#ive been listening to uprooted

[fzjp]

Learning to draw the rest of the Krew to gain some muscle memory and I'm having fun drawing Torbek!! I enjoy drawing his pathetic wet cat bugbear face!!

I'm excited to draw Gricko, Twig seems easy I just have to rewatch ep 19 to get her description

But Frost and Hootsie??? A tiger tabaxi and an owlbear???? Yeah ok we'll see...

[hollow-vok]

LOOK AT HIM HE IS SO CUTE ☹️☹️

And dumb but in a bad way i hate him he has a stupiddf face why is he like that get out of my head Solya get out

I guess he is what people call "my blorbo"..or whatever..i dont really care about him...that much (im lying)

What if i never get over this guy oh god

Get him OUT of my head NOW

*head explodes *

[dearlymrme]

Hasty

Rating: E

Pairing: Terzo x Reader

Words: 3220

Tags: Quickie, Creampie, Retirement, Enthusiastic Consent, Objectification.

Summary: In the past Terzo would hunt you down before a Council meeting in hopes that you would help him work off some energy. Now that he’s retired and the roles are reversed he is more than happy to return the favor.

Read on AO3, or under the cut:

Your relationship with Terzo is a sexually healthy one, even before his retirement. He often cornered you in the halls, the bedroom, the library, even the confessional once, for a quickie before he had to settle with the Council for meetings. Meetings that could go on for hours at a time, listening to old traditionalists argue about how to better settle a matter that's already been settled five meetings ago.

Old men, pompous and entitled with little regard for how the world works today and would much rather argue on how it used to be done. Outdated, needing the cobwebs swept up and definitely needing some new blood. He believes half of them to be on dementia medication. It’s probably this line of thinking that got him dragged off stage in the first place. Not too much of a surprise but rather an eventuality, he's heard horror stories from Primo and Secondo, and lived it himself since being a boy. Their callousness and disinterest in how they uproot lives and-

But that's neither here nor there.

He's learned since his Cardinal days that a quick fuck, be it with you or into the comfort of his own hand, always turns his brain into a pleasantly flavored jelly after. It makes the meetings more bearable. An orgasm strong and satisfying enough that all their pedantic droning does is jiggle his gray matter to the point it tickles. It distracts him with forging a game plan of how better to repay your kindness once he’s freed, or to find you later for an even more spine tingling fuck.

After his forced retirement though it seems the rolls are reversed. Instead, as both his wife and prime mover, you've decided to saddle the paperwork transitions from III to IV. It's work truly meant for him and he’s told you that he is more than, if not begrudgingly, capable of doing it himself.

You shushed him, pushed a cup of coffee brewed just the way he likes into his hands, and told him that you’d handle it. You explained that you were more than a little bit pissed that they so forcefully removed him, making such a public show of it, and then tried to dog him after with more work as if to say that it’s his mess to take care of in the first place.

You were enraged that the Council even assumed that he would continue performing any kind of duty on their behalf after they axed him. No, they instead made a mockery of him and everything he did for them. You are not going to stand for their hounding. You felt it wrong that they still tried to push paperwork Primo’s way after retirement, you weren’t going to let them do it to Terzo.

“You deserve a break. You were one of the hardest working Papa’s of the Ministry. I know the fans seem to think you’re the player but we both know the truth.” You gently kissed him, his lips, his nose, his forehead. “You let me handle everything and just enjoy sleeping in for once.”

You've been called and pulled from every which way to organize the schedules and new duties for his remaining Cardinals as the rest turned their loyalties from him to Copia. Not all of them favored the new Papa and many of them wished instead to retire. Copia was kind enough to keep the ones who agreed with him and merciful enough to let the others go with no fuss. You wrote up the forms and all that was required of him now was a single last stamp of approval. He was happy for them. A lot of hard workers in his group and he saw a few familiar names on the sheets that made his job easier. He hopes they enjoy their new titles of Archbishop and complimentary responsibilities.

The Bishops, the Deacons, followed lastly by the Sisters and Sons of Sin. Every new hole left behind from the Cardinal’s they lost needed to be filled and formatted. Promotions for everyone. Seeing who’s qualified, who’s been in the church long enough, and most importantly who actually wants the job? Turns out, not a lot of them living in the Ministry itself did. After the showcase with Terzo being removed a lot of people now felt threatened and that gave you a little more work as they sent notes and mail of condolences and concerns.

He feels like everyone was taking advantage of you, himself included. It leaves a bad taste in his mouth but you took to the work like a fish to water. Afterall, you were his secretary before you both became physical. That fact alone better adds a spoonful of sugar to the bitter medicine.

The fact that he knows you're more like a shark than a fish, helps the flavor too. He knows you're making this as much of Copia’s problem as your own. He’s told you to go easy on the man but he also knows not to bait the water with more blood.

Now he has time to settle into the new role as husband. Despite your jab of sleeping in, he’s getting up earlier than you now. He makes breakfast, breaking out a cookbook that smells of bittersweet memories that calls back his boyhood to him. Not much has changed since growing up. Still loved by a woman not afraid to bare her teeth at those who would try to bully him. The whole wing starts to smell of his childhood and sentimentality. Early morning cartoons beat your own alarm clock as by the time he turns on the TV, breakfast is ready.

He’s already sitting on the couch, plate in hand and coffee made. A smile on his face and giggles as you sluggishly stumble and try your best to give him your most appreciative good morning kiss, often missing. You’d watch TV for at least thirty minutes and you’d be ready and leaving before the hour is up. You’d be back for lunch at roughly the same time every day, which he will have ready and warm and almost always something new. After work you’d come back from a meeting and he can almost always expect you to pin him to the nearest wall and attack his mouth like it’s been calling you names behind your back, a bit of opposites; you preferred after the meetings than before. You tell him it’s to make you more optimistic and alarmingly sweet when the old crones droll on. They have no idea what’s waiting for you at home, but you do, and you keep it close like a little secret. You’re near giddy when they seem confused as to how you can stay so happy during the hours-long conference.

He knows exactly what you're talking about. You do it with him too when there is the seldom argument. He dubs it: Hostile Friendliness.

As for what he does in his down time, he’s picked up his old hobbies. Primo has his multitude of plants to tend and the gardens. Secondo has his venture card and a long bucket list of places to go. Terzo himself likes reading and losing his mind in another world of words. Daring fantasies, fighting dragons, befriending monsters.

You’d told him the work is only temporary, that it’ll be done and over soon and then you could enjoy the retired life together but for now, that was the schedule he could expect until it was over.

So, when that schedule is thrown off even by the tiniest of pause, it’s very noticeable.

He glances at the time on his phone, idly browsing for new titles on the couch as you ready to leave. Breakfast is already done and put away. He raises a brow at the half hour mark and you still haven’t left yet.

“Don’t you have a meeting today?” He asks, knowing you can hear him through the open door of the bedroom. It's more of a concerned statement. He knows you do, he also knows that your anxiety for being punctual would usually have you already out of the door by now. That by itself should have had him braced for what you were about to do next.

You appear at the bedroom door, wearing a lovely blue sundress that is just long enough to be considered modest with brown flats. Your makeup is flawless and armed like a knife for whoever tries to talk down your decisions. The dress code for the Ministry is lax unless times of Ritual. But the Council expects professionalism during meetings but that’s exactly what you radiate. He can smell your usual perfume and your hair is already styled for the day.

“Yes.” You huff and take long, promising to the point of threatening, steps towards him.

There is that look in your eyes; viciously hungry, like a starved animal eyeing its prey. He sees your muscles coiled with purpose and itching to spring. The air is suddenly charged, tastes of promise and the sirens of an approaching storm ring in his mind. His body hums with the change of energy, his own instincts telling him that a challenger approaches.

“Take off your pants.” You command, like a boom of retribution, already halfway across the room and by that point his phone is already somewhere else and fingers are playing pestissimo with his belt buckle.

The demand sets off a Rube Goldberg machine in his body, nearly prophesied timing that would kill a weaker man. His blood suddenly ran hot and hellwards, cock already hardening by the split two seconds it takes before he's able to undo his pants, just in time for you to slide into his lap and ensnare his lips into a bruising kiss.

He grasps and clutches at your body like you're his anchor and he's the ship at sea. The storm is already settled upon him, tumultuous waters stirring as you roughly kiss and suck on his tongue. A thrilling amount of teeth nibbles his lip and pulls, ensuring him in a sweet stockholm trap. Were it not for his grip on you his vessel would have already capsized. Rowing and rocking against your insistent hips as they clash against his. He pulls his cocks free from his briefs, you have your underwear parted in less than a second.

“Sit on it.” He pleads, already bleeding for you. Already splitting himself open from sternum to throat and begging for you to feast. “Sit on me. Please, use me.”

You have him. You can have him. He's already yours.

You line up, the lip of your cunt spreads around his shift and it’s more than just the penetration that knocks the breath out of him.

“Soaked!” He laughs, nearly hysterical on the discovery as though he had just found a treasure lost to history. He glides right in as you sink like a rock. It’s a key fitted in place. A cog knocked loose and the gears resumed turning. How long have you suffered? How long did you go this morning without a balm for this need? You need not a moment more before you are slicing your hips, rowing through your own treacherous currents. .

He shakes nearly like an addict, scratching at your thighs for that good fix only you can give him, only he can give you. He pleads, rucking up the fabric of your dress, gliding his hungry hands over your favorite places and basks in the softness of your heated skin. As you take from him he drags tender and sultry kisses up your throat and jaw. You arch your back, grasping at his knees for balance. He watches you with his solar eclipse gaze, memorizing the near blissful and self satisfied expression you wear with pride.

“Yess.” Follow your snake like hiss. Your walls flutter around him, persistently squeezing as if to perfect a mold. He damn near chokes from the feedback of your relief. A devilish itch being scratched with every roll of your hips that has you both purring.

His back shudders as his love turns near revenant in glee. The heat of your core shooting bullets of pleasure through his gut and stirring his insides to knots. He swoops down to track his lips across your neckline and digs in his hands when you run one of your own through his hair, cradling him close before fastening to his shoulder, pushing him back into the cushions before you start a pattern of rocking and grinding.

A breathless and bubbly laugh escapes his mouth as he seeks a hand to the flat of your back to press against him. He slams his hips up and aims directly for your weak spot, like breaking stone with a chisel. The scream that escapes you is loud enough to threaten anyone outside the hallway. But with retirement, damned if he has to keep appearances anymore. The following glee that he can be as loud as he wants makes his cheeks apple a smile.

His body vibrates like a tuning fork, synchronizing all that is him together. Warm and gooey between his joints that melt into his veins and smother his insides in honey. You demand of him; push and pull on him, putting him exactly where you want and how you want. You command for kisses and bites that he savagely provides with no argument. The satisfaction of your praises, your want for more, faster, harder, and flittering kisses as reward. No, he’s not taking orders from the Council anymore. Now, he can worship his one and only matron.

So lost in the righteousness of giving you everything you want, it sneaked up on him. That spring threatens to bounce as it coils tightly in his stomach. There is a zip in his toes that starts to travel up his legs and settle in his core. He’s not long for the world.

“Use me, cara. Get off on me! Use me. Useme!” It's like sin in his veins. Euphoria as you take everything you need from him. Your personal fuck machine to use however you want. All you need to do is tell him how high to jump and he’ll double it. The hold you have on him, invisible strings tangled on your fingertips and him the marionette. He dances to your tune perfectly, wanting nothing more than to put on the best show possible.

He’s already to the point of babbling. Heat melting his core and his balls tightening. He pants, air coming in thin. He watches you, lost in the vision of your unadulterated beauty that would make every tapestry in the Ministry blush.

Your face is one to remember; eyes pinched and brows furrowed. Your pupils have long since devoured the color of your eyes. Your mouth is open, baring your teeth threateningly to the orgasm running to escape you as your gaining ground.

“Your’s! You use me any way you want!” He’s high on the skin contact, as little there is with your thick and strong thighs pinning his own. He’s experiencing sainthood through your body. This is His Lord at work. As close as he can get to divinity by being yours and wholly yours. Your growl, feral, like a beast as you tear into his flesh and rip him apart. He is a feast for your mouth.

One of his hands left your hips to fist at the sofa, like it had a mind of its own. A stupid self preservation instinct kicking in to try and keep him grounded. He rerouted, grabbing his since gone wild hair and pulling, the pinch meant to stave off his orgasm but the pain had the opposite effect, egging him on closer and closer to the finish line. Tears have already escaped his eyes, leaving tracks down his cheeks, and finding their destination in your cleavage. This is thirsty work and he can only hope you'll give him enough time to drink them up once you're done with him.

He breathed in loud, open-mouthed heaves for air as every cut of your hips felt almost like a stab. His chest rhythmically rises with a hitch and despite his best efforts he feels as though he is suffocating. You grab him by his chin and lean into him, ghosting your lips against his own. He opens his mouth and flicks his tongue, beckoning you to play. You marvel at him, eyes casted in shadow. A statement. A promise. His undoing.

“Mine.”

He jerks, going into near excorcistic bodily spasms as he lifts his hips and fucks as deep into you as he can, nearly hurting his back by pressing his heels into the floor and thrusting. His ass leaves the sofa for a bare second before he collapses and his mind sent into delicious subspace. Even with the satisfaction of coming it still wrecks devastation through his nerves.

But a good husband still provides. He gives and gives before you finally have your fill three more rolls in, your clit having tenderized against his groin with each pass before it slaps at just the right angle and sends you spiraling. You slow, fierce cuts turning into leisurely rolls as you allow your pleasure to carry you like sand in the ocean.

Terzo’s hips still shake, his doglike whine breaks the chorus of heavy breathing and you start to move again. You shift, squirm, and finally remove yourself from his lap. He hiccups as his cock, still throbbing from pleasure slaps his stomach in freedom, a pained ‘oh’ punched from his gut.

It’s both the best moment of his life and near torture as he watches you adjust your underwear back in place and brush down your dress. You lean back over him, he can see the concern in your eyes along with those threatening clouds you brought with you. Quickly, he blows away those clouds rendering them as simple fluffs of dandelions. Reaching up with a trembling hand, he cups at your cheek and gives you a confidence instilling kiss. You sweetly melt into him before breaking away.

His body is heavy and muscles are screaming from sudden exertion as they finally relax, he half expects a cramp later. It’s the best feeling in the world. He glances at your retreating figure as you walk towards the door, leaving him a near husk as you make off with all he has to give. Hair and dress back in place, your thumb wiping at touching up your smeared lipstick, glancing at the nearby mirror. You flash him a bit of teeth as you palm the doorknob and chime a wish you well and he's again stunned by the grace of your beauty.

Then he glances down, giving a pained groan as his poor and abused cock twitches at the sight.

The traces of his cum he can see steadily sliding down the inside of your thighs, the image sheared into his mind as a core memory. The knowledge that you’ll be sitting with the Council with the stains of his release on your panties. Fuel for later today when he knows you'll be back, after all your work is done, to better take your time appreciating him.

He can't wait to be picked apart.

[catwyk]

ok listening to silt verses 44 right now

NARRATION !!!!!! MY BEAUTIFUL NARRATION

the description of the city uprooting itself is so evocative i LOVE it idk why but im imagining birmimgham lmaooo

carpenter holding haywards hand :(

"i feel like ive been... baptized"

i love cross so much hes like one of those plushes designed to sit down but is too top heavy to actually sit

WELCOME BACK FUN CREDITS

WELCOME BACK SISTER SORE AND BROTHER BOIL

"good old fashioned religious hijacking" shes back where she belongs 🙏🙏🙏

pilot talking about overfeeding the wind gods mmmm mmm MMM delicious worldbuilding

im gonna explode carson with a mind beam.

"turn the cls into her personal mommy issues playground" in all fairness he got her there

carson just. deciding the cls was involved too ??? i love satire

okayyyy switching from carson twisting the narrative to suit himself to rane doing the exact same thing okayyyy parallels

"im speaking to you on behalf of a tall, very angry woman" 1) love you cross xx 2) SHES CANONICALLY TALL WE WON TODAY

carpenter refusing to say whether she can see the maiden..... i know this means we as the audience arent given any premature idea of haywards fate but i prefer the implication that she didnt get on the plane and shes just fuckin pelting i across the peninsula so she can meet them where they land

the plane crash confessions broke my heart

ARE THEY FUCKING DEAD???? NO THEY CANT BE

holy shit setting up faulkner and carpenter remeeting in the wreckage???? something something returned from the garden below

"you killed carpenter. the honour of that achievement sits with you" oh rane baby you are just not getting it

remembering faulkner is maybe 2 years older than me really puts his brokeness in a completely different light

faulkner invites rane into the water. i remember the drowning warning in the episode description. i remember @pinkelotjeart being really sad. uh oh

this is the scariest faulkner has ever been

"if i was so much better than katabasian mason, i wouldnt have killed him" MY FUCKING FACE WHEN

charlie?? CHARLIE????

oh my god hes actually fully lost it

that was insane im going insane im gonna be sick i wanna go home

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 4/9/2023

the best photo i took this week

listening

i have not been keeping up with either the tuesdaypost spreadsheet or the tuesdaypost playlists so there's a strong possibility i have already talked about Joywave's It's A Trip! off the 2017 album Content. spotify

driving ten hours in one day is ideal for listening to albums and i listened to almost every joywave album on my way home from the eclipse. american indie rock band from rochester ny, i have loved them since early college. i think they were made in a lab to get to stuck in my head bc they tend toward lower register synthier tracks that deceptively amble cheerfully along and talk about dealing with fear. songs for a male protagonist to splash water on his face, look at himself in the mirror haunted by what he's seeing, linger in his children's bedroom doorways, and then drive off into the night for the finale.

i think i listened to this song for an hour on loop yesterday bc the chorus so perfectly got stuck in my brain

When you've gotten what you want (Maybe I should start over) There's nothing left to want (Up and at 'em again) You don't know what you want (Yeah, I'm thinking it over) Just tell me what to Want

they have spent a lot of time figuring out how to have longevity as a band: "The record kind of attempts to figure that out but it doesn’t end in a definitive place. For me personally, it’s just to create things that matter as long as I possibly can, and to make things that are going to outlive me that people can hang onto for at least five to six years after I’m dead." they are deeply cranky about virality/content churn, especially in this interview. i appreciate this in an artist.

could not tell you how i first found them. i think i would have to go back to the proto-tuesdayposts of 2018.

-

reading

when you're not sleeping well you can average a book a night!

Uprooted by Naomi Novik destroyed me. (image from here)

“Our Dragon doesn’t eat the girls he takes, no matter what stories they tell outside our valley. We hear them sometimes, from travelers passing through. They talk as though we were doing human sacrifice, and he were a real dragon. Of course that’s not true: he may be a wizard and immortal, but he’s still a man, and our fathers would band together and kill him if he wanted to eat one of us every ten years. He protects us against the Wood, and we’re grateful, but not that grateful.”

my best friend real-life influenced me into reading this book and i have since managed to convince four other people to read this book bc i won't shut up about it. the descriptions of the physicality of magic and how different kinds of magic and different families of spells Feel was only part of the coolest magical system ive ever read about. this is not a dark romance but it is a little brutal in a brothers grimm/this is how battles shake out sometime kind of way. i think a companion piece of media written from the Dragon's point of view would nicely parallel that post going around about how Howl's Moving Castle the movie is from Howl's point of view and Howl's Moving Castle the book is from Sophie's point of view. i would die for Agnieszka.

Spinning Silver by Naomi Novik (image from here)

Miryem is the daughter and granddaughter of moneylenders… but her father isn’t a very good one. Free to lend and reluctant to collect, he has loaned out most of his wife’s dowry and left the family on the edge of poverty–until Miryem steps in. Hardening her heart against her fellow villagers’ pleas, she sets out to collect what is owed–and finds herself more than up to the task. When her grandfather loans her a pouch of silver pennies, she brings it back full of gold. But having the reputation of being able to change silver to gold can be more trouble than it’s worth–especially when her fate becomes tangled with the cold creatures that haunt the wood, and whose king has learned of her reputation and wants to exploit it for reasons Miryem cannot understand.

i don't know if i've ever read a book with seven points of view before? i think it was well handled, but it required significantly more brainpower than screaming through three of kingfisher's light fantasy/romances in two days and it threw me a little. saying this book is about debts cheapens it a little, i think. it is concerned with debts but also safety, and it is very much about cost in a very fairytale way and in the horrible everyday calculus of survival way.

Swordheart, Paladin's Hope, and Paladin's Strength by T. Kingfisher. god these go down So smooth. kingfisher has a niche and i respect that. i am reading the Saint of Steel tetralogy out of order bc even four library systems can only do so much, and i don't think you particularly need to read them in order.

i'm a bit cranky that the terfs took feminist fantasy from me, bc when the protagonist got her period in Paladin's Strength a little alarm bell went off in my head and i had to put it down and google some stuff (the answer is no btw). there is a way to write female-focused lightly historical fantasy without being terfy and kingfisher does it, but it's so rare that i was genuinely expecting some sort of. weird agenda to be at play.

these were all fun, fast reads and i don't have much else to say about them! not that they are better or worse than novik's books but they will not live in my head quite as long. there are fewer tantalizing hints about systems of magic that make me want to graph things out u kno

-

watching

kanopy has Animation April as their focus this month which is how i saw The King and the Mockingbird (1980, dir. Paul Grimault) which is a longer piece adapted from something he'd been working on since the 40s.

This animated fantasy tale follows the romance between a lovely shepherdess and a handsome chimney sweep. The land's imperious king falls for the beautiful woman and tries to thwart her relationship, but a kind mockingbird assists the lovers in evading the ruler. At the king's command, the chimney sweep and his bird friend are imprisoned, and they must escape in order to rescue the young man's true love.

GOD the animation in this. there are so many references to early animation and silent film. there are so so so many gadgets and methods of conveyance in an absolutely architecturally dizzying castle. there is a ROYAL MECH that plays its own theme music. the backgrounds have a very Chuck Jones quality in that they are exactly as detailed as they need to be for the gag to work. the castle is lush and beautiful but not dizzyingly, overwhelmingly lush. there is a clear vision to every shot and a clear path your eye is meant to travel, which i appreciate very much. i think a lot of technically impressive animation (i am specifically thinking of the Nimh movies) muddies itself by trying to jam too much on the screen. just a fucking delight of a film. a delicious confection

-

playing

nothing specific to say about genshin this week ur welcome

-

making

painted a frame (it was a dead basic michaels frame i got at a yard sale and it was giving little boy's room) and framed a thing. this is a poster that came as a freebie with a 1997 album, and i actually bought this CD case without the CD inside bc i was so delighted with the poster. scuff sanded the frame with 120 grit, i went with a matte black acrylic bc i felt that disguised how the poster did not quite fit the frame a little better? and also bc it was what i had in the house.

i did not bother with a mat, i just used the lining paper with the stock photo and painted the back of that. do not do this with particularly valuable or beloved pieces. i do not think this is necessarily acid free and there is some danger that the paint may transfer to the back of the poster over time.

[girlbowser]

sorry for taking so long to get back to you (im the "wowzers" anon) but yes! i can totally scream your ear off about this!

you talking about the routes in this game being a metaphor for college and purposes in life reminds me of what playing pqr has meant for me personally. i first found this game when jade's route was still being worked on (the "anticlimatic" update specifically) and its really so strange to see how much of my life has changed. a couple days after i started playing pqr i realized that i was going to have to move and it basically uprooted my life (realization not brought on by pqr just happened to be at around the same time). most of my plans for how i wanted to spend my life, seeing my friends, my career paths, kinda felt like they got eviscerated because of stuff out of my control. but i just like. ignored it and didnt really think about it :) at least until the move happened and it all came crashing down. im sorta better now, but still going through it. and. just seeing jade talk to kanaya and talk about not knowing where to go next or who exactly you are now plus the jade theme music playing in the background that i had listened to constantly while playing, replaying, and rereplaying jade's route. actually made me want to bawl my eyes out (in like a good way though lol). this game is so special to me. its been one of the main things in my life right now thats been keeping me going through it all. i love to go back to it and replay it comparing the older routes to the newer routes and see what references i missed. everytime i play it, it feels like a find something new. and i think even years after now and even if homestuck becomes a smaller part of my life, this game is going to stick with me forever. thank you so so so much.

also, on a sillier note, what the heckadoodle do you mean the fucking hampsters movie was real? i was just like oh haha thats a silly idea! a hamsters movie with the hamster dance! such a funny and fake thing to have in a homestuck fangame! its like guy fieri being the antichrist or gushers being made by a genocidal fish! silly fictional stories making up silly fictional things!

but like i looked it up and its real??? its fucking real????? its a movie i can watch with my very own two eyeballs. apparently fucking saberspark made a video about it?????? huh??????

actually i just realized this is probably very congruous with homestuck. because i do not know how to convey the shock i felt when i was in a convenience store and found out that faygo was real. and then the further shock when i realized that tab was real after telling myself that SURELY at least one drink in homestuck was fictional.

im not sure if you meant to send this to @pesterquestrewritten or not but. holy fucking shit this is one of the sweetest asks ive ever gotten of all time????? jesus christ. oh my god.

i dont think i need to say it but pqr has been a very similar lifeline for ME as well. like, ive been dealing with some pretty schnasty depression since/before leaving school. and, like, working on pesterquest rewritten, HAVING that outlet, that creative place to put my energies, its been so vital for me. and then hearing that its been the same for my READERS????? crazy. crazy wild shit

speaking of older routes, i DID actually go back and add one thing to the rose typewriter ending in the prologue, it uses a new renpy feature that i'd been asking for for months hahaha

and also, if you have the technical knowhow and youre curious, feel free to dig around the internals and find the hidden beta for bonus route 3. im not gonna tell you to not play it lmao

aaa

yeah! yeah yeah yeah yeah. im incredibly happy my writing has resonated. and that the silly puppet show i put on next to my writing has also resonated. its. yeah. waow

wawowawoawoaowoaowaw.

fun fact about the hampsterdance movie. one time when i was in high school i had a professor who was like "yeah i composed music for hampsterdance." and i was like ???? okay man. sure. because at the time that movie was lost media and nobody knew it existed. so i had no fuckin clue what that guy was talking about.

of course YEARS later it turns out that the movie DOES exist. and i looked up the credits and i dont THINK i see his name there? but its probably what hes talking about. if it isnt what hes talking about i have less of a fucking clue than anything at this point lmao

pqr likes to reference my other works a lot! for example, the chatroom called "the nexus" first appeared here, in my first published fic that was textually about ultaradia. youll sometimes find quotes or phrasing that match whatever other fanfic i was writing at the time, or, i mean, obviously, you've got the entire A Bed of Roses section, which USED to be a tribute to my longest work, and now is only a neat reference to my second-longest work. god damn, did pesterquest rewritten ever grow out of proportion lmao

yeah. i think the main thing is that i really could never have gotten as far as i did with pqr without my friends and creative collaborators, who have encouraged me forever one thousand years. pqr is a game about friendship, obviously, but the friendships that were integral in the CREATION of the game are even more important to me than the virtual ones tbh. i love everyone whos in the credits of the game very dearly

thank u all :,)

and thank u for reading and enjoying!!! i'll try and put out more for the kanayaroute bad end tonight :D

[natalyabby]

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓻𝔂 𝓫𝓮𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓭 𝓶𝔂 𝓼𝓸𝓷𝓰,🕯️'𝓒𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓵𝓮𝓼'🕯️

Hey 💞🌊 ! So, my song 'Candles'; my first ever release has been out for around 2 weeks, and I thought it'd be cool to ~divulge~ a bit of the story behind it. I'm wary to get too specific about it since;

1. I am a fairly private person in a sense- I've learnt my lesson in the past about being tooo open, especially online.

2. I would like to now and in future as I grow with my music, be known for who I am as an artist. I've had a bit of a wild life in the relatively short time I've lived. While I want my art to be an expression of that, there's so much more to me than what I've been through. To me, creating art has more to do with expressing my essence- communicating the core of who I am and what I wish to bring to this world. The person I always was since childhood, the beauty Ive always seen before anything... unfortunate happened lol.

Anyway, I still think it'd be fitting to give a little background :)

If you listen to 'Candles', I think it is clear even outside of myself that this song speaks to feelings of loneliness, & longing. Again, without getting too specific about my life, at the time I wrote this song I did indeed feel incredibly lonely, isolated.. cold, such a feverishly profound lack of warmth & support; hence the lyric:

'indefinite ice age I'm in the twilight zone'💜

I was at the time, freshly 18, homeless (by this stage, in youth crisis accommodation) and feeling very lost in a city I wasn't familiar with. My mother had recently passed away, I had no friends around me & I felt ostracised by the family I did have. I was struggling for food in my situation, and I remember almost routinely staying up at night, listening to music, and lighting ma classic candles & incense on my desk at 3am. I remember not having proper curtains over my window yet, which was kinda awkward/scary, but kinda snazzy since I could see the Moon out lol 🌕

I remember vividly how desperately I wished for some sort of companionship. A part of me wished that a man would come in and save me- financially & emotionally- but at the same time I wasn't going to go out and find that man, because I'd learnt from the past how silly it is to put all your faith in some guy. I just wanted to feel like somebody could just come and carry me home or something like that.

I remember going on bloody Tinder (lol) trying to find someone there just to feel a little less alone but it all just felt so stupid, like all I'd be doing is adding more chaos & potential predators into my life while I'm already in a vulnerable position.

Alas, none of this stopped me from being a hopeless romantic & daydreaming though... lol ☁️🌸💐

As I keep releasing music, you might find that a lot of my songs are in some way or another, related to these feelings of being a 'hopeless romantic'. Whether it's about 'some guy', or about the beauty of life itself 🪷. I think this can be a very magical, positive & uplifting thing- or, a dark and twisted thing...

As a songwriter; I'm very strict on myself with what I write, because I understand energy & the power of words- the power of MUSIC. While talking about dark experiences in order to shed light & connect with kindred spirits is an honourable thing; there's also a danger of reinforcing that negativity by spinning certain songs into existence. I strongly feel it has to be 'done right'. I feel that artists do have a sense of duty with the purity of their message. I mean, everyone does really.

Lastly I will say that my song, Candles also carries an air of existentialism. I've definitely felt that my feet are more planted on the ground lately, but during the time I wrote Candles I was in a veryy existential, void-like, but sometimes still hopeful place. Something about the turbulence and instability of my life really made me feel like - what is the point? what more could happen? how do I know something crazy isn't going to happen tomorrow that uproots my existence yet again?

'what am I here for? picking daisies in the void' 🌼♥︎

Then there was the sadness. The feeling somewhat numb and heartbroken by life, but at the same time knowing I need to stay tough since I'm out fending for myself so to speak, so not being able to cry. Always feeling a need to be alert for my safety.

'I would cry, but a fighter don't sook'

Soo, there's some background on Candles :) I hope I haven't 'overexplained' since I know that can really take the magic out of music, but I thought that telling my story might mean more people connect with it. Lots of love to everyone who's supported me in my musical/creative endeavours thus far. 💞💞

[jarflies]

ive been watching a shit ton of legends of avantris episodes, i caught up on witchlight and icebound and went 'oh ill watch uprooted, its short and light hearted' only to listen to the characters experience flashbacks and accidentally enable a bloody revolt in a town on accident.

[nanistar]

my good friend shadowsight

shadowsight babygirl

sexuality headcanon bi but male preference!

gender/pronouns headcanon cis

rate them out of ten 9/10 very good boy

favorite thing about them i love when characters are cursed or fucked up! very good.

least favorite thing about them how apparently he "never" had a connection with starclan. that sucks and i hate it. also it doesnt make sense.

why i first started liking/disliking them instantly tbh. also his name is SOOO cool

do i relate/project onto/kin them? no

favorite quote/moment can't believe he let ashfur go after they had him captured in shadowclan lol

my fav ship ive only seen him shipped with rootspring and that one is fine. not really my thing but whatever. he should date sunbeam because their names would match

my fav platonic friendship his friendship with root should be expanded on especially in the wake of ashfur and /bristlefrosts death

a ship i hate IDK

do i prefer canon or fanon? fanon

random headcanon listen. we all know it should have been him who died to kill ashfur in the end. it would have been so satisfying and good for the narrative. like. his clan and his life and his job were so uprooted by ashfur's influence, he was almost killed by him (i hc he has lasting damage to his leg for improperly healing while being stuck in a ditch for half a week) he's already so haggard at like 1 year old. he should have been the one to kill ashfur.

what color do i picture them as dark gray with black spiral tabby markings. i'm also team red-eyed shadowsight.

cat breed headcanon his ears are slightly curled like dovewings but not really noticeable unless hes next to a normal-earred cat

unpopular opinion he got WAY too woobified. he was never a mewling baby boy. like, he was almost a full med cat when the books started. also he's BIG. he's tigerheart sized but people love to make him itty bitty.

things i associate with them

song i associate with them

favorite MAP/PMV/AMV with them CAN I SAY MY OWN. i still really love this one

this one though. ough. so Good

[stupidsexygrizzop]

Podcast Recommendations!

Ive been meaning to type something like this up for a while because these shows definitely deserve some time in the spotlight and i cant recommend them enough (under a readmore for how much i plan to gush)

These Flimsy Rituals

Forget everything you know about actual play podcasts. TFR plays a custom game (which will be a more developed game, called Ryne, in Tiding season 2), so none of the DND/Pathfinder rules that shape alot of the bigger AP shows out there. This show revolves around stories and emotions. “Telling small stories in big worlds” is their tagline and that really sums it up. The world is massive and fantastical and the first season, Tiding, starts with one village, one small community, uprooted and looking for a new home. 

The group of characters doesn’t go together like a traditional adventuring party. They are tied to the same community and causes but they are, at the end of the day, just people living in this strange world trying to make their way. 

The story feels like one of those soft-spoken tales told over a campfire in the quiet dusk. It is melancholy and slow to get to action but that somehow feels right in this world they’ve crafted. 

Embrace, the second season, is a prequel, and if you are going to start there I recommend giving the Shards&Fragments: Eolith 3-episode special a listen first as it ties in a bit with that and is quite a fun listen. Embrace (a game of Blades in the Dark) is about one town in political unrest. Revolution is brewing and we have the delight of following a ragtag group of those revolutionaries as they try to bring about change in their community. 

Because of its premise Embrace feels much more action-packed than Tiding, and BOY does it hit some high-drama emotional notes that only start to peek out near the end of Tiding season 1. The crew, the Jubilant Maybe, throw themselves at wall after wall in pursuit of the revolution, all while living in that fantastically strange world Tiding set up. 

In each season the way the characters care about the little corners of the world they occupy carries the weight of the story in a way that is so uniquely done it takes my breath away. 

The Sheridan Tapes

Who doesn’t love a good bit of found footage horror fiction in their podcast feed? 

Produced by Homestead On The Corner (which has a podcast by the same name about writing and crafting stories- great listen if you need some fresh inspiration), this show follows detective Samuel Bailey as he tries to solve the disappearance of renowned horror author Anna Sheridan. With just her cassette audio logs as evidence, Sam, dutifully taking the role of skeptic narrator, straps in for a listen. 

The writing in this show is beautiful and crafts a mystery that rests itself neatly between charming characters and chilling snippets of the things Anna got up to before she vanished. 

This story lingers with me. Each episode felt like I was stepping one more more inch closer to figuring out what was going on, flashing pieces of the picture so tantalizing that I wanted to binge it all just to get a glimpse of the whole thing. 

The story touches heavily on grief and loss at times. The heartbreaks of the past linger with characters and give them a weight that just feels so right as they grapple with changing their worldview to fit with the very real threat of the supernatural rearing its head. 

Additionally, if you like fairy tales and want an intro to the writing styles behind The Sheridan Tapes give Tales of the Echowood a try! It is a 10-episode fantasy miniseries by the same creators. The music in the trailer/promo gives me goosebumps EVERY time. 

Rogue Runners

Did you play the video game Hades and think: “wow what if someone set a dnd campaign in this setting though”? Because this is audio fanfiction baby. You dont have to have played the game to get the show- in fact I played Hades for the first time BECAUSE I enjoyed the show so much. 

Greek myths are the name of the game on this one. The party is tasked with testing the defenses Hades’ underworld has to see just how inescapable it really is. Their prize? If they get out they escape death and get a second chance at life. 

And if you’re tired of adventuring parties that get along this is the one for you. 

It is so easy to tell that the players are good friends that trust each other to share the story they are telling- while the characters are all easily one or two steps away from choking the life out of each other. Inter-party conflict is a driving force for some of the narrative and it is so wonderfully different. They are bound together even if they don’t get along. Want to hear Adonis as a sickly twink? Alexander the great as the definition of gay wrongs? Want to hear a sphinx tell a riddle dripping with hilarious sexual innuendo? Ever wonder what the greek version of cash cab would be like? This show has it all. 

The plot quickly veers away from the beats the video game that inspired it set up and twists itself into something more high-stakes than I could’ve imagined. The fate of the underworld may very well come to rest in this party’s hands, and I really can’t say at this point if they think its worth saving or if they’ll take steps to end it faster.

[badwolf-winchester]

Ancient Bloodlines

Pairing: Loki x Emy Nightstar (OC)

OC Summary: Emy is the newest Avenger. She specializes in Magic and close range attacks/ weapons. Her heritage is unknown to her as she was left at an orphanage door step when she was a young girl with only the memory of her name. She goes by her nickname Emy but has never told anyone her full name as its a reminder of her being abandoned. Emy can see through any illusion and Magic no matter how powerful they are or how strong the magic is and is unaware of this. Her powers include Telekinesis, Elemental Control, True Sight (as stated above) Enhanced healing and Shifting (she wont discover this till much later in the story). She loves to read, listen to music, play violin, sing, and draw.

Story Info: Takes place after infinity wars. Tony and Natasha are alive Steven comes back from the future after giving back the infinity stones. Vision is alive and living with Wanda in the tower. Thor and Loki live in the tower with the rest of the Avengers and for the sake of the story Himedall is alive and living with the rest of the Asgardians on earth in New Asgard (you will find out why later)

One last thing: Please do not repost my work on any other site or social media, however reblogging on here is fine. I work hard on all of my fanfics and it’s disappointing when people take my work as their own. I am the creater of all my OCs such as Sora Nightstar, Emy Nightstar, and Lithium Nightstar. My inbox is open for any and all requests as i am a multi fandom writer. Let me know how you like the story and i will do my best to answer any and all questions. As always i encourage any and all feedback as it helps with my writing. I hope you all like it!

The Beginning

They say that your parents are there to teach you the rules of the world, but what happens when you have no parents? Who will teach you then? The world is cruel but people are crueler. Ive learned this first hand when the person i trusted most in this world left me on the door step of the St. Trinity’s Orphanage. I was 9 when my mother told me she didn’t want me anymore and i guess I couldn’t really blame her. I mean who could love someone who couldn’t control the powers that grew with each passing year. Someone who started fires out of thin air when they had nightmares, conjured whirlwinds when startled, unfurled earthquakes when angered, spring forth rain showers when sad, and levitate objects when riddled with anxiety. I will never forget that day for its seared into my mind like its own person brand echoing with every beat of my heart. A monster thats what she called me, her own flesh and blood was a monster in her eyes, and i could see the relief when she ran from the solid oak door finally rid of the burden she had to put up with throughout the years. An abomination she cried as she reached the cobblestone sidewalk eager to be rid of me and by the pace she was going at i could tell she had more spring in her step than on the walk over from the bus we exited from. Unnatural she bellowed as she disappeared around the corner a ghost of a smile springing from her lips as she disappeared. These where the last words i would ever hear from my mother, if thats what you would call her.

Emy’s POV

Tonight was just like any other. Crisp cold air submerged the city in a blanket of dark and silence while it settled into your bones. I never minded the cold in fact I welcomed it, it reminded me of the cabin i found one year after running away from one of the many abusive foster homes i was forced to stay with. I’ll admit it was one of the times I was able to avoid the social workers for longer than a week and the happiest I had ever been in my life up until i was captured by Hydra. When I had a flair up with my powers, which usually ended up being fire, i would immediately get sent back to St. Trinity’s but this time i ran before they had the chance to toss me aside. The staff there used to place bets on how long i would stay with a family, they would joke saying i was cursed or jinxed but i knew the truth, no one wanted me. Once the parents found out about my abilities I was sent packing. I was labeled as a flight risk and a danger to others which only deepened my anti socialism.

Walking through the streets of New York i pull my dark purple jacket on and my dark brown hair in a pony tail as I get closer to my destination. Because i don’t feel the effects of the cold weather Tony, being such the dad figure he is, has made it his priority to make sure i still wear one just incase so here i was walking home in black ripped up jeans, a black v neck T-shirt, black and purple checkered vans and a light weight dark purple jacket. With my headphones in my ears and “I like it heavy” by Halestorm blasting I make my way to the place i call home, Stark Tower. Walking through the front doors i make my way past the receptionist who always greets me with a bright smile. As I walk towards the elevator I give her a small smile back and a head nod. After entering the elevator and pressing the button for the penthouse I start to reflect on how i got here.

By the time i was 15 Hydra found me in that cabin and took me away. I went from hopping from family to family to being used as a science experiment, constantly being poked and prodded just so they could get a reaction out of me. As a child my powers where very unstable mostly flaring up with my emotions, its no wonder that Hydra caught wind of me its not like i was hiding it very well or more so that i couldn’t hide it. They tried to wipe my memory to gain control of me “a blank slate” is what they wanted, but for some reason, they failed as I wasn’t susceptible to their conditioning methods no matter how much time i spent in the chair. However, I could tell they were scared of me I could see it in their eyes. This didn’t last long though as they used what they called their perfect weapon code name Winter Soldier to beat me into submission. After that first meeting that left me with a broken arm and a fractured ankle i started to obey, since then Ive met the Soldier a couple of times but if he remembers me he dosent let on and I dont blame him, he has been in that chair so many times Im genuinely surprised he can even remember how to walk. He is stronger than the others as most of the other test subjects had turned to vegetables after the 4th mind wipe, he was on his 10th the last time i saw him with Hydra.

Another test was done on me and this one was different. They used a teseract? If thats what they called it I can’t be sure nor did I care all I could feel was pain like as if someone injected lava in my veins. After they injected me I started screaming after a while I couldn’t even hear myself anymore, my throat was so sore and horse from the constant roar of my agony I just wanted it to end. How long was I out for? Seconds? Minutes? Hours? Days? Years? They didn’t keep clocks there or at least not in the dungeon like cell they had me in. When the fire faded i was left with this numbness and after further tests I realized that I was immune to fire. I can literally stick my hand in fire and i will be left untouched and unscorched. They did the same test with freezing temperatures to see if they could subdue me at least in some way. I must have been out longer than just a couple of days as during the tests i didn’t recognize any of the Doctors. In that moment I realized something, if they were trying to contain me then something must have happened to the soldier. It was time to plan my escape.

Back in my cell i could hear footsteps approaching me and then stop short. One of the scientists frantically trying to talk some sense into someone just out of my line of sight. “She is immune to anything we throw at her sir. We have done every test we could there is nothing left for us to do.” One of the goons in a lab coat stated to what i assumed is a higher up. “Bolden If her powers keep growing at the rate they are it could be days in which she will be unstoppable and with the soldier gone we dont have anything that can keep her in line. She broke Mandy and Rays arms the last time we tested her. She is getting too strong.” Brining a hand up to his chin the higher up Bolden stepped out of the shadows and looked at me with deep interest before he turned to looked at the man and scoffed. As he walked away i felt a cold chill ran down my back as I anticipated what was to become of me; I knew it was nothing good i had already broken their rules. His next words only confirmed what I feared. “ Its simple. Break her spirit or kill her Doctor. And when i say break her i mean in anyway means necessary.” His sadistic laugh is the last thing i remember before everything went black.

Its been 2 years since i have escaped and now I’m living in the avengers tower. I don’t remember what happened after that night in my cell its all a blur of red, screams, and gunshots. When i woke up next i was in a 6ft crater where I was being held captive without a scratch on me. Trees were uprooted and fallen over as if a bomb went off. Luckily the Avengers showed up not long after me waking up and took me to their base where i met Directer Fury. With his permission and 24/7 surveillance provided by Tony Stark via FRIDAY and training sessions to get my powers under control i was allowed to join the Avengers and fight for good. Little did i know that by agreeing to this I would end up in the path of a certain God or Gods who were also taking residence at the tower.

With the sound of a *ding* the elevator shook me out of my mind and back to the present. As i exited the elevator I pulled my head phones out of my ears and was instantly met with the sound of Tony losing his mind. “Where did she go? She knows she can’t be out this late. She could be taken again! Its 5 minutes past her curfew!” Rolling my eyes I roll my headphones up and shove them in my pocket and round the corner. “Tony it takes 5 minutes to get from the lobby to the penthouse calm down. I bet she will walk through that door anytime now.” Came the sweet voice of reason of none other than Pepper Potts. “I’m Home.” I said in a deadpan voice as i walked by the couple only for Tony to stand up and intercept me by placing a hand on my upper arm. “Where did you go and why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?” I looked at him and raised an eyebrow pushing his hand off me. “Tony its Wednesday. I have training with Strange on Wednesdays and I had Friday alert you as I was leaving but you were in the lab with Bruce.” Not sure what to say next Tony mumbled a small apology. “Sorry I was just worried about you. I know you are grown enough to make your own choices as you are 25 but I just want to make sure you are safe. How was the training with The Wizard?” Sighing and shaking my head just wanting to go the library and read I decided to just let it go. “Strange is a hard ass that much you already know. It wasnt bad actually I think I’m warming up to him. I didn’t spontaneously throw him to the wall when he snuck up behind me as i was going over the ancient texts so i call that improvement.” I said sheepishly while side stepping around him. “I’m gonna go to the library now and grab some light reading before bed you guys have a good night.” With out waiting for a response I quickly made my way towards my new destination only to have Tony saying something about guests in the house but I ignored him.

Pushing open the library door I make my way to the poetry section to grab my usual copy of Edgar Allen Poe that I read before bed. As my had reached for the spot i knew i put the book in i find that its not there. “Wait what? Where is my book? I know I put it back here before I left for training so where did it go?” Frustrated I stomp back over to the entrance and rip open the door ready to go on a murder spree while shouting down the hallway. “CLINT! You better give me back my night time book or I’m breaking all your arrows again! No one reads in this tower but me! How stupid do you think I am!?” Straining my ears I listen for any type of movement but was met with dead silence. After a minute I finally hear movement through the vents coming from the west part of the tower and I take off sprinting. Sliding around a corner I barely miss colliding with Steve and Bucky who look like they were on their way back from a mission. Offering a quick apology before I continue my pursuit I hear Steve yell “Hey! No running in the tower!” Not faltering in my hot pursuit of the Hawk thief I continue to zip through the tower ignoring the Captains words until i was almost to the vent that lead to the 2 level family room. Using the railing for the steps leading down to the family area to give me more height i jumped as close to the vent as possible and conjured my signature Scythe to slice through it while twisting in the air kicking the vent free and off its track. A shocked and terrified scream resonates from the vent as the culprit falls to the ground with a thud and a grunt. I landed in a crouched position and slowly straightened to my full hight. “What the hell Emy?! When did you learn to do that?!” Clint yells as he sits up rubbing his left shoulder that he landed on. I started stalking towards him with the blade of my scythe scrapping across the ground as i went while giving him a death glare. “Give me back my book Barton.” At the mention of his last name his head snapped up to me fear replacing the pain from his fall. “Oh shit last name not good.” Scrambling up on his feet he turns and runs towards the common room that connects to the elevator with me hot on his tail and my scythe trailing behind me in my right hand.

“Shit shit shit shit shit shit SHIT!!” He yells as he makes it fully to the room only to fling forward as i jump and kick his back tired of all the running. Twirling my weapon around I place it at his neck sneering at him. “I will not ask you again.” I said placing pressure on his neck with my blade. Sensing a fast moving object coming from my left from the kitchen I move my head back 3 inches as what looked like a hammer flew by me embedding itself in the wall. Turning my head slowly in the direction of the flying object, I confirmed it was indeed a hammer that was thrown at me. Irritation flared through me as i released Clint from the end of my scythe and turned fully to the kitchen to face my attacker. There stood 2 men that i did not recognize, one tall oak of a man with blond short hair, blue eyes and tan skin in blue jeans, a red T-shirt ,and grey jacket. the other shorter man made me stare at him and faultier for a second as he was so different from anyone i have ever seen, dark blue skin covered his entire body with darker almost black symbols and piercing red eyes, long black hair with black jeans, a green dress shirt and black jacket. Tearing my gaze away from his own curious one i looked between both men before i clenched my jaw letting my irritation settle back in. “Which one of you threw that hammer.” I said venom dripping with every word. “Whoa its ok Emy thats just Thor and Loki they are the asgardian Gods that live here in the tower part time when they are not in Norway.” Clint said standing up quickly. Not moving from my position i narrowed my eyes and flicked them over in Clint’s direction. The ground started to shake as my irritation and annoyance grew to anger remembering what i was doing before being interrupted by the Gods. Throwing his hands up in surrender he then quickly reached into his back pocket and retrieved my book. “Ok ok dont blow a fuse Em.” He said while tossing me my possession stopping me from causing an earthquake. Catching it in the air with my left had I inspected the book to make sure it wasn’t damaged before I let go of my scythe, with a wave of my hand it disappeared back to the pocket dimension I keep it in then looked back at Clint as the tremors stopped. “Touch my things again and i will be wearing your guts like my mom’s pashmina.” I said to the thief before walking out of the room and disappeared down the hallway not giving the Gods a second glance. As I entered my room i could hear a silky voice ring out from the kitchen. “Well isnt she interesting.”

Part 2 coming soon

@nickkie1129

[green-blue-heller]

hey, can you explain the cockles breakup? i saw u just posted about it and s7 and ive seen speculations but i dont think i really understand what happened lol

Hi Anon!

Thanks for your question!!

First off - DISCLAIMER: I do not know Jensen or Misha, or anyone they know. I do not have any direct information or confirmation of any information in this post. This information may or may not be correct (if anyone has any further clarification, feel free to add it - just please know that this same disclaimer will extend to such comments). None of this should ever be discussed with Jensen or Misha. Their lives are theirs, and while the fandom may discuss and speculate, it’s not okay to do so with the actual people.

Ok... now that we have that out of the way!

I will find the post that gave me the most of the information that I have about it, and reblog with it.

But it’s after 1 am, so I’ll give you the quickish answer now lol.

So, in 2011 Misha was essentially fired from SPN as Sera Gamble was killing off Cas (he’s in S7 ep 1-2, and then doesn’t come back until ep 17, I think it is). He wasn’t supposed to come back, at all. He was supposed to be dead dead.

Summer 2009 is where the earliest flirting is seen with JenMish. I think it was AHBL 1. It is on YT. They’re doing a signing, and Jensen and Misha are going back and forth saying about how they couldn’t see each other and they were worried. Jared pipes up and says that he’ll keep an eye on them and let them know the other is still there.

Vicki and Dee are behind Jared and there is definitely giggling going on.

Then Dec 14 2019 is when Jensen posted what’s referred to as the 10 year anniversary pic and it’s assumed that the original was taken around the same date (if anyone has any links to the pic being talked about, can you please share?)

So, if you assume Dec 2009 is when cockles officially became cockles, then it wasn’t very long after when word would have trickled down that Cas was being killed off. I’d say maybe late 2010 to early 2011.

As far as I can tell, no one knows who ended it. Speculation is probably Jensen, saying it would be too difficult now that Misha wasn’t part of the cast, even though he only lives like an hour and a half from Vancouver.

It also has to be taken into consideration that Jensen and Dee got engaged in 2009 and married in 2010. Then 2011, Misha is written off the show.

It’s fair to assume Jensen wouldn’t have wanted to rock the boat at home for something that he wasn’t sure could be sustained.

So, during the 2011 con panels (I think starting around the time of the Asylum convention) Misha is totally different and a little sarcastic/meanish. The matching rings and bracelets also disappear during this time (but different matching/coordinating jewelry shows up later though).

At Rising Con 2011, Mish and Seb have a panel, and Seb says his favorite sound is when he’s laying next to someone he loves and listening to her sleep.

Misha buts in and says “or him” and looks really sad. He’s off the entire panel.

This continues for a while with panels.

I don’t know what con it is, but at one of them, Jensen does talk about how he is glad that Misha is back on the show. I don’t know if they’ve made up yet at this point, since I don’t know when it is from.

I haven’t watched all the 2012 panels (hardly any) but by JIB, they seemed to have maybe made up.

Jensen jokes about their panel being sort of like a blind date. And apologizes that it might be a bit awkward, sort of like working together. Then Misha says that he rather enjoyed working together.

Jensen assures him then that it was great, and that he had a great time. Then tells Misha it was not him (Misha), that it was him (Jensen).

Then Misha says he thought it was really special. And Jensen makes a comment about how maybe they can give it another shot and Misha kinda shakes his head.

This is either Jensen still in the groveling phase, or the trying to be cute and apologize and say he’s happy they worked things out.

Jensen is a little extra flirty.

But it’s obvious after this that things are fine. Since by JIB10, they ran outta fucks to give and Misha literally straddles Jensen on stage and Jen gets a boner and has to adjust himself. Lol.

Though it’s obvious they’re sad about the show ending. I’m sure the breakup (if there had actually been one) over them not being on the same show anymore from 10 years ago is coming back to them. And I’m sure it’s especially not easy with covid.

But they still seem to be bringing up each other when talking, when it’s not really necessary. And Jensen still gets his stupid (in the most loving meaning) smile when he talks about Misha.

And they were obviously texting each other during the panel on Tuesday.

So, hopefully, cockles is still going strong. It’s been 11 years now, not like 1. So hopefully they have learned how to deal with things.

If only The Boys was shot in Vancouver and not in Ontario. Then he wouldn’t be far from Misha, to be able to see him once there aren’t mandatory 2 week quarantines when arriving in Canada.

But I know during JIB10, Misha made several remarks about moving to Austin.

This would be amazing, though idk of him and Vicki would actually want to uproot the kids. So it may be a more wishful thinking. Even if not, I’m sure covid is making that impossible at the moment.

So... I hope I answered your question, nonnie. Lol.

Like I said, I’ll reblog it tomorrow with links to the post I found on it, as well any other links to the panels in question (if I can find them again).

Though all the ones I talked about are on YT.

Let me know if you have further questions, either in the comments or via another ask! 💕

Edit: the post now has additional pieces, with links to other posts and references. So I suggest checking the comments to get the latest version!

[razorblade180]

Shackles 11: Resolve

[part 10]

“Anymore?” That’s all Ilia could think to say in the windswept desert, surrounded by wounded escapees and the guards she struck down. Ilia looked to her left to see Yang tend to Adam’s wounds as best as possible with the supplies they had. “Should we expect anymore to come out? There’s…less than I expected.”

“Other than Blake and Jacquelyn, I couldn’t say. Right now I’m worried about whether any one of us can make a trip to Vacou in this condition.”

“I handled that already. Right now I’m more concerned about-” a tremor cut her off. The entrance of the mine shaft began crumbling as Blake and Jacquelyn ran out. The maiden raised her foot and stomped the ground again, causing another tremble that closed the entrance with rubble.

Jacquelyn looked at her handy work briefly while she brought her hands together to pray. “It’s not a proper burial, but it’s the best I could offer. Forgive me.” She gave a moment of silence before running off to Adam. Beside him was a girl she didn’t recognize and Yang. “How is he!?”

“Breathing, but that’s about all I can say. I did stop some bleeding. In this situation though…”

“I got it…” Jacquelyn uttered. She sat by his side quietly and took his hand. It was faint but she could feel him gently squeeze back. “Hang on a little longer okay?” Her eyes watered. Unsure of what to do or feel, Jasmine remained speechless.

Yang stood up and gave them space. Truthfully she didn’t think she could watch Jacquelyn cry. Something about it…hit a little close to home. Despite her personal feelings, Yang hoped for the best. Her eyes spotted Blake standing apart from everyone else. Yang approached without hesitation but was shocked whenever she tried reaching out and Blake moved away; not even looking her way.

“Blake? Hey, what’s wrong?” She waited patiently but didn’t get a response. “Blake, you're scaring me a little. What happened?”

“I…I just…” Blake dropped to her knees and covered her mouth. She could that pit in her stomach start churning as she did her best to keep calm. She could still feel it. The pounding in her chest and the adrenaline that made her shake violently. Next thing she knew Yang had was holding her while Blake struggled to breathe.

“Blake!? Blake what’s wrong!? Ilia! Something is wrong!”

“What!?” She came rushing over and saw Blake on the ground, her pupils extremely cat-like. “She’s hyperventilating! Blake you gotta calm down! Look at me. Deep breaths.”

Try as she might, Blake couldn’t. Her senses felt heightened beyond anything she’s ever felt. The cries of friends became muffled and their tearful expressions blurred. Blake once again found herself fading into darkness.

xxxx

Blake couldn’t understand what was happening to her or how long it lasted. As quickly as the darkness came, there was light again. However, it wasn’t sun light; and she wasn’t on the sand. Blake was staring up at the ceiling. A quick head tilt told her all she needed. Blake in a hospital, Menagerie’s hospital. Wait…

Blake sprung up. “How’d I get here!?” She looked at her to see an IV drip connected. She was about to take it out when the door opened. Blake gasped to see her father walk in. He was just as surprised to see her awake.

“Blake!” He ran over and gave her a hug. “Thank goodness you’re okay!”

“Dad? What are you doing here?”

“Me? I should be the one asking you that. At least…that’s what I would say if Sun hadn’t filled in your mother and I when we returned.” Ghira finally stopped hugging but grabbed his daughter’s shoulders. “Blake, how could you not tell us something so important?”

Blake’s eyes softened with guilt. “It’s not as if I didn’t trust you. It was just…a lot to process. I’m still processing. Ugh, my shoulders.”

Ghira let go. “Sorry. I didn’t realize-”

“No, it’s not you. My entire body feels like lead. What happened to me? How am I back here?”

Her father sat by her side and stroked his beard. “Well for starters the doctors say you had a severe panic attack. As for how you’re here, you arrived by airship flown by Ilia; along with several other ships with more of Sun’s friends.

So that was it. Sun or Ilia must’ve told the rest of team SSSN ahead of time to be ready with evacuation. It was pretty ridiculous that asking for their help didn’t even cross her mind.

“You’re not all they brought. There were few others. The ones that didn’t need immediate help or couldn’t manage in Vacou. Unfortunately… some didn’t survive.”

The pit in her stomach came back again. “I see. Guess it would’ve been wishful thinking to assume otherwise.” Blake gripped her knees and shut her eyes. No need to beat around the bush. “Where’s Adam?”

“He’s in intensive care, underwatch.”

“Take me to him.”

“Blake you need to-”

“I’ll search every room, so just tell me.” Blake removed the IV drip and proceeded to leave. Ghira didn’t think twice following behind her. He didn’t even know why she asked for help. Blake was heading in the obvious direction. Where the noise was loudest.

Way down the hall near the back of the hospital had many empty rooms. Menagerie typically never reached close to max capacity, so the fact several rooms had wound in it at all was a shock. The furthest room was surrounded by guards . The only thing in their way being Yang.

One guard in particular, a man with a faded scar on his right eye, confronted the blonde. “For the hundredth time, step aside.”

“You know I would’ve thought the third time I said no would be enough to get the point across. Ninety seven more times feels obsessive.”

“Ma’am if you continue this behavior then-”

Blake called the guard’s “Saber!” They all turned to the approaching leader and former leader. “What’s this about?”

“Blake! You scared me half to death!”

“Madam, your friend refuses to let us in and restrain the terrorist.”

“Restrain? He couldn’t even see last time I saw him. I’m shocked he made it on life support.”

“Be that as it may, he’s far too dangerous to be left unrestrained. Once he no longer needs treatment he will be locked up and tried-”

“He’s not going to jail.” Blake said calmly. No surprise that everyone looked at her like she said something crazy. By all means it was. “The world thinks he’s dead. Let’s keep it that way.”

“Keep it that way? He’s wanted everywhere; terrorized everywhere! We can’t simply keep that under wraps Mrs. Belladonna.”

“Said who?” Blake challenged, standing up straight. “The world already has its story and as far as I’m concerned, it’s pound of flesh as well. That hell we found him in was worse than anything a judge could pass onto him. Besides, people would get unrest learning he’s alive after everything that happened.”

“That doesn’t change anything! His name causes panic and discourse regardless if people think he’s dead. All the lives he’s uprooted, the divide. A beating-”

“Saber.” Blake’s voice cut through the air like her blade, demanding attention. “Do not try to preach to me about the people he’s hurt. I’m well aware.”

“That’s…I didn’t…” Saber bit his tongue. Yang put her hand on the man’s shoulder.

“Take it from me, you’re not going to persuade her.”

Blake walked to the door and faced all the guards. Their mixed emotions plain to see and obvious frustration. “All of you have protected the people and my family more times than I can count. You’re always dependable. I trust you. However, I can’t just ask you to keep this a secret; I’m ordering you to, as High Leader. Wash your hands of it completely.

Saber and others were stunned. “You can’t…Ghira, you’re just going to let her do that!? That’s a blatant abuse of power!”

“Calm down Saber. It’s true that I would never use status like this and I would advise my daughter to tread lightly with that title, but I have no more power than you here. Let’s all just…discuss the details later. For now I don’t see the point in alarming everyone about our…our patient.”

“Your patient, not mine or the guards.” Saber and the guards began to take their leave. “But we will not say a word, per the High Leader’s orders. However, I expect that man to be in one of our cells discreetly. Once he heals of course. Discussing his fate means nothing right now.”

Blake kept any remarks she had about that condition, choosing to bow instead. “I appreciate your cooperation.” She rose, not expecting a reply. “Yang, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. I was only around in the first place because I wanted a check up.” Yang rubbed her stomach. “Looks like stubbornness runs in the family. Doctor says the little spitfire is perfectly fine. Embers are burning strong.”

“I’m glad to hear, honestly. Heh…Ember, that’s a good name.”

Yang chuckled. “Meh, too on the nose. But…I’ll give it thought. Sun was here earlier by the way. He took Jacquelyn to your home with Ilia. Those two weren’t exactly happy with the guards. Not to guilt trip you but Sun has been doing a lot without question. Love or not, you owe him.”

“She most certainly does.” Ghira piped up. “Your mother didn’t take the news well.”

Blake winced. Yang patted her back to offer any comfort. She never saw Kali angry before but if she was anything like Blake was on that mineshaft, then Sun was a real trooper. “Listen Blake, try to slow down for a while. For everyone’s sake.”

“I…sigh, yeah.”

“Good. Hate to tell you but I think I’m at the end of my rope. I’m spent.”

Blake frowned. It made sense, but it still hurt to hear. “I take it you’re leaving then? Sorry this trip wasn’t anything it was meant to be.”

“Huh? What are you talking about?” Yang smiled, pulling Blake into a hug. “I made up with my ex. Be safe, okay?”

“…Sure thing.” Blake’s arms tightened the hug. Funny, was Yang always this warm? Blake couldn’t remember. Maybe it’s just been far too long since they felt comfortable with each other. “Let me know Jaune’s reaction.”

“Oh I’m recording it.” Yang let go and walked away. However, she felt the need to look back at Adam’s door. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think we rescued the person we fought at Argus, but that doesn’t mean I think you’re right. Still, I hope you prove me wrong.” Yang waved goodbye and left. Hope wasn’t something she had for the situation. Nevertheless, if Blake called, Yang would answer. And who knows? Crazier things have happened. It made her wonder…

“Hmmm, I should talk to mom again.”

Blake couldn’t explain why Yang’s words calmed her nerves but it did. She gave her loving father a glance. “I should‘ve told you and mom from the start. I’m sorry.”

“Sigh, I’m not upset. Not anymore; I feared this secret was quietly terrifying you; that him being out there would give you unrest. I never expected you to come to his defense.”

“Do you think I’m being stupid?”

“Sweetheart, of course not. There’s not a day that I have thought that. However, recklessness and naïveté, no one is immune to those.”

“Dad, you’ve taught there’s strength in forgiveness; that it is infinitely harder to believe a person can change after they crossed so many lines. I…I can’t go around preaching that to others around the world if I don’t at least try once, really try. So…” Ghira placed his hand on her. His calm expression and gentle eyes locked with her as he nodded ever so slightly. Blake grabbed his hand and nodded back. “Watch the door.”

“Oh you were never going to stop me from doing that.” He smiled.

Blake let go, finally going inside. The shades were tilted to let in a bit of light; the windows tightly locked. There he was, the center of all of this, laying in a hospital bed. Adam’s face wasn’t swollen anymore. Now it was only covered in red and purple bruises. Monitors beeped steadily and he was hooked up like she was, but with the addition of a nasal cannula. Blake took a seat to unwind.

“I know you’re awake.” She watched Adam’s head turn to her and smirk. The man opened his tired eyes. Right of the back, Blake understood what Yang meant. “Hey…”

“Hey. You look a little rough there Blake.”

“Like you’re in a position to say that?”

“Heh, I always look rough. Now I just feel it too. Gotta admit, I’m shocked I cheated death again. How’s Jackie?”

“Seething or crying most likely, but safe.”

Adam let out a sigh of relief, sinking into his bed. “Good. I thought I heard her earlier but I wasn’t sure.” He noticed how tense Blake looked. Her ears were alert and posture rigid. “I take it you want answers?”

“No shit! What the hell happened? The last time I saw you was when both of you took off in an airship. Had I known you two were planning to hide in Menagerie’s desert…”

“Her idea, not mine. Though I gotta admit that it was pretty solid for the most part. Up until now anyways.”

“That’s what I don’t get. Out the blue, people with an axe to grind come knocking on your door and-”

“They weren’t here for me.” Adam interjected, sitting up slowly. “Blake, Menagerie is ground zero for White Fang. They came looking for anyone they wrote off as a beast who needed correcting. Plans changed though once they found me.”

Blake’s eyes widened. That thought never crossed her mind but it made sense. Plenty of old White Fang members chose to stay here. If they saw Ilia as a beast then of course they would look here. It was only by coincidence that she was in Vacou helping.

“You’d be surprised how many people actually try sneaking onto the island from the desert. Most don’t last while others are more persistent. One day Jackie went off to town and that’s when they showed up. That had to have planned it because the timing was too perfect and the numbers were too heavy for infiltration. The house was surrounded and I was in bed.”

“They caught you off guard, of all people ?”

“Things have been quiet for years. I don’t go into town so yeah, I wasn’t expecting karama to open the door like it opened the place.”

“We were inside the house. There wasn’t a sign of a struggle whatsoever.”

“Because I went quietly.”

“Why!?” Blake stood up forcefully. “It makes no sense! You’d sooner die than let anyone capture you. I don’t care how many years it’s been.”

“…heh, you’re not wrong. Truthfully, I was ready to slaughter as many as possible. But…the house would’ve been obliterated; and Jackie would’ve come back to a literal dead beat. Did she tell you that she’s pregnant?”

“You knew!?” Blake gasped, “She said she didn’t tell you yet.”

“The house is only so big. Jackie is bad at hiding her feelings and items, like a pregnancy test. Even without it, things were obvious. I’m with her constantly.”

Blake took her seat again. Now things were fitting together. “You left to protect her.”

“More or less. I don’t know, that’s giving me too much credit. I did leave for her safety but also to keep myself alive a bit longer. I never doubted that she would look for me. Involving you though… I guess her pregnancy was more of a hurdle than I thought. Jackie never wants help.”

“She was a mess when I found her in my house.”

“Like I said, she doesn’t hide emotions well. So, I doubt I have to tell you anything else. You saw where I ended up. Is Sobek dead?”

Blake clicked her tongue and narrowed her eyes. “I can’t say. The mineshaft was sealed but that’s all I know, and we both know that no body doesn’t mean death. ”

“Hehehe.”

“How could you laugh at that!? It’s not funny. I’m so sick and tired of….ugh, I don’t even know what’s pissing me off anymore!” Blake put her head in her hands.”

“…Things would’ve been easier if I died that day, huh?”

“YES! I mean…no, I…what are you doing!? What’s the angle!? Why is everything connected to you just a spit in the face to me!?” Blake got up again, tears running like a river. “All things you’ve done to me, the bonds you tested, I should feel nothing but anger for what you’ve done to me; yet the day I learned you were still alive was a weight off my chest. I wanna tell myself I don’t care but even now I’m happy to see you actually speak to me in earnest. You didn’t believe in my dream, my beliefs, and this entire mess not only proved I’ve actually done nothing so far, but also that I’m clueless to what’s happening in my own home! Despite all that…I ran to you. Adam I killed for you. Sobek was made because of you and yet I felt anger deep inside I never had before. I was borderline feral! Yet here I am, upset at myself because I’m buying into every little prayer that I have about believing you are changing as a person and aren’t playing the two people in this world that actually want you alive!” Her lungs burned immensely.

Adam watched her eyes constrict and her body shook violently, yet just as Blake said, her eyes didn’t hold the rage he once had. They could never hold it. Adam bit down on his lip, straining his body to get out of bed. The stitches on him bled while his legs barely kept him up. Forgiveness was unthinkable to ask for. There wasn’t much he could say that wouldn’t sound wrong or halfhearted. Still, saying nothing now was not an option.

“Blake…” he leaned forward, falling actually; gently onto Blake who caught him. “Thank you for having hope. As for that anger, it’s proof you’re different from me, Jacquelyn, Sobek, and anyone like us. Righteous fury, to truly be angry for someone else’s circumstance, it’s why people follow you; why they will continue to follow you. Why…I’ll follow you.”

Blake hadn’t realized it until now, but she was still trying to keep calm; to let the turmoil inside her subside, but now…she couldn’t. Not after that. Her legs gave, falling to the floor with Adam. The tears she thought were running free rushed out twice as hard as Blake audibly began to cry her heart out, gripping Adam’s clothes.

“Please…I’m begging you…” She sobbed heavily. “Let this be real.”

He finally put his arms around her, unsure of all his actions. “I swear.”

Words weren’t enough, but a foundation needed to start somewhere. Against many opinions, Blake chose to believe in his words. It was far too late to turn back now. The tidal wave of emotions that festered inside had finally run its course. Blake couldn’t say she felt better right now, but she didn’t feel worse. A small victory, but one nonetheless. All the tension Blake had made her fail to notice the rummaging outside the door. Suddenly it swung open, startling Blake to her feet. In just a single blink, a blur of black and white dashed behind Adam. It was the girl that was near him in the desert.

Ghira rushed in. “Sorry! I tried stopping her, but she barreled her way through.” He looked at the hospital gowned girl who growled and quivered behind Adam. “Do you…know this girl?”

“I guess you can say that. She was in the mines too.”

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that little one. If that’s the case then having you run around might be dangerous if you aren’t healthy.” Ghira took a step and the tiger faunus ducked behind Adam in fear, shaking. He took a couple steps back. “Poor child. I can’t imagine how she’s feeling right now. Does she…have a family?”

Adam was about to speak but small hands gripped his shirt. Jasmine made no effort to speak. She simply stood there, her eyes vacant and almost dead. She would’ve been nonexistent if not for the fact they were all looking right at her.

“Can she speak?” Ghira asked.

“She can, or at least could.” Adam reached for her. The child’s eyes softened slightly, her ears falling down when his hand rested on her head. Jasmine’s eyes shut tight and she began whimpering. Tears trickled down dark sunburned cheeks.”

“I can’t imagine what happened in that place, but it appears someone got attached.”

“She snuck past guards to speak to me several times. As well as stopped them all from branding me with another scar. Both her parents and her brother…didn’t make it.”

Blake could only ache for the child. To have lost so much so early on. It was clear to see why Adam would be drawn to her. “What’s her name?”

“It’s-”

“Sienna.” Jasmine said, breaking her silence and shocking everyone. “My name, it’s Sienna.” Her voice was meek and a bit dry. The lie came naturally, almost like instinct. However, it didn’t feel like a lie. Not to her, or to Adam. An unspoken acknowledgment happened when their eyes met, a sad truth and new reality. Back in the mineshaft in that cruel cell, there may have only been one body, but two people died there. A brother and sister that loved each other to the end. The girl he rescued was not the one who got imprisoned; nor would it ever be.

“That’s right.” Adam uttered, lamenting the deaths brought by his own past arrogance. “Her name is Sienna.”

[softbiker]

Born to Run - Chapter 16

Warnings: cursing, angst (sorry not sorry)

Word count: 3.2k

A/N: And we’re back - buckle up, folks. Things are starting to get rough around here. I apologize in advance for this. But thank you for continuing to read and follow this series! Only a few more chapters left...but we’ll see how long that takes me lol. As always, let me know what you think!

He had seen her text about being late for dinner, shooting back that he didn’t mind, that they’d be doing some work at the club this afternoon anyway. That part was mostly true - he was already on his way to the clubhouse to tell Steve Rogers to calm the fuck down. As an afterthought, he’d tacked on the little kiss face emoji, restraining himself from typing out the three words he’d like to say instead. She responded with a thumbs up.

And then - radio silence.

Bucky tried to be cool about it, be the chill boyfriend; Y/N had a full time job, quite a demanding one, and he understood that. Hell, he was damn proud of it, of her and her brains and all her hard work. Smart, beautiful, and making her own way in the world. She may not have been the biker type, but she was certainly a badass.

And she wasn’t texting him back.

Typically, they were in touch throughout the day - she told him about her patients, and he’d sympathize, let her complain. He told her what he was up to at the club - so far as he could - or sent her stupid pictures from the internet to make her laugh. They were never too clingy, neither of them wanted to be that couple, but there were never more than a few hours without some type of correspondence. He loved that about them - how they always wanted to talk about everything and nothing.

He refreshed his messages again, thumb scrolling upwards through the string of unanswered texts from his end, a knot of worry tightening in his stomach as he noticed the little read receipts at the bottom.

What the hell did you do, Barnes?

**********

Y/N massaged her temples, holding her face in her hands. Across from her, Natasha was silent. The muted hiss of the oxygen machine and the steady pulse of the heart monitor were the only noises in the room; they weren’t loud enough to drown out the alarming scream of her thoughts.

And just this morning, just a few hours ago, she thought she loved him. A liar. A stranger.

“An FBI agent?” she repeated, less a question than an incredulous echo of the words she didn’t want to believe. They bounced around her brain until the syllables collapsed, meaningless and hollow.

“So all of you are…undercover? With the FBI?” Y/N finally looked up at Natasha, whose cold green gaze was cracked with something like pity. Nat nodded, pursing her lips.

“I’m CIA, actually,” she amended, swirling her long-cold coffee cup in her hands. “So is Barton. Little bit of a difference.”

Y/N glared sharply at her, eyes narrowing.

“Yeah, it makes a huge difference which intelligence organization you’ve all been lying to me about.” She could hear her voice rising, the sharpened steel edge of her words. Palms flat on her knees, she sucked in a deep breath, counted 10, tried to calm her mind.

When she first came here, sparse belongings shoved into the trunk of her car, standing in the driveway of an empty home in a lonely town, she had had nothing. No one. She left it all behind for the sake of her future, finding a way for herself. Alone, unsure, afraid she was making a terrible mistake. And in spite of that she pushed forward, committed to keeping her head down and serving out her time until she was free to go back to her life. Her real life.

And then…Bucky happened.

A swirling sense of vertigo sent her mind reeling. How had she let this go so far? How had she fallen in so deep with a man she clearly didn’t know? Who was this girl, this version of herself who leapt without looking and left motorcycle tracks in her wake?

Small and quiet, nearly drowned out by the rushing of her own blood, a voice in the back of her mind whispered:

A girl in love.

No. No. She couldn’t - didn’t - love him. Because he wasn’t real, only a mirage, an idea. A simple illusion she had stupidly fallen for.

A tissue appeared in front of her face, offered in Nat’s nail-bitten fingers. As she reached for it reflexively, YN realized she was crying.

“I know this must be hard for you,” Natasha ventured, bloodshot eyes cautiously following the path of the tissue across Y/N’s face - one eye, then the other, then her sniffling nose. “You and Barnes have something really special -”

“No.” Y/N cut her off. Her lips pressed into a firm line to keep from trembling. The poor tissue was crushed to a ball between her hands. She swallowed harshly, throat aching, before speaking again.

“No,” she sighed, a little calmer; in her mind, a vault door clanged shut over her heart. She imagined herself spinning the spoke handle, the lock mechanisms tumbling into place with cold precision, sealing her in. “We’re not that serious.”

Nat raised a skeptical red brow. She’d barely seen Bucky at the clubhouse in the last month; he was all but moved in to Y/N’s place. They’d come to family dinners with the Avengers, and then go home together - home. They both called it that.

“Still,” Nat went on, treading lightly as she could. “This is a lot to process - but we’re still here for you. I’ve already made some calls. We can find a new residency position for you, an apartment somewhere-”

Y/N was already shaking her head.

“Keep it. All of it.” She stood from her chair, tossing the wrung-out tissue into the waste bin beside her. Chin lifted, she stared down at Natasha where she still sat, bewildered and bleary-eyed. “I don’t want your help, your money, your connections - I don’t want any of it. I’m done.” With the back of one hand, she wiped away the last of her tears. “I want nothing to do with the Avengers - or whoever the hell you are.”

Pursing her lips, Natasha nodded. She looked paler and more tired than ever; the cuticles of her thumbs were picked raw and close to bleeding.

“If that’s the way you want it.” She folded her hands together in her lap. The white bones of her knuckles appeared delicate and small beneath the skin. “Good luck, Y/N. I really mean that.”

Y/N nodded at the prone figure in the bed, motionless and silent, eking out life with each drip of his IV.

“Looks like you need it more than I do.”

When she was gone, Natasha stared at the empty doorway for a long time, barely blinking. A nurse walked by, glancing in for a moment before turning sharply away from her thousand yard stare. Shifting in her chair, she reached over and rested a hand on top of Nick’s, both their fingers cold and dry, soft breaths the only noise between them.

**********                                                                                                

“Buck. Listen to me - we don’t have any more time.” Steve crossed his arms over his broad chest, sympathetic but firm. “If you really care about Y/N, you’ll help us pull out of this op. It’s the only way to keep her safe.”

Bucky rounded on him, a mutinous fury in his eyes.

“Her safety is the only thing I care about,” he said, clenching his teeth. “Why do you think I’ve kept her out of all this? I haven’t told her a damn thing - and now I’m supposed to expect her to just uproot her entire life? How exactly do I explain that, Steve? Huh?” He raised both brows in a dare, a push against Steve’s immovable self-righteousness. Steve didn’t budge.

“How about you try telling the truth?” He dared right back, not one to back down from a game of chicken.

Bucky’s heart clenched, a mixture of defensive anger and guilt and fear swirling in his gut at the thought. It was the simplest and hardest thing he could do now. Tell the truth. His lies weren’t without good reason, but they were still lies. And what if she couldn’t forgive them? His throat felt thick and dry as he tried to swallow.

“I can’t lose her, Steve,” he whispered, voice scraping. “I…I can’t.” Bucky leaned back on the work bench behind him, gripping the edges of the table with tight fingers. He stared down at his feet. “I don’t even know what I’m doing’ this for anymore.”

Steve’s arms feel to his sides as he looked at Bucky, soft blue gaze filled with an aching sympathy. Their jobs - both before, when they were deployed, and now, back home but still in the field - had crowded out any room, any hope, for a normal life. Marriage. A home. Children. Things they didn’t think to want when they were young and signed their lives on a dotted line. They hadn’t known what they were giving up.

Steve shuffled over a few steps and eased onto the bench next to Bucky, the table groaning in protest at their combined weight.

“It’s really that serious with you two, huh,” he mused, knocking Bucky’s elbow with his own. “Never seen you so caught up on one girl before, Buck.”

Snorting, Bucky looked around the garage, shaking his head.

“Yeah, well.” He toed one of his boots against the scuffed concrete floor. “This is different - she’s different. Jesus, Steve, I-I think…” he sucked in a fortifying breath. “I think I love her.”

Steve’s brows shot up. He’d never heard Bucky say those words. He’d had his fair share of girls - Bucky was never hard up for dates, not even as a gangly teenager; his pretty eyes and charming smile and half-quoted poetry books helped him out with that. Steve was the more serious of the two, talking about “the right one” and looking for love. Bucky just liked to have fun. Of the two of them, Steve never imagined that Bucky would be the one wanting to settle down first.

“Wow,” Steve breathed. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Well, hey, Buck that’s…that’s great.” He clapped a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “I’m really happy for you, pal.”

Bucky looked up with a hopeful smile, meeting Steve’s eyes with a bashful look. Bucky Barnes. Bashful. Steve had really seen it all.

“Thanks, Steve.” Bucky ducked his head back down. One of his hands reached absently to tuck his hair behind his ears. “I’ve…never felt like this before - about anyone.”

“Oh, believe me, I know,” Steve grinned.

Bucky’s shoulders dropped and he sighed deeply.

“I just don’t wanna mess this up with her, you know?”

“Then maybe it’s time for the truth,” Steve said softly, staring at Bucky’s profile. “The longer you wait…”

“I know,” Bucky sighed again.

“So what are you waiting for?” Steve shook his shoulder again, offering an encouraging smile. “Go see about your girl, you idiot.”

Rolling his eyes, Bucky shook off Steve’s hand, rising from the work bench. His bike was waiting for him across the garage, the sleek chrome glinting in a beam of afternoon sun. He snatched his jacket from where it hung on a hook by the door and shrugged his shoulders into it, reaching to the pocket for his keys.

“I’ll catch you later, Steve,” he nodded. Glancing back over his shoulder, he licked his lower lip. “Wish me luck?”

“You won’t need it - not if she’s the right one.”

“Yeah, yeah, there you go with that shit again,” Bucky waved him off, swinging a leg over the bike and starting the engine. He tried to tell himself that it was the rumbling of his bike that set his stomach fluttering. He wished Steve would have told him good luck.

 **********                                                                                                  

She had a duffel bag sitting by the door, socks and boxers that wouldn’t quite fit bursting from the top. Her heart stumbled and then picked up again at a breakneck pace when she heard the grumbling of his bike outside, the rattle of his keys in the front door.

“Baby?” He called as he poked his head in. “I thought you were gonna be home late?”

There was a long pause, a chasm of silence she couldn’t begin to cross. She knew he could see her in the kitchen, her back turned, hands gripping the edges of the sink. Her chest felt tight and she realized she was holding her breath.

Bucky felt his palms grow clammy again, and he flexed his hands, cracking the knuckles of each one alternately. Looking down, he saw the duffel bag by the door, a lonely sock hanging from its open mouth.

When he was 12, Bucky had finally convinced his mom to let him go to a local amusement park with his friends. Coasting on his sugary soda high and sticky-fingered from cotton candy, he and his buddies had sworn to ride every last ride - even the Devil Drop. An impressive 250-foot installation that attracted thrill seekers all year round, the ride lifted him up, up, up - until he was certain he could make out the roof of his house in the distance. And then, with ruthless ambivalence, the ride dropped their carriage. Stomach plummeting, legs glued to the seat, he’d screamed and gripped the bars of his harness and screwed his eyes shut, waiting for it all to be over. When he clambered down from the ride, his knees shook, and he felt a cold sweat on the back of his neck just before he threw up in the bushes. He’d never gone on a ride like that again.

But he remembered this feeling.

“Y/N.” His feet were heavy and slow as he moved towards the kitchen, as though he were wading through water. “What is this?” She glanced over her shoulder, then turned back to the sink, refusing to look at him. Tongue heavy in his mouth, he tried to swallow. “Baby, you’re scarin’ me. What’s going on?”

One hand pressed against her heart, she took a deep breath. Then two.

“It’s over.” She set her shoulders and finally turned to face him, her eyes dry but red-rimmed. “We’re done.” With a nod, she gestured to the lonely bag by her front door. “I’ve packed up your things already, and I want you gone - tonight.”

His mouth fell open in shock.

“What- no. No! Honey, what are you talking about? Please, just talk to me - I don’t understand-” he begged, taking another step towards her. She flinched back, pressing herself against the sink.

“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m upset about-”

“But I don’t!” His eyes were wide, pleading, and he fought to lower his voice. “Will you just tell me what’s wrong?”

Something in it, that innocent, loving look in his eyes, made her snap. A hidden angry part of her, all teeth and bloodlust, began to roar.

“What’s wrong is that I don’t know who the hell you are!” He’d never heard her raise her voice before, and it frightened him, stopped him cold in his pursuit. It gratified her, the way he paled and took a step back. “What’s wrong is that you’ve been lying to me from the moment I met you! I mean - what the fuck was I supposed to think when I found out that my boyfriend’s identity is just a character he invented cause he’s undercover with the goddamned FBI?”

Bucky’s mouth had gone dry and he tasted bile in his throat. The furious heat of her gaze was too intense and he looked down at the scuffed toes of his boots, unable to meet it.

“How did you find out?” he asked a moment later, still staring at the floor.

“Natasha.” Y/N folded her arms. “I ran into her at the hospital.” Reaching for her coffee cup on the counter, she took a small sip, grimacing when she realized it had gone cold. “You might want to go visit your friend, by the way. He’s in pretty bad shape.”

Shaking fingers raked his hair back from his face as Bucky’s mind raced, trying to think of what to say.

“I…I know you must be angry,” he started - judging from the look on her face, it was a gross understatement. “But I hid this from you to keep you safe. Please believe me, I would never lie to you-”

She laughed, harsh and sad, and shook her head.

“That is unbelievable coming from you - all you’ve done is lie to me since we met!”

“It’s my job, Y/N,” he said, jaw clenched.

“Exactly! And I don’t want any part of it!” Her lower lip trembled, but she forged ahead. “Coverups and secrets and lies…that’s not what I want. I can’t build my life around that.”  

And there it was - the real challenge, the question she wouldn’t ask, the question he had been afraid to answer.

“You don’t have to.” His voice came out quiet and hoarse. “I’m quitting.”

A beat. He’d caught her off guard, and he watched as she quickly reassembled her defenses.

“What do you mean?”

Cautiously, he took a step forward; when she didn’t back away, he held her gaze and took the plunge.

“I mean I’m leaving the FBI after this,” he said. “It’s not what I want anymore, either. I…” a deep breath, steeling his nerves. “I want you. I want a future - Y/N, I’m in love with you.” He heard her breath catch, and he closed the last few feet between them to grip her hands in his own. He wanted to say it again, just to taste the sweetness of the words. “I love you, sweetheart. So, wherever you wanna go, let’s go. Let’s get outta here, baby, let’s run and not look back. It doesn’t make a difference to me; all I’ve gotta do is finish this job and then I’m out. I’m all yours - I promise.”

In her head, she could see it, a supercut of daydreams and hopes - the two of them moving furniture into a cramped apartment in the city, adopting a dog and lining the window sill with tiny succulents. A white dress. A pair of rings.

Closing her eyes, she gathered each thought, snatching each one by the wings as it flew by, and placed them all in her vault. She let the door swing shut, hearing the heavy bolt slide home.

Calmly, firmly, she pulled her hands from his grip.

When she opened her eyes again, it was like meeting a stranger - she was standing right in front of him but he’d never felt so far away. His fingers grasped at empty air and his throat closed up. He wanted to get on his knees, beg her not to say the part that came next.

“It’s too late for that, Bucky.” She took a step away, out of his reach. He didn’t try to follow. “I’m sorry, but…” she shook her head. “I just can’t forgive this. I’m-I’m really sorry.” Lifting her chin, she wrapped her arms tightly around herself, took one more step backwards. Bucky felt cold all the way down to his boots. There was no mercy in her gaze - no hatred, either. She had shed her tears, and would give him no more.

“Goodbye, Bucky.”

[mccnyoongi]

buttercup ⇢ pt one

⇢ pairing: yoongi x fem!reader

⇢ genre: smut + slight angst

⇢ au: college!au, fwb!au, stoner!yoongi, assholeish!yoongi, fuckboyish!yoongi fwb to lovers trope

⇢ word count: 6k+

⇢ warnings: smut, honestly mostly porn, unprotected sex, recreational use of drugs & alcohol, dirty talk, praise, degradation, ridiculously excessive use of pet names, fingering, dom!Yoongi, unprotected sex, slight dumbification (whoops), hair pulling, creampie??, oral (f receiving), pussy slaping, reader has a thing for Yoongi’s hands because who doesn’t, reader and yoongi are both sarcastic and oblivious, this part is basically pwp.

⇢ synopsis: Min Yoongi wears leather jackets, fucks you like he hates you, spends most of his days on the wrong side of a blunt, and calls you the sweetest names when no one else is around. And you definitely aren’t falling in love with him.

⇢ author’s note: so yes, buttercup is being cut up into two parts thanks to a lot of my life getting uprooted this week!!! ill spare you the details but everything is really chaotic rn so im sorry this isnt exactly what i promised :( thank u for all the insane amont of love ive gotten so far. this is a pretty um... filthy piece of writing skfjsd and it’s definitely not perfect and id love to get better with everything i put out on here but i hope u guys enoy ily xx

If there was a magic lantern hidden somewhere on the campus of this university, you’d find it and your first wish would be to make it so that no one found out about this whole illicit affair you’ve been having with Min Yoongi. The secrecy was fun, sexy like you guys had a whole Mr. and Mrs. Smith thing going on. Or something. Your second wish would be to make his dick vibrate. 

But then he just had to go and go down on you in a bathroom during a party at the Beta Tau Rho house, not even a month into the fall semester, knowing you wouldn’t be able to be quiet or subtle at all. And he was so smug about it too, the fucker.

You can still feel the embarrassment buzzing under the surface of your cheeks from when you walked out that bathroom door and a dozen frat boys and mutual friends of yours and Yoongi’s were out there, waiting for the two of you to emerge and giving you a round of applause when you did. Yoongi had just laughed and rolled his eyes before leading you to the kitchen to get the pair of you some drinks. He’s always been particularly good at brushing that shit off of his shoulder. You aren’t, but you’re pretty good at pretending.

Maybe you should have ended it all that night. Of course, you didn’t. You figured, hey,  you’re young and in school so fuck making good decisions. Of course, the fact that no other guy has ever been able to dick you down nearly as well as Min Yoongi can is probably a huge contributing factor. 

Sure he might be grumpy, and sarcastic, and he tries way too hard to look cool and nonchalant, but he’s also the first guy to ever make you squirt. And you’re pretty sure that the way he waxes poetic about your pussy would make even Shakespeare swoon. So maybe the pros outweigh the cons, but only just.

“I can’t believe you’ve been getting Yoongi dick for almost three full months and haven’t divulged every single detail and vein to me, you cold, uncaring bitch-” Jimin’s voice is far too loud for the student-run coffee shop the two of you regulared every Sunday; a tradition that Jimin always insisted upon. He loves his traditions almost as much as he loves destroying any personal boundaries between the two of you.

“Keep going Park, see if I ever buy your coffee again.”

“Don’t change the subject,” You can’t say you’re surprised that Jimin is reacting like this. Self-proclaimed ‘disaster bisexual,’ Jimin was one of the very first friends you made back when you were a shy, barely functioning freshman. 

He actually introduced you to all his frat brothers, and a large number of the people you now call your friends. Including Yoongi, whose dick seems to be a reoccurring topic between you and… most people you know. Even if they weren’t at that dumb party, Jungkook made sure that every living being that stepped onto campus was aware of the newly found out fuckbuddies.

“We don’t keep anything from each other, Y/N,” He’s whining over his coffee now, full lips perched in that pretty pout that he regularly uses to his advantage. “I even told you about that time I puked on Namjoon’s dick in our second year!”

“Mmm, and I wish you hadn’t told me, Minnie-” The visual still haunts you, but Jimin has never had any predilections when it came to oversharing, especially not with people who have the misfortune of being his best friends. “‘Sides, I didn’t figure it was important, the whole Yoongi thing-”

“His dick, you mean.”

“Because it’s not like we’re getting married,” You carefully ignore him, a useful habit you’ve picked up three years into being his friend. “Just sex, remember?”

“So fucking what? You told me how you sucked Jeon’s cock in a movie theatre less than twelve hours after it happened-” You take a large gulp of your own iced coffee to busy yourself when the shameful memory is brought up. Not shameful because of the promiscuity of the act, no you’re an adult, thank you very much, but rather because of the boy you performed them on. Jeon Jungkook is now more of an annoying younger brother to you than anything. Not to mention he’s got a giant mouth that couldn’t keep a secret even if it killed him.

“Jesus you could’ve picked any other example-” You groan out as Jimin smirked, receiving the exact reaction from you he wanted. You think you’d have learned by now. “I’m sorry, okay? You big baby.”

“Hey, you’re on thin ice,” He points an accusatory finger at you and you have to fight the urge to smack it out of your face. “Now you have to make it up to me.”

You sigh- Jimin can really be exhausting when you’re only half a medium coffee in. “And how do you expect me to do that, Park.”

“Dick details, fucking obviously,” He says it like you’re a moron for even asking. And maybe you are. “Well details in general, I guess. You know, the basics; length, girth, does he make you call him daddy, is he good- I mean he must be un-fucking-real if you’ve been bouncing on it for three goddamn months, you whore.”

“I’m not giving you measurements, Jimin, I’ve yet to take a tape measure to it- and stop assuming everyone has a daddy kink just ‘cause you do.”

“Okay, vanilla bitch. You’re lucky I already know he’s got a monster cock from that time he streaked at that post-mid-term party next year.”

“Then why’d you even ask?”

“To see if you’d tell me the truth. It was a test and you failed.”

“I may be a college student but you’re gonna have to threaten me with a little more than a failing grade to spook me,” You roll your eyes playfully- there’s no real threat in his words, there never is.

“You’re right, I’m sure you’d much rather be punished by Yoongi, huh?”

                    ..............................................................................

Watching Yoongi roll a joint, his long, slender and experienced fingers moving quickly and deftly, has always had this near hypnotizing-like effect on you. His apartment smells like weed, the scent never surprising and would almost be overwhelming if you weren’t so used to it by now. The sight alone is almost enough to make you wet. But you’re stronger than that- except for when you’re not. 

Sexy hands aside, but unfortunately not on you, you’re thankful for his cannabis-related expertise because a) you can’t roll one yourself to save your life and b) despite normally reserving your consumption habits for parties, you feel like you deserve a fat one after the week you’ve had. What with, you know, the stress of having every student on campus knowing about yours and Yoongi’s torrid affair, thanks to fucking Jeon Jungkook. Brat. Plus incessant goading from both Jimin and your roommate, Irene- equally angry as Jimin about your worst kept secret- has only made you sink further into your insecure and paranoid thoughts.

The weed would help, you’d told yourself when your phone pinged with that much anticipated what’re u up 2? late night text from the raven-haired devil himself. Yep, it was the weed, the comforting blanket of getting high. And had nothing to do with the boy that was offering them. Not even his fat cock or magnetic pull he seemed to have on you. 

“Alright, dove,” He says from his spot on his worn-out single-dorm couch- the names don’t tend to surprise you the way they used to. You kinda figured that the affection-starved Yoongi had just you know… gotten comfortable with the girl he had been fucking for the last couple of months. No big deal. Sure they made your heart swell and your panties dampen, but then it could be looked at as a positive. 

He looks up at you from his spot on the couch, where he’s uncomfortably hunched over the table as he works and notices how you’re looking rather spaced out- not entirely rare for you. He’s used to the hundred-mile stare you tend to adopt when deep in thought, though it’s considerably less common for a sober you.

“Dove?” Nothing. “Y/N?” It’s the use of your actual name from his lips that finally grabs your attention.  You finally turn your head to look at him, the glaze of deep thought finally leaving your eyes. An eyebrow quirks to let him know you’ve heard him, but his gaze remains piercing and unwavering on yours. “You need to stop worrying so much, dove.”

“That’s what the weed is for, Yoongs.”

“The weed? You’re just here so I can smoke you out then, huh? No ulterior motives, hm?” His tone is as dry and sarcastic as ever, qualities he had quickly become known for around campus. He shurgs “Fine. Just here to sesh. C’mere then.”

You scoot closer to his side of the couch, not even thinking twice before listening to him. His tongue is tantalizing as he licks the rolling paper, even if he doesn’t mean it to be. He’s almost always tantalizing to you.

“Don’t be grumpy. You invited me over,” Your words are softer than you meant, but your proximity to him makes you feel stilted. He was right, you really needed a smoke, more on edge than ever.

“Well, technically,” He starts, unlit, perfectly rolled joint now perched between his lips. He grabs at your legs before continued so that you were resting sideways on the black couch, legs strewn over legs, thighs touching thighs. “I invited the best pussy on campus over.” You crinkle your nose at his bluntness.

“Yoongi-” You scold indignantly and pinch at a well-toned bicep. “Don’t be an asshole, you asshole.” He grins despite the insult like he’d expected it. Or he’s revelling in it.

“You know I’m just fucking around, angel,” His arm tucks around your waist comfortably, pulling you even closer. “Tryna chill you out. I can tell when you’re all strung out. I know how you,” He pokes you in the middle of the forehead, still grinning, as you pout from being called strung out. “Tick.” 

He really does, doesn't he? The thought is mildly terrifying, and you think that Yoongi might be too smart or his own good sometimes. When he’s not smoking himself into another dimension, that is.

He leans back into his seat, uncurling from around you to finally light up. A few sparks later and the room is fogging up with overly pungent smoke- the cheap smell makes you think that he probably bought it off of Hobi, too lazy to go any further off-campus than his own block of apartments to one of the nice but relatively affordable dispensaries. You crinkle your nose at the scent, grateful he’s too distracted to notice since he’d probably just tease you for liking the fancy shit more. At least you trust Hobi, and he lives only two buildings down from Yoongi. Truly an age of convenience.

A few passes, tokes, whatevers later, and you’re feeling substantially... floaty. You’ve completely relaxed, choosing to lie down rather than put the effort into sitting up, though your legs are still thrown across your equally high counterpart’s. What’s left of the roach is left to burn in one of many strategically placed ashtrays around the apartment, this one being on the living room table.

Yoongi has barely moved in the past while, head resting lazily on the back of the couch, black hair messy and his neck- which is somehow handsome to you- stretched out, and hands resting against your bare knees. You’ve barely paid him any mind, the silence nothing but comforting and easy. 

Which is why you can’t help but jolt just a little in surprise when those hands, the hypnotizing ones you’re so obsessed with suddenly start creeping up your legs, halfway up your thighs, carefully kneading the supple flesh he finds there. He chuckles at your reaction, finally picking his up his head to watch you through heavy-lidded eyes. “Bet you’re extra sensitive right now, huh petal?” He doesn’t have to bet because he knows it’s true, knows how needy you get when you’ve smoked. And he loves it- it’s why he never makes you pay for any of the times he smokes you out.

“Fuck off,” You whine at his light-hearted teasing, but Yoongi just giggles- he fucking giggles- in response, hands still travelling the expanse of your thighs. 

“Be nice,” His words are still jovial, but there’s a gruffness behind them that sends a shiver down your spine, despite the relative stuffiness of his living room.

“I am nice, you’re just a dick,” You pout- childish, but you can’t quite come up with anything more clever at the moment. The jab may be weaker than your usual quips, but Yoongi seems to have decided it’s enough to warrant a punishment of sorts, as he sends a quick slap onto your thigh. It’s certainly not the harshest hit you’ve received from him, it’s more playful than anything, but it’s enough to make you whine, not even noticing when your own hands jump down to grab at him and your now sore flesh.

His eyes take on a new sort of darkness, beyond the dilated pupils from the high he’s in the middle of as he grabs at your wrists, any assault you had planned halting in its tracks. His large hands that you’ve drooled over- figuratively and literally- many a time are big enough that he only needs one of them to hold both of yours steady. He uses his grip on you to yank you back up to a sitting position, where your noses almost touch and you can feel his breath fan across your lips.

“I told you, I know how you tick,” He lets his tongue swipe out to wet his lips, the act distracts you and makes you mimic it with your own tongue and lips. The smirk he gives you is all at once wicked and panty dampening. “Which means I know you like it when I’m mean. I know you like when I treat you like this, like my little slut,” The word makes you draw in a breath as your face reddens in humiliation and tension. “And- and I know you’re probably soaking through your panties right now, all over my couch. Making a fucking mess.”

It infuriates you to no end how right he is as your breaths come out shaky and uneven as you feel your pussy flutter around nothing beneath your shorts and panties. 

“Aren’t you?” His tone doesn’t leave room for playfulness anymore, and you’re nodding dumbly before you can give it a second thought. “Good girl.”

He doesn’t give you any time to bask in the praise before he’s leaning in to capture your lips in a searing and sloppy kiss. He’s domineering even in the way he kisses you, teeth biting and tongue sweeping into your own mouth as he revels in the small sounds that escape you. His hands leave your wrists, freeing them so you can grip onto raven locks with a newly freed hand as his own wrap around your waist. 

Every sense is filled with him, and it is all at once comforting and exhilarating.

He tugs and roughly manhandles you so that you’re properly astride his denim-covered thighs, your lips never untangling in the process. When your lips finally do come apart, it’s with a lewd sound and a gasp from your mouth. He’s still smirking.

“Gonna fuck you so good petal,” Yoongi has always been so blunt and unforgiving, whether in bed or out and it had been one of the things that first attracted you to him, besides his obvious good looks. 

Before the two of you had even gotten together, when you were friends who didn’t fuck on the regular, you had even mustered up the courage to touch yourself to the thought of him speaking to you like this- your own fingers circling your clit and delving into yourself without abandon. You had only been able to imagine up a fraction of his sexual prowess. 

Like the time only a few weeks ago you admitted to him in a foggy haze, high than you think you’d ever been. how you’d brought yourself to climax with images and soundbites of him flitting through your head. He’d immediately made you put on a show for him- recreating those nights, but this time with him sitting feet away from you and ignoring your pleas for him to touch you.

Right now, however, the only things keeping you grounded in reality is the feeling of the muscles in his thighs flexing beneath you, though nowhere near where you truly ache to be touched, and one of his hands brutishly tangled in your hair, pulling harshly so he can have easy access to your neck. Plush lips start soft, kissing and licking at the skin there, before his teeth join in, biting and sucking like he loves the taste of you (because he does).

“Y-yoongi-” You’re trying to keep the whimpers at bay, like maybe if you stop yourself from seeming so turned on so fast it’ll get him to fuck you faster. “C’mon, just fuck me already.”

“So demanding for such a needy bitch,” He has you squirming on his lap and you don’t know why you thought you had any power over him left. “Have you forgotten your place? Can’t think of anything else but getting fucked, huh?”

You nod in agreement, but find out he must want a verbal response when you’re met with a sharp spank to your ass that has you squealing and bucking into his lap. “Yeah, yeah Yoongi ‘m sorry, just need it.”

“I know, baby, I know, you can’t even help it when you get all messy like this, I know,” You can’t decide whether his words are sweet or patronizing when he coos at you like that, but either way he’s got you another pair of panties.

“Need you to fix it, Yoongs,” All pride is out the window when he’s got you like this, and you love pleading with him to give you what you want almost as much as likes making you beg.

“I will,” He gives you one more harsh bite to the junction of your neck and your shoulder that you know will blossom into a bruise just in time for your 10 AM class tomorrow and you hiss at the mingling of pain and pleasure. “Now fucking get up,” He pats lightly at your thigh twice at the order.

You’re in no position to disobey, and you know from experience that not listening to him will end up with a sore ass and no release in sight. You stand up on shaky, doe-like legs and he grins at the sight of you. He stands up with you, his lean form and strong stance making him look taller than he really is. Then his long fingers are pulling at what little clothing you have, stripping you of both your tank top and your shorts and your bra isn’t far behind. Soon you’re clad only in your panties while he’s still fully clothed in black form-fitting jeans and a plain white t-shirt. Thankfully he leaves his cliche, but devastatingly sexy leather jacket at the door.

He doesn’t make any move to undress at all and you hope to god he will eventually- you love seeing his honey-coloured skin covered in a thin layer of sweat as he fucks you into oblivion. But for now, he stays fully clothed and he roughly pulls you by your upper arm until he can bend you over the arm of the couch, panty-covered ass high and perfectly on display for him.

“God, you’re fucking dripping,” He taunts, fingers running over your pussy through the thin cotton, making you whine into the rough cushion your face is resting on. “All this from almost nothing, huh? You’re such a fucking slut for me, shit.” He sounds genuinely amazed by you and when you uncomfortably crane your neck back to get a good look at him you let out a proper moan. He must have stripped his shirt off when you weren’t facing him, because his chest is bare for you to gaze at, or you would gaze at it if you weren’t distracted by the hand that isn’t on you, which is lazily working over his cock, rock hard and aching through his jeans.

He smirks when he notices what’s grabbed your attention, knowing you’re only moments away from quite literally drooling on his pillows. “Is this what you want? Hm?”

“Ye-yeah your cock, Yoongi, need your cock,” Your face burns red and blood burns hot as the crude words leave your mouth.

“And you’ll fucking get it, dove,” The cute name contrasts the second harsh spank he lands on your ass and you moan at the delicious sting. 

You think that he must be about to tear your panties off and sink into you, but that would be too predictable and Yoongi loves to keep you on your toes. Instead, he disappears from your line of sight, a dull thump coming from the hardwood as he drops to his knees, feline gaze now level with your cunt. 

“Yoongi-” You’re whining again, and you even have to hold yourself back from stomping your foot childishly because, god, you just need him to do something.

And then he finally does- he licks a thick stripe, right from your clit to your entrance, still over your panties, and you gasp in surprise. He does it again, twice, three, four times until your hips are bucking and you’re whining because you need more, you need him to actually touch you and not be a giant fucking tease for once in his life.

“Be fucking patient,” He hisses out, but at least he’s finally rolling your underwear down your legs to toss them somewhere across the room. “Or I swear to god, I’ll hold you down just like this so you can’t even squirm while I get myself off all over your messy cunt,” His hand is running up and down your bare pussy as he speaks, spreading the wetness around, to your clit and your thighs and your ass and then back again. “And then I’ll send you home without touching you or cleaning you up, so you’ll have to take the subway home covered in my come and fucking trembling. So be fucking good.” At the last word, he lands a mean slap against your gushing cunt and you let out an embarrassing squeak.

“Shit-fuck- Yoongi, please, just-” You stutter through your words, needing to get them out, though you don’t know why. “I’ll be good, okay? ‘M your good girl, I am, promise, I’ll be good.”

He doesn’t respond, at least not verbally. But you have to assume he’s happy with your desperate response when he finally delves into your pussy like a man starved, tongue licking into you, the muscle sending spasms up and down your legs. You have to muffle your moans by biting into a pillow, not needing another altercation with his neighbours, but you want nothing more than to yell his name as loud as you can until your voice goes hoarse when he shakes his head from side to side, tongue still buried inside of you and one of his hands now roughly circling your clit. 

It’s too much, but it’s not nearly enough. It’s when he switches positions between his hand and mouth that you think you might explode; his mouth latches onto your clit, tongue circling and playing with it and two fingers fucking into you, preparing you for the impressive girth of his own cock.

Your teeth let go of the strong grip it has so you can warn him of your impending orgasm. “Yoongi- gonna come-” You manage to choke out between barely quieted moans.

You know that he wouldn’t be able to respond if he was still suckling on your clit, but you still whine and wiggle your hips as he pulls away, earning you yet another spank to your rear, where you can only assume a nice handprint is forming. “Yeah? Want you to come all over my face, like a good messy whore- gotta come for me before I can fuck you like you need.” 

When his mouth finds your swollen clit again, you can’t help it as your orgasm barrels through you almost violently, every muscle tensing and fingers grasping at whatever they can find, neighbour’s delicate sensibilities forgotten as you moan out Yoongi’s name. He licks you through it, fingers no longer pistoning into you. When the last of the tremors have faded he finally pulls away, using his clean hand to wipe your mess off of his chin, though it hardly cleans him. 

“Good fucking girl,” The roughness with which he was grinding his still covered bulge into your now sopping wet center would be impossible to ignore even if your head weren’t a million miles away. But for now, everything is Yoongi, every single scent is filled with him and you think that that might be making your head even fuzzier than the drugs coursing through your system, but you’re too far gone to be sure. Or to even care.

Because all you can think about is his mouth-watering hands kneading at the slightly pinkened skin of your ass, his mouth-watering cock rutting against you and his mouth-watering, well, mouth pressing wet kisses and occasional bites up and down your spine. “Yoongi,” You meant to speak with at least a little more conviction, but his name comes out as little more than a mumble.

“Hm,” He hums against your skin and even those slight vibrations reverberate straight to your heart, which starts beating faster at the thought of what’s to come. “What, is my babygirl still needy?” 

The use of the word my in front of the affectionate name makes your heart jump, but you don’t even have time to scold yourself for thinking with your post-orgasmic pussy before he continues talking with that sinful mouth of him. “Such a greedy, desperate girl, won’t be happy ‘til you’re stuffed full of my fat cock,” His words have you whining and grinding back against him, where you don’t have to look to know you’re leaving a stain on his favourite jeans.  If you’re unlucky- or lucky depending on your mood- he’ll make you clean it up with your tongue as further delicious torture. 

But smoking makes Yoongi needy too, no matter how much he teases you for the effect it has on you, and he can’t wait much longer, not with his cock so hard he was a razor blades’ edge from losing his mind. He needs to be inside you as much as you need him.

Which is why you don’t doubt him for a second when he’s murmuring things about how he’s ‘gonna fuck you so good, gonna fuck you stupid,’ and you can only respond with even quieter whispers of ‘I knows’ and ‘pleases’ as he strips himself oh the rest of his clothes, hissing from oversensitivity as his cock makes contact with the air. It’s wonderfully overwhelming and he’s not even fucking you yet.

You can’t even explain how grateful you are when Yoongi turns you around because you love just seeing his cock. You’ve never been one to describe guys’ dicks as pretty before- except that TA you managed to fuck before Jimin sunk his claws into him, Kim Seokjin, because, well, you’re not blind. But Yoongi’s dick is gorgeous. It’s not the biggest thing you’ve ever seen, and it doesn’t have to be, not when it’s girthy enough to make you salivate with a curve that points to the heavens. Gorgeous.

He’s pulling you on top of him so he can sit back down and you’re back to straddling him, and you don’t complain because you know he’s tired both from the pot and crouching on his haunches for access to your center not two minutes ago. Plus he loves when you ride him, breasts bouncing in his face, wetness making a mess out of his lap and full access of your entire body for both his hands and lips.

“Need you to bounce on my fat cock before I fucking explode, baby,” And you’d have to be some sort of a madwoman to deny him.

“Need it too, Yoongs,” You don’t know why you feel the need to remind how desperate you are for him, surely he can feel it, your swollen pussy resting only centimetres above his throbbing length. “Can’t think of anything else.”

“I know,” He’s rubbing the angry red tip against your sopping folds, tinges of overstimulation making you jolt. Or you would jolt if his hands weren’t heavy on your waist, keeping you steady so you couldn’t a) get away from his cock or b) properly sink down onto it. “So pathetic and perfect for me like this, all cock drunk and fucked out and I haven’t even fucked you yet, huh?”

You nod frantically, and you can’t even find the energy to be embarrassed when a hand comes up to pet your hair with a condescending ‘awe’ as he pouts at you. You bat his hand away with a whine and furrowed eyebrows, but all that gets you is his hand tangled in your hair, yanking sharply in retaliation. “Careful, slut, or you won’t be coming for the next week-”

“Please, Yoongi-” You don’t let him finish, knowing from experience to always take his threats seriously. “I’m sorry, I’m fucking sorry, okay just please-”

You cut yourself off with a high pitched, tea kettle-like squeak as he uses his hands on you as leverage to have you sink down onto his cock in one fell swoop. “Shit, god, you’re always so fucking tight around me, fuck me.”

I am, is what you wish you were coherent enough to snark back with, but you’re sure no one would blame you if they could feel what you feel right now. And what you’re feeling right now is how well Yoongi feels inside of you, like no cock you’ve ever had. Every ridge and vein on his cock fills you up to the fucking brim, no room left for a pinky or a thought that has to do with anything other than Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongi.

And then he starts with those devilish moments of his hip, fucking into you shallowly and slowly to start and it’s all Yoongi’s dick. 

“Fucking bounce on it, dove. Fuck yourself on my cock, show me how much you need it,” He speaks through gritted teeth, each word a struggle as he tries not to fuck into you without thought. And it’s with the satisfaction you get knowing he’s just as desperate for you as you are for him that you find the strength to do as he says.

With quivering thighs, you push up and off of his cock, the two of you sharing a harmonious groan at the feeling, foreheads pressed against each other, skin sweaty. And this all just in the calm before the storm. 

It’s not long before the both of you are moving frantically, mere seconds, really. It’s intense and all-encompassing, as you grind and roll your hips, cock deeper than you knew to be possible, and his bucking his own hips into you roughly, no doubt as deeply in some sort of euphoria as you are. His hands are everywhere and so are his lips. He sucks marks into your tits and gropes your ass, controlling your movements to the best of his abilities.

All of that, plus your clit grinding against his pelvic bone every other second and your head just might be in another universe. 

Yoongi’s words are swirling around in your head, though you’re not properly taking any of it in- his velvety voice goes on about how wet you are, how tight you are, how you’re a good girl and it’s all another instrument in your downfall. You’ve never been much for heights but being with Yoongi feels like something akin to what you assume bungee jumping is like, and you’re just about at that point where your cord runs out of length and your heart drops to the bottom of your stomach.

“Tell me you’re fucking close, baby, c’mon,” This is as close to pleading as you can ever get Yoongi but you’re still swimming in pride. He brings a hand off of your ass to cup your cheek, brushing away your now mussed hair and a single stray tear and you drink in the look in his eyes, dark red-rimmed and needing. “Gonna fill you up with my come, just like I know you like, my perfect little cumslut, fuck, just need you to come first, yeah? All over my fucking cock.”

And with a particularly hard grasp at your ass, bringing you to grind your clit against him again, you’re gone. It’s considerably less intense than the previous one, as many second orgasms are, but your head is still spinning and you think you might have drooled a little, but you don’t mind and you know Yoongi doesn’t. Your attempts to stifle your moans are unsuccessful as the name of the man attached to your favourite cock falls from your lips like a mantra.

And where your orgasm is, Yoongi is rarely far behind- he loves seeing you fall apart around him, because of him and you always clench so fucking hard around him in the peak of your pleasure how could he fucking not. He’s grunting, moaning, damn near growling as he spurts his own release as deep into you as he possibly can, coating every inch of your delectable pussy, vague mumbles of how he’s filling you up, just like you’re meant to be that you can just barely hear.

Shakey breaths hit each of your faces as you come down, now still and worn out. Your chests move up and down and you don’t know when you’ve buried your face into the crook of his neck, but the warmth and smell are more comforting than any hit you’ve ever taken off of one of his blunts.

“Shit, buttercup,” He chuckles, the vibrations rumbling through his chest and where you’ve tucked yourself He runs a hand through his sweaty black locks, the other hand locked around your waist. “I don’t know how we’re gonna move without making this couch fucking disgusting.” Mood killer.

“Don’t give a shit.”

“Yeah, but I do. Especially if Joon or Hobi someone finds it and makes a big fucking deal out of it, like no other guy in his twenties has some come stained furniture.”

You pull back from the spot you wish he’d just let you fall asleep in so he can see your pout. He can’t find the sight of you… adorable? Your hair matted, bruises, courtesy of yours truly littering your tits and chest, a thin sheen of sweat making your skin glow and bottom lip jutted out exactly enough to be overexaggerated and so fucking adorable. 

At that moment he’s glad that about three weeks ago the two of you had started to break the unspoken no sleeping over after sex rule because he just wants to clean you up and feel you curl yourself around him like you like to.

You don’t know what time it is, just that it’s late and that it doesn't matter, because this was certainly time well spent. You wonder how much sleep you’ve given up in lieu of Yoongi’s pretty dick. Of course, it does matter... because you have a 9 am class tomorrow morning that you can’t miss, but that’s for future you to worry about. For now, it’s time to try to get up without defiling this Ikea couch (you failed miserably and giggled about it while Yoongi groaned in mock pain), burn out just one more joint, steal some clothes for bed and some snacks from his fridge, and pass the fuck out on his bed, which you think is way better than yours, but that has nothing to do with the boy in it or his comforting warmth and smell.

                     ..............................................................................

Past you is a dumb bitch. Also maybe current you. Point being, you hate you, because you’re sore and stiff and ten minutes late to your dumb 9 am class and it’s all Yoongi’s fucking fault. You texted him this much, calling him a ‘little bitch boy’ for not even waking you up to make you a cup of coffee with his fancy instant coffee machine before you left. He hasn’t responded yet because holy fuck does that guy sleep like a rock. A really cute, cuddly, sex-god rock.

But, as usual, Jimin came in clutch, handing you off a coffee as your paths crossed on campus, each of you heading to your respective classes. He gave you a one-armed-too-tight hug and a comment on how you have that very glamourous ‘I got fucked by Min Fucking Yoongi last night and you didn’t so I’m better than you look.’ You tried to take it as a compliment as you thanked him for the coffee. He gave you a cute kiss to your forehead that reminded you you could never even be annoyed at him for too long.

And now you’re in class. Headache from not getting enough sleep getting worse by the second while you tried not to think about what judgements people must be passing on you, with your sunglasses inside and hickeys you didn’t have time to cover up.

When your phone pings you assume it’s Jimin, with something slutty or sarcastic or both. But it’s not. It’s Yoongi- well, it’s what you have Yoongi’s number saved under, aka the drooling emoji three times over… You’re surprised he’s awake, you’re pretty sure he doesn’t have shit to do until the afternoon. 

You have a fleeting thought that it could be a dick pic- yeah it’s a little early for that kind of dumb fuckboy behaviour, and you’d previously thought that too, but Kim Taehyung proved you wrong last year. 

Yoongi isn’t a dick pic kind of guy anyway. No, he’s the guy that sends pictures of his hand around your throat that one night you let him take artsy photos of you two fucking on his film camera. The kind of guy that sends you audios of him jerking off and moaning your name that you listen to through your earphones in between classes because he knew you wouldn’t be able to help yourself. He’s the guy that drives you crazy because you can never quite predict what he’s gonna do next.

[9:23 am] From 🤤🤤🤤: you could have woken me you know dummy

[9:24 am] From 🤤🤤🤤: subways are gross in the morning

[9:25 am] From 🤤🤤🤤: i could have u know, driven u…

[9:26 am] From 🤤🤤🤤: cant really say no to u buttercup.

You don’t know why you’re heart’s beating so fast so you reprimand yourself for thinking with your pussy. Min motherfucking Yoongi is gonna be the death of you.

[emybain]

Settling In

this is the first time ive ever written a sequel to an ask fic so i hope yall are happy. this is a sequel to I’m Nova. Nova Artino if you havent read that. 

ao3

Simon watched the children play in the backyard from the kitchen window. At the stove, Hugh was making dinner. The kids were taking turns pushing one another on the swing set, Adrian letting Nova have longer turns before she insisted on switching. The sentiment brought a smile to Simon’s face. 

It had been a couple weeks since Simon found the girl, only eight years old, in the hands of the Anarchists. After spending a few days in the hospital wing at headquarters, Simon and his husband decided it was best to take her home with them. That way, she would be safe from the hungry eyes of the media. It was frustrating getting her to bed every night, as she refused to set a foot in the guest room until she was alone, but Hugh and Simon were afraid of her running away and wanted to keep an eye on her. At least Adrian loved the idea, having already grown fond of the girl in the short time they had known one another. Their friendship was ironic, in a sad way, but Simon didn’t like to think about it. Georgia had died two years ago, yet her death was still a knife to the side. 

“What are we going to do about her?” Simon turned from the window to Hugh, who was pushing around sausage in a pan. 

“Hm?” Hugh shifted his body so he faced Simon a bit more.

“What are we going to do about Nova?” He pushed his glasses up and crossed his arms. 

The look Simon got was almost comical. “Aren’t we going to keep her? She has nowhere else to go.”

Simon released a soft sigh. “You know we can’t do that, Hugh. Taking on Adrian was one thing. We’re his godparents and we’re financially stable to handle one prodigy child. But two?” He shook his head. 

Hugh turned the stove off. “She’s a prodigy? How did you find that out?”

There was a screech from outside, and they both peered out to see Nova stand up from the bottom of the slide, covered in mud and a grin on her face. Adrian stood at the top, laughing. 

“Why else would the Anarchists be hiding her?” Simon lowered his voice, although they were the only two in the house. “Ace killed her family because David came to us. Why didn’t he kill her, too?” 

Hugh removed his apron and began getting out bowls and silverware. “You’re right. I hadn’t thought about that. But, Love,” he paused, closing the cabinets, “where is she going to go? I mean, don’t you feel as responsible for her as with Adrian?” 

A pang hit Simon’s chest. Hugh had a point; they had failed to protect the Artinos the same night Georgia died. It was only right for them to make sure she stayed safe. They owed that much to David and his wife. 

“I know.” Simon looked down at the checkered tile. “But will she trust us? Wouldn’t she be better off with a non-Renegade family? You’ve seen the looks she gives us. How she refuses to sleep at night if we’re in the room with her. There’s no telling what kind of bullshit the Anarchists have been feeding her. What’s to say she won’t run away or try to murder us in our sleep in the future?”

Hugh narrowed his eyes at him. “Your paranoia is showing again.” He walked forward and kissed Simon lightly. Simon closed his eyes, welcoming his husband’s hold. “We’ll figure it out,” Hugh said once he pulled away. “In the meantime,” he turned toward the cracked open window, “Kids, dinner!”

“I was afraid you were going to say that,” Simon murmured under his breath as the children entered the kitchen, sweaty and caked in mud from head to toe. 

 ___________

 Nova waited for Adrian in his bedroom, spending her time looking at his collection of comic books on his bookshelves. She missed her home a lot, but at least Adrian was nice. He understood what it was like to be uprooted, at least that’s what Nova could figure out based on their conversations. Still, what would Uncle Ace think about her being with the enemy? They let her family die instead of coming to save them. Surely, Ace was coming up with a rescue plan. At eight years old, there wasn’t much she could do to fight back anyway . Leroy refused for Ingrid to start training her until she was at least ten, so she had useless skills. There was her power, but she was still working on making it stronger. And down in the subway tunnels, it wasn’t like she could practice on the other Anarchists. Before she was kidnapped, Nova had plans to be just like her uncle, to be a powerful prodigy that defends all prodigies from discrimination and annihilates any offenders of equality. 

Her hands fell upon a comic different from the others. This one was just on plain printer paper and appeared to be homemade. She flipped through it, admiring the designs. They were a bit amateur, but good nonetheless. It was incomplete, clear from the half drawn characters on one of the pages. 

The door creaked and she whipped around, only to be met with a slightly startled Adrian. He had fresh pajamas on and held a towel in his hands. 

“Did you make this?” Nova held the comic up, unfazed. “It’s really good. I didn’t know you were an artist.”

Adrian pushed the towel into a basket and came forward, gently snatching the comic out of her hands. Nova noticed how his cheeks lit up. “It’s just something I’ve been working on,” he explained, shrugging and putting it back on the shelf. “Just a story.”

“Can I read it?” 

“No!” Adrian’s eyes widened. “I mean, it’s not done yet, is all. I wouldn’t want you seeing something unfinished.” 

She shot him a weird look and opened her mouth to respond, but Hugh poked his head in.

“Bed time, kids.” He stepped in all the way and started ushering Adrian to his bed. Nova watched as the man sat on the edge of his son’s bed and waited for him to get situated before tucking him in. She averted her eyes when Hugh bent over to plant a kiss on Adrian’s head, while Adrian protested and swatted him away. She quitted the room quietly and made her way down the hall to where they made her sleep, even though she never slept anymore. Not since she was six. Images of Mom and Papà flitted through her head, and she longed to be back in their arms in the safety of their apartment. It hadn’t been much, but it was home. Sometimes, especially recently, Nova thought about running away to the apartment and holing herself inside, but she knew the place would bring back too many bad memories. 

The bedroom was dark and cold when she entered. The upstairs of the house gave her the creeps. Adrian was convinced it was haunted, and said so the first night she came home with them. She had laughed at him then, but night after night of wandering around the room and hallways led to her slowly believing him. It wouldn’t surprise her; Ace was responsible for the murders of the mayor and his family. Any ghosts surely didn’t want Nova there. Well, it wouldn’t be the first time she wasn’t wanted. 

There was a soft knock on the door, and it opened a bit after Nova refused to respond, She didn’t even acknowledge Hugh as she started pulling back the covers, already in the set of pajamas they gave her. 

Nova enjoyed Adrian’s company. She had never had friends her age, or friends at all really, if she didn’t count her family. The Anarchists...weren’t exactly friends either. She knew that they only watched her because Ace ordered them to. Adrian was like her, though. He was nine, but she had a birthday coming up in less than eight months so they were practically the same age. She knew she should hate him for his parents and affiliations, but it wasn’t his fault. That was all he knew. She could tell he was a good person, not like his Renegade parents. Being around them was different than being with Adrian. 

“How are you liking the Everhart-Westwood residence, Nova?” His voice was cheerful. Nova didn’t care. 

She shrugged, playing with the covers. 

Hugh sighed. “Listen, Nova, there are things that you should know about your family, okay?” She glanced at him. He sat on the edge of the bed like he did with Adrian and reached over to pat her shin. “But...I’m afraid you’re going to have to be a little older to fully understand. Just know that...that your father would want you here instead of in the subway tunnels, okay? He was a good man and a good friend, unlike his brother who was narcissistic and hotheaded.” Nova deflated, and had to bite back arguing over what he believed was best for her. He was just saying these things to get her to open up and to turn against the Anarchists and her uncle. He didn’t care about her. If he did, her family would still be alive. 

But still…”You knew Papà?”

Hugh smiled, though it was sad. “Yes. And there hasn’t been a day that has passed that I haven’t felt guilt for failing him. For failing you. But that’s a story for another day.”  He paused and stood then, shaking his head. “Do you want to be tucked in? Adrian won’t admit it, but I’ve gotten pretty good at it since we adopted him.”

Nova shook her head, wanting to ask more questions but knowing they would lead to nowhere. 

Hugh left and closed the door behind him softly, leaving her to a dark room and racing thoughts.