thespookymoth. Together we created a server dedicated to Ino-Shika-Cho during the spring and it has been tons of fun with the members there! Thank you two for listening to me and for being my friends during 2021.

I also have to mention Soverel, who carefully begun taking contact through comments and likes on my twitter, and later through direct messages, and it has been a fun ride ever since. We’ve had lovely discussions which are very dear to me and your support means a lot to me. Thank you for being you and for drawing so many wonderful artworks you’ve shared with me. Haha, and for making me play Genshin Impact, even though I do it like twice a month!

Another person who has made my days so much brighter is @sugarriene. Thank you for sending me that one dm that made us chat regularly, thank you for popping up and sharing panels and your wonderful drawings with me, and for vibing head canons with me. You are a lovely person, and you make me happy.

Finally, I want to give a shout out to @yoboseyokyu for listening to me when I had to yell into the void and for making me happy with your cute posts on both twitter and tumblr.

Since September 2020, I’ve written around 195 000 words and drawn close to 35 illustrations, most of them of Shikadai and Inojin. Almost 200 000 words of Majsasaurus. I’ve created a Discord server and I’ve been part of two zines as a writer, plus a free PDF-project.

It has been a wild year. A year filled with passion for my favourite characters and ship, with the excitement that came with being part of projects and hyping them. It was a year where I learned to draw digitally, and heck what fun it was.

This also a year where I learned people can be mean to me because of what I ship and that fandom friends won’t necessarily always stay to be your friend anymore and how much it can hurt. I also learned what my limits are, and what punishment I get if I don’t listen to my own mind and rest when I have to.

It was a year, guys.

Now, onto the third Majsasaurus Year. Cheers!

And those of you, who supported me when I needed it – thank you and I love you.

#majsasaurus

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wkemeup · 5 years ago

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By Any Other Name (3)

series summary: When Special Agent Bucky Barnes is tasked with infiltrating the notorious gang Hydra and gathering evidence against its leader, Brock Rumlow, Bucky finds himself drawn to the woman who doesn’t seem to belong in this world of violence, the wife of the head of Hydra… you. pairing: bucky x reader chapter word count: 6.9k warnings: flirty heart eyes, excessive emphasis on fluff, love is in the AIR, the knowledge that these happy times won’t last forever....... 👀 🌹series masterlist 🌹

“You did what now?”

Bucky rolled his eyes, explicitly ignoring Sam’s full-bellied laugh as he struggled not to spill the open lidded coffee cup on the impossibly small table between them. There were near tears in his eyes and patrons of the Brooklyn based café were all staring in their direction. Bucky tugged the bridge of his baseball cap lower over his eyes.

“Leave him alone, Sam. It was a good idea,” Steve warned, voice low, as he turned to Bucky to clap a hand on his shoulder. He gripped at the muscle, massaging the tender scar tissue, before dropping his grip. “It gave him an in with Y/n. He needs to work on building that foundation of trust before he can start figuring out what she knows about Hydra. Ain’t that right, Buck?”

Bucky nodded, his lips pressing to a thin line, though it felt forced, jarring against his features.

“Yeah.”

He could still picture the shock in your eyes; the surprise and the realization as he placed the book in your hands. He had thought for a minute that you were going to laugh at him and discard the old, worn down copy he’d stolen from his high school library as a sophomore because it in no way compared to the first edition novels worth thousands of dollars sitting upon your shelves, but the smile that lifted your lips had made his heart feel like it was going to burst out of his chest.

Sure, maybe there was a part of him that knew that your library and your clear love of fiction would be an easy target to begin building a connection, a layer of trust, before he could start getting the information from you he needed, but it wasn’t why he’d spent two hours tearing apart his childhood bedroom in search of the book.

He wanted to see you smile again.

He wanted to see your eyes light up and the way you bite on the corner of your lip. There was just something about it that made his stomach twist in knots, that made his own mouth start to curve at the edges, and his heart beat just a little quicker. It was so rare to see it from you, especially in the days your husband lingered around, but suddenly, it was all he could think about.

He could have asked for the funds from the Bureau to buy you the first edition, writing it off as a necessary expense for his cover, but somehow, he knew you’d appreciate the hand-me-down copy more. It had character and a history. It was messy, and a little broken; a glimpse into his life, his real life, something he was never supposed to cross the boundaries of, but it served its purpose.

He’d seen you around the house carrying it under your arm for nearly four days after he’d given it to you. Sometimes he’d spot you sitting in the living room, nose deep in the pages as he walked in the front door behind Rumlow before you’d get up and quickly escape to your library without a word to your husband, though you stopped and caught his eye before you left, holding up the book so he knew you were reading it and giving him that short, stolen smile before you disappeared.

You had run into him on the fifth day and swatted him with the book in a rare moment when he was standing by himself in the kitchen, Rumlow having gone up to the office to gather some paperwork before they were meant to head to the Lernaean.

“What did this poor book ever do to you?” you had teased him, flipping open the pages of his copy of A Farewell to Arms to find stains of Dorito dust in the folds on page 76, mindless doodles done in blue ink pen on the top corner of page 117, and a sticky note taped to the inside back cover of a crude drawing of a lanky, high school version of Steve with big angry eyebrows and a boxing gloves held up by his face.

“Sorry, I guess I should have looked it over before I lent it to you.” Bucky laughed, swiping the book back from your hands and earning a pout in return. “I mean if you don’t want to finish it, I’ll just take it b--”

“I never said I was done with it, you vandal!”

Your laugh was like music to his ears, melodic and captivating, and he hated the moments you cut it off short and closed it away to the darkest parts of yourself; moments like when your husband walked back into the room.

Rumlow had eyed you with a kind of look you must have been familiar with because your smile fell away instantly and Bucky released the book to your grasp. You held it down by your hips, eyes glued to the floor. He had watched as you left the room without another word, book gripped so tightly in your hands, the pages started to crinkle.

He knew what he was feeling was dangerous. It went against every code he swore an oath to. He’d be pulled from the case the second Director Fury got wind of his personal attachment to you – if that’s what he was going to call it. There wasn’t really a way to describe what he was feeling.

Infatuation. Admiration. Longing. Ease. Attraction.

He didn’t know.

All he knew was that he wanted to see you smile more, wanted to knock Rumlow’s teeth in for more reasons than why he was stationed undercover within Hydra in the first place. He wanted to know why you were involved in this world to begin with and how you ended up trapped in a marriage you clearly wanted nothing to do with.

He wanted to protect you from all this; from Hydra, from his investigation.

A few conversations, a couple smiles from across the rooms, and it changed everything.

“Buck? You awake in there?” Sam chuckled, tapping a finger on Bucky’s forehead until he swatted his hand away with a grunt.

“Knock it off, Wilson,” Bucky grumbled, bending down to take a sip of the burning hot coffee resting in his grasp. It stung on his lips but he swallowed it back anyway, the heat of it warming down through his chest.

“It’s been almost two months,” Steve said casually, “how have you been holding up?”

Bucky glanced around at the busy café. It wasn’t unusual for them to meet in public places and talk about the case, as long as they kept details vague and didn’t draw any attention. Hell, Bucky just needed an outlet sometimes outside of the conference rooms and safe houses he usually met the team in. He was thankful Nat typically elected out of their Sunday coffee runs because she was always able to read him like a hawk, and he was certain she’d be able to pick up on his affection towards you in an instant.

“It’s fine,” Bucky shrugged. “Boss is still a piece of shit.”

“Yeah, well, we already knew that,” Sam agreed, pursing his lips with a shake of his head.

“You said there were some guys there who seemed to be blackmailed into their work?” Steve asked, voice a little quieter now.

Bucky nodded. “Seems that way. Not everyone is there by choice. Still working out the details of who but I’ve got a list going for Nat when we meet up next week. I’m supposed to be stationed out on the docks this week so I’ll talk to the guys then.”

“Good, good,” Steve said. He paused for a moment, staring down into his coffee, studying the swirl of the soft chestnut coloring. “You being careful?”

Bucky smiled at that. For a kid who spent his youth getting himself into trouble and leaving Bucky to watch over his back, he sure as hell got protective himself once his body grew into his rebellious and reckless attitude.

“Yeah, pal, you know I always am.”

“Something just feels different about this one,” Steve said, leaning back into his chair. A woman behind the counter was staring at him, and he cleared his throat awkwardly upon noticing her eyes, shrugging the collar of his jacket up to cover the pink blush in his cheeks.

“Well this is the biggest profile case we’ve tackled,” Sam offered casually as he took a sip of his coffee, grinning at the way the girl at the counter shamelessly ogled at Steve.

“I don’t like that he’s in there so deep with no one to watch his six,” Steve shook his head, teeth gritted.

“I’m not alone and you know it,” Bucky responded, reaching across the table to grab a firm hold of Steve’s forearm, squeezing just enough to get him to meet his eye. There was hesitancy there and Steve wasn’t usually one to worry. “I’ve got you guys, remember?”

“You just need to watch yourself, alright?” Steve exhaled, patting at Bucky’s hand until he released his arm. “This is the first time you’ve been put in so close to the target. You spent most of your time in his house, Buck, and with Fury tellin’ you to get close to the wife, I just... I worry there’s too much on your shoulders and somethings going to fall through the cracks.”

Bucky sighed, exchanging a quick look with Sam who’s teasing smile had faded away upon noticing the genuine concern and anxiety in their friend.

“Nothing’s gonna happen to him, Steve,” Sam said, sending a wink at Bucky before he added, “you know he’d never let us hear the end of it.”

Bucky laughed, nodding. “Damn straight.”

Sam punched at Steve’s shoulder, grinning again, and didn’t let up until Steve finally relaxed and sat up further in his chair, the tension clearly washing from his muscles.

“Now that that’s all settled,” Sam teased, clapping Steve on the shoulder, “how about we focus on getting you the pretty barista’s number?”

***

Sundays used to be your only good days.

You used to find solace in warm teas and coffees from Café Ramos and freshly baked bagels from the Marselli’s; freedom in the wind gusting through the open back streets of Queens. Far away from tourists and amongst the bodegas and apartment buildings, you walked dozens of blocks from where your driver dropped you off; an added precaution to keep Brock from tracking down where you spent your time, and who you met up with.

Peter was sitting on the stoop of the brownstone, cheek resting on his hand and slouching up his face as he stared down at his phone. There was a lovesick look in his eye and you wondered if he ever got around to asking that girl out from school he’d been crushing on.

He was a sweet kid. Kind. Compassionate. Intelligent beyond belief. But his optimism and habit of overlooking flaws to see the best in someone, while admirable, was dangerous. It was why you worked so hard to keep him away from Brock. Your husband had a talent of convincing kids like that with an eagerness to please and a family tight on cash to join his ranks.

Peter was like a brother to you, having grown up with him running around your father’s house at all hours of the day when Aunt May was working, but lately, you kept him at an arm's length. You never let him over at the house, kept details vague about Brock’s employment, and insisted on walking the fourteen blocks to his apartment to pick him up, even when he offered to meet you at the subway stop near where your driver dropped you off.

He was a sweet kid, but he was naïve. Young. He had some learning to do. It was what you liked so much about him. You could use a little unending joy and positivity in your life.

“Hey Aunt May!” you called, waving at her as she walked by the front window folding a shirt from the dryer. She paused, turning towards you with a big smile and made her way to the door.

Peter had nearly fallen over on himself, clutching at his chest, his phone on the ground where it flung from his hands upon your sudden arrival.

“You okay there, kid?” you laughed, bending down to pick up his phone. No cracks. You handed it back to him with a wink.

He chuckled nervously, brushing off the screen with the edge of his shirt. “You scared me.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be so nose deep in your phone, Z.”

“Yeah, okay, Mil.”

“Z? Mil? You two develop another coded language or am I losing it?” Aunt May folded her arms over her chest as she leaned against the frame of the door.

“Gen Z,” Peter explained, pointing to himself, and then to you, “Millennial.”

You and Peter had some years between one another and, sure, you didn’t always understand the other’s lingo or quirks in their behavior, but it didn’t make much difference to either of you. It was another reason to poke fun at each other. Siblings were like that.

“I still think it’s funny you spend as much time together as you do,” Aunt May smiled.

“Hey, I keep him out of trouble!”

“-- and I keep her young.”

“Okay, watch yourself, kid,” you warned, laughing as you poked him hard in the side, causing him to jump away a few feet to escape another attack.

Aunt May always did like you being around so much after Uncle Ben died. Peter didn’t take it so well, not after losing his parents too, so he spent hours every day at your house when Aunt May was on shift at the hospital. You’d occupy his time and keep his mind from wondering back to finding his uncle in the streets, alone and bleeding. He was so young when it happened, you were surprised that when your father died just a few years later, he had insisted on doing the same for you.

The years between you didn’t matter. Not when it came to a bond like that.

“Will you come say hi already?” Aunt May teased, stomping her foot playfully as she opened her arms to you and you rushed up the stoop to fall into her embrace. She smelled of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies and you peaked around the corner to find trays lined up on the kitchen table. Your stomach growled.

“Do I smell--”

“You want some before we go?” Peter asked before shoving his way inside, not quite bothering to wait for an answer as he started grabbing a few cookies from the table, bouncing a particularly hot one between his hands before he shoved it in his mouth.

He grabbed two for you, slipping them into your outstretched hand as you stepped out of Aunt May’s hold. She smiled at you, brushing your hair from your eyes in that motherly way you’d missed since you were a kid. You supposed it was another thing that drew you and Peter together.

“Don’t think I forgot about that science project you have due this week!” Aunt May called as you and Peter started to walk to the sidewalk. He visibly winced. “I want you home before dinner, Peter.”

“Okay, okay!” he groaned, shooing her off with a wave of his hand and sent you a glare as you struggled to contain your laughter.

“Oh, man. I do not miss high school,” you grinned, taking a bite of the cookie and nearly choking on a moan that slipped out. Buttery soft and warm gooiness melting on your tongue. Heaven.

Peter rolled his eyes, nudging you with his elbow playfully. “Don’t rub it in.”

***

Your Sundays were never exceeding exciting. Most of your time spent with Peter was just running errands, taking deposits to the bank for Aunt May, picking up lunch at one of the sandwich shops, getting him a new pair of sneakers he so desperately needed even though he fought you on paying for them for about an hour before he gave in.

They were often mundane and filled with idle chatter, sitting on park benches and watching the people walk by and the tourists taking photos in front of brick walls. He’d sit there and talk for hours because that’s amongst the things Peter did best. He'd tell you everything from his latest science fair project, the progress on his Lego set with Ned, the kid named ‘Flash’ who pranked him again and filled his locker with whipped cream.

It was simple. It was easy and comforting.

It was an escape.

Peter had nearly forgotten he was supposed to pick up a few things from the corner store for Aunt May, so you were on your way to the shop with the black cat who liked to sit perched in the window just to get a good look at her again while he tracked down the milk and bread.

The wind was picking up and you tugged your jacket tighter around your chest. You glanced over at Peter who had his hands shoved into the thin layer of his jacket, cheeks a little pink from the wind and he shivered.

Your heart ached a little and you decided you’d talk him into a new coat on your next Sunday together. He’d never make it through New York winter with holes in his pockets and no protection from the blistering wind.

While Brock didn’t give you access to enough of your father’s money to make it on your own, you had enough to buy things for Peter, to collect your first editions, and to remain moderately comfortable.

It was a ploy to keep you content, a carrot to dangle for the arguments when you’d threaten to storm out of the house you shared and he’d remind you, you had nothing without him, that he could implicate you in each and every one of his crimes, and you’d stay. Every time. You’d stay.

You had no choice.

And for years, you’d grown accustomed to the prison your home had turned into. Until you met James Karpov.

You’d almost forgotten what it was like to feel the twist of nerves in your stomach, to seek someone out amongst a crowd and to feel the relief deep in your bones upon finding them, upon finding blue eyes and dark brown hair, warm smile and that slight nod. So impossibly subtle and somehow it became the best part of your day.

Maybe you were naïve, and maybe it had simply been too long since anyone within that home had treated you with even an ounce of kindness or respect that you clung onto the first man who so much as smiled in your direction and asked about one of your overpriced books, but it gave you back a sense of yourself you’d been missing.

You started smiling again, starting looking forward to the days Brock held his meetings within the house in hopes that James would be there and you could ask him how far along he’d gotten in Fahrenheit 451. You were careful about your interactions with him, knowing that Brock was an exceptionally jealous man, even if your conversations with James were innocent.

And they were.

They had no greater meaning or underlying feelings.

So you told yourself, anyway.

The wind was picking up again and Peter was finishing up a very long and overly detailed recount of he and Ned’s favorite comic book series, when you realized you’d walked nearly five blocks without realizing it.

“Did you give Michele the necklace yet?” you asked him as you crossed the border into Brooklyn. He nearly choked on air, coughing to alleviate his surprise and you laughed into your scarf, trying to hold it back for the sake of his ego.

“Oh, um, not yet! But I’m working on it,” he chuckled nervously. “I’ve got a plan.”

Peter was starting to tell you all of the intricate and perfectly timed details of this ‘plan’ when you spotted someone across the street that caught your eye.

Tall, with long brown hair swept behind his ears and hiding under a baseball cap, hands tucked into the pockets of a familiar bomber, he swatted the arm of a friend on his left while the other scolded him.

You narrowed your eyes, not even realizing you’d pulled to a stop until Peter came rushing back a few paces, complaining he’d kept on walking without you. You apologized quickly, a little out of focus, and asked him for a minute. He nodded with a shrug and pulled out his phone, sinking down to the sidewalk and waited patiently.

“James?” you called over the rush of traffic. He didn’t seem to hear you.

You’d never seen him outside of your husband’s home and it was strange running into him in such a personal environment. He was with friends, off the job, his guard was down. A bright smile, brighter than you’d ever seen it on his face as he laughed loud enough for the sound to carry across the street. It made something in your chest clench.

You called his name again, a little louder this time, but the blare of a horn drowned you out.

Letting out a heavy sigh, you held up a hand to warn oncoming cars that you were crossing the street and quickly wove your way in and out of lanes until you made it to the other side of the road. You glanced in his direction, brushing out the dirt on the thighs of your jeans before you approached him again.

“James!”

You were only standing a few feet from him and he still didn’t respond. You closed your eyes, gritting your teeth and feeling a rush of embarrassment.

This was his day off; he didn’t need to be dealing with his boss’s wife.

All this time, while you were caught up in your own head with fantasies of ‘what if’s’ and finding solace in his short, kind smiles, he was probably just appeasing the wife of his boss. He must have known how lonely you were, could sense it a mile away, and he was simply being polite. You just misinterpreted it for interest or kindness or something, but it was clear your stolen moments over classic fiction and subtle glances across the room were exclusive to the walls of your home.

You turned to leave, clenching your hands into fists and puncturing the skin, when you heard your name called from behind you.

“Y/n?”

You spun around to find James staring at you with wide blue eyes. He was clearly surprised, caught off guard in a way few men of his rank within Hydra ever were, and he glanced back at his friends hesitantly before they quickly departed, retreating to a table on the edge of the café they had left from. He walked closer to you, enough so neither of you would have to shout over the rush of traffic.

“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting to see you,” James said, that smile tugging on the corner of his lips as he everted his eyes. He was nervous, swaying in his stance and running a hand through his hair.

“No, it’s okay!” you replied quickly. “I didn’t mean to interrupt anything with your friends.”

He clenched his jaw at that, the smile fading from his face. “Friends? What friends?”

You peered around his towering shoulders to find the two men he was just standing with sitting over at a table at the café, talking to one another and stealing glances in your direction over the tops of newspapers they had just nabbed from the adjacent table. It was endearing, if anything.

“So, the guys siting over at that table pretending not to watch our every move aren’t your friends?” you asked, a slight laugh in your voice as James shook his head.

“No,” he responded shortly, though when you narrowed your eyes on him, grinning, he sighed, “yeah, ok. I know ‘em.”

You pursed your lips, glancing between James and two men sitting over at the table; the dark-skinned man with the toothy grin seemed to be thrilled to watch James fumble his way through half of a conversation, while the tall blonde one punched at his friend’s shoulder, seemingly warning him quietly to knock it off.

You sighed, noticing the way he kept glancing back at his friends, shuffling his feet like he wanted to be just about anywhere else than this conversation. You tried to ignore the free-falling feeling in your stomach.

“Look,” you started, feeling a little uneasy in your stance now, “it’s totally okay you don’t want me to know about them. I get it. You want to keep your personal life separate from work. It makes a lot of sense, especially with, um, with what you do and, um, I’m part of work, right? Different worlds. Don’t need to be bothering yourself with the boss’s wife in your free time...”

His whole body seemed to freeze and his eyes went wide.

“What? No, that’s not it at all!” he quickly explained, but he seemed to relax for a moment, glancing back towards his friends. “They don’t know what I do outside of the cover at the club. I just don’t want them catching wind.”

You nodded, knowing full well how that felt. A wave of relief swept through you; like a rush of water pushing away the aches and twists and breaks in your chest, leaving behind only that pleasant little tug you felt every time he walked in the room.

“You must be the new guy!” a voice chimed from behind you and you nearly flinched from the shock of it.

Speak of the damn devil.

Peter was suddenly at your side, a little out of breath as he looked James over, wide eyed and grinning. “Holy cow. He really is all muscle, huh?”

You shoved Peter hard in the side, cheeks flushing with heat as James laughed a little under his breath.

“I thought you were gonna stay on the other side of the street until I was done?”

“Got bored,” he shrugged, pushing you aside and turning to James. “So! What’s the likelihood you’ll let me sneak into the Lernaean? I’ve got an in with the owner and Y/n never lets me get anywhere near that place. Tell me you’re cooler than my cousin, man, I’m beggin’ you.”

You must have stopped breathing because your lungs felt like they were on fire. Peter had never been so brazen as to bypass your carefully constructed boundaries like that, but then again, he’d never met anyone from Hydra before. It was your mistake to confide in him about the strange new ‘bouncer’ with the blue eyes and the unexpected appreciation of fiction. Peter was curious by nature and he just liked seeing you happy.

James must have sensed your distress because he raised a brow at you, but your jaw was wired shut. Peter couldn’t know about this world. You had to keep him out of it. You tried to convey that to James with a simple glance, but he didn’t owe you anything. What would he care if this lanky kid knew about Hydra and the world you lived in? He was still Hydra himself and you had to constantly remind yourself of that.

“Please, man,” Peter begged. “It’ll make Flash so jealous and I need a win over that jerk.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, kid,” James replied. Peter let out a very dramatic groan and it got James laughing. “It’s not a good place for a minor to be hanging out, anyway. Listen to your cousin.”

The fear didn’t escape you, even as Peter seemed to let the topic go. You liked James, that much you were able to admit to yourself, but did you trust him enough to protect Peter from Brock’s world... you weren’t sure.

Trust wasn’t so much a step as it was a cascading waterfall into an abyss. It didn’t come easy to you.

“Fine. But I’m not giving up that easily,” Peter huffed, folding his arms over his chest. He caught sight of the watch on his wrist and pouted. He turned to you. “I should head home anyway.”

You nodded. “Okay, I’ll walk yo--”

“No, you won’t,” Peter argued with a massive smile. “I know you still have stuff to do before you head home. I’m fine on my own, you know that.”

You did. Didn’t mean you liked it.

“Besides,” Peter continued, that cheeky grin tugging on his face, “I’m sure Mr. Karpov here wouldn’t mind escorting you the rest of the way.”

Your throat ran dry. “T-That’s entirely unnecessary... Peter.”

You sent him a glare but it only made him laugh harder as he started to back away down the sidewalk. He winked and quickly turned his shoulder and jogged down the remainder of the block just to deprive you of the chance to argue back. The little shit.

Spinning back around to James with an anxious grimace on your face, you quickly held your hands up to apologize but he was laughing to himself, causing you to lose your train of thought.

“I really don’t mind, you know,” he said, and of course he didn’t, because he simply couldn’t make it easy to disregard that nervous feeling in your stomach when he looked at you.

“It’s super boring,” you warned and he shook his head with a smile, some stray pieces of hair falling into his face. Damn that smile of his.

“What are we doing?” he asked, like it wasn’t even a second thought.

“There’s a café a few blocks from here,” you started, carefully watching his face for signs that he was surely making fun of you or appeasing you to be polite, but came up empty. “They sell paintings by local artists and I’ve been wanting to replace this godawful modern abstract Brock’s interior designer hung in one of the spare rooms. He wouldn’t notice anyway, don’t you think?”

James shrugged, a nodding slightly as he chuckled. “I don’t suppose he would.”

You chewed on the edge of your lip, gesturing for him to follow you down the street and he did so without hesitation.

There were only a few minutes of silence, of walking side by side with hands tucked carefully into jacket pockets and side stepping pedestrians with their noses stuck in their phones, before you worked up the courage to say something.

“Peter doesn’t know about our world,” you said suddenly, keeping your eyes trained ahead of you, scared that if you even looked at him, you’d lose your nerve. “I work really hard to keep it that way, so if you could-- if you could avoid mentioning to Brock that I was with him today, I would – I would really appreciate that. You know how Brock can be; always trying to recruit kids on the street to push his product and I don’t-- I don’t want Peter anywhere near--”

“You have my word,” James said simply, genuinely, and you let out a heavy exhale that released like flood gates. “No reason to tell the boss what I do on my days off and who I run into, right?”

You nodded, a little lost for words. “Right.”

You paused at a stop light, stealing glances at him as he mumbled a soft apology to the elderly woman who was attempting to push past him to get to the front of the sidewalk. She was uneasy on her feet and using her walking cane as weapon as she clicked it against his ankles and he quickly stepped out of her way. He winced, rubbing at his right ankle with the back of his left shoe.

As the light turned green and the old lady pushed past, shoving a few other pedestrians out of her way, you turned back to James, grinning so wide it hurt in your cheeks. He was chewing on his lip.

“This could really damage my rep, huh?”

“Just a little,” you laughed and you were certain if your hands weren’t shoved deep into the pockets of your jacket to hide from the cold, you may have offered your hand to him. Just instinctively. His hands were so big, they seemed warm, safe.

“I finished 451, by the way,” he said as the two of you rushed to cross the street before the light turned again.

“What’d you think?”

“Never as good as the first time,” he shrugged but there was still a semblance of that smile on his lips. “Still pretty great though. Didn’t even spill coffee on it or anything.”

“I suppose I should be impressed, considering the way you treated Hemingway,” you laughed, shoving at his arm with your elbow, and though a hit like that would have had Peter stumbling a few paces, James barely even flinched, but he did start to laugh.

“Come on now, you know I was in high school when I last touched that thing and you can’t trust a teenage boy with shit,” he teased and you found yourself grabbing onto his arm for support from that laughs making your unsteady on your feet. He didn’t seem to mind at all, not even as you suddenly realized what you were doing and quickly released him with a quick nervous brush of your hair from your eyes.

You cleared your throat, continuing to walk down the sidewalk. “I finished it last week, actually. I can return it to you tomorrow if you--”

“It was a gift,” James said simply. “Keep it. If you want, I mean. I know it doesn’t exactly fit in amongst all the first editions and fancy copies so you can get rid of it if you--”

“No! It’s, uh, it’s perfect. Thank you,” you said and he pressed his lips together to keep himself from rambling.

He was right. It certainly did stand out amongst the novels on your shelves with the cracked and broken binding, the doodles in the pages, and the stains on the cover, but it was so entirely human. It was a relief to have something of imperfection amongst masterpieces.

***

Bucky wasn’t quite sure what to make of you.

It was the most relaxed he’d ever felt on an assignment as he walked alongside you down the busy streets of Brooklyn. You tried to lead him down less crowded alleys and avoid the cross-section of tourists taking photos in the street because you noticed the way he tugged at the bridge of his cap to pull over his eyes but it was near impossible. You must have mistaken his attempts at concealing his identity in a part of the city that knew him well for anxiety around the bustle of people.

It was sweet, he thought, that you were observant enough for things like that and tried to make it easier on him without saying a word. You’d give him silly excuses to travel down abandoned streets and act like it was you that wanted the space away from the crowd, but he knew you were doing it for him.

You told him about the café you liked to visit with the family you’d grown to know well over the years and the bagel joint a few blocks away that Bucky spent many years grabbing breakfast at as a teenager. You talked like you knew the owners, spent time with them and caught up on their weeks when you waited for your orders, and somehow that didn’t surprise Bucky at all.

He felt an ease by your side he’d never felt in all his years in undercover work. He was used to be on edge, to watching his every move and purposefully concealing parts of himself to create firm boundaries between his cover and himself.

But not with you.

The rare moments he spent alone with you were the only times he felt like Bucky Barnes, even under the guise of James Karpov.

But he still had a job to do.

You were smiling, telling him about a pain-in-your-ass student from your time teaching at Columbia and he could tell how much you missed it. There was a brightness in your eye, a flicker of nostalgia, of loss, and he hunched his shoulders against the cold with a steady breath.

“Why’d you quit?” he asked when you’d finished your story. Your smile fell away quickly and he nearly regretted asking. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “I mean, it sounds like you really loved what you did. With all the books you collect and all, figured you’d quite enjoy an outlet with people who are as obsessed with fiction as you are.”

That got a slight laugh out of you, but it was tense. Your eyes were on the sidewalk, jaw clenched.

“Oh, I… um…” you were struggling to come up with an answer, one to bullshit to him. You weren’t ready to trust him and he should have known better than to ask so soon. “I stepped down when I got married. Brock has more than enough money. I don’t need to work anymore.”

“Doesn’t mean you don’t want to,” Bucky offered because part of him simply just wanted you to know that not every man would isolate you from the things you loved and demand you give your entire life to him. The other part, the one screaming in the back of his head, knew that validating you like this, giving you the support you so clearly craved, would only build on that trust; trust he would need to use you as an accessory to bring Hydra to ash.

He hated that part of him. He never used to.

You nodded, chewing on your lip. “Doesn’t mean I can.”

He changed the subject quickly after that.

He knew well enough that it wasn’t a good sign that he was putting your feelings over his commitment to the job. On any other assignment with any other target, he would have pressed harder, would have asked how you met Rumlow and why you married him at all if this was the life you’d end up in, but he bit his tongue.

You were talking about a local kid’s high school musical you wanted to attend and suddenly you were smiling again. The tension left Bucky’s chest and he felt at ease, pushing aside the nagging voicing in the back of his head, reminding him why he was stationed next to you in the first place.

It seemed to quiet down the longer he walked with you, the more he stole glances at your smile, the more his stomach seemed to twist to pleasant knots whenever you look at him.

***

“What do you think of this one?” you asked, pulling his attention back to the painting hanging above two teenage girls huddled around a single laptop, sharing a pair of headphones as they struggled to contain their laughter.

The painting you were looking at was filled with reds and oranges, yellows and dark blue, soft brush strokes in gentle waves across the frame; it looked like a sunset, warm and comforting. It was in stark contrast to the cold and isolating nature of the house and he supposed it was why you liked it.

“It’s nice,” he said. He wasn’t as attuned to the arts as you were, but he knew it was nicer than the one you were trying to replace. It was one that made you smile. That was enough, he thought.

“Think Brock will be mad if he finds out I’m replacing a $50,000 painting with one done by...” you squinted your eyes, leaning in closer to read the tag, “a lovely young art major named Wanda at NYU?”

“Not if he never notices it.” He winked, nudging your arm.

You smiled, the lines of it wrinkling up by your eyes and Bucky had a hard time tearing his gaze away from you as you politely waved over the owner and pointed to the painting on the wall.

Bucky leaned against the counter, watching from a distance as you conversed with the owner for a few minutes, and after a while, he gasped, staring at you with wide eyes. You must have told him how much you were willing to pay for the piece.

Steve and Sam were going to rip him a new one at the next meet up, he was sure of it. There was no way they didn’t catch on to how easily he retreated back to Bucky Barnes, highly capable FBI special agent and nervous wreck amongst pretty women, from James Karpov, enforcer to the world’s deadliest mafia.

You turned back to him, raising a thumbs up with the biggest smile on your face he’d ever seen as the owner moved to take down the painting. You were practically giddy with joy and he found himself smiling until his cheeks hurt, even long after you turned away to start writing the check.

He was such a goner.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes one shot

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all1e23 · 5 years ago

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Between the Stars [Pt. 2]

Pairings: Past!Steve x Reader, Bucky x Reader

Summary: Struggling with the death of your husband, you find comfort in someone unexpected.

Series warnings: CHARACTER DEATH. Grief. Overall sadness. Depression. It’s pretty angsty if I’m being honest. Things mellow out as the series goes on. TW: Military/Spouse death

A/N: This chapter is strictly Bucky’s POV. If you haven’t figured it out yet each chapter is another month since Steve has been gone. It’s a heavy chapter but the whole series is heavy. No beta and it was lightly edited because I was lazy. As always for this series, flashback are italicized. If you like it write a book report, sing me a song or come scream at me.

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are my jam, though! Thanks!****

“We’ve got two months left. You gonna tell him before we get home or just let him find out after you're gone and really mess with his head?”

Bucky huffed at the sarcastic tone coloring Sam’s snark. At least Bucky didn’t have to guess what his opinion on the whole situation was. Sam was shouting it loud and clear. Bucky didn’t have much choice regardless of what Sam thought. He let this all go on far too long, and if he didn’t do something, this whole mess would come unraveled and hurt everyone involved. Bucky could deal with the hurt he put on his own heart, but he wouldn’t hurt Steve or Y/n.

This was the only option because Bucky simply couldn’t take it anymore.

The zipper on Bucky’s rucksack snagged along the way, and Bucky cursed under his breath as the metal teeth stuck leaving the bag half-zipped. He yanked the sides open as best he could and aggressively shoved clean socks, underwear, and shirts into his pack. Thankfully, it wasn’t cold at the moment, so the weight on his back wouldn't be extensive this time around, and according to Steve, it was a short mission. In and out, gather some intel and back in time to lay low until it was time to catch a bird home.

Going home was the problem, though.

Bucky could navigate this life. He could handle being a soldier and all that came with it, but being back in the ‘real world’ complicated things, and Bucky had trouble figuring out how to… exist without bullets flying by his head.

“What do you think is going to happen when you tell him? You’re like his brother, man. He deserves to know that you’re leaving town and the reasons why.”

Bucky sighed and tossed his ammo pouch down next to his water. Sam and Bucky didn’t always see things eye to eye. It was a bit of give and take, tug of war between the two of them. It usually came down to what things they were willing to say and what they weren’t. Sam liked to talk things through, whereas Bucky would rather let some things die the way they are meant to -- so Bucky said. No need to kick up a fuss when it only ends in three broken hearts with no good reason for it.

“No,” Bucky grunted. “I’m not going to tell Steve, my best friend as you like to remind me repeatedly, that I am in love with his wife and I have to leave because I can’t stand to see them together a second fuckin’ longer. There ain’t no point. Only gonna hurt him and Y/n. It’s easier if I just go.”

“Easier for who? You didn’t do anything wrong, man. You’ve been in love with her--”

“Hey!” Steve shouted across tiny space and grinned at the two men sharing whispers. “You boys ready to go? The quicker we get this done, the faster I get to talk to my wife.”

Bucky watched as Steve tucked a black scarf around his neck, hiding it under his BDU’s and it made Bucky’s stomach twist with something sharp and painful. It was Y/n’s scarf. Bucky knew that. He would recognize it anywhere. Y/n gave Steve one before every tour, and Steve clung to it -- Steve’s good luck charm. Just the sight of the damn thing made Bucky ache. He hated all of this, how he felt. Bucky loathed what he was doing to the two most important people in his life. As much as he wanted to stop, he couldn't. He tried. He tried over and over again. So when Steve mentioned starting a family when they all got back to civilian life, Bucky knew it was time he moved on.

It wasn’t because he was doing some noble act by allowing the two of them to have a life and family without him interfering. It was purely for him. It was for selfish reasons, and Bucky wasn’t trying to spin it any other way. He had to leave because he couldn’t stand by and watch.

“It’s easier for everyone. I’ll tell him I’m leaving, but the reason stays between you and me.”

“Bucky…”

“Swear on it, Sam. I need to know this doesn’t go past us.”

Sam sighed but nodded his head.

“Yeah, okay. It stays between us.”

Sam had been right it turned out.

Bucky should have told Steve the whole truth that day. He deserved to know who Bucky was and what secrets he was hiding from him. Especially after everything they’ve been through. After he asked Bucky to… Bucky shook his head and stared down at the photo in his hand, fifteen years changes a few things. Time adds a bit of wrinkles, a little grey, and maybe a little extra weight, too. Bucky ran his thumb over the photo and shook his head. It all seemed like a lifetime ago. Steve stood next to Bucky, a shy smile on his clean-shaven face and blonde bangs flopped in his eyes. Wasn’t much different from pictures they took not that long ago if he was being honest, only Y/n was on Bucky’s other side, perched on the deck railing and her chin resting on his shoulder.

He should have been upfront and told Steve what a coward he had for a best friend, and now it was too late to make confessions.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Bucky looked up over the toe of his boots to find Natasha standing at the foot of his cot, arms crossed and brow arched in the way that said she was disappointed with him. There was a lot to be disappointed by at the moment, so Bucky was unsure what defense he should start with. He tossed the picture on the rickety table next to him and folded his arms behind his head, he was going to play dumb. That was his best chance at getting out of this unscathed.

“What--”

“Don’t give that bullshit.”

Okay, that wasn’t going to work. Clearly

“Have you called Y/n yet? We are set to be airborne in thirty-nine hours, and it’s been two months since the mission. You need to talk to her.”

That was how Steve was being talked about now. Natasha has refused to say anything else since Steve died. She has called it “the mission” from the moment they came back bloody, broken, and missing a brother. It had been hard on everyone, but Steve was one of the few people Natasha trusted without a doubt, and she took his loss hard. On the day of Steve’s funeral, Natasha didn’t speak to anyone but somehow ended up with a bottle of scotch and three paper cups. Bucky didn’t ask how she got it. Clint wasn’t about to question the first bit of booze he had seen in over a year. Knowing Natasha Bucky didn’t want to know where it came from and as her superior officer, it was better that he didn’t.

Not that any of them owed The Army anything anymore. As far as Bucky was concerned, he paid his dues when he watched his best friend bleed out in his arms while he begged Bucky to take care of his wife.

“I haven’t called her,” Bucky admitted, guilt showing through the tough facade he was putting on. He hadn’t meant to ignore Y/n these past eight weeks. There were roughly thirty unfinished letters wrapped up in his pack, likely to never see the light of day. They were awful and sounded like something you would read in a grief pamphlet. All the things Y/n would hate to hear and every time Bucky reached for the phone to call her, he couldn’t. Bucky didn’t know what to say: I’m sorry. I know I told you I would bring him home and I swore I would protect him with my life, but I didn’t.

If he could, Bucky would trade places with Steve for Y/n in a heartbeat. It should have been him. It never should have been Steve. Steve was the better half of the pair. Everyone thought so, and Bucky didn’t have someone who loved him waiting on him back home, not the way Steve did. Yeah, his mom and sister would have taken the blow the hardest, but they would have leaned on each other and made it through like they always did. Y/n didn’t have anyone else, and Bucky should have done more to protect her from this. He was standing right there when it happened. He shouldn’t have walked away and left Steve standing there out in the open--

“You need to talk to her before you go home. At least let her know you’re coming to crash on her couch.”

“I don’t know what to say to her, Tasha.”

Natasha stared at him long enough to make him squirm from unease. She had a way of making me feel like an idiot without ever saying a word. Natasha sighed and locked eyes with him, ensuring he wouldn’t look away before she spoke.

“Tell her you love her for starters.”

Bucky felt panic rising in his chest. How did she know? Only Sam knew. Sam was the only one that he told all those years ago, he was the only one there the night all went down. Bucky relaxed as she went on, “She’s your closest friend--”

Natasha doesn’t know you can relax, Bucky repeated to himself a few times until his hands unclenched and his heart rate returned to normal.

“--and she doesn’t deserve to be ghosted by one of the few people she has left because you’re awkward with emotions.”

Bucky knew Natasha was right, but that doesn’t make it any easier. One thing hadn’t changed in the past two months; Bucky was still a coward.

“Hey, Trouble.”

Bucky held back his chuckle as he watched Y/n nearly jump out of her skin at the sound of his voice. Once she realized it was merely Bucky she narrowed her eyes, and he could no longer contain his chuckle. Y/n dug an elbow into his ribs, and he feigned a groan for her sake. Bucky leaned against the railing, resting on his elbows and doing everything he could to keep his eyes focused on the water before him, not exactly where he wanted to look.

He wasn’t sure he could look at her. Not right now. Bucky’s nerves were jumping like a live wire, and he was worried if he saw her pretty eyes staring back at him, he would chicken out.

“Sorry,” Bucky said, soft and unsure. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

That was true. Bucky hadn’t meant to. He only wanted a few minutes alone with her.

“It’s okay. I’ve seen one too many horror movies. I feel like Jason is going to come up out of the lake or something,” she said with a shiver and instinctively slid closer to Bucky, letting their arms brush against each other.

Shit, she was adorable when she said things like that. Bucky grinned and leaned his head towards hers with his eyes trained on a piece of driftwood floating nearby. He took a deep breath and whispered in her ear, “I’ll protect you, Y/n. I promise I’ll always protect you.”

Bucky didn’t know why he said that. That was so utterly stupid. They were friends, and it didn’t matter what he wanted, Y/n never crossed that line or hinted that she wanted him to cross it. He should know better, but then she turned to face him, and the driftwood floating against the black water couldn’t hold his attention a second longer. He swallowed the lump in his throat and watched the way her lip reddened from the friction of her teeth, her eyes were brighter tonight under the moon, and her voice never sounded as sweet.

"Always saving me. How’d I get so lucky to have a friend like you, Buck?”

That night changed everything between Bucky and Y/n, and his friendship with Steve was never the same. Not that Steve noticed, and maybe Bucky never did either. They’ve been friends for so long, ups and downs came and went through the years, so it wasn’t unusual to go through a few rough patches. Well, they were friends. Steve wasn’t there, and even if he was Bucky doubted, Steve would want him in life.

Not once he discovered the truth under it all.

Bucky leaned his head back against the headrest and closed eyes. That night wouldn’t stop playing on repeat. He saw the flames from the bonfire like they were in front of him, he remembered the violet in Y/n’s shirt and the lines on her bathing suit top. He remembered being a chicken, Dot, and every single second that led them all here to this future. There was a heaviness in his heart, and it came from the weight on his lap. Bucky looked down at the stack of envelopes resting on his legs, wrapped with white twine.

They were meant for him, and every one was written by Steve; Bucky hated him a little for putting that burden on his shoulder. Bucky already had to live with failing him; was that not enough?

Steve had to ask this of him, too?

Bucky ran his thumb along the worn paper of the envelope. They were covered in dirt, and the ink his name was written in on the front had all but faded away. He wished he could ask Steve when the hell he wrote these letters. If Bucky didn’t know any better, the punk’s been carrying them around since their first tour. It wasn’t fair what Steve was asking of him, and it wasn’t fair to Y/n either. Steve should have left these to Y/n, not to him. Bucky didn’t deserve to have Steve’s last words.

There wasn’t much that Bucky did deserve, and the little that he did wasn’t anything good.

Bucky glanced around at his unit surrounding him, and everyone was preoccupied. A few were playing card games, some were telling stories about their families and what their plans were once the plane landed, but the majority were fast asleep. It was as good a time as any to see what this was all about. Bucky took a deep breath and pulled the first letter out of the stack, carefully running his index finger under the flap to loosen the glue. It wasn’t difficult to separate thanks to the age of the glue and delicate paper it was clinging to.

Clint’s loud cackling laugh startled Bucky enough to make him hesitate when he began to unfold the three pieces of notebook paper in his hand. He eyed the group, making sure they went back to their own little bubbles before he forced his fingers to work. Bucky flatted the pages on his knee and shifted in his seat at the sight of his name in Steve’s handwriting on that top left corner of the yellowed page. Something Bucky never gave much thought about before, but now he wanted to hold onto that little piece of Steve.

It was dumb, but that was all they had left.

He cleared his throat to rid it of the lump that was rapidly forming and adjusted the hat on his head, pulling it down over his eyes as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. Not that anyone would dare come over when he looked as he did, it felt as though he needed to hide. Bucky stayed hunched over like that as he read the first of twelve letters.

Buck,

I’m not thrilled that you’re reading this. If you are, it means something went wrong, and I’m not going to be making it home. I hope you’re not with me. I hope you’re heading home and taking care of things for me. I know you will. You’ve always been there when I needed you. This time will be no different.

I bet you’re wondering how this is possible or why I did this. After Y/n, I knew I need some kind of back up plan. I wrote this during our first tour. Remember when I was sitting at the table and refused to tell you who I was writing to? You said I must be writing in my diary. I was writing to you, pal.

You might have noticed there are twelve. Twelve letters. One a month. I figured it will take about twelve months, maybe more. I hope it doesn't take more than a year from any of you. I don’t want that.

Listen, Buck… I’m writing these because I have a favor to ask, and you’re the only one that can do it. I need you to take care of Y/n, and the letters will help…”

Well, Bucky certainly deserved this.

The flight was fine, long, but it went by without incident. Everyone was too excited to get home to cause much of a fuss about anything. It had been a long, painful tour, and for most, this was their last. Clint, of course, made a show the second they hit the pavement, fell to his knees, and kissed the tarmac. He wouldn’t admit it, but Bucky knew he burnt his lips. Bucky watched the men and women being greeted by friends and family, his chest tightened, and it felt as if he was being torn apart from the inside. If everything had gone the way it was supposed to, Y/n would be there with one of those silly signs and a tub of cookies.

Y/n wasn’t there because she had no reason to be, and part of that was Bucky’s fault.

That fault extended beyond the loss they both were suffering.

Bucky asked his mother and Rebecca to stay home this time around. It wasn’t a secret how badly they wanted to see him, but he wasn’t in the right place to give them the reassurance they needed. They needed to see him, so they knew without a doubt he was home, and he was okay, but he wasn’t. Yeah, he made it back, but a big part of him died out in the desert along with Steve. He wasn’t worthy of some big welcoming party full of tearful kisses and bone-crushing hugs. A quick hello at his mother’s place, in private, would be all he got because Bucky had several promises to keep before he could move on like he had planned.

Being home wasn’t all bad, though. The weight of his mistakes still clung to him, but the air was lighter here, and the sun was brighter without being as hot. The trees rustled in the breeze making his skin prickle at the sound. Bucky had forgotten he liked that sound. There were times like this when Bucky could simply forget. It was as if Steve wasn’t gone. He would be waiting for him when they got home, and the last two months wouldn’t have happened.

Those moments never lasted long; reality was always lurking nearby.

Bucky stopped on the front porch, letting the thud of his boots sound his arrival. His pack slid off his shoulder and dropped onto the aging wood with a thwack. He took a deep breath and waited. It took longer than he thought it would. Bucky was a minute away from ringing the bell when the screen door creaked, and Y/n stepped out onto the porch, eyes clouded and hesitant, bottom lip sucked between her teeth to keep him from seeing the quiver. She crossed her arms over her chest, using them to guard herself against whatever Bucky had to tell and to ensure he knew she was angry with him.

Bucky smiled.

Forced into a new life, but the same girl he left behind was wrapped up in there somewhere. He had no doubt a part of her was gone forever, just like him, but that little piece stuck around, and he was glad. As mad as she was, he hoped she would let him say sorry. He had a lot to apologize for, a broken promise he could never make up for at the top of the list.

“Hey, Trouble,” Bucky said with the faintest of smirks.

Bucky titled his head to the side, giving her a moment to process that it was really him standing there before him. Y/n’s arms fell to her side, and she threw herself into his waiting arms, hiding her face in his neck where she could finally let out two months' worth of tears and heartache; no one else would be able to carry them the way Bucky could. It turned out, she had missed him as much as he missed her. Bucky lifted her feet off the ground, she was lighter than he remembered, but losing half your heart will do that to you. He tightened his arms around Y/n, letting her feet hover off the ground as he carried her behind the safety of the concrete walls she’s been hiding within.

“It’s all right, Y/n,” Bucky whispered into the dark and empty house that already haunted him. “I got ya. We’re gonna be okay. I promise. I’m home, and we’re gonna be all right.”

Sorry, and secrets could wait till morning.

Previous // Next

#past!Steve Rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #Bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #Bucky x you #Bucky x yn #modern AU #Miltary AU #tw: character death #tw: death of a spouse #tw: military death

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jo-the-schmo · 4 years ago

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Red, Dead, Reflections Ch. 1

A/N: Alright so... I started writing this fic over a year ago, and was posting it as I wrote it. I fell out of it for a few reasons but I’ve missed it. So I decided to start writing it again. The original versions of the first 5 chapters already exist on my blog but I want to repost them and do some editing. This way I can make the series more polished. I also want to try and do a once a week maybe schedule to give me some time in between writing chapters and so I can take some feedback into consideration.I hope some of the people who originally wanted to keep up with my series see this and I want to apologize for falling back on this. I feel really bad about it. I’ll try harder to commit to this. Thank you so much for being interested in my work. If anyone would like to be tagged just let me know, I don’t wanna assume the people who did before want to now.

Summary: At the age of 23, you and your pseudo-family perform a heist gone wrong, leading you into a dangerous and seemingly impossible position. Discover your own history, the story of those around you, and gain new relationships along the way in this (sorta) choose your own adventure.

Warnings: Explicit language, blood, death, violence

Word count: 5,988

From Out West

“This is a little too ballsy for my liking, Austin.” You warned as you carefully adjusted the colored contact lenses in your eyes.

“Since when did you turn into a little pussy-willow?” He smirked at you while he turned a corner.

“This is a bank, not a home robbery, so forgive me if I’m a tad nervous about this! We’re robbing a god damn bank in the 21st century, in a busy city that we aren’t necessarily familiar with!”

“Maybe you aren’t familiar, you know I’m a regular ol’LA boy.” You turned your head to look at the two in the backseat.

“Miguel, you can’t seriously be okay with this.” You questioned but were confident in it enough to make it a statement. He shrugged his shoulders, making that confidence literally evaporate.

“We gotta trust Austin, as crazy as this plan is. We haven’t gotten caught yet.” You crossed you arms and made sure your wig was pinned right.

“Doesn’t mean we won’t be startin’ now.” You grumbled.

“Come on, sissy! This plan is fool-proof! They’ll never even know it was us!” Eli chirped.

“Oh yeah, except for the fact that this is a fucking bank and the FBI CAN get on our asses for this!” You swore it was exhausting being the only realistic one sometimes. “On top of that, there’s only 5 of us! We’re insane!”

“6.” Austin corrected.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Your girlfriend won’t be in the damn room with us.”

“She’s the ace up our sleeves, it would be silly for her to be in there with us.” The car smelled like old cigarettes, it made you sick. The band around your chest dug into your ribs. You opted to stay silent and relent for the time being, instead focusing on your disguise. The wig was carefully pinned to your real hair, it was short enough to be confused for a men’s haircut but had enough length to not require any glue. Dark brown hair, abnormally vibrant green eyes. And with the mask covering your face, that would be their only descriptions they could give to the police. Flat chest, boyish haircut, baggy black hoodie, just your average deviant. The destination was in view.

“Alright,” Austin started. “everyone knows the plan, yeah? Gina is inside, she’ll send us the signal. We go in quick and make our presence known. I go behind the counter to make sure the tellers ain’t up to no funny shit. Miguel, you round up the lovely citizens into a corner, hit Gina a little to make it convincing. Eli, you take care of the money. And Y/N, I need you to stay in character, be loud and intimidating, keep the tellers in check when I’m helpin’ Eli, and the civils with Miguel, got it?” You all nodded. He looked back at Miguel. “You got the fake bomb ready?”

“Yes’ir.”

“I’ll pass the big boss to you once I pick him out. Zoe is waiting for us in the alleyway between the bank and the office building. We get in, make some noise, scare them shitless, get the money, and go.” He parked up front of the white walls, you saw a mother walk through the glass doors with her toddler in a stroller. You immediately felt bad.

“You promise this is the last job, right?” You looked at him seriously. “At least the last of something this big, I don’t think I could handle with again.”

“Of course! This is just to get us enough money to get us all out. The economy is garbage, think of it as taking what should already be ours.” You heard the crackle of the walkie on Austin’s lap. He threw it into his bag. “That’s the signal, masks on everyone.” Austin’s was a fox, long, fake salt and pepper hair rolled form under his hood. Eli’s was a raccoon, convincing copper bangs swooped between the ears. Miguel had an owl; disturbing blue eyes pierced your being. You strapped on your black dove and joined with group as they exited the stolen vehicle. You kept both your hands in the front pocket of your hoodie, trying to be discrete about the two handguns inside. Only one was loaded with real bullets, that was the backup, You preferred to use the blanks. Unable to trace, and when used properly, won’t hurt anyone. Austin and Eli took the leads.

The doors were kicked in.

“EVERYONE GET ON THE FUCKING GROUND RIGHT NOW! HANDS UP, ALL YOU! THIS IS A ROBBERY!” He screamed, pointing his gun at a man behind the counter about 3 yards away. Miguel was quick to shout at the people in line to get into the corner of the room. Gina pretended to try and defy, he slaps her, needless to say it’s convincing.

“Dove, handle the worms.” You traded spots as Austin grabbed one of the men behind the counter. Your eyes locked with the poor woman, she was covering the stroller with her torso. You pointed your blank gun at some random person.

“Stay on the ground or I’ll fucking shoot, ya hear me?” You lowered your voice, made it coarser, time to be a ‘man’. They nodded hysterically. The woman was crying. You could hear Eli screaming his demands in a fake accent. “Everyone hand over your phones. If any of you give me a reason to even SUSPECT you’re up to anything, I will shoot.” Everyone put their phones on the ground and slid them over toward you. You turned your attention to the back. “What’s the hold up, owl?”

“I’m handling it.” He strapped the fake bomb to the teller’s chest, making him kneel down in the middle of the bank. “Listen up, everyone! This man has a bomb attached to his body. We have someone hacked into the security cameras. If you don’t follow our instructions to the T, they will blow a hole in this lot.” He paused to let the cries and gasps die out. “Now, for those said instructions, listen close. We will exit the building soon, you will stay down for 5 minutes.” He pointed at a clock on the wall. “Do not touch anything or move a muscle. When 5 minutes have passed, the big guy here-“ He patted the man’s shoulders and dropped a key wrapped in tissue in his lap. “will take a little drive off the premises. He will keep going until he reaches the designated location written on that tissue. If any of you contact the police before the end of the day, he will die, along with any other drivers in his vicinity. So, unless you want a substantial amount of blood on your hands, I’d suggest you keep quiet until midnight. As for the rest of you, you have permission to leave the building once that 5 minutes are up. But I would suggest keeping a low profile, for your safety and others’.” There was a loud crack.

“I got it!” The phony Australian accent rang. Austin led the rest of the bank tellers to you, making them sit in the flood of civils.

“Staying alert, Dove?”

“Don’t patronize me, stupid Fox.” This whole situation pissed you off. The baby was crying, mom was too, trying to hush the whines.

“Fire a shot, Dove!” What? “Don’t let their insubordination stand.” He demanded. This was a fear tactic. He was trying to teach a lesson to the others.

“I’m not firing a warning shot over a fucking baby, you psycho!” Your blood was boiling, this was overkill, he was way out of line with this. Of course, he wasn’t telling you to shoot the baby or the mother, but you weren’t going to cause more grief where it didn’t need to be.

“Take the shot!”

“Fuck you!”

“Why are you going against me?” Was he seriously doing this now? You felt like your head was going to explode. She was the only person with a child present. You put both of your pieces back in your hoodie and knelt next to her. She flinched as you approached, but that was to be expected.

“Ma’am, I’m making an exception for you because you have a child with you, and that prick is really getting on my last nerve. You’re allowed to exit the building now, but the other rules still apply. People will die if you talk, maybe not you, but other people who have children like you do, most certainly. Take your kid and get out, don’t do anything out of the ordinary, and get out.” Her red eyes shook you to your core, familiarity. She nodded in both fear and appreciation.

“Than-than-thank y-“ She was choking on her own misfortune, you decided to spare her.

“Yeah, yeah, just get out.” She got up and collected herself, checking around the room as she walked out of the building. You could only see his eyes, but you could tell Austin was reaching his limit fast. An older gentleman stared at you.

“At least one of you has a heart.” You were glad Austin was too focused on being pissed to hear that. You got up, kicking the phones toward the door as you walked. Austin grabbed you arm.

“You’re lucky I didn’t kill her for that.” By letting that woman go, you showed weakness. It was a hint at your identities, but you didn’t care.

“And you’re lucky I’m not shooting you for saying that. I’m not a killer like you, Fox.” Your voice was laced with venom. Eli had interrupted your dispute.

“Alright lovebirds, time to play nice, we’ve got precious cargo.” He gave both of you a duffle bag, they were pretty hefty. Austin took a deep breath, putting on his best showman voice.

“Alright folks! That right there is our cue to hit the road. Remember, 5 minutes on the clock. No one likes a-“ The doors were filled with red and blue, sirens. The police were here. “Shit!” Shit was right. “How the hell are they here?” Austin screamed. He gave you a shove. “It’s probably because of that god damn woman!”

“There’s no way she would’ve had enough time for that.”

“And no one had a phone out, I was watching the whole time.” Miguel chimed.

“We have bigger fish to fry right now! We gotta go.” You all dashed over to the back door, all you had to do was move towards the alley, if you could just get to the dump van, everything would be fine. Drive up to get the real car, leave that one with no prints or hair, and you’d be home free. The 4 of you booked it out the door. But the van was no where to be seen, instead, there were about 3 cops on either side which was 6 in total, trapping you in.

“They must’ve got Zoe!” Yeah, no shit.

“Put your hands up!” You all raised your arms, except of course for Austin. You kicked his calf. He didn’t budge. “I said put your god damn hands up!”

“In case you didn’t notice, pal, there’s a bomb in that building. If you don’t let us pass, I’ll blow that building out of existence, along with the man attached to it.” He pointed his gun to one of the cops to your left. “So, I suggest you let us through, or else you’re gonna piss me off more than I already am.”

“We know the bomb is fake, drop to your knees or we will shoot!” Another one barked. Someone had ratted you out. You looked at Miguel and Eli, you weren’t letting this go down, not by a long shot. You tuned out Austin’s ramblings and whispered to the other two.

“Be ready to run. I’m gonna buy you guys some time. Don’t kill any of them, disarm them.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Y/N?” Miguel questioned with panic. You took a deep breath.

“Thank you for being my family.” You swept your leg behind Austin’s knees, and he collapsed to the ground as you stood.

The world slowed to a crawl, pulling a gun out of your pocket, these were real bullets. You’ve never missed a target. You drew the attention of all 6 police officers, but no amount of training could prepare them. You fired 3 shots, each one hitting the hands of the officers Austin had been talking to. Their weapons fell from their hands. You felt bodies push past your legs, down the alley way away from the bank. You were glad the streets of LA were confusing. Now was the time. You whipped your body around to face the rest of the officers, firing rapidly at their shins. You weren’t gonna put blood on your hands.

But deep down you knew, there was no making out of this one. You would buy them a few minutes while trying to subdue you. Just as your haphazard shots began, they fired precise ones of their own. Two passed through your skull, three in your chest, and one got a through almost half of your jugular. Both pieces fell away from you as gravity swaddled you. Bits of your wooden mask, blood, head pushing back unnaturally, seeing the backs of your made family run, they were almost home free. There was no pain after that point, you waited patiently for your back to hit the ground beneath you, but it never did. You kept falling.

And falling.

The midday light felt like it was slipping away, there were leather walls encompassing your lifeless form. No sound, no sense of texture, just the smell of dirt and decay. Then there was nothing but darkness, but that void that beckoned you, that pulled at your very being, was gone just as quick as it appeared.

Your body shot forward with a violent intake for air. The gasps filled your lungs to the brim, your chest and head ached, throat tight. The coughing erupted from deep in your chest, which also held a different pain from the ever-tightening band around it. You threw you hoodie away and made quick work of loosening it just a bit, and in doing so noticed that your body was free of any physical wounds. There was still a soreness, and blood wiped off your skin, but there were no open wounds. You were incredibly cold, and at first you assumed that to be attributed to your near-death experience, until you looked up high to see to see an open window with snow falling outside.

“I don’t think we’re in California anymore.” You muttered to yourself. You shivered, the place was covered in hay and in low light, that’s when the smell hit you. It reeked of animals, that would probably have something to do with the fact that you’re in a barn. Shakily, you got to your feet. Knees wobbling, your eyes adjusted, there were horses. That certainly explained the stench. A chill ran up your spine, the cold tickling at your vertebrae. You scanned the room for where you had tossed your hoodie, only to find it in a horse’s mouth. Your eyes widened in fear. “No, no, no, no, no, no!” You exclaimed. You rushed forward and grasped at the hanging sleeve, tugging on it with all your strength. “Drop it! Drop it right now!”

The horse did not listen, in fact, now it seemed more hellbent on consuming the thick material. After hurtling a few curses at the horse, you heard a distinct rip. You fell back, the remnants of black cloth now in tatters. You let out a muffled scream of frustration. Even with the long sleeves of your cotton shirt, you were still freezing. It suddenly struck you how odd it is for it to be snowing at all. You figured you weren’t in California anymore, but you were somewhere that snows in the middle of May? How far were you? You couldn’t think of any states that snowed this late in the year. Were you in Maine? Up north, Canada? How did you even get here?

“Did those idiots come back to get me? I could’ve sworn…” You could’ve sworn they ran like you told them to, and that you had experienced several fatal injuries. Is this hell? Purgatory? The other side? It was cold enough to be Hell that’s for sure. Nothing made sense. You found your mask on the ground, chunks of the painted wood were replaced with vacant space, splintered bullet holes. You fastened it to the first belt loop, it rested against your left pant leg. Pins dug into your scalp, wigs still surprisingly attached to your head. Your eyes watered, your contacts were drying out. You opted take them out now rather than waste your time trying to find drops in a barn. You flicked them away once they were out. “Now, if there’s a barn with animals, there’s gotta be a house with people.” You walked over to the large wooden doors as your talked to yourself, but today just had to be the worst day of your life. Something landed on top of you, or more accurately someone.

You were surprised you didn’t feel any cracks as the weight crashed on you. Shifting your weight over, you elbowed the man in the jaw. He rolled off of you with a grunt of pain. You were quick to jab him in the stomach with the toe of your boot. Sputtering a cough with saliva dripping out the mouth, the man rushed to stand. He was trying to fight.

“You’re on the wrong side of the mountains, partn’r.” He slurred. “This here is O’Driscoll territory, Which you don’t got no business bein’ in.” I’m in the mountains? Where the hell- He didn’t give you enough time to finish that thought before he was throwing a punch at you. If this basic boy thinks he can step in my personal space, he’s got another thing coming. You blocked the fist with your forearm and redirected the force toward the ground. With the base of your wrist, you hit his throat. The force of your own strength and the ever so impeccable sense of gravity caused him to wheeze, choke, and writhe on the ground.

“Listen here, buddy,” you pressed your boot down on his chest “I have no idea where the hell I am right now. I don’t give a single shit about territory or whatever the fuck you’re going on about, but if you put your hands on me again, I’m gonna mangle your entire lower half with a rake.” You applied more weight. “I didn’t come here of my own volition, someone put me here. Which means, you’re little punk ass better tell me what’s going on or get out of my way so I can-“ Gunshots. Mystery man took your distraction as an opportunity to wriggle out form under you. They were ceaseless, did someone drop you off in the middle of a gang war, what the hell is going on? You were about to duck behind whatever cover was around you if the idiot of the room had decided he didn’t learn his lesson.

“Are you with those crazies?” He yelled, peeking out the barn doors for only a second. “I should’ve known.” His voice was cold and malicious. “You’re with that son of a bitch, Dutch!”

“Who?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, pretty boy, they must’ve sent you up to spy on us! I’m gonna kill you for-“

“I literally have no idea what’s going on!” But he wasn’t listening to reason, clocked you in the ribs before you got the chance to block, then using your surprise to his advantage, hit you on the nose. There was a familiar crack and blood rush. “Did you just fucking break my nose, you ass?” You screeched toward the ground, wiping away the blood.

You took him off guard by doing that, so you were quick to knock him in the jaw. The shooting stopped but you were a little preoccupied and decided not to waste anymore time. His arm bent to caress the side of his face. You rushed forward, lacing your arm between the gap his made. Using all your weight, you swung your legs out and forced him to drop to the ground. His back slammed forcefully and with a swift adjustment, your shins trapped his neck, locking him in place. You squeezed his neck enough to make him gasp. He tried to push away from you, but with the position you left him in, there’s no way he’d be able to without some sort of outside assistance.

“Who are you calling pretty boy now? Huh? Who, bitch boy?” You heard the door start to open, you let lose and pulled the man up to shield you, locking his head so that you peek between a gap in your arm and his head. A man wearing a blue coat and hat walked in, his hands resting on his belt.

“Well, well, what have we got ourselves here?” You couldn’t quite place his accent. You noticed he had a holster.

“Don’t fuck with me, dude. I’ve got your friend trapped between me and you. No need to make this get crazy.” You warned, tightening your grip to enunciate your point. What sounded almost like a chuckle escaped his throat.

“You must not be an O’Driscoll if you think he’s my friend.” You panicked, you tried to think of your next move, but he had plans of his own. “What’s your name, son?” Your suspicions were correct, it seems. This isn’t the first time someone’s confused you for a man, especially when you were trying so hard to not look like yourself. But maybe, you could use this to your advantage.

“James West.” That was Austin’s code name for danger. If someone introduced you or called any of you James, it meant they weren’t trust worthy. You and Gina would usually use Jamie, but now James felt like the safer option.

“Now how in the hell did you get involved in this, West?” He rested his hip against one of the stable posts.

“I have no idea.” You threw the man away from you, there was no point holding him anymore. “I woke up here, and this guy just started attacking me.” You thought for a moment. “Are you Dutch?” You asked. This time, it was a single, hearty-

“HA!” He had a spark in his eye. “Me? Dutch? I ain’t that old yet, kid.” You rolled your eyes and pulled yourself up.

“Well, my nose is broken because this little shit thought I was with you, so I have some choice words for this ‘Dutch’.” You huffed. “And don’t call me ‘kid’.” You brushed your fingers across the bridge of your nose, preparing yourself for what you were about to do. One deep breath in, out, pop. You pushed your nose back into place and winced. A wad of blood shot out. “Jesus shit!” You coughed, you never get used to having to do that. The blue coat cowboy looking mother-fucker looked semi-impressed.

“Well, I’m not Dutch, but you could sure meet him if it pleases.” Something caught his attention. “Speak of the devil…” The door opened again. A man walked in with very distinct black hair. He was also a cowboy looking mother-fucker. Oh god, am I in yeeyee country? His eyes immediately locked on you.

“Did you cause this mess, Arthur? Or have we just met a new friend?” The man who you presumed to be Dutch, had a deeper voice than the man apparently called Arthur, but their accents were similar. That was not promising for you.

“That depends, his name is West, James West. I walked in a right fine mess between him and that there O’Driscoll.” Arthur pointed to the man still struggling to steady himself. Dutch choked a deep laugh, he seemed more amused than Arthur was.

“Right fine is right, Arthur. You did this?” He asked. You nodded reluctantly. “You’re a good fighter, boy. Real good, it seems.” He strode over to the guy on the floor and picked him up by the collar, tossing him over to Arthur. “Morgan, you deal with this trash while I talk to our new pal.” Dutch walked over to you, confidence in his step, while Arthur threw the man back on the ground. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and shook you around a bit. “James West, huh?”

“Yeah, what’s it to ya?”

“Oh, this boy’s got spunk, Morgan!” You looked over and saw Arthur yanking the man around by the shirt. Dutch forced your attention back to him. “Now West, you’ve gotta understand our position here. We can tell clear as day you ain’t involved in a lick of this mess. But we don’t have a single clue as to what your business is up here. Now, you seem like a considerate young man, but I got worried folks on this mountain, and I can’t have no scamps running around and hellraising” He squeezed your shoulder. “So, don’t take any offense to what I’m about to ask, but what are you doing up here?” He looked you dead in the eyes. In your opinion, the question was fair. You couldn’t fully let your guard down, but they appeared to not be whoever put you here. Then again, these O’Driscoll’s didn’t seem to be either.

“I can’t give you an answer to that one, Mr. …?”

“Van Der Linde.” That’s one hell of a name.

“Mr. Van Der Linde. Frankly, I have no damn clue why I’m here. One minute, I’m getting shot down in the middle of the day, and then I wake up trapped in some barn in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, in what looks like the ass end of winter. So, I’m a little confused right now to say the least.” You were clearly frustrated with your situation, he wasn’t oblivious to it.

“Where are you from, son?”

“California.” That was a safe enough answer.

“James West from out West. That’s certainly an opener.” He scratched his chin. “I’m gonna put you to a test young man.” He turned you around and lead you over to where Arthur had just gotten off the now bloody man. He was whimpering, begging under his breath for mercy.

“I don’t think he’s got much to say, Dutch. They apparently happened upon this place and took it over. That’s all I’m getting’”

“I’m going to give our new young friend a choice.” He pulled a revolver out of his holster and held the handle out to you. “In normal circumstances, I’d let Arthur handle this situation himself. But I’ve got an itching curiosity with you, kid.” You felt obligated to hold it in your hand. Looking down at the man, pity flared in your chest. “Should we kill him, or let him go? I’m letting you make the call.” What kind of question was this? Who were these guys? The choice wasn’t very difficult, you’d be a hypocrite if you did otherwise, and you weren’t compromising your promise on the off chance these guys might not like your opinion.

You handed the gun back to Dutch.

“Just because he’s an asshole, doesn’t mean he deserves to die. Let him go.” Dutch was intrigued by your answer. He looked over to Arthur with a smirk.

“I think I like kid!”

“Please don’t call me ‘kid.” You requested. Arthur pulled the man to his feet and threw him outside.

“Get outta here before he regrets it.” The man darted into the snow, leaving a trail behind him.

“Grab the horse, Arthur. We gotta get something out of this.” You were lead outside to find a horrific scene, bodies were strewn about the snowy landscape. Whoever these guys were, they were not to be trifled with. You should play this safe.

There was a house not too far away, the snow was dense. It was more than freezing. You sent a glare to the horse Arthur led past you. You’ll pay for this, you dumb fucking horse. With your adrenaline dying down, your whole being felt frozen.

“Normally, I wouldn’t be one for disrupting dead for anything other than money, but you’ll die out here without something warm, Mr. West.” Dutch gestured to one of the several bodies riddled through the snow. You swallowed the lump in your throat, trying your best not to think about how you were robbing from dead people. It wouldn’t be the first time, but you still didn’t feel good about it. You separated from him and carefully stepped around the bodies littered in the snow. You found a man with his face in the snow, you pretty much picked him so you wouldn’t have to see his face as you stripped him of his coat. It didn’t look particularly warm initially, but anything would be better than this. The arms bent limply back as you peeled the sleeves away. Luckily upon further inspection, you were happy to learn there was a sort of wool lining inside, that would at least help insulate your own body heat. A sudden commotion broke out from inside the rustic home. A man yelling for Dutch and a woman screaming. Your instincts made you spring into action, you lept through large portions of the snow to make it to the steps faster and before you knew it you were bursting through the door. A blonde man wearing another cowboy-looking hat was chasing a woman around a table.

“What the hell are you doing, Micah?” Arthur questioned as him and Dutch followed you in.

“We got a feisty one over here, boys!” He hollered. Oh, you were not comfortable with this type of language.

“Stop chasing the poor woman, ya moron!” He warned with more intensity. You weren’t gonna see this go down, that’s for sure. You ran up behind the man called Micah, grabbed his collar, and used his weight to pull his back towards you, and then to the ground. His body slammed, he let out a surprised yelp, followed by a pained groan.

“Fucking sicko! Stop chasing her around, she’s scared!”

“Get out of my house!” The woman bellowed. Admittedly, you had no idea what was going on, but you knew you could at least try and defuse the situation. You put your hands up to appear less threatening.

“Miss, I don’t know who you are or what in God’s name is going on, but I promise I am not here to hurt you.” You spoke to her in a calm voice. Whatever was going on, it clearly had her frazzled. “I don’t have any weapons, and I don’t make it habit of hurting people who don’t need hurting. You clearly have been hurting for no reason. Can you explain to me what’s happened so that I can help you with this situation?” You took a cautious step around the table to make sure she wouldn’t dart away from you, you kept steady eye contact.

“They…they killed my husband a few days ago! They took over my home and locked me in the basement!” She wept. Maybe these O’Driscolls were the ones to stow you in the barn, they sure seemed like the type with this new information.

“I’m so sorry for your loss, ma’am. I can assure you that those men won’t be bothering you anytime soon. Can you-“ You heard glass shatter, looking over, you found Micah scattering to his feet, fire was spreading from the floor to the wall at an incredible rate. It was already crawling up the right-side wall before you had a chance to react. There was no way you could put that out by yourself, and the others weren’t exactly jumping at the chance to help you. You settled on running to grab some blankets from the bed across the room. The boys were leading the woman out of the house and she reluctantly followed. Micah sent you a glare as you passed him out of the house. “Oh, don’t you look at me like that, you weren’t any help!” You knew you should keep your mouth shut, but you knew you were right on this one. The group was walking toward some horses, you followed behind.

“Micah, lead the horse back to camp.” You handed the blankets to the woman.

“Thank you.” She seemed genuine but was also hurt by your sentiments.

“It’s no problem, ma’am.”

“Adler, Sadie Adler is my name.” She wrapped herself in the blankets.

“Well, it’s no problem, Mrs. Adler. It’s the bare minimum to what I could’ve done.” You hoped whatever camp Dutch mentioned was close by. This cold was blistering.

“Mrs. Adler, you may ride with me, we’ll get you back to people who can help.” Dutch hopped up onto a white horse, lending a hand for Sadie to pull herself up. “Arthur, please take our new friend with you. I don’t think he’s in any shape to be riding.” Arthur nodded, heaving himself with ease onto a spotted mare? You couldn’t tell if it was a girl, but you just got that vibe. He did not give you a hand. Oh yeah, I’m a dude. A manly man. You gripped the back of the saddle and used all the arm strength you had to get onto the bare back on the horse. You hoped this ride wasn’t going to be too bumpy because you were not about to get punched because you had to grab onto this man and couldn’t tell if someone was a homophobe or not. You sure hoped these people weren’t, but you weren’t exactly in the position to be picky.

“Pearson’s not gonna happy about this.” Arthur mentioned as the horses pushed forward.

“Mr. Pearson isn’t happy about anything except his drink. He’ll be alright.” Now seemed like a good a time as any to start asking questions. They couldn’t go anywhere away from you at the moment.

“Not to interrupt or anything, but could someone tell me where I am, or what day it is. Could someone please tell me what the deal is?”

“We’re north of New Hanover if the maps are correct. We’re planning to head down there as soon as this winter passes. God knows how long that’s gonna take.” Dutch complained. You had never heard of New Hanover, but apparently it was winter. Maybe you really did get shot, put into a hospital maybe? Then these guys… You panicked for a second. O’Driscoll wasn’t another name for them was it? It didn’t make much sense but no one else would put this much effort into stealing you away. “As for the day, I couldn’t tell ya exactly. It’s winter in the year of our Lord 1899.” He laughed. What?

“What?”

“Ah, just bit of a joke, son. We live in dark times. We’re hurtling straight into a new century.” Wait was he joking or not joking?

“It’s 1899?” You tried to keep your voice neutral, but he seemed to pick up on your worry.

“Yes, it is, son.” He paused. “Are you alright?” You were anything but alright. These people are crazy, I’m trapped on a mountain with some insane cultists who think they’re in the 19th century, I’m fucked. “Arthur, we need to hurry, the boy’s looking pale.”

Your head felt fuzzy, colors were blurring together. I am not stuck on a god damn mountain in 1899, I’m not, that’s physically impossible. This is all a dream, or some weird set up. You felt like you were 19 again, disconnected, afraid, losing it. You weren’t gonna go back there again, you wouldn’t! You didn’t know you had stopped breathing. You didn’t feel Arthur’s arm catching you so you wouldn’t get trampled. Everything was black.

#rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan #Dutch Van Der Linde #time travel au #red dead redemption 2 #Javier Escuella #Charles Smith #John Marston #sadie adler #mary-beth gaskill #hosea matthews #abigail marston #lenny summers #too many tags

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tsuu-mikii · 4 years ago

Text

glued

chapter one

masterlist

　　　　　*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

People were always shocked when they found out that Eren Jaeger was your best friend. You were polar opposites, like fire and water. You were level headed and responsible, while he was rash and had a tendency to mouth off.

You’d met when he transferred into your third grade class. His almost permanent scowl and extreme competitive spirit had kept most of the class away from him, but your stubborn empathy wouldn’t let you leave the boy friendless and alone, and you found yourself sitting down next to him at lunch a few weeks after his arrival.

After offering him a juice box as a peace offering, you managed to get him to talk to you. And the rest was history. The two of you just worked. You balanced each other out.

“Eren, how many times do I have to tell you that you cannot use a comma right there?” you huffed, dragging your hands down your face as you attempted to tutor the teal eyed boy you called your best friend.

Eren groaned, scrunching his face and leaning back against the wall behind your bed, “Not all of us can be English majors with genius writing skills.”

“I am the best.” you teased, sticking out your tongue at him. He rolled his eyes.

Suddenly, his phone pinged. Judging by the childlike smile he grew, you could tell it was his mom.

“Tell Mama Jaeger I said hi!” you said, flitting your eyes across what he’d completed on his paper so far and inserting edits he needed to make.

He rolled his eyes but continued typing, “Y’know, sometimes I think you like my mom more than you like me.”

You brought your hand to your chin faux pensively, “Well, she does give me snacks whenever I come over…”

He shoved you playfully before pushing his phone back into his pocket, “You’re evil.”

He turned his eyes back onto his laptop screen, taking in the slew of markups you’d added to it. His face soured, his expression of happiness immediately turning into one of confusion.

You laughed before shutting his laptop, “Why don’t we call it quits for today’s session, yeah? Don’t you have a party to get to? It’s a Saturday night.”

He gave you a pointed look, “You’re being judgy right now, y/n, I can feel it. Don’t be judgy.”

“I am not being judgy! You already know I don’t care about how many girls you hook up with.” you replied with a gentle shove of his arm.

He frowned but didn’t say anything further, opting to stand up from your bed and straighten out his clothes.

As he stood there before you, you couldn’t help but take in his appearance. You’d known Eren since elementary school, and it would be a lie to say he hadn’t changed. His brown locks had grown long enough to tie into a small bun, his jawline had become more defined, his previously scrawny arms had become defined with lean muscles and his ears were riddled with piercings.

Your best friend was attractive, and everyone knew it. Despite the tiny remnant of feelings for him that lingered from your childhood, you’d never truly judge him for living his life the way he wanted to. It wasn’t your place. That didn’t stop you from poking fun at him, though.

The silence of the room was comfortable as he packed his things, and after collecting all his belongings and securing them in his bag he turned to face you.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna come with?” he asked with a small smile.

You snorted, “And watch you and your little frat friends get shitfaced? I’ll pass.”

You pulled him into a brief hug, the gesture natural to the both of you, “You have fun, though. And stay safe! I mean it.”

He chuckled and gave you a two finger salute, “I promise to be on my best behavior, Captain.”

You rolled your eyes before ushering him out the door. “And don’t forget to finish your paper!” you shouted to him as he retreated down the hall. You knew him too well, and could already tell that come tomorrow morning he’d be calling you to bring him a detox and food because of his hangover.

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･

It was around 1 am when your cell phone rang, ripping your attention away from the random Netflix original that played on your TV. You quickly grabbed it to see Eren’s contact photo occupying the screen. Without hesitation, you slid the call button to answer.

“Hello?”

“Uh, y/n?” a voice that definitely wasn’t Eren’s replied.

“Jean?” you asked, realizing that the mysterious caller was a fellow member of Eren’s fraternity.

“You remembered! Anyway, your idiot’s way more drunk than usual. Like about to pass out drunk. Can you come get him before he pukes on someone?”

You heard a retching sound in the background, followed by a shriek.

“Too late,” you could practically hear his cringe through the speaker, “So will you come get him?”

You sighed, “I’m on my way.”

Disconnecting the call, you made quick work of replacing the pajama shorts you were wearing with leggings and shrugging on an oversized hoodie you’d stolen from Eren in high school. You slipped out of the door quietly, careful not to wake your roommate.

Despite your anger at having to leave your dorm so late at night, you couldn’t help but feel a pit of worry settle at the bottom of your stomach. He was by no means a lightweight, so him getting drunk enough to hurl meant that he went way overboard. Something he only did when he had something big bothering him. It honestly stung a bit that he hadn’t shared anything with you, despite him having been in your dorm for hours before he left for the party.

You shook the negative thoughts from your head as you approached the frat house. Before you could even knock on the door it swung open, revealing an absolutely trashed Eren being held up by a very pissed off Jean.

Jean tapped Eren’s cheek with an annoying grunt, “Oi Jaeger, your friend is here.”

You winced as he transferred his weight onto your shoulders, “Sorry about him.”

“Don’t be. He was in here whining all night about how some lady friend doesn’t like him back, feel sorry for her.”

You frowned, having been unaware that he was interested in someone. Even though you swore your feelings for him had fizzled out in the tenth grade, you couldn’t shake the heavy feeling in your chest.

You plastered on a small smile regardless, “Later, Jean. Enjoy the rest of your night.”

He returned the smile and nodded before returning to the party.

After several unsuccessful attempts at walking, you nudged Eren with a scowl, “Eren, I need you to use your legs too.”

He mumbled incoherently and let out what sounded like a whine before ultimately complying with your request.

Halfway through your trek back to the dorms, he began to speak.

“Why doesn’t she like me back?” he mumbled drunkenly into your shoulder.

Your heart rate quickened and you sped up your stride, desperate to reach his dorm.

“What?”

“I like her so much. But she just thinks of me as a friend. She doesn’t even care when I hang out with other girls.”

“Eren what are you talking about?” you asked, heart practically in your throat at this point.

He looked at you, eyes piercing, “I’m in love with her.”

You were outside his dorm by now and you weren’t sure if you wanted to dump him on his bed and run or grill him for questions while he was still in his drunken stupor.

You chose the former.

You made quick work of removing his shoes, laying him down and covering him with a blanket. As you turned to exit he caught your wrist, holding you back.

“Stay?” he asked, eyes closed and speech still a bit slurred.

You shook your head, “Absolutely not. You’re drunk.”

He frowned and shook his head, pulling your hand up to his face, “Not like that. I just want you to stay.”

You sighed, it was always hard to say no to him, “Fine, but only until you fall asleep.”

He hummed contently in response as you sat on the little empty space left on his dorm bed. As you ran your fingers through his silky brown hair you couldn’t help but think about what he’d told you. Who was he in love with? Did you know her? When did he meet her? Why did it hurt so bad?

Despite your best efforts, you found yourself dozing off, mind still swimming with unanswered questions.

Four hours later you awoke, still in Eren’s bed. You quickly shot up to leave, only to be stopped by the weight of his muscular arm pinning you in place. He had always been grabby in his sleep, and when coupled with the fact that he worked out five times a week, it was almost impossible to get out of his grip.

Luckily for you, years of being his friend had made you relatively good at escaping him, and with a little effort you carefully removed his arm from you and slid a pillow into your place.

You quickly slid your shoes back on and dashed out the door, not even breathing until you were in the hall. Your heart was pounding as you exited his building and made your way to your own. Luckily it was early, so the only people around were a spattering of students trekking back from parties.

You reached your dorm with little fanfare and quietly slid in, kicking your shoes off and sliding down the door. You massaged your temples and screwed your eyes shut, why did it bother you so much that he liked someone else. You’d long passed the point of being a lovesick puppy over him.

“Y/n, is that you?” your roommate grumbled sleepily, not moving from her spot on her bed, “It’s like, 5 am, go back to bed.”

Her ears had always been sharp, but you were still surprised the little noise you’d made had woken her up. “Sorry, Sasha.”

She simply mumbled in response before going right back to snoring.

You climbed into your bed after stripping from the hoodie and leggings you’d put on and settling back into your pajamas from earlier. Despite your efforts, you couldn’t sleep a wink, your thoughts consumed by Eren’s words.

Who was he in love with?

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･

a/n: hey besties! just wanted to get the cross posting out of the way first lmao. hope y’all enjoyed !

#aot fics #eren x reader #eren yaeger x reader #eren jaeger x reader #glued

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glassartpeasants · 4 years ago

Text

Crying In The Club .5

Overhaul x F!Reader

Warnings: Angst, a bit of happiness for once?, mentions of past abuse,

*Part 1* *Part 2* *Part 3* *Part 4* *Part 5*

A/N: HE HO everybody. Like i promised, they would both be out today. Am I tired? Yes. Am i rushing through his chapter since my dumbass thought it would be cool to procrastinate? Yes. But none of that shit matters now. Its out and we are all good.

Edit: Did I fall asleep while writing this and never finished it? Yes. Was my laptop almost dead when I woke? Yes. Am I sorry for not keeping the promise? Yes. I is big sorry U^U

Taglist

@winchester-wifey @hello-lucky-luka

~~~

You haven’t left the safety of your bathroom in about a week. I mean what was the point of even going out there if all your gonna remember on how horribly you wanted to get out of this shit show. You felt like nothing mattered anymore. Why should it? You were dragged away from all of your friends and family. You had no one except Overhaul. Which practically left yourself friendless except for the voice in your head.

When was the last time you even ate? You remember eating the afternoon you escaped. Soo about a week then? You hold your tummy as painful growls rumble from it. Causing you to groan in pain. Your eyes were squeezed shut as you sighed.

When was the last time you moved from your little spot behind the door? To long...

Kai-Overhaul hasn’t even tried to talk to you. Not even once. Good. You didn’t want to see his disgusting face anyways. It was the same face that gave you nightmares when you slept at night. God even thinking about that prick has your stomach turning as you resist the urge to vomit. Insignificant selfish bastard-

“Miss (Y/N)?” You sigh. It was Hari, Kai’s right hand man. You wanted to hate him but you realized that would be childish. The man never did anything to harm you, he was only trying to follow orders.

“Yes?” You reply softly, Your voice was dry from not talking in awhile. You lick your lips in order to just have some mostiure.

“You can leave the base.” Your eyes shot open so wide you thought they would pop out of your skull. Scrambling to get on your feet you pull open the door. Eyes wide open hoping he wasn’t lying to get you to open the door.

“What?! Are you serious?!”

“Yes Overhaul told me to tell you that. saying how he found someone better for the job.”

A smile etched it’s way into your face. Tears of joy fell down your face as you hug Hari. You pulled him in a bone crushing hug as you thanked him over and over again. You let him go before you ran out the door faster then you have ever ran before. You wanted to leave before Kai changed his mind.

Your feet hit the cement as the tears of joy slowly slid down your cheeks. You ran so fast that your legs felt as if they could fall off your own body. But that pain was welcomed. You would take this pain over staying with Overhaul any day.

Your feet stopped when you had bumped into someone. Your momentum of running knocked down the man and you stumbling back, trying not to fall on your ass.

“Oh my god i’m so sorry!” You profusely as you lend a hand to the fallen man so he could get up. The man took your hand and you couldn’t help but smile and nervously laugh as you enjoyed how soft the mans hands were.

“No it’s okay, I should have looked at where I was going.” You both laugh a little before you rub the back of your neck.

“Hey since you knocked me over how about you let me take you to the cafe nearby. Me falling on my ass has made me thirsty.” You laugh as you let your hand fall to your side.

Looking at the man there was no lying that he was some good ass eye candy. But you were still a little shaken up and weary about what happened not to long ago. But then again you haven’t eaten in about a week...

“You know what? I’d love too.”

~~~

Kai walked down the hallways of the Shie Hassakai on his way to Pops to tell him about his ‘break up’ with you. Finally he got rid of you. No more fighting, no more complaining, no more escape attempts,

and no more of the feeling of your soft lips against his own.

Kai shook his head at the last thought. Why do you plague his mind? How dare you distract him from his work? His goal is on the line here! He can’t have some annoying pest bothering him.

“Finally I’m free of that pest.”

“Kai just the man I’m looking for. Hows your girlfriend?”

“We broke up.”

“Oh, i’m sorry to here that my boy. Don’t worry stuff like that happens!” Pops patted Kai’s back.

“Yeah.” Kai laughed. Trying not to give the secret away.

‘I just met someone new, that’s all.” Kai lied, well kinda. He had met someone new who would do the work for money.

‘You know (y/n) didn’t do it for the money.’

“Oh well that’s too bad. I hope you let her down easy.”

“I did.”

“Well I must be off, see you later my boy.” With that Pops walked off. Leaving Kai to take a long sigh. Stopping in his tracks as he rubbed his temples.

Now thinking about it, you never even asked for anything in return, not money, not jewelry. Nothing. You just...did it. Even after everything he put you through you never asked for anything. Why? Why didn’t you ask for something? What was your plan?

‘Maybe she was afraid?’ Thoughts ran wild in his mind before his phone rang, making his pants pocket vibrate.

Opening the phone he noticed it was the new girl. Picking it up before moving it away from his ear. immediately regretting his decision.

Ugh he couldn’t stand her voice. So insufferable. Sounded like a drying dog. At least your voice was smooth like honey. Yours so calming and sweet-

“No stop it!” Kai yelled at himself. You need to get out of his mind. You were plaguing it like the disease you were. How dare you? How could you make him so confused on what he feels about you. He should hate you!

Kai swore if he thought about you one more time, he would go insane.

~~~

You couldn’t help but giggle. The man was just a charmer! Not to mention he has a great sense of humor! You just couldn’t get enough of him and his jokes. Man it felt amazing to be laughing again, this time knowing you weren’t going to get killed for it.

“So why were you running earlier?” His question caught you off guard but it was fair. You were running like your life depended on it. To you it felt like you were. But to him and looking through his eyes it was only reasonable.

“Ex-boyfriend troubles.” You laugh nervously before taking a sip of your tea. Might as well drink something cold before fall and winter roll around. The taste of the tea hitting your tongue gave you s little smile. You look at the tea before turning your attention back to the man in front of you.

“Well don’t worry, I’m here.” You both laugh as you put a strand of lose hair behind your ear. Man this felt nice to talk to someone who you weren’t afraid of.

“Good to know.”

~~~

‘Oh god can this woman shut up already?!’ Kai thought to himself as he tried to ignore the chattering that came from the woman next to him. Who kept pointing at useless stores that he wished would just disappear if he stared at them long enough.

Since he made the deal with the new girl, with her getting paid and everything, she demanded that they went to the mall together.

“Hey are you listening to me?!” The girl as she screamed at Kai.

“Yes (R/N).” God this woman was going to be the death of him. If he killed her right there would anyone tell on him?

“Okay good! The take me to bath and body works! They’ve got a sale going on!” Ugh he hated that store with a burning passion. All those unholy scents made him want to pass out.

Once they entered the store Kai cringed as all the scents that the store contained filled his nose. Making his nose hurt, causing him to crinkle his nose. He shook his head before staying at the front of the store trying his best to avoid all the horrific scent that this store held. He watched as all of these people in such a closed space pretty much bumping elbows. Disgusting.

“You too man?” Kai turned his head to see another male only a few feet away. By the looks of him, he was in the same exact situation.

“I fucking hate people.”

~~~

“Wow this is so much fun!” You laugh as the man showed you his favorite places in all of the city.

“This....this is nice.” You smile genuinely at the man.

“It was, can I walk you home?” You were about to say sure but then you remembered that your ass was pretty much homeless now. Well shit. Kai had you in that room for so many months that you knew your lease with your landlord would have been broken. Pretty much gone.

“I-uh...I use to live with my boyfriend and then he kicked me out hehe...” Great now he was going to think you were some sort of -

“That’s too bad. I know a place where you could live. It’s a place where you can live there and stay until you get back onto your feet again.” The man smiled at you and you couldn’t help the tears of joy slide down your face. You hug him in desperation hoping it all wasn’t just some sick nightmare.

“This is the nicest thing someone has ever done for me.” Tears drenched your face as you sniffle at bit.

“Hey I’m just doing what my father did to my mom.” The man chuckled. You couldn’t help the giggle that crept out of you as well.

#overhaul x reader #overhaul #bnha #mha #overhaul angst #chisaki overhaul #mha overhaul #chisaki kai #kai chisaki x reader #kai #shie hassaikai #kai chisaki #chisaki x reader #chisaki kai x reader

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pit-and-the-pen · 3 years ago

Text

Chapter 4

Just a short chapter to kick off my ideas for this series! Hope you enjoy!

A knock on Fred’s door interrupted him from a rather pleasant dream, the smell of apples faintly being chased away as he stirred awake. “Go away” He grumbled as loudly as he could muster before pulling a spare pillow over his head and rolling over onto his stomach.

“You’re late for training.” George calls from the other side of the door. Fred just groaned loudly and swore. He’d never hear the end of this from the guys. Trudging out of bed, he threw on whatever clothes he touched first. Deciding he could put together a better outfit later. His training gear would cover it anyways.

Walking out of the door, George whistles lowley when Fred passes him. A cup of warm coffee was shoved into his hands by George. Fred’s not normally a coffee drinker, but grimaces and downs the small cup anyways. “Boy, you would think you stayed up the whole night.” George laughed at Fred’s disheveled appearance. “She even got you home at a reasonable time and everything.” He laughs a little louder at the slightly starstruck look that takes over his brother's face at the mention of last night. He claps his brother over the shoulder. “Look at you, losing sleep over a pretty face.”

Fred winds up to argue back before George holds his hands up. “Mate, it’s a good look on you. Well not right now obviously but overall.” George winks at his brother as they start to walk down the pathway outside to the training arena. “I haven’t seen you that lively since Bill was crowned.” Fred really wants to argue but he can’t, he knows he became a stiff the moment he became next in line.

He remembers how him and George used to run rampant through the castle, pulling as many pranks as they possibly could. Minerva or even their mother yelling after them. The thought brings a smile to Fred’s face. How much of a simpler time that was. Back before they were looking face down at a war. Before his father’s problems we’re thrown into his lap because, in all reality, Bill wants nothing to do with them. The same way that Charlie had wriggled out under the guise of helping peace relations in Romania. The same way that Percy left the weight on Fred’s shoulders by being a royal face on the front and getting so good at raising morale that they decided to keep him exactly where he was.

Plus, as much as everyone loved Percy, he cared too much about how he was perceived to make a great king. He would be too powerful in the wrong hands and the family had its fair share of people that would take full advantage of that fact before the crown even touched his head. He. realized he had been silent for a little too long and just sighed.

“Sorry George. I know I’m no fun anymore.” His brother nudged him in the ribs.

“Whoever said you were fun in the first place eh?” George said in such a serious tone it made Fred pause. He saw the look on his brother's face and realized the joke had gone right over his head. I really do need to lighten up. He thought to himself and chuckled at his brother.

Running a hand through his hair a small pang of sadness hits him harder than he thought it would’ve. He’s really just lost so much of himself by the prospect of being king someday. And he really knows it’s just a matter of time. The entire family is waiting with baited breath for Bill to finally run off with Fleur. They keep getting closer every day and it’s only a matter of time until the couple run off to the hills of France. Fred mentally curses at the thought. Bill isn’t doing it to be selfish, he knows that but Fred will be damned if he lets George suffer through everything he’s going through. If it becomes Fred’s turn he’s bringing them through a war and he’s never been more terrified at that idea.

Fred walks down to the arena in a bit of haze. His thoughts run all over the place. Worse case scenario, one after the other, plays in his mind. How they don’t have enough bodies to fight a war. About how everyone will hate him when he has to draft. The kingdom falling because Fred couldn’t make the important calls at the right time. It’s enough to make him wish that he had stayed in bed.

Before he realizes it, he’s stepping onto the gravel rink of the training arena. Trying to clear his head with a small shake, he realizes he can spiral later. Right now, he’s doing what he can. Everything else for now can wait. This is what he needs to do to play his part. Keep an eye out for who has leadership potential.

With the Triwizard tournament coming up, currently being worked up and finalized as he stands here, he needs to keep a clear head. Does he think that right now is not the time for all the usual pageantry? Of course, but for now, it’s not his call to make and he’s grateful for that. He just falls in line and takes his orders when they are given. George gives him a firm pat on his back as he takes his usual spot on the bleachers, pulling out a large book and a quill. Ready to take notes down to report back to Bill. As he expected, there are a few lears and teases about his tardiness, comments he brushes off with a shrug. A few comments on seeing him with someone last night and he quickly shuts down that line of thinking.

He pairs the men off into their small sparing groups. Deciding that he didn’t trust his own reflexes today, he informs them he wants to work on non-wand fighting.

“Why would we do that when we have wands?” A voice calls out from the crowd. He sighs heavily. Of course these knob heads would think that.

“What are you going to do if your wand gets lost, or heaven forbid, were to break in the middle of a fight?” He squints at the man that questioned him. “Are you going to run in the middle of a fight because of that? No. That’s why this is just as an important skill as dueling.” Fred pats the longsword currently resting on his hip. A few people from the crowd chuckle. They just assume it’s for show. He notices a few of the men looking behind him as he’s speaking. He sends a glance over his shoulder and he wants to curse from the sight in front of him. None other than Draco Malfoy. Loud and proud, standing like he owns the damn place.

He bites back the eye roll and gestures to his men. “Work amongst yourselves for a moment.” He looks at the defiant faces. “With wands if it’s that damn important to you.” He says dismissively but with a tone that says this isn’t the last of that conversation.

The relationship with the Malfoy family and the Royal family is rocky to say the least. They were part of the group that broke off and tried to become important in the Dark Lord's personal court, before it crumbled, of course. They were also some of the loudest opponents for the Weasley family to become the ruling family and decided to let that little detail fuel every one of their actions for the last fifty years. They did all of this while trying to worm their way into the most powerful positions. Much to Fred’s displeasure to admit, Lucius had managed to redeem himself quite well and from that Draco grew up just as good as a prince would have.

“To what do I owe the displeasure of your presence Draco?” Fred sighed out. Not bother to care about diplomacy. There was something about the boy that just made his blood boil, too many smart comments aimed at his fathers competency when they were in school together he reckons. Malfoy just scoffs, pointing his head high in the air as he always does.

“I was sent from the castle to come and get you. Important meeting apparently.” His voice full of discontent, obviously not liking being sent to run errands.

“And why are you even in the kingdom again?” Fred taunts. “Front line too scary for you?”

Once again Malofy scoffs. “They pulled Potter and I both out last week. That’s all that I know. Sent in replacements and everything.” Draco raises an eyebrow at Fred’s shocked expression. “Do you not even know what’s going on in your own kingdom? I thought they would be filling you in before him at this point.” He laughs and Fred lunges forward. Grabbing the shiny armor that Draco is wearing. Proof of how little he actually had seen of battle.

“Woah. Not here Freddie” George says, coming to pry Malfoy out of Fred’s grip. Fred looks back at the group of men currently inspecting every detail of this interaction.

“Better watch that temper, your majesty.” Malfoy spits out before Fred lets him go, giving him a large shove to get some distance between the two of them. He watches with a small smirk as the blond stumbles back and takes a second to regain his footing.

Fred turns to the crowd, not even bothering to pretend they haven't just seen the interaction. “Well looks like you have been saved from a boring day.” Fred addresses them. “You’re dismissed but we’re doing double training to make up for this interruption.” He calls and claps his hands, letting everyone know they’re dismissed.

There are a few groans from among the crowd but after the little show Fred put on no one thinks it smart to try to test his patience at the moment.

I’ve tried to get this up three times and tumblr has decided to hate me so sorry if the formating is a little off. I tried to fix it but I’m terrible at editing if you havent noticed already.

Taglist: (some wont tag so if you changed urls and still want to be tagged please let me know!) @they-write-once-in-a-while @magical-spit @birdie-writes @ickle-ronniekins @heart-of-tempered-steel @wand3ringr0s3 @thoseofgreatambition @things-that-start-with-f @elf-punk @bitchywhisperswizard @a-little-too-much @izzytheninja @kpopgirlbtssvt @shadowsinger11 @harrysweasleys

#dont underestimate me #royal harry potter #ROYAL AU #royal!au #oc character #harry potter oc #fred weasley #george weasley

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bratkook · 5 years ago

Text

clairvoyant. (m) part seven.

masterlist.

pairing: taehyung x reader (briefly) jungkook x reader

word count: 15k+ damn my bad

warnings: nsfw, spanking, dirty talk, unprotected sex (dont do this) but otherwise pretty tame at the end

authors note: i know i said this would go up monday but im clearly a liar i stayed up late last night writing this and it’s partially edited so if something looks fucked up dont come for me :( ill edit it later i just wanted to get it up lmfao im thinking another chapter left, maybe 2 anyways lmk what u think

Its Monday afternoon and you’re sat at your desk at work, your fingers mindlessly tapping on your mousepad as you retouch a portrait on your desktop. To be honest, you weren’t really paying it any attention, your mind kept drifting over to the text Jungkook had sent you the other night while he was drunk. Sure he had asked you to help him get his dick wet and a part of you knows he meant help as in_ help me find someone new_ but the perverted side of you hoped he meant help as in let me fuck you.

“Okay, unless you’re trying to make her skin look like plastic you need to ease off.”

Your hands jump at Yoongi’s voice and you realize the monstrosity you created on the models face, wincing as you delete the layer entirely to start over.

“Oops, thanks.” Yoongi just laughs, resting his arm on your shoulder and slouching over your seated frame as you resume editing with a slightly clearer head.

“Did you sleep okay last night?” He had been watching you during your entire shift together, today was an easier day, only slight organizing and retouching being the things on the to-do list but you had been very spacey. You were misnaming files and not being able to find them on the desktop, forgetting basic commands on photoshop that were second nature to you and you had mistakenly put coffee grounds instead of instant coffee in Yoongis morning cup and hadn’t realized.

Your hand came up to scratch your temple as you thought back to yesterday, waking up at three in the afternoon hungover as fuck in Jimin’s bedroom. Both of you had managed to go to sleep in the same exact clothes you went out in and your body was stiff which lead you to believe whatever sleeping position you chose had been very unfortunate.

Both of your phones had died in the middle of the night since the pair of you had been way to drunk to even think of plugging them in and when Jimin finally waltzed in from the bathroom, his hair damp from the shower, he suggested going out to eat so you let your phone remain dead in your pocket as you went about your day. You were blissfully unaware of Jungkook’s text sitting pretty in your inbox.

In turn Jungkook was sat in his own bed, a massive headache pounding so hard he swore his eyes were vibrating from the force. He remembered the text, hell he remembered jacking off in the shower before sending said text. So when he was finally able to sit up without wanting to vomit he was expecting his phone to have a notification from you, your typical response backed with a handful of suggestive emojis because you knew it made him blush.

But when there was nothing he felt his eyebrows furrow together, his finger locking his phone and tossing it beside him in bed as he lay back down. Had he crossed a line? His message was tame enough to leave it open to interpretation but Jungkook knew how he meant it when he sent it, he may have been high off his orgasm but he knew.

He continued to lay in bed for the majority of the day, only leaving to go to the cafeteria with Taehyung once he finally awoke, equally as hungover. He ate as much as he could stomach, not accustomed to hangovers that left his stomach feeling queasy. Unlike you who was currently stuffing as many breadsticks in your mouth as you could in the restaurant you and Jimin occupied, only leaving once your stomach was at capacity. You didn’t get a chance to see Jungkook’s text until eight o’clock that night and when you did see it your mind first went to sex. Jungkook was asking you for sex.

Sort of.

Slapping perverted thoughts from your head you responded with a simple of course i’ll help you. Leaving it at that, you knew he had sent you the first text while wasted so you were giving him the benefit of the doubt.

Those cursed perverted thoughts haunted your dreams though, images of you riding a shy Jungkook on your bed until he came noisily playing over and over and over you were surprised you hadn’t woken up with your underwear covered in remnants of an orgasm.

You hadn’t slept well at all.

You tell Yoongi this with a tight lipped smile and he nods sympathetically, “What are you doing after this?”

Looking at the clock you see there is twenty minutes left before the end of your shift, Taehyung had already messaged you earlier in the day asking to hang out and whether that meant actually hanging out or hanging out you weren’t sure but either way was fine with you. You needed a distraction to help you stop seeing the image of Jungkook cumming replaying in your mind.

“I’m seeing Tae.”

You don’t look up to see Yoongi’s reaction, not wanting to see any facial expression of judgment when you mention Taehyung’s name. Thankfully he only hums in response, watching you save your current file and start to shut down the computer and going to his own workstation to start doing the same.

When the time comes to leave you say your goodbyes, Yoongi getting into an uber to head to Jimin’s, telling you if you wanted to join them after you were done with Taehyung you were more than welcome. You hug him and tell him you’ll think about it before hopping onto the bus and heading back to campus.

The weather was getting colder in the day, its nearing the end of the first week of October and the fallen leaves decorating the sidewalks made that obvious. Once you hop off on campus you take note of the flyers plastered on bulletin boards, big posters taped on the sides of the buildings to announce the various Halloween themed events going on and you grin at all the activities that you love. This was always your favorite time of year.

As you trek your way into the boys dorm you greet Baekhyun at the front desk before entering the elevator with your phone in your hand. Your eyes are downcast as you scroll through your campus portal, skimming through the various assignments you had due this month and starting to feel the small tingles of stress creep up on you.

The elevator dings and you step out, your fingers tapping on an assignment due later tonight. Your eyes are glued to your device so you don’t notice Jungkook stood a few feet away, frozen in spot as he sees you. It’s not until you’re about to run into him that his shadow snaps you out of your daze, your eyes flicking up, “Oh, Jungkook!” You throw him a charming smile as you wrap your arms around him in greeting.

Jungkook relaxes when he feels your embrace, the nerves he’s felt since sending you that text vanish, his own arms wrapping around your body with a gentle squeeze. “Hey Y/N, what are you doing here?”

In retrospect he knows what you’re doing here but he needs to hear you say it. He needs to remind himself that you’re not here to see him to fulfill any sick desires he has.

You pull back still smiling, slipping your phone into your back pocket to give him your full attention. “Taehyung text me wanting to hang out so,” you spread your arms out widely, “here I am.”

He can only grin at that, of course you weren’t here to see him. You were here to see Taehyung. The man you fucked. Constantly. Not him.

You take note of his appearance, a giant black hoodie swallowing his frame and his school bag draped over his shoulder, “Are you heading out somewhere?” You speak again when he says nothing in response.

“Yeah, just to a study group at the library.” His eyes give you another once over, he wants to keep talking to you but it’s clear you have other things to get to, “I don’t want you to keep Tae waiting so I’ll be off.” He shoves his hands into the front pocket of his hoodie with a small smile and steps around you awkwardly.

You can only mutter out a small okay because he’s acting a little strange but thats typically how Jungkook acts. He’s relatively shy, only speaking when spoken to and whenever he has bouts of confidence where he jokes and laughs and says things you’d never imagine him saying it only lasts for a moment before he’s back to shy Jungkook.

You wave at him and continue walking down the hallway to Taehyung’s room. Jungkook manages to take two steps towards the elevator before stopping and turning back around, “Y/N!” He shouts, flinching a little at his own voice and cringing when he sees you jump for a second, turning around with a curious face. “Do you think we could hang out soon? Like…” he rummages in his brain as he thinks of something else to say, “maybe after all our classes tomorrow?”

You think for a moment, you have a few classes after the creative writing class you share with him and another work shift right after so that won’t work. “I can’t tomorrow but after classes on Friday I’m free.” Jungkook doesn’t even think about his schedule, shouting out that Friday works for him as well and now your beaming smile is back and Jungkook can feel his stupid heart skip a beat at the sight.

Now he can finally leave in peace, a small pep in his step as he enters the elevator but that doesn’t stop him from aggressively jabbing his finger against the close door button so he doesn’t have to see you walk into Tae’s room.

Luckily the week passes by quickly, Jungkook had nerves bubbling up in his stomach the entire time. It wasn’t like he had never hung out with you one on one, you guys usually hung out during the free period you had after your shared class but it was something that was sort of routine. This time he had explicitly asked to hang out, he wasn’t sure why that felt so different but it did so as his professor recites his final sentences Jungkook is totally zoned out, only coming back when he hears he’s dismissed. And then hes shooting up out of his seat, throwing his backpack over his shoulders and speed walking out of the building and onto the quad.

He passes the stupid cafe and ducks his head, walking even faster to avoid the possibility of Jisoo spotting him through the giant windows. When he feels he can no longer be spotted he lets out a breath, his shoulders relaxing and his pace slowing down. That gross feeling he had in his chest after Jisoo had slammed the door in his face hadn’t gone away, he still felt like he had done something horrible even though he knows he hadn’t but the small glares Jisoo would send him whenever she would spot him on campus just made that feeling linger.

He was counting down the days she would graduate, or at least until she’d set her eyes on someone else because he wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take. She hadn’t resorted to shouting things at him or anything too out of pocket but it was clear to Jungkook that she was telling her circle of friends that he had done something despicable and they were telling their friends. The whispers and small huddling that would happen when he would pass them on campus or in the rare occurrence that they shared a class made that obvious. He hated it.

Once he finally makes it into the girl’s dorm Joy greets him with a smile and he tries his best to return it. Letting her simple question erase the worries in his mind, “Are you going to the bonfire tonight?”

He grabs his id back from her and looks up with a nod, that was actually what he was going to suggest the two of you do. He had seen the abundance of posters around campus advertising the event and it sounded like fun. “Yeah actually, I’ve never been.”

Joy smiles with a clap of her hands, knowing it’s his first year at this school, “It’s a good time, lots of snacks and someone always finds a way to sneak booze in. You guys will like it.” She refers to you when she says that, already knowing thats who Jungkook was here to see. Jungkook can feel someone behind him so he shuffles away to let the person sign in, waving at Joy as he makes his way up to your room.

The hallways of your floor are covered in fake spiderwebs, skeletons draped over some girl’s doors while others had plastered colored paper and drawn up their own version of spooky designs that reminded him of his years in elementary school. It was cute and honestly the boy’s dorms could take some notes because the only decoration they currently had was a skeleton sitting on one of the toilets in the bathroom.

As he stands in front of your door he takes note of the white board you and Wendy have hung up and he laughs softly when he sees whats written on it. In red marker it says *dracula voice* we want to suck your blood with some poorly drawn fangs underneath it and in the corner beside it the word dick is written with an obnoxious arrow coming up to point at the word blood to replace it.

His knuckles knock on your room door, hearing shuffling from behind it and some laughter before it’s thrown open and you’re greeting him with a smile, “Hey Jungkook.” Your lips shimmer back thanks to the clear lipgloss you’re currently wearing and his eyes zero in on them.

“Hey.” He mumbles out and you catch his eyes giving you a once over, finally making eye contact when you step to the side to let him in. He steps into the room and notices that you and your roommate must really love this holiday because you both have decked it out in halloween decorations. There’s a giant spiderweb rug in the center of the floor between your beds and a string of bat fairy lights hung behind your beds where you pinned more polaroids onto it. Theres a soft orange glow that fills the room and he notices you two have even gone as far as sticking led tape to the ceiling for the ambiance.

“Love the commitment.”

You chuckle, pointing over to your roommate with a smile, “She’s a slut for halloween and so am I so we had to. It’s not fully finished yet, we gotta grab some more stuff don’t we?”

When he looks over at Wendy’s side he spots her sat on her bed as she ties her shoes, “You bet your ass we do, I’m thinking we need different curtains or maybe a full on skeleton like Yeri has hung on her door.”

Jungkook can’t imagine how much more effort you two could put into your room but the determination set on Wendy’s face shows that she’s not joking. “Alright I’m off to go be a slave to the systems of education, pray I make it through this four hour lecture.” You laugh and clasp your hands in faux prayer, laughing harder when she rolls her eyes at you with a smile, telling you and Jungkook goodbye and dragging her feet like a child as she leaves.

“What did you wanna do today?” You ask him as you go back to your mirror to finish fixing your hair up. Jungkook sets his bag on the floor beside your bed, rolling his shoulders as he sits on it and shuffles backwards until he feels the cool of the wall against his back.

“There’s that rooftop bonfire happening later on, I was thinking maybe we could go to that?”

Your face perks up when he mentions that, immediately saying it was a good idea. That yearly bonfire was always the best, last year they had managed to bring up a giant blow up projector and played some classic halloween movies while everyone sat around the bonfire and made s’mores. Jin had snuck in a few flasks full of vodka so you and your group had been nice and drunk, bundled up in blankets while Hocus Pocus played.

“That actually sounds perfect, did you wanna head down to the store to grab some stuff?” Your attention was back on the mirror, your fingers coming to wipe at the corners of your mouth to fix any smudges of your gloss so Jungkook felt like he could stare at you and not get caught. You had your hair in messy waves, one side tucked behind your ear as you leaned forward and the cropped grey crewneck you had on wasn’t going to do much to protect you from the cold but it was obvious the outfit was for purely aesthetic purposes.

“Sure, lets go.”

The both of you head back out onto campus, two reusable bags in your hand to help you carry whatever you decide to buy. The bonfire usually had enough snacks for everyone but it was always good to go out and buy stuff you knew you liked as a safety net. The walk was nice, the sun had finally set, the last remaining hues of purple peeking away behind the buildings, allowing the floor lights to illuminate the path you were walking on.

Jungkook seemed to be out of his usual shy shell, his hands flailing around as he talked to you about the project he was working on in his intro to ceramics class. He swore he had no talent in it and was only taking it since he needed the units the class came with but you found it hard to believe since the photos he would post online said otherwise.

“You’re so full of shit.”

His mouth dropped open, his arms freezing in the position they were currently in as he tried to show you the motions of making a mug, “I swear. I’m gonna make you a mug and it’s gonna be the ugliest thing you’ve ever seen and you’re gonna have to love it because you doubted me.”

That just makes you laugh and he smiles down at you, “I’d love that, make it extra big too. Big enough so I can pour two cups of coffee in it and I’ll treasure it forever, no matter how ugly it is.”

He nods in thought, his lips pursed together because he was definitely gonna do that now. He really wasn’t the worst at ceramics but now he was determined to make you a half decent mug to drink your morning coffee. “Deal, give me a week.” He pulled the door open for the store and let you slip in first, the bells dinging up ahead to notify the worker of your presence.

You went for the chips, stuffing two bags of spicy tteokbokki chips into your bag as your first choice. Jungkook roams over to the sweets, grabbing a few of the chocopie for himself, calling your name out as he holds one up and when you nod he grabs a few more for you as well. It takes you both a few minutes to raid the shelves, huddling in a corner with the bag pulled apart to inspect the damage, “Is this enough?”

Jungkook hums as his eyes scan the contents, spicy chips, seaweed crisps, chocopies, some sausages, two small containers of banana milk for himself and a few cans of sparkling soju crammed at the bottom for you two to conceal. This seemed like enough, and you kept saying there would be more options once you got there so he didn’t think you should load up on too much. “Yeah, I think we’re good.”

Satisfied, you pay for your goods and make your way back to your building where the event would take place. You hop into the elevator and click the very top floor, he could see your big smile in the reflection, your feet tapping excitedly and he feels a smile spreading on his own face, happy that he chose an activity that made you this giddy.

When the doors open to the roof you step out onto the hallway and walk up three steps through the doors that lead to roof access. Jungkook had no idea either of the dorm buildings even had roof access so he’s amazed at that fact alone. The entire perimeter is blocked up by a cement border to prevent anyone from falling off, a plethora of plants covering it up to make it look more pleasing to the eye. Right in the middle of it all was the bonfire, thin and long and already lit up with people sat on the surrounding couch.

Besides that were a handful of bean bags and comfy chairs in case there wasn’t enough seating on the couch and if that wasn’t enough either there was a giant space open up in front of the blow up projector for anyone to lay a comfy blanket down to chill.

The snack and beverage table was placed to the left which was where you were currently dragging Jungkook to. You pulled out a few of the treats you had bought to leave them for anyone to enjoy and Jungkook couldn’t resist grabbing a piece of chocolate that was meant for the s’mores, letting the candy melt in his mouth as his eyes roamed the place some more.

“Hey, isn’t that Jimin?” He spoke slowly, not wanting the melted candy to drool out of his mouth. You were munching on a cinnamon cracker, your head turning to where he was pointing and low and behold it was Jimin. He was currently sat on the grey couch in front of the fire right next to a girl you recognized as Chaeyoung, she was holding a marshmallow on top of the fire, laughing as Jimin surely teased her for burning it.

“Yeah it is.” You smiled to yourself, seeing your best friend behaving uncharacteristically flirty, accepting a bite of the slightly burnt marshmallow smushed between the chocolate and crackers in Chaeyoung’s hands, licking his lips and plucking the snack out of her grasp to feed her the rest of it.

Jungkook walked towards them, seeing a few empty spots to their left on the smaller couch by the fire, he noticed the metal basket by the couch containing blankets so he snagged one out before he took a seat, handing it to you when you sat beside him.

“Y/N, Jungkook!” Jimin notices you two the second you sit down, popping the tip of his finger into his mouth to lick away the sticky residue from it.

“Hey, I didn’t think you’d be here.” You tease him, setting your bag in front of you and Jungkook and draping the blanket over the both of your laps for some added warmth.

“I wasn’t going to but this one,” he drapes his arm over Chaeyoung and she blushes at his display of affection, covering up a side of her face, “convinced me to come. Something about them playing The Lost Boys.”

She looked up at him and smiled, “It’s my all time favorite movie, I can’t believe you’ve never seen it.” Jimin just shrugs, a teasing smirk on his face and you wanna scream at how cute hes acting but you really don’t want to embarrass him. Park Jimim was not one for dates or romantics so seeing him on what could arguably be described as a date blind sided you.

“Oh, I’m Chaeyoung by the way.” She leans out of his embrace and reaches over with an extended hand. You lean over Jungkook to reach it, a giggly handshake being exchanged between you two, “Y/N. You’re a third year right? Political science major?”

“Yes, I am! I saw your photography exhibit by the way, super amazing.” Your hands come up to cup your cheeks at her compliment, suddenly feeling like you two are drunk strangers at a bar ready to spit compliment after compliment at each other.

“And you’re Jungkook right?” She speaks again, sitting back in her seat as she stares at him with an unreadable expression and you can feel Jungkook tense up slightly at being recognized because how the fuck would a third year know who he was. He wasn’t a social butterfly at all, he only knew you and your group and his other small group of friends that he studied with.

“Oh, yeah I am.” Jungkook reaches his own hand out to greet her and she does the same. Pulling her hand back after a moment and crossing her leg over the other in thought, “Weren’t you just dating Jisoo?”

There it is. Of course thats how she would know who he was. And that only proved his suspicion that Jisoo was spreading his name around.

She had a defensive cast over her gaze, her eyes boring into Jungkook to analyze him. It clicked instantly that Chaeyoung and Jisoo were best friends so theres no doubt that right now Chaeyoung is ready to chew Jungkook out for being what she thinks is a dirtbag.

You can see how wide Jungkooks eyes get at her question, readjusting himself on the couch while his mind sorts through any possible answer he can give her. How could he clear his name without sounding like the jerk she thinks he currently is?

“Uhm,” his eyes drift over to her for a moment and when he sees her unwavering gaze he looks at Jimin instead, seeing him with his lips pressed in a firm line, “we just went to dinner and the art exhibit. We weren’t dating.”

Chaeyoung’s look softens at that, his answer being a stark contrast to what Jisoo had told her. She had said Jungkook had made her his girlfriend and went on this amazing date and when she didn’t put out he told her they weren’t dating.

Jungkook continues to ramble, thinking that answer doesn’t satisfy her, “Jisoo’s a sweet girl, don’t get me wrong. We just weren’t compatible so it was best if we…moved on?”

Your hand comes up to pat his thigh on top of the blanket, comforting him slightly because you can see how nervous he got. His own hand comes down on top of yours, fingers gently wrapping around it and giving it a squeeze.

“Totally fair,” Chaeyoung finally speaks, “just wanted to make sure you didn’t dump my friend and quickly moved on with Y/N.” Her eyes flicker over to your hands and then up to you with a smile. Jimin cleared his throat beside her, his own hands coming up to rub together to try to clear any awkward tension.

“Okay,” he starts, eyes coming down to look at the plastic bag set by your feet, “please tell me you brought any sort of alcohol.”

You lift your hand off Jungkook’s thigh, leaning forward to rummage through the bottom of your bag and pulling out colorful cans of soju. You wave two of them in your hands in offering, tossing them both to Jimin when he cheers obnoxiously, pulling out another two for you and Jungkook to enjoy.

The four of you crack open the cans, bringing them together in cheers to prepare to down the entire thing as fast as you could before anyone could possibly rat you out. You manage half of it before having to pull back, the carbonation in the drink burning your nose and throat more than the soju in it, “Fuck, why did you get these?” Jimin coughs, fingers coming up to rub at his nose.

“They look like soda cans, I was trying to be inconspicuous.” Jungkook laughs at your pained expression, setting his drink on the floor to get up and grab some of the snacks to make s’mores.

Chaeyoung raises her finished can in the air in victory, licking her lips with a slight grimace, “Done!” She crumples up the can for dramatic effect, you and Jimin staring at her in shock and then looking at each other to see who could finish the rest of their drink faster.

Jimin manages three more gulps until he pulls back again, “Nope,” he coughs, letting out a burp as he pounds onto his chest, “can’t do it.” You finish your own can, tossing it into the second reusable bag you brought thats not being occupied. Chaeyoung jokingly calls Jimin a baby, taking his own can to finish off herself.

When Jungkook returns with his snacks & two metal skewers they fall into their own conversation and Jungkook is thankful because even though Chaeyoung seems okay with him he still feels like if he says the wrong thing she’ll turn and call him a fuck boy or something of that nature.

You reach for a skewer, popping a fluffy marshmallow onto the top of it and leaning forward to reach the fire. He mimics your actions, the both of you giggling when he drops his hand too low and his marshmallow burns a little too hot for a moment.

“Do you like your marshmallows well done?” He asks you as he looks at your fluffy snack hovering over the fire way too low since you were focused on staring at his, a teasing grin on his face, “‘Cause that shit is charred.”

You gasp as you pull back your now black marshmallow, frantically blowing on it when you notice its now entirely burnt and Jungkook cant help but laugh at the frown on your face. He pulls his own perfectly toasted marshmallow up towards your face to mock you, only laughing harder when you bring your own burnt one up beside it to compare them.

“I can still salvage it.” You try to convince yourself, your fingers trying to scrape and pluck away the burnt edges but Jungkook knows as well as you do that it’s beyond repair. While you focus on your failed attempt Jungkook prepares his own s’more, putting two pieces of chocolate around the gooey marshmallow and sandwiching it between the cinnamon crackers.

When he brings it up to your face with a sweet smile the frown on your face deepens at the nice motion, you take a small bite of it and let out a sound of satisfaction when the sweetness hits your tongue, “So good!”

He motions for you to finish it but you just take it from him and force feed it back to him, your hand cupping his cheek to push his lips open and its not until he lets out another laugh that you’re able to pop the rest of the treat into his mouth with no resistance. His cheeks are puffed up and he has a bit of chocolate smeared around his lips, looking absolutely adorable and you really can’t stop yourself from cupping both of his cheeks like an annoying auntie and cooing at him which only makes his cheeks warm up, his mouth coming to life to munch away to get his cheeks to deflate again.

“Cute.”

The following week goes on like normal except for the fact that now you’re slammed with work and school, barely getting a moment to see any of your friends between the chaos of it all. Jungkook has a small moment where he thinks he did something wrong since you seemed to drop off the face of the earth after the bonfire. You had both had a great time, a small buzz coursing through you from the soju and you had convinced him to cram with you on the oversized bean bags to watch the movie playing but your lack of communication even after your shared class has him slightly worried.

He’s currently sat at his desk, fingers tapping on his laptops keyboard as he tried to finish the last 300 words needed for this essay. Taehyung is sat at his own desk and it’s not until he starts to groan and furiously key smash that Jungkook stops what he’s doing to turn around and check on his roommates mental health. “You okay?”

Taehyung groans with his cheek pressed against the buttons on his keyboard, a constant string of the letter f being typed onto his own essay, “Sorry.” He apologizes when he realizes how loud he’s being, “If this is way more information than you were looking for I don’t care, but I haven’t gotten laid in over a week so I’m dying.”

Jungkook just laughs at the vulgar behavior that just comes naturally to Taehyung, until he realizes that his roommates statement of recent celibacy means he hasn’t seen you either. Taehyung lifts his head up, his fingers coming up to scratch as his faded red hair, deciding he should get to work and stop distracting his roommate with information on his personal life.

The tapping continues and Jungkook slides his phone out to send you a text to see if you were doing okay since he wasn’t the only one who hadn’t seen you recently. He sets his phone down after pressing send, letting the screen stay lit up as he goes back to his work, his eyes constantly darting back to check for any sign of life on your end.

When it vibrates against the desk he peers over to read your response, saying that work and school were ending your social life along with a photo of your current view at work being a desktop lined up with photos you were sorting through, a few textbooks to the left of it to show you trying your best to multitask.

Yoongi looks up from his own spot, peering over his computer to watch you stop whatever it is you’re doing to grab your phone the second it vibrates, small giggles leaving your body as you banter back and forth with Jungkook for the remainder of your shift. Yoongi knows you’re a sucker, he’s just waiting for you to realize it too.

It’s not until nearly a week and a half later that you have a minute to spare, your time already being occupied by Taehyung since he had begged and pleaded for you to help him with his hair dilemma. He’s determined to be Kaneki from Tokyo Ghoul and desperately needs to bleach out the faded ass red form his hair while also tackling his roots.

You’re sat on his desk chair while he sits on the floor between your legs with a bowl of bleach being held in his hands. You have teeny tiny foils in his hair to focus on the red ends first, your hands coming down to dip the tint brush into the thick bleach to coat onto his hair and then securely fold up the foils. “I really hope this comes out.” You mumble out as you fold up the final piece of foil, placing the brush into the remaining bleach for later.

“Me too, that costume is the only thing holding my life together.”

He reaches over to set the bowl onto the desk beside the two of you, coming back to get comfortable again between your legs, “Whys that?”

He whips around dramatically, an exasperated look on his face, “Whys that?” He mocks, his fingers coming up to grip your thighs, “I haven’t fucked you in ages.” He whines out, fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs harder. The foils on his head crinkle as he drops his face onto your stomach and you just roll your eyes at how he’s acting because it’s only been two weeks.

“You have a hand Taehyung.”

“It’s not the same!”

“Wow,” you laugh out, your hand coming up to awkwardly pat his tinfoil head, “I’ve just been overwhelmed with my current work load.” You explain your current situation, how all your professors were assigning massive projects back to back combined with the extra work at your job, it was taking its toll on you. You enjoy your classes and love your new job but you haven’t been able to catch a break lately.

“Let me help you ease your stress.” He mumbles out against the fabric of your shirt, his hands trailing up from their spot on your thighs up towards your center.

“I’m not fucking you while you have that shit in your hair.”

And just like that he deflates, his arms dropping like deadweight as he crumbles back to the floor like a child. “Fine.”

He stays in that same position, letting you pat your hand on his head as you both scrolled through your phones, only standing up after you had applied the bleach to his roots and deemed it ready to wash.

You make your way to the boys restroom, Taehyung shoving his head underneath the weak stream of water coming from the sink as you help him rinse the bleach from his hair. He stays with his head bowed forward, his eyes squeezed shut as you applied the purple toner you had mixed.

When you step away to rinse your hands he stands back up to stare at his reflection in the mirror, the skin around his hairline is red from irritation thanks to the bleach and the toner had turned a very scary shade of purple but he trusts you so he doesn’t panic.

“Just fifteen minutes max and then you’re good to go baby.” His eyes move to stare at you from the reflection, seeing you staring at him with a smile, he looks so cute with his hair balled up on top of his head, his eyes wide and curious.

“Then we can fuck?” Yup, and that cute innocent look is gone, but that tiny smile spreading on his face makes you crack, “Yes Tae, then we can fuck.”

So when the timer goes off Taehyung rips off his clothes, surely staining his shirt with the dye on his head but thats a problem for a later date, the shirt laying forgotten on the floor in the corner as he approaches the showers with his hand wrapped around your arm. “In here?” You shout out, your voice bouncing off the tiled room. It’s currently not occupied but you’re not sure how long that’s gonna last for.

“Why not? I don’t wanna wait any longer.” He shrugs, throwing open the shower curtain and letting out a loud scream when he comes face to face with that cursed skeleton everyone on his floor keeps moving around. You burst into laughter and he joins in, his hand clutching his chest to try to slow his heart beat. “Okay, that one’s occupied.” He closes the curtain and moves to the very last one instead.

You pick up his shirt and ball it up to toss it on the bench in front of the shower stall he chose. Your eyes roam the room again, seeing the coast was clear as Taehyung fidgets with the water temperature. He peeks back out to slip out of his sweats and boxers, wiggling his eyebrows as he kicks them to lay beneath the same bench his shirt was on. Your mind was made up, your hands lifting your shirt up and off of you, sliding down the comfy lounging shorts you have on and Taehyung groans when he notices you don’t have any underwear on.

“You knew this was gonna happen didn’t you?”

You kick your clothing over to join his, “Wishful thinking?” You respond with a smirk, squealing loudly when his arm wraps around your waist to drag you into the awaiting stall.

“Wash that off first!” You warn him, pushing his face away from yours. He sighs and crouches down, tilting his head back so you can help him rinse the toner out of his hair. When he’s all clean you pat his cheek, letting him stand up properly and tower over you. He’s giving you that half smirk, his body backing you up against the shower wall, his back successfully blocking the stream of the shower from you because he knows you’re really not trying to get your hair wet.

“You know, you look kinda hot with silver hair.” His eyebrows raise up at your statement, his head tilting slightly, “Kinda like-” You gasp when his fingers make contact with your waist, starting to trail them down, that teasing smirk still on his face as he waits for you to finish your sentence, “like a real life anime character.”

He hums, “Oh? Does that turn you on?”

You just nod, your teeth chewing on your bottom lip as you stared up at him. When his fingers pass your hips and dip down to part your lips his mouth opens up in fake shock, “Messy baby, you weren’t lying. You’re so wet already.”

The groan you let out hardly gets muffled by the noise of the shower but thats the last of your worries right now, your mind too focused on the feeling of his fingers gathering up your arousal, trailing up and down your slit teasingly, “I can’t help it, it’s been too long.” And he knows this, stepping even closer to lock your lips in a heated kiss, it’s been way too long.

He starts to circle his fingers around your entrance but you shake your head, your lips pulling back from his with a small gasp, “No, just fuck me please.” He rests his forehead against yours, his cock throbbing at how desperate your voice sounds. Something about how eager and hungry you always were for sex fueled him, always kept him wanting more.

“Whatever you want baby.” He plants a small kiss on your forehead as he places his hands on your waist, twirling you around and pressing your chest against the cold tile. Then theres a loud wet smack echoing from his palm connecting against your ass, another squeal being heard as a giggly but hushed sound of his name leaves your lips.

And as Jungkook stands at the sink, washing his hands after using the bathroom, he feels his heart stop. He had walked in a minute or so ago, hearing the sounds of a couple talking with the shower running and he knew they were gonna fuck because thats honestly a common occurrence but he didn’t know it was you.

The tap keeps running, his hands still stuck under it as his neck cranes to look to the far left where the shower section was. He sees the ball of clothes you two must have kicked off to the side. The white shower curtain being short enough to see the two pairs of feet in the shower and the position they were currently in made it glaringly obvious that Taehyung was pounding into you from behind and as if he needed more confirmation, you just moaned out for him to fuck you harder.

It was when another loud smack echoed out, mixed in with a grunt from Taehyung that he decided he needed to get the fuck out of there. So he did, not bothering to wipe his hands dry as he scurried away, his cheeks burning up and a mysterious feeling in his chest that he could feel spreading to the rest of his body. He never let you guys know what he had witnessed, not even when you both walked back into the room with your clothes clinging on to your still damp body.

The next time you see Jungkook is a few days later as you’re about to enter the cafe. You don’t speak to him because you spot him a few feet away, walking out of the arts building and in the direction of the schools cafeteria. It takes you a moment to even realize it’s him because his hair is no longer black and you have an inkling that Taehyung is the one that helped him with this.

You decide you’ll find him after you get your coffee and enter the shop. Instantly you spot Jisoo stood behind the cash register and she looks flustered when you make eye contact. Regardless you walk up to her and order a caramel macchiato, adding an americano to the mix since you plan on seeing Jungkook right after this anyways.

Jisoo raises her eyebrows when you order the americano, no doubt knowing its for Jungkook since thats always been his drink of choice here. “Thank you by the way.” She speaks up after you finish telling her your order.

Her comment catches you off guard, “Thank you for what?”

She scribbles on the cups before handing them off to her coworker to get started on. The cafe doesn’t currently have anyone else waiting to order so she stays at the register to chat. “For helping Jungkook with our date.”

You’re about to play stupid but she raised her hand to stop you, “Look, I know you’re the one who suggested both dates to him so thanks.” You’re stunned to silence, not really sure how you should respond but she keeps talking, “It’s just a shame isn’t it?”

“What is?” Your arms are now crossed defensively across your chest.

“That all boys want to do is get in your pants, no one likes romance anymore. I thought Jungkook was nice, goes to show all men are pigs.”

You don’t know why that irritates you as much as it does but you can’t stop yourself from snapping at her, “I’m sorry what exactly did Jungkook do to you that was so horrible?” That wasn’t the reaction she was hoping for, her eyes widening slightly at the sharp tone in your voice, “Because from what I know he took you on two very nice dates and you were the one that cornered him in your hallway, beyond ready to get into his pants without even speaking to him. Sounds like you’re the pig here Jisoo.”

Her face blanks, obviously not thinking you knew the details of the date. She was expecting to be able to spill whatever fake warning she had been telling all of her friends to stay away from Jungkook. “If he was truly as horrible as you’re making everyone believe he is he would’ve slept with you and left the second he got what he wanted.” At that moment her coworker came up with both drinks in hand and a grimace on his face at the interaction he had witnessed. You gripped them both and thanked him before walking out of there as fast as you could so you wouldn’t do something irrational.

Your face felt red, not from embarrassment but from holding in your anger. Jungkook didn’t deserve to have someone talk about him like this, he wasn’t a pig, he was the furthest from that. He was a very sweet gentleman who went out of his way to be as polite as he could. Jungkook was very much boyfriend material and it wasn’t fair that Jisoo could bad mouth him all she wanted because she was salty about being rejected.

You were marching down your campus, some of your drink was sloshing out of the opening in the lid, splashing onto your hand and burning the fuck out of it but it wasn’t processing in your mind as you entered the cafeteria and hoped Jungkook was still here.

You pause at the entryway to scan the room, it was full at this hour since most students came here after their 6pm class to catch a bite for dinner. Eyes roaming over each table you spot the new half blonde and half red hair that belongs to Jungkook, he’s sat next to two other boys all of them laughing and goofing off with their trays in front of them. And now you’re unsure if you should approach him, his back is towards you but one of his friends glances up and makes eye contact, offering you a weird smile. Jungkook notices and cranes around to see what the hell his friend is staring at, noticing you standing awkwardly with your two cups of coffee. You expect him to just give you a half assed greeting before he turns around but his smile gets bigger and he’s waving you over.

You shyly smile and make your way over, slipping between the occupied tables to sit in the spot beside Jungkook. “I uh, I saw you coming this way so I got you a coffee since you know.” You motion with your hands and he understands, he hadn’t had his favorite coffee in weeks because he had been avoiding the cafe like the plague.

“Thank you.” He accepts the cup and takes a gulp, exaggerating a moan to show how much he missed it. That makes his friends and you laugh as you mumble out a no problem, your hands cupping your own drink. At the thought of coffee he pauses, grabbing his bag and sorting through it to pull out the mug he promised you.

You gasp when he hands it over, its a slightly bumpy jumbo mug that he had glazed in black, the inside of the cup being glazed white with a small bat being put on the bottom. You flipped it over to analyze it some more, your thumb grazing over the engraving of his initials he put underneath it, “Oh my god, its perfect!”

Jungkooks friends see the way his ears redden the second he handed you the gift and they want to tease him but theyre scared of the beating they’ll get when you’re gone.

“It’s big enough for two cups.” It definitely is, it was deep and pretty wide. You would be putting it to use tomorrow when you needed a morning cup at work. Jungkook watches the way you stare at the mug like its your newest prized possession and he smiles, picking up his cup of coffee again to take a sip.

“Jisoos a bitch by the way.” You blurt out before you can help yourself and the entire table stays silent, your eyes wide in shock that you even said anything at all.

He holds the coffee cup by his lips, his eyebrows furrowed and the cutest pout on his lips, “What do you mean?”

You push your cup a little bit away from you, tugging your sweaters sleeves over your palms, “I mean she’s a bitch.” Point blank period. “When I ordered these she tried to take that opportunity to talk shit about you to me, called you a pig or something.” You fake disinterest, “So I went off on her.”

His friends holler at that, no doubt knowing what happened between him and Jisoo, one of them offers you a high five which you awkwardly accept. Jungkook just stares at you, in disbelief that Jisoo was trying to make him look bad to you of all people, but he was even more surprised that you had been so quick to defend him.

“You didn’t have to do that, but…I appreciate it.” You shrug, a small smile on your face which he reciprocates.

“Oh,” he puts the coffee down again and gestures towards his friends, “by the way, Y/N this is Mingyu and Eunwoo.” They greet you respectfully, Mingyu whispering something into Eunwoo’s ear before he nods and they both start snickering and then Jungkooks swiftly kicking one of their shins under the table, causing the cheap thing to shake.

You jump at the action and Jungkook glares at his friends before looking at you, “Sorry, weird spasm. Are you hungry?” He quickly changes the subject, desperately trying to get you away from his friends before they say some shit to embarrass him in front of you because he knows they will. They had been the ones subjected to the endless texts in the group chat where Jungkook went on mini rants that switched from trying to convince himself and his group that he did not have a crush on you to asking them for advice on how to best approach you.

At his question you realize you are in fact hungry so you get up with him and follow him to the food options, his now empty tray in hand, you grab a tray from the stack in the corner as you see what catches your eye. Jungkook reaches for the mozzarella sticks, plopping a good handful onto a plate and setting it on his tray with a smile. You copy his actions and grab another plate, putting a regular cheeseburger on it along with some fries. Since Jungkook had already had a burger before you got here he settles for a few chicken wings instead, grabbing a drink for himself and another for you when you motion that you want the same one.

“I like the hair by the way.” You finally speak when you’re both swiping your student cards.

He picks one hand up to ruffle his freshly dyed hair, the red and blonde strands falling slightly over his eyes, “Thanks, it’s for Halloween. I was just gonna spray paint it but Tae convinced me to dye it.”

Just as you figured, “Who are you going as, Todoroki?”

He nods quickly, his face showing his obvious excitement, “Yes! Thats exactly who I’m supposed to be. Have you thought of your costume yet?”

With both trays in hand you start the walk back to the table, “Yeah not as nerdy as yours and Tae’s but close enough.” You tease him, not aware of the stares Jungkooks friends were currently giving you two, “I’m dressing up as Raven from Teen Titans.”

He gulps at that, Raven’s costume wasn’t down right in your face sexy but something about you being in a tight black leotard with your legs bare and a cape covering you up has Jungkook’s weeb ass sweating.

And he didn’t have to wait long to see it since Halloween landed on the upcoming Saturday. All of you were gathered at Jimin’s apartment, all in full nerd gear with shot glasses in hand. The party was being held at one of his friends places which meant expensive booze and a nice house, a drastic change from the dirty parties at the delta fucking whatevers so needless to say you guys were all pumped.

It was currently 10:30 at night and you were about to order a few ubers to head over, your body was buzzing from the two shots you’ve taken, enough to loosen you up.

Jimin is currently dressed in full Joker attire, the new version, his blonde hair is temporarily dyed green with paste, slicked back off of his face and it kills you that hes able to rock any look. “You’re the bane of my existence.”

He has his hand wrapped around you with a smile, raising his eyebrows and making the painted red ones lift up too, “It’s not my fault I was blessed with beautiful genes.” You just roll your eyes, declining the third shot he hands you and he just shrugs and takes it instead, keeping his arm around you as he grimaces and slams the shot glass down on the counter in front of you two.

Jungkook is sat on the couch in the living room beside Yoongi who’s dressed liked Naruto and you finally realize what a giant bunch of losers you and your friends are. Namjoon is stood over by the record player that has music filling up the room, dressed up as Gudetama in a comfortable looking onesie, beside him is Jin and his girlfriend Arang who are dressed in matching pumpkin costumes looking adorable as ever. Hoseok is stood next to Taehyung by the liquor bottle a few feet away from you and Jimin, dressed like an inmate, a pair of handcuffs wrapped around one single wrist for show.

Your eyes move back to Jungkook, he’s decked out in full Todoroki gear, a blue tracksuit on with the white accents and belt, even similar boots and the damn burn on his face to finish it off. The way hes sat on the couch with his legs spread out is like an open invitation to be sat on, you always forget how buff Jungkook is but seeing his thick muscles pulling the fabric taut around his thighs is making your mouth water.

“I knew it.” Jimin whispers in your ear when he catches you staring at the younger boy.

“What are you talking about?”

“You are into him, Yoongi mentioned it to me and I noticed it a while back but I didn’t believe it.”

You trust Jimin, he’s undoubtedly your best friend but you’re not ready to admit to feelings you aren’t even sure you fully have yet so you shrug indifferently, “Honestly, I’m just admiring his juicy ass thighs.”

He peers over and stares at them as well, humming in appreciation, “Well you’re not wrong.”

Taehyung pours himself another shot, letting it overflow a bit as he watches you and Jimin staring at Jungkook. He has his Kaneki face mask partially tugged down to not interfere with his ability to get hammered so the weird grimace he sports is visible for anyone to see. He got it, Jungkook was attractive and muscular and Taehyung had offered to help dye his hair for his costume in hopes that it would land him a chick tonight so he’d back off of you but his plan seems to be backfiring on him.

Taehyung hates that he feels the jealousy blooming in him when he sees you walk over to Jungkook, offering him a shot with a grin, sitting down beside him and laughing at the way he crinkles his nose. He swears he doesn’t feel jealous because he likes you deeper than the current arrangement you both have, its just that stupid territorial mindset he never fully grew out of taking over. He was currently still sober enough which is why he was trying so hard to squish it down, thats all it was.

He knows if you turned around and decided to stop sleeping with him and moved on to Jungkook for that or even a relationship he wouldn’t fight you on it because you could do whatever you wanted but he was hoping what you two had would have lasted longer than a few months and you wouldn’t be setting your sights on his roommate of all people or at least had the decency to tell him. Its not until Hoseok swats his arm, giving him a weird glare, that he snaps him out of blatantly staring at you and Jungkook.

When the ubers finally come you all split up to make yourselves fit into them, Taehyung lucking out and getting stuck in the uber you, Jungkook, and Jimin were in, leaving you sandwiched between him and Jungkook in the back row while Jimin occupied the passengers seat. Taehyung is tense in his seat and you can feel it, his hands clenched and resting on his lap as he stares out the window, counting down the seconds until you all pull up in front of the giant house party.

“It’s my friend Taemin’s house, he’s honestly probably hammered already.” Jimin says once your whole group is gathered on the front lawn. He takes the lead and walks up the path laid out, opening the door to enter the booming house, loud house music being blasted from the giant speakers in the corners.

“Holy shit.” Namjoon speaks out, his eyes taking in how enormous the house was. The ceilings were stupid high, an expensive looking chandelier being the main focus in the current room but it was clear the home owner didn’t pay it much attention considering the shiny diamonds were currently covered in those fake cobwebs.

“How many people are even here?” Arang speaks up as you all make your way deeper into the house. The place is swarming with people, all in their own costumes and you don’t believe that Taemin even knows everyone here.

“Probably a few hundred people, a thousand if he’s fucking insane.” Jimin laughs, his hand coming up to point across the room as he finally spots Taemin in the second living room area he had. He was sat on the couch, looking pretty drunk but the second he spotted Jimin he sprung up and met him halfway in a clumsy hug.

“Thanks for coming out you guys.” He speaks up like he actually knows who you all are even though you’re all strangers, “Feel free to drink whatever you want, theres no rules just please don’t break my shit. Theres also a costume contest happening at midnight with some cash prizes.” When he finishes his little host speech he bows dramatically before someone else calls out for him and he’s gone.

You and your friends don’t need to be told twice, instantly gravitating towards the drinks to get as drunk as everyone else seemed to already be. The array of pricey liquor has you wanting to cry, you absolutely loved the rich for this reason only. The one thing you’re all good at is getting absolutely sauced so it doesn’t take long for you guys to catch up.

Little by little everyone slowly splitting up when the night progresses, there was too much going on in all the different areas of the house, along with who knows what happening in the backyard but you’re pretty sure theres a pool out there, something you would definitely be avoiding because it was freezing.

Hoseok and you end up together as you usually do, being designated party buddies. You’re stood at the back of a room thats currently having a very drunk karaoke concert going on, a very dramatic rendition of Dont Stop Believing being the song of choice and you’re both clapping your hands anc cheering along when the six foot tall Ash Ketchum goes out of his way to make his own adlibs.

You tell Hoseok you’ll be right back as you venture back out of the room to go grab another mixed drink. On your way there you spot Jungkook sat on the couch beside Namjoon, a very pretty girl stood beside him, trying her best to get his attention but he’s either not interested or completely oblivious to her advances because he brushes her off and starts a conversation with Namjoon instead. You’re pouring your drink into your cup when the girl walks away from him with a roll of her eyes, saying something to her waiting group of friends before they all make their way outside.

Just as you’re about to go over to him Taehyung pops up on your left, slinging his arm over you in the sloppy way that lets you know he’s been throwing back way more shots than you have. “Can I ask you something?” He slurs into your ear, choosing to stand in front of you, putting you between him and the counter behind you.

“Sure.” You say as you take a sip of your strong drink, your eyes looking up at him and seeing them glazed over, a hint of uncertainty in them.

He looks down at the floor for a moment before looking back up at you, the three tequila shots he just took minutes ago doing nothing to stop him from squishing down his emotions now, “Are you fucking Jungkook?”

You quickly swallow the liquid in your mouth so you don’t spit it out, your face showing how absurd you think his question is, “What? No?”

Taehyung narrows his eyes at you, not entirely believing you because of how you two have been acting recently, he sees the way Jungkook acts whenever you text him and he knew you two had started to hang out more on your own. And he would’ve thought it was a normal hang out until Jimin had uploaded a video of the bonfire and he had seen you two making cutesy eyes at each other as you fed him a s’more.

You can see the gears turning in his head but you speak up again before he has a chance to say some stupid shit, “How drunk are you?”

“Drunk enough!” He shouts back and thats confirmation enough for you to know that whatever conversation he thinks he wants to have right now will have to wait.

“Okay you weirdo, get a grip please and back off.” His current attitude was getting on your nerves only because it’s something you’re not used to dealing with when it came to him. Even though you’re half kidding at your statement there’s still some truth to it and he hears it loud and clear, stepping back like a toddler and giving you some space. He mumbles something out about going to find Jimin but you don’t pay it any mind, just nodding along as you drink more of your concoction and go back to join Hoseok in the karaoke room again.

Another hour passes, a few minutes shy of midnight so you know the costume contest will be taking place soon. You and Hoseok have drifted away from each other, him deciding to go join the dance floor at the front of the house where as you find yourself watching an intense game of guitar hero being played. The giant flat screen lets any onlooker clearly see the battle happening and you don’t notice Jungkook beside you until he’s nudging you with his hip, a goofy smile on his face when you stumble over slightly.

“You really suit this character.” He’s standing there with his arms crossed and for one of the first times since you’ve known him he has this very confident aura coming from him. Maybe it’s because he’s had too much to drink to care or maybe it’s because he feels like he’s in his element in this dorky costume but confidence looks good on him.

“Should I just live my entire life as Todoroki then?”

His eyes are glassy from the alcohol and his cheeks are pink but he can tell you’ve had a bit more to drink than him, your tongue becoming too loose to hold anything back, “I definitely wouldn’t mind it.” When he notices your eyes raking up his body and back down, stopping at his thighs once more before looking at his eyes again, he just blushes and chooses to uncross his arms to take a sip of his drink.

He’s been noticing your constant eyeing of his thighs, having caught you staring at them at Jimin’s place earlier tonight, and now that you were drunk you were doing a worse job at trying to play it off. “Has anyone ever told you that your thighs are beautiful?” You finally address it.

Jungkook raises both of his eyebrows, looking down at himself, shifting his weight between both legs and stretching one out. “Can’t say they have.”

“Just wanna bite em…” You mumble under your breath and he chuckles, catching your words but not speaking on it. The shots are definitely seeping further into your blood because your hands are coming up and out, grabbing the meaty skin of his right thigh and he’s yelping from the shock, jumping slightly before balancing out so his drink wouldn’t spill.

You’re grinning sweetly as you give his thigh another quick squeeze and retreat back. You only hum in thought, your mind wondering what they look like under the pants he’s currently wearing. Jungkook is still too caught off guard, any words he wants to say getting stuck in his throat as he observes the room to see if anyone saw that.

The reality of what you just did slowly sinks in and he catches the switch, your eyes sharpening up and you take a very small step back, “Are none of these girls good enough for you?”

“What?”

You nervously swallow more of your drink which probably isn’t wise because look at what you had already done with the alcohol already in your system, “I promised you I’d get you laid by the end of this month and i’ve seen like four girls come up to you and you blew them off.”

That was true, he had done that all night but it had been such an automatic response that he wasn’t sure why he had, something about sleeping with a complete stranger in another strangers home felt wrong. That and the fact that he wanted to sleep with you was also getting in the way, but his inner self currently had that thought in a headlock, a very loose and slowly weakening headlock but a headlock nonetheless, so he was ignoring it.

“They didn’t even know who I’m supposed to be.” He lies as an excuse and it makes you laugh, tipping your cup up and pouring the rest of its contents down your throat.

“Is that you’re only reason?”

He nods stubbornly, sticking with his horrible excuse until it turns around and bites him in the ass. “Well I know who you’re supposed to be, so what does that mean?”

He blanks at that, really not expecting the turn this would take. You watch him, his big doe eyes only getting bigger at your words. He rolls his lips together in thought, his mind sorting through all the appropriate responses he could say. During his distraction he doesn’t notice his inner self releasing the headlock grip he had on his feelings until it’s too late and they’re spilling out into the open.

“It means I wanna fuck you.”

Yeah. That wasn’t what he wanted to say, at all, but his filter had clearly been lost a few shots back and when you don’t immediately slap him he doesn’t think he fucked up entirely.

“You wanna fuck me?” You repeat slowly, stepping closer to him. You had a feeling he did based on that drunk text he had sent you but you had to make sure he really wanted to and this wasn’t just a nervous response. Jimin and Yoongi were right in their observations of both of you, you wanted to sleep with him, you have ever since that night in your room and the realistic dreams involving him haven’t stopped so maybe once you sleep with him everything will mellow out in your brain.

This isn’t a crush, you try to convince yourself, this is just your hormones talking. It’s not your fault that imaginary Jungkook would moan such sweet praises in your ear while you dreamed, thats why you were stuck wearing i’m horny for jungkook glasses, and once you slept with each other all would be fine.

His eyes look around, he could see Tae and Jimin stood near the kitchen, Tae doubling over in laughter at something being said and when you see who he’s looking up it only annoys you. Taehyung didn’t have this claim on you and you knew Jungkook was just worried because he didn’t fully believe no feelings were involved between you and Tae but you were sick of people thinking you belonged to him.

You raise your hand up to cup his cheek, bringing his attention back to you, “I asked you a question Jungkook.”

He looks back over to you, seeing your own eyes staring up at him and he finds himself nodding his head. Sure you both aren’t sober at all and will he be embarrassed about this once he is, probably, but he knows he’ll regret not being completely honest tomorrow morning if he says no.

At his confirmation you smile, you had spotted the staircase nearby, knowing there would be rooms you two could occupy but when you start to tug him in the direction of it he resists.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know, I just don’t feel right using someone’s room to do this.” Jungkook wasn’t a virgin so you knew he wasn’t wanting this to be a certain way for his first time but he’d only ever been intimate with one person and it hadn’t gone the way he wanted at all so if he didn’t feel comfortable sleeping with you in this house it was fine by you.

“Do you want to go back to mine then?” The urgency that usually came with party hook ups was missing, you didn’t feel rushed to get in a room and tear his clothes off without speaking to each other, he wasn’t just a hook up.

When he nods his head you don’t think twice to pull him in the direction towards the front door, a loud tapping noise stopping you both in your tracks. Everyone stops talking, turning towards the source of the noise and seeing Taemin stood on top of his coffee table with a microphone in hand, his finger tapping the top of it to check it.

“Okay, fuck it works dude!” Jimin shouted out, everyones hands coming up to cover their ears when Taemin just laughs loudly into the mic.

It was time for the costume contest and as much as you wouldn’t mind seeing who won or even potentially winning the cash prize yourself, the thought of finally getting to sleep with Jungkook wins. You look back at him, your eyes asking him if he wants to wait but he shakes his head, his fingers giving your palm another squeeze. You choose not to notify your friends that you were leaving, they were all drunk enough and were already planning on sleeping at Jimin’s after this anyways so you had a few hours before they even noticed you had both disappeared.

Jungkook feels oddly calm, the nerves that had overtaken him when he was in this position the very first time not coming up, even the small sense of uncertainty he felt when it came to Jisoo was gone and he likes it. He likes the feel of your hand in his as you wait for the uber. He likes how you rest your clasped hands on your thigh, your thumb rubbing the back of his palm soothingly and when you finally manage to sneak into your building he likes the way you push him against the elevator wall, your lips slotting between his in the first sign of urgency.

When you lick your way into his mouth he tastes the strong tang of tequila that he’s sure you can taste from him as well but he doesn’t mind it. His hands coming up to wrap around your waist, the thin material of your leotard letting you feel his touch as his fingers dig into your waist to pull you closer to him. You’re on your tip toes and he’s leaning over to match your height, the sound of the elevator ding making you both pull apart with heavy sighs.

You twirl back around, your head peaking out of the elevator to make sure the coast was clear since you technically weren’t allowed to have Jungkook over at this time. Once you saw the hallway was clear you wrapped your hand over his wrist, tugging him to your door in a haste to get out of the open. You make it a few feet when the sound of the bathroom door opening makes you both freeze, Jungkook has his eyes screwed shut as he waits for someone to start to scold you both. You’re waiting for it too, especially when you turn around and spot Jihyo, your RA, standing in the middle of the hallway right in front of the bathroom door.

She’s currently rubbing her eyes, tipsy and in a revealing Sailor Mars costume. When she spots you and Jungkook looking just as tipsy and your lips swollen she just sighs, throwing her head back dramatically, “Go, hurry up and get in your room. I didn’t see anything.” You throw her a thankful look and she just shields her eyes as she makes her way back into her room, you don’t waste anymore time as you slide your key card out of your bra and unlock your room.

“Wait, your roommate.” Jungkook whispers, just now realizing that she existed. He’s stood right on the door’s threshold, refusing to come in until you literally force him, your hand tugging him in. His hands grasp your shoulders to not knock you over from the force of your pull, he finally gets a chance to look around when you flick your light on and he notices Wendy is no where to be found.

“She’s went out of town for Halloween, we’re fine, now please kiss me.” The door shuts behind Jungkook, that answer satisfies him, his hands moving off your shoulders to cup your face and bring you in for another kiss. Your mind feels like its floating as he starts to walk, leading you backwards towards your bed.

Your hands slide up his chest as you make your way to your bed, your fingers clasping the zipper of his costume and tugging it down, revealing his bare skin. He had decided not to wear anything underneath his tracksuit, he always got hot and sweaty when he was drunk so he didn’t want to add more layers than necessary, and luckily it worked in his favor.

Your fingertips leave a hot trail on his skin as you work on getting this article of clothing off of him, his hands coming away from your face as you push the sleeves down his arms, the material falling onto the floor in a heap. His lips never part from yours, his actions getting more confident, his kisses getting more urgent because he can’t seem to get enough of you.

His hands trail up to unclasp the cape around your shoulders, letting the crushed velvet garment join his top on the floor, and then its a race of getting the rest of your clothing off. You pull back from him your lips smacking together one final time when you step back, your eyes finally getting to see him shirtless for the first time.

Is he for real? Was he sculpted by the fucking gods themselves because this wasn’t fair. You always knew Jungkook worked out like a madman but you never expected him to look like this. His chest was heaving as he tried to catch his breath, the muscles in his arms rippling as he fidgeted with the stupid belt he had on and when he finally got it off and was able to slide out of his boots and pants your wishes were granted in the form of his thighs.

You had forgotten about sliding out of your leotard and belt, your boots were kicked off to the side but when his thick thighs were exposed you dropped to the floor in front of him. Jungkook wasn’t expecting that, part of him thought you might of passed out or something from how suddenly you collapsed but when your hand come up to trail his thighs he knows you’re fine.

“Are you joking?” You mumble out, your mind acting on it’s own accord, you press open mouth kisses on his thighs, your fingers giving them small squeeze as you kiss your way up to the band of his briefs.

Jungkook had fantasized about this so many times put now that you were sitting right in front of him on your knees, your mouth kissing his dick over the fabric of his briefs, he wasn’t sure he could stop himself from blowing his load the second you put it in your mouth.

“Have you ever had a blowjob Kookie?” The nickname is new but he likes it, especially when he sees how you look at him when you say it, your eyes widening slightly when he shakes his head. No he’s never had a blowjob and as much as he wants to experience his first one from you he won’t ever let himself live it down if he cums before he gets a chance to fuck you.

“Can I be honest?” He mumbles out as your fingers slip underneath the band of his briefs, beginning to tug it down slowly, his legs stepping out of the material as it bunches around his ankles.

His cock springs out without the restraint of his briefs and your mouth salivates at the sight of it. Of course Jeon Jungkook would have a beautiful big dick, its veiny with a slight upward curve, the girth of it making you bite your lip in anticipation of it stretching you open. Your eyes move back up to him and you smile gently, “Yeah of course.”

He moves his own hands to cover your smaller ones, his fingers wrapping around your fingertips to lift them off his skin. “Can we…do that next time,” it slips out before he can catch it, indication of this happening again and you take note of it, the lust clouding your mind not being against that happening, “I just really wanna fuck you.” He confesses, his body bending over, his arms hooking under your arms to scoop you up from the floor with ease.

“Yeah,” you breathe out as he stands you up, his hands cupping your cheeks with care, his thumb tracing your skin as he stares down at you, “we can do that next time.”

You reach out and let your hands touch his waist, the feel of his bare skin making you realize he’s the only one naked right now. You turn him around so his back is facing your bed, your hands gently pushing him back onto it.

He catches himself with his palms, sliding back onto your bed until he’s laying against the pillows you have set up. He watches as you reach back to unclasp the ruby belt you have, letting it fall with a clank as you move on to unbutton the top of your leotard, slipping the skin tight fabric off of your body.

Jungkook can feel his dick twitch against his abs at the sight of you, you crawl onto the bed, your fingers trailing up his thighs as you straddle him in a similar way that brings back memories of a few weeks ago. The feeling of you sat on top of him with no barrier is something he never thought he’d experience and when he feels the slick glide of you grinding down on his cock his stomach caves in, a groan leaving his lips. His fingers come up to grip your hips, your own hands wrapping around his neck as you smile down on him.

“Feel good?” You ask him, a tiny gasp escaping you when you repeat your actions and his cock nudges your clit.

His eyes move down to stare at the spot where you connect, seeing how shiny you’re leaving him as your arousal mixes with his precum makes his mouth drop open in awe. “Yeah, feels good.” He whispers out, his hands gripping your skin tighter to make you rut on him faster.

You can see the desperation growing on him, the shy Jungkook you were so accustomed to nowhere to be found as he rolled his hips up to meet your motions, his head dropping back into the pillows with a moan. With his neck wide open you lean forward, kissing and licking your way up to his jaw, your teeth gently nipping at his skin, making his hips stutter.

Blame mistake number one on you wanting to see Jungkook fully fall apart underneath you but you’re not thinking too much when you reach down and grasp his cock, letting the tip of it nudge your entrance. You know you’re clean and on birth control and unless he’s been lying to you, you assume he should be clean as well.

His head snaps up at the new sensation, and Jungkook may be inexperienced but he’s not stupid, “Wait–“ You think he’s stopping you because you haven’t pulled out a condom so you pause, giving him a curious look but his mind is too full of want that he doesn’t even process the fact that there isn’t a condom “it’s gonna hurt you.” He wants to finger you, stretch you open and let his fingers explore your body until you falling apart.

“It’s okay, I like that.” You admit, giggling when you see his cheeks flush. You go back to nudging the tip of him into you, the feeling of it breaching your entrance has you moaning and Jungkook drops one hand off your hip to clutch your comforter instead, his fingers clenching around the fabric as your walls wrap around the tip of him.

“Fuck,” you groan out, he was big but the feeling of him stretching you out had another gush of arousal slip out of you, only aiding in letting you slide down another inch or so. Your hands come forward to rest on his stomach as you wait a moment, Jungkook can feel you clenching around the first few inches of him, his eyebrows furrowed together tightly at the feeling of your warmth enveloping him all around.

You relax your muscles, letting the rest of him slide into you, the tip of him just shy of nudging your cervix when you’re fully sat on him. You give him a moment to adjust, waiting until his eyes open up again, “Please move.” He croaks out, his hand coming back up to your hips to get you to do anything because the feeling of you just clenching around him was killing him.

His desperation turns you on and you start to move instantly, grinding on him to let yourself get used to the size of him before you start to lift yourself up, slamming back down, the slap of your skin connecting filling up the dorm room.

As you stare down at him you have to pinch yourself because the visual of him whimpering underneath you is an exact replica of the dreams you’ve been having. A needy Jungkook kneading the flesh of your hips, rutting his own hips up to meet you, his big eyes blown out with lust and adoration in the same damn way you’ve been dreaming about and you know you’re done for.

Jungkook can say the same, the countless times he’s dreamt of you doing this to him has him thinking he’s stuck in a dream, ready to wake up to his roommate tossing a pillow at him but it never comes because you’re actually here. You’re here on top of him, riding him like it’s something you’ve always wanted. His hand trails up from your hip to grasp your bouncing boob, giving it an experimental squeeze, his thumb and index finger tweaking your nipple and enjoying the way you moan from it.

He can feel your arousal dripping down his length every time you lift up, the remnants of it pooling around the base of his cock, he can see it as his eyes are glued to the way your lips part to take his length in. He can feel you start to get tired from the constant motion, your movements slowing down slightly so he takes it upon himself to wrap his arms around you and bring you closer to his chest, successfully flipping you over underneath him.

Your hair fans out around you and you stare up at him in shock, never thinking he’d do something like that but it only lasts a minute before hes sliding back into you. His hands are by your face, caging your body underneath his as he pounds into you.

His jaw is clenched tightly when he feels you wrap your arms around his shoulders, your fingers trying to cling onto his back from the force of his thrusts. “Do you want it harder?” He grunts out, looking down at you to see you nodding frantically, your legs wrapping around his waist to push him deeper into you.

“Please ple–“ you gasp when he slides out before rearing back into you, starting a brutal pace that you didn’t think he was capable of. “Just like that. God Jungkook.” You cry out and he feels his chest fill with pride. You were moaning out his name, he was the one making you feel this way.

You can feel him graze your bundle of nerves every time he thrusts forward, a high pitched moan leaving you and he does another experimental thrust to find the exact spot, angling his hips until you’re gasping and then he’s grinding right into it every time. Determined to get you to cum before him he keeps it up, he can feel his climax creeping in on him, you’re squeezing him so tight its almost impossible to thrust into you but he can tell you’re close when your hand comes down to rub your clit and he almost cums from that sight alone.

Seeing you squirming underneath him as your fingers worked to push yourself over the edge just made him thrust harder into you, a deep groan leaving his mouth when you gasped out, your walls clamping around him even tighter than before as you threw your head back. You had enough sense to clasp a hand over your mouth before you moaned out at as your body twitched from your orgasm, the feeling of Jungkook continuing to pound into you only making more muffled whimpers leave you from the overstimulation.

“Fuck you feel so good.” He mumbles out, his head dropping forward to rest between your neck and shoulder as he starts to rut faster into you. Your toes are curling from the after shocks of your climax, the tingles all over your body being the cause of mistake number two, “Cum inside me Jungkook, please.”

His face lifts back up at your statement, checking to make sure you mean it and when you nod and press your lips against his for another heated kiss he doesn’t hold back. His hips rolling into yours with new found energy, your body being jostled up at his action but you don’t care when all you taste is him, your kisses swallowing the desperate whine that leave him as he nears his end. His thrusts get sloppier until he’s groaning out deeply, his hips stuttering as his cock paints your walls white. You moan again at the feeling of his warm cum inside of you, letting him roll his hips a few more times as you kiss him gently to bring him back down.

His arms fail him, his body flopping on top of you in a heap, his muscles absolutely crushing you but the way he wraps your arms underneath your waist and nuzzles into you makes you forget about your inability to breath. His face is pressed against your neck under your chin, his soft dick is still inside you and he really doesn’t want to pull it out, he’d be perfectly content with going to sleep and waking up in this position.

You keep your legs wrapped around his waist, your fingers gently playing with his damp hair, “I miss your black hair.” You mumble out, breaking the silence that fell over the room.

He hums against your neck, kissing your skin gently in content when you scratch his scalp, “I’ll dye it back for you.”

You don’t know why that statement makes your heart swell but it does, your lips coming down to kiss his hair before laying back down. The both of you catch your breaths like this, Jungkook having his cheek pressed against your skin and you gently massaging his head.

He can feel the sweat on your skin start to get sticky so he decides nows a good time to pull apart, his skin peeling off of you and you’re both grimacing when he finally slides out of you, a small gush of his cum dripping out of your entrance and you squeeze your thighs shut at the feeling.

Jungkook wants to sit there and stare at his cum staining your skin but he can tell you feel icky from your face so he stands up from the bed and looks around your room, spotting your towel by your desk. He picks it up and comes back to you. His fingers gently pry open your thighs as he starts to clean you up, tossing the towel aside and motioning for you to move so you can get comfy in bed.

You shuffle around until you slide your comforter down, letting him adjust himself so you both fit comfortably. The small feelings of being tipsy are gone, your muscles completely relaxed and sleep starts to overtake you as you feel him move behind you, his arm lazily draping over you as you both start to slowly fall asleep.

“You know,” he gently speaks up, “you promised me you’d get me laid by the end of October.”

You hum in acknowledgment, and he’s smirking into your hair, “It’s technically November though so.”

You giggle softly at this, turning around in his grasp to face him, your leg slipping in between his as you get closer, “Oh how could I ever make it up to you for breaking my promise.” He lets out a fake gasp as your sarcastic response, his fingers wasting no time coming up to playfully jab at your sides, succeeded in making you squirm and laugh until his lips are kissing you again, the urgency and heat from before missing but he likes this way better.

He likes the small laughs in between kisses, the shy licks of your tongue and sighs you let out and in that moment Jungkook feels content.

Jungkook doesn’t think of whats going to happen tomorrow morning when you both wake up and the initial lust is gone. He doesn’t think of the conversation that’s gonna have to happen once the sun comes up. No he lets himself enjoy this, lets you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him even closer. He’ll worry about that when it comes.

#btsghostie #jungkook smut #bts smut #taehyung smut #i guess?? v briefly???#new

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snarkwrites · 4 years ago

Text

13 | gangsta ; sweetpea

NOTES:

It's been a while. I've had these two chapters written for a while now but I haven't had time to sit down, edit them a little better and post them. Since I have time now, I thought I'd go ahead and do that, whether you guys asked for these next two chapters or not.

Sorry this took forever! Sorry I'm so slow, I've been settling into a new house and taking care of some IRL stuff / taking a little break. I swear, I'm going to update everything sooner or later. >.>

I love you guys.

WARNINGS:

NON/ LOOSE CANON COMPLIANCE - this is the biggest warning, so if you’re into things that follow exact canon plot you are… definitely not going to like this. ANGST & SLOW BURN, HEAVY SEXUAL TENSIONSTARTING NOW, ACTUALLY - this is just so everyone who started reading this thinking the smut would transpire in a hurry knows that apparently, it is not. VIOLENCE / SWEARING & FIGHTING, POSSIBLE UNDERAGE DRINKING AND OTHER SHENANIGANS- look.. it’s high school. shit happens. also apparently, my ofc Alyssa uses the word fuck like all the time?…EVENTUAL SEXUAL CONTENT / A VIRGIN ORIGINAL CHARACTER- this one is self explanatory. yes, i plan to write a smutty chapter in this at some point. when? i don’t rightly know. it’s got a while before we get there. STALKER TW - this chapter marks the true appearance of Alyssa's ex, Dave Novak. It's hinted heavily that he's a gross asshole who likes to play mind games. ATTEMPTED KIDNAPPING TW - This chapter contains an attempted kidnapping. If this is gonna bother you you're best off not reading it.

If you're under 18+, probably not a good or wise idea to continue reading this series. Because there are going to be a few dark and adult themes within. I'll warn here, of course, but you need to understand that I don't control you. If you continue to read after having read the warnings and you're upset or don't like something... Totally on you, friend.

PAIRING:

Andrews!Sibling OFC x Sweet Pea.

TAGGING:

@brithedemonspawn is the only person on my Riverdale tag list. If you want to be added, the link to do so is below.

OTHER PARTS:

ONE - TWO - THREE - FOUR - FIVE - SIX - SEVEN - EIGHT - NINE - TEN- ELEVEN - TWELVE - soundtrack

OTHER STUFF:

[ about my writing - tag list doc ]

THIRTEEN.

[773 - 589 - 7956] Quiet sleepy little town you’ve got here. I can see the appeal, scarlet.

[773 - 589 - 7956] I saw you last night. If I didn’t know what a treacherous bitch you were, I’d say you look more beautiful than ever.

[773 - 589 - 7956] Have you shown that new boytoy of yours all the dirty little photos you were sending me? I bet he’d fucking love to see that… Or did you actually let him see the real thing?

[773 - 589 - 7956] You can say what you want to the cops, scarlet. You and I both know you enjoyed sending me those dirty little pictures. Do your parents know what a teasing whore their daughter really is? I know mommy wasn’t too thrilled when you went running to her to snitch just because things got a little too real for you…

[773 - 589 - 7956] I’ll see you soon. It’s like I said, scarlet. You owe me. I intend to collect. You think this is a game? You can just promise things and then betray me like that? That’s not how this works, scarlet.

The second my phone was powered on again after school, it immediately started to go insane. The texts came in a flood. They were so disgusting and scary that I dropped my phone because my hands were shaking so hard I couldn’t hold it. I quickly picked up the phone and took a few deep breaths, attempting to pull myself together.

,, I can’t keep this to myself. I have to tell someone what’s going on.” the thought nagged at me for the thousandth time in two weeks and I decided that as soon as I finished my tutoring session for the day, I was going to go to the construction site and show my father the texts. Tell him that somehow, Dave was out of prison and apparently, he was here in Riverdale.

My stomach was churning and a bitter taste filled my mouth at the thought. I felt like a dead girl walking. How could I have been so fucking stupid? I should’ve told my father the first time Dave texted me. I should’ve done something.

I felt anger at the situation too. I came here to get away from everything, to put it behind me. I just wanted to forget any of it happened. How dare he show up and ruin everything? He was supposed to be in jail right now, not walking free!

It wasn’t fair.

I knew I’d never be brave enough, but I found myself thinking that if I did see him again, I wanted to strangle him. To give him a reason to be afraid of me for once instead of the other way around. To get even for the hell he put me through in Chicago.

I stepped out into the parking lot, taking a few deep breaths to calm down. Leaning against the brick wall beside the doors that lead into the building. Waiting. Trying to pull myself together. Half hoping that my brother was still here, still in wrestling practice.

Then I remembered that he didn’t have it tonight and that he’d left earlier with Veronica, Betty and Jughead.

Cheryl and Toni were already gone too. I’d stayed over because I was tutoring some kids in the grade below me. I didn’t think it’d take as long as it did. When I realized just how late it had gotten and that I’d be walking home alone in the dark, I’d panicked.

I could always call my dad.

That’s what I wound up doing. About halfway across the parking lot and just as my father’s phone went to voicemail , Dave stepped out and grabbed me, clamping his hand over my mouth before I could do anything other than scream.

My phone fell out of my hands and hit the pavement . I fought him off, managed to get out of his grasp and took off at a run. He caught up to me and grabbed me, trying to drag me towards his Chevelle that was parked nearby, idling. I fought tooth and nail, making as much noise as I could. Grabbing hold of anything I could to try and wrench myself free from his grasp.

I spotted Sweet Pea walking towards the school and I screamed louder. Fought harder.

“Sweet Pea!” I screamed his name, biting at any exposed skin I could get my mouth on Dave’s body. Clawing and scratching. Determined not to go quietly or without a fight. Sweet Pea disappeared from sight for a few seconds in the scuffle between Dave and I, and I was fighting so hard that Dave was struggling to keep a good firm grip on me…

XXX

He’d come back to school because normally, Alyssa was done and at Pop’s within thirty minutes, an hour tops. It had almost been two. Something felt off. Sweet Pea tried to tell himself the entire walk across town to Riverdale High that he was just being paranoid or overprotective. By the time the school was in view, he almost had himself convinced that he was just being a paranoid idiot.

Until he heard her screaming.

Sweet Pea took off at a run in the direction her scream came from, watching as a guy grabbed Alyssa and started trying to pull her towards an idling Chevelle nearby. He locked eyes with Alyssa before slipping out of sight. Getting himself into a position where he could slip up on the guy from behind and hopefully, distract him enough that Alyssa could get away.

The second she managed to smash her head into the guy’s nose hard enough that he dropped her, Sweet Pea spoke up. Firmly. “Run, Cherry. Don’t stop running.”

“No.” I stubbornly refused to leave. I wasn’t going to leave him to fight Dave off on his own. Not when this was my mess to begin with, my own stupidity coming back to bite me in my ass.

“Damn it, woman. Fucking go!” Sweet Pea practically growled as he lunged for the guy in front of him, spearing him against the side of his own car. The fight took to the ground, the two rolling around. For a second or two, Dave had the upper hand because he managed to get his hand on Sweet Pea’s throat. Sweet Pea used his legs, flipping them so that he was on top, swinging his fists with no real thought other than the sheer rage he felt about the guy trying to grab Alyssa. Dave managed to get the upper hand again, holding Sweet Pea against the concrete, Sweet Pea’s hand wrapped around his throat as he tried to squeeze harder.

Sweet Pea swore in frustration when he saw Alyssa slipping over to the open rear door. She emerged with a baseball bat, making her way over to the fight.

“What the fuck do you think you were gonna do, man?” Sweet Pea snarled in anger as he got in a few hard and fast punches.

“I was gonna get my hands on that little bitch you call a girlfriend and teach her a lesson.” Dave grunted out the words as Sweet Pea’s hand closed around his throat tighter and he managed to get Dave on his back again.

“The only one who’s going to learn a lesson tonight is you, asshole. Don’t fucking touch her.” Sweet Pea got the upper hand again, holding Dave against the concrete, smashing his head against Dave’s head as he sneered, “I’m gonna fuckin kill you, putting your hands on my girl.” and really tightened his grip.

Dave managed to shove him off and stood, the two of them fighting. Alyssa swung the bat at Dave’s lower back, almost connecting with it but Dave stepped out of the way at the last minute, making a grab for her.

“Cherry, I told you to run, damn it!” Sweet Pea growled as he lunged at Dave, sending Alyssa stumbling back, barely managing to keep herself from falling on her butt on the pavement. The two were rolling around on the ground again, punching and choking wildly and Alyssa spotted her cell phone and she dove for it, dialing 911.

Just as she was about to hit call, Sweet Pea choked Dave out and grabbed for the rope that had fallen out of Dave’s jacket pocket, tying his arms together while he was down. Then he rushed over to her, checking her over in concern, wincing at the pavement burn on her cheeks and the few scrapes.

“What the fuck happened to run, huh?” Sweet Pea asked, trying to catch his breath.

“I wasn’t leaving you here with him.” Alyssa panted. Sweet Pea took her cell phone and hit call, keeping his foot on Dave’s head to keep him down as he made the call.

Two minutes later, a cop car came racing around the corner and pulled to a stop behind the idling Chevelle.

The cop got out and wandered over. Glancing from Sweet Pea to Dave.

Alyssa spoke up.

“Sweet Pea was trying to save me, officer.”

“I’m going to need you two to come to the station and make statements.” the cop informed them after getting Dave into the back of the cop car. Alyssa nodded, hugging herself against Sweet Pea’s side. Sweet Pea slipped out of his leather jacket,draping it around her, because at some point during her fight with Dave, her shirt had gotten torn down the front.

The cop left, leaving the two of them alone.

Sweet Pea took a few deep breaths, pulling her against him. Squeezing her tight. Holding her in place. “Thank God I decided to come by here. If something would’ve happened…” he muttered against her hair quietly.

She pulled away to look up at him and he locked eyes with her, leaning in closer…

XXX

My heart was still hammering away at my chest. The adrenaline was starting to wear off and I was starting to panic a little as I began to realize what almost happened to me. How close I came to disappearing, having God knows what would be done to me by Dave.

I wasn’t thinking about how awkward me kissing him would be. I wasn’t thinking about anything if you want the truth. I rose up on my toes, grabbing hold of the front of Sweet Pea’s t-shirt, pulling myself up. My mouth brushed against the corner of his gingerly, trying to avoid the portion of his lower lip that was busted and bloody because it had to hurt like hell. His hands dug into my hips and he growled quietly, his mouth latching onto mine just as I went to pull away, stop myself before I went for it and kissed him in the heat of the moment.

The kiss deepened and I raised my arms, wrapping them around his neck. Dragging my fingers through his hair. My back met the side of the Chevelle with a soft smack and he pressed himself into me more firmly. His mouth continuing to hungrily devour mine.

The kiss broke a few seconds later, we pulled apart breathlessly and stared at one another in a daze. Sweet Pea wiped the back of his hand over his mouth and cleared his throat. Going quiet again.

All I could do was melt into him and try to wrap my head around what almost happened and what had just actually happened. He curled his fingers under my chin, tilting my face so that I had to look up at him.

“Who was that? Wait.. was that your ex?”

My jaw dropped. I blinked at him and then I nodded quietly. He swore under his breath and held on a little tighter. Pulling away again, his hands on my upper arms as he stared down at me. “I should’ve fucking killed him.”

“H-how’d you know about Dave? Did my brother tell you?”

“And Jughead. I don’t know everything. I just know that I told myself if I ever actually saw the asshole, I was going to kill him.” Sweet Pea answered quietly. Taking a few deep breaths and then adding a few seconds later, “We need to get to the station.”

I nodded in agreement. Sweet Pea scooped me up when he saw me take a step and wince, then try it again with the same outcome.

“I can walk.” I protested weakly.

“You fell. You probably twisted your ankle. Just… let me carry you, Cherry.” he muttered quietly, his voice a soft and concerned whisper as he gazed down at me.

All I could do was nod. Lean my head against the space between his neck and shoulder.

As we worked our way towards the police station, it poured out of me. Every single thing I’d gone through with Dave in Chicago. I grimaced as I told Sweet Pea exactly what had gone down and why I thought Dave had come to town and tried to grab me tonight and Sweet Pea’s jaw set firm.

I could tell that hearing it bothered him. And at one point, he muttered quietly, “If you don’t want to talk about it you don’t have to…”

“No, I need to get it out. I shouldn’t have kept the fact that the asshole was texting me to myself. Blocking his number obviously didn’t work because he reached out with a new one. I thought if I just ignored him, he’d lose interest. I thought it was just him, trying to scare me. I didn’t think he’d be stupid or brave enough to show up here.” I muttered, shaking my head at how stupid that sounded now that I was really stopping to think about it.

“He’s not gonna bother you again, okay? I’m going to make sure he doesn’t.” Sweet Pea muttered after a few seconds, just as we stepped into the station and made our way over to a sitting area to wait.

“You need to call your dad.” Sweet Pea spoke up after a few seconds that felt like hours.

I nodded. Taking my phone back from Sweet Pea, I dialed my dad’s number and I could hear the relief in his voice when he answered.

Static crackled and popped on his end of the line so I strained to hear.

“I’ve been riding around town looking for you for over an hour, tiny. What the hell happened?” my dad asked in a rush.

“Dave was waiting outside of the school tonight when I came out… If Sweet Pea hadn’t gotten there when he did I… he tried to grab me tonight, Dad.” I grimaced as I said it, bracing myself for all the questions and the lecture I knew I’d be getting because I hadn’t told anyone the second all this started.

,, to be fair, I definitely deserve it.” the thought came and I let myself have it. Leaning back in the chair, resting against Sweet Pea’s side slightly. Taking a few deep breaths.

My dad swore and I heard him punching at something, probably the dashboard of his truck. After a second or two, he spoke up. “Where are you two? I’m on my way, tiny. Right now.”

“We’re at the station giving a statement.” I explained.

“Thank god. So Novak got arrested? That’s good. I’m going to be sure to find out what I can do to make sure that little prick stays in a cell this time.” my dad responded as I heard him rev the engine on his truck.

The call ended and I leaned my head against Sweet Pea’s shoulder. He slipped an arm around me and took a few more breaths as if he were trying to calm himself down again because he was still angry and tense.

The cop who made the arrest found us and ushered us back to his workspace and we sat down. Telling the cop every single detail of what happened tonight. The cop let me finish and then spoke up.

“We’re holding him for Chicago. He apparently escaped. Attacked another girl… A Claire Watson… Then he came here. But everything you’ve told me will help keep him behind bars, Alyssa. Do you have a parent you can call?”

I nodded.

“She already called him.” Sweet Pea answered calmly as he folded his arms over his chest and glared at the cop suspiciously.

The cop eyed him, nodding. Managing a cordial smile. “That was quick thinking on your part tonight kid. Also stupid as hell. If he’d had a weapon, that could’ve gone wrong. Next time, call the station.”

“And do what? Let an asshole make off with my girl? Yeah, no thanks. I’m good. I’ve seen how fast you assholes respond to any call you get from the South side.”

“Not all of us are bad, kid.” the cop pointed out in a calm and even tone.

“Yeah, well… I wasn’t going to stand there and let him take my girl either. I did what I had to do.” Sweet Pea took a deep breath, rubbing his forehead. Calming himself back down.

I spotted my father and Archie coming into the station, heading right for us and I let out a ragged breath. Squeezing my dad so tight he almost couldn’t breathe when they got over to where we were sitting in the back.

My father spoke up, addressing the cop. “We will be pressing charges. So, whatever I need in order to do that, just tell me and you’ve got it.”

Sweet Pea cleared his throat.

“If it helps, here’s her phone.” Sweet Pea held my phone out to the policeman and he took it, nodding. “If there’s anything on here, that’ll help. If you’ll come with me, Mr. Andrews, we’ll get that paperwork drawn up to start the proceedings.”

My dad gave me another hug and stopped in front of Sweet Pea. “If you hadn’t been there tonight, kid… Thank you.”

“I wasn’t gonna let anything happen to her, sir.” Sweet Pea muttered, awkwardly letting my dad hug him too.

My dad made his way to an office with the policeman who’d taken our statements and I glanced up at Sweet Pea, grimacing at the bruises and scraped starting to form on his face and neck. The black eye and the busted lip.

“Archie, can you go get some ice or a soda can? His lips really swelling up..” I muttered. My brother nodded, taking some change from me to go do it. And this left Sweet Pea and I alone again.

“About that kiss.. I’m sorry, I.. the last thing I wanted to do was make anything awkward. I just got caught up in the moment and I can’t keep fighting the way I feel and I… Sorry.” I spoke up quietly. Prepared to give him an out. Afraid that I’d gone way over the line.

“Yeah, about that… I’ve been wanting to do it for a while.” Sweet Pea admitted quietly. Making me look up at him as he chuckled quietly. “You wanna repeat any of what you just said?”

I felt my cheeks burning. I pouted up at him and gave him a dirty look.

He smirked in response and spoke up. “I’m being serious. You were doing that mumble and babbling thing again.”

“You heard me.” I answered, biting my lip as I looked up at him.

“A little, yeah… But maybe I wanna hear it again, cherry.” he pulled me close and gazed down at me for a few seconds.

“Wait.. you wanted to kiss me?” I realized what he’d admitted. Gazing up at him, a little shocked.

“You’re trying to change the subject now?” he questioned, slipping his arms around me. I gave a soft laugh and muttered quietly, “Maybe a little.”

“When you say you can’t ignore the way you feel.. What’s that mean?” he questioned again, making me look up at him. I took a deep breath and toyed with the front of his shirt, trying to figure out the best way to put it to words.

The truth. Simple and direct.

“I care about you a lot. I lo--” I started to say that I loved him, but Archie cleared his throat behind us, holding out the soda can to me. Then promptly excusing himself again to go find our dad. I gently guided Sweet Pea down into a chair and sank down to sit on his knees. Gingerly pressing the cold soda can against his lip. And after a second or two, I finally got myself to say it again. “I love you, okay?”

He chuckled quietly. Locking eyes with me. Lowering the soda can to ask quietly, “Like a best friend or something.. Right?”

I shook my head. “More than, actually. Since that day at the car wash when I drenched you with the hose, I’ve… It’s been hard to make myself not look for you in a crowd. Yes, yes.. I know this is mushy and you don’t do mushy, I..” his mouth crashing against mine cut off the flow of my words and he muttered in a daze, “Say it again. Tell me you love me, Cherry.”

“I love you.” I managed to get the words out breathlessly. His mouth was latching onto mine all over again. The kiss deepening. His arms enveloping me tighter. Squeezing til I thought I’d get lightheaded between the deep and heavy onslaught of kisses and the way he was holding me.

“I love you too.” he mumbled quietly. Gazing down at me. Panting for his next breath as the kiss broke yet again.

“Okay, are you two done with whatever yet? Because dad told me to get Al back home. You can come with us if you want.” Archie surprised me by inviting Sweet Pea. Sweet Pea eyed him and nodded, standing after I’d finally managed to pry myself away from him.

As we walked out of the station, he slipped his hand down between us, lacing his fingers between mine. Giving my hand a squeeze as he glanced down at me.

#sweetpea fanfiction #sweetpea imagine #sweetpea fanfic #sweetpea imagines #sweetpea fic #my writing; sweetpea #my fanfiction; sweetpea #my fics; sweetpea #// stalker tw #// attempted kidnapping tw #// violence tw

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