#ive never had such an intense visit

[theloveinc]

wow therapy was so awful

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

me for the majority of the night:

me remembering that my grandma gave me a quilt that was handmade in the 60s by my great grandma:

[phant0mth1ef]

i’ve never felt so alone, felt so alone.

tw: depressive themes

-

the war took its’ toll on people in such different ways. and bakugou katsuki, god, he swore he got the worst of the aftermath.

he didn’t know you. never bothered to even learn your name or to learn what hero academy that you’d been attending up to now. and yet here you were, in the same intense therapy group that he was. refusing to share your secrets or what you’d seen with anyone.

he could see it in your eyes that you were physically trapped in some sort of headspace and you couldn’t get out.

you would both attend your hospital mandated therapy daily, sit down, not say a word to anyone, then leave. it was routine at this point.

he’d seen you around the hospital a couple times, trudging around while tugging your iv alongside you.

what was your story?

he’d learned about you when his classmates had come to visit, they’d been loudmouthing about a girl from shiketsu who was completely torn down after the war. a girl who’d been kidnapped by the league and forced to fight under all for one’s control.

he’d used a marionette type quirk on you, controlling you as if you were some puppet in his game. under the influence of this quirk, you’d stopped thinking altogether. controlling someone’s body and controlling someone’s mind wasn’t as hard for him.

bakugou didn’t talk much. how was he supposed to bounce back after being dead one minute and revived the next? it takes a toll on your mental stability.

for all those at the hospital who were enrolled in the intensive therapy regimen, there was also a mandatory movie night where they’d put on something like a hallmark film to help you all bounce back.

you’d frequently sit in the back with bakugou, comfortable silence.

he’d watched you, the first time he saw you laugh was like something straight out of the movie you were watching.

you’d watch him too, seeking his comforting presence as he furrowed his eyebrows, trying to understand the movie.

neither of you knew it, but you’d become the other’s person.

[isoelectrica]

The Plan.

College Student!Art Donaldson x College Student Female!Reader

𓈒⟡₊⋆∘

Summary: Art had this plan to get Tashi all to himself. It would go perfectly except he had one flaw. You.

Word count: 3.7k+

Warnings: 18+ // Art is in his early twenties so is reader, smoking, fingering, oral (f!receiving), public sex, smut (p in v), creampie, praising. Nicknames used: pretty girl,sweetie,baby,goodgirl.

Art was damn near losing his mind. Tashi’s game coming up. Patrick visiting. It felt suffocating. Art had this plan of telling Tashi that Patrick didn’t love her and getting her mind clouded with endless possibilities and telling Patrick that Tashi doesn’t consider their relationship a serious relationship. It was gonna go perfectly as he wanted but there was one issue. You. Tashi’s best friend. You knew everything about her; things she would never tell anyone but you. With that being said he knew it would never work because she would just go straight to you and be like “Art told me that Patrick didn’t love me. Un-Fucking-Believe-able” and you would be like “Have you atleast asked Patrick about this?” Being all rational about it instead of jumping to conclusions. He didn’t need that. He needed to find some way for you to be quiet. He’d find a way to make u quiet.

You were out practicing outside on the court with Tashi and the rest of the girls. Art walks over to the two of you. Eyes lingering on Tashi a bit before looking over to you his signature smirk on his face and waving. So… you wave back.

“Hey Tashi, You don’t mind if i steal her for a bit right?” His eyes making its way to Tashi, pointing to you with his finger. She shrugs looking at you with a knowing smile for your answer. You had a huge fucking crush on Art despite “talking” to him only a few times and having some classes with him. You told Tashi about it all. She’d get so sick of it sometimes and be like “Just talk to him already” and God you wish you could, but everytime you planned on doing so you stopped yourself and ended up just doing anything else to get your mind off it.

“Me?” You ask with wide eyes surprised as you nod sheepishly. “Yeah, Yeah um, ill see you in a bit Tash!” And with that you’re following Art to wherever he takes you. Thoughts and heart racing with the possibilities of what could happen.

Art takes you to the cafeteria paying for your lunch with his credits as you two take a seat at one of the tables farther away from the entrance. He pulls out your chair for you like a gentleman then takes a seat infront of you. You stare at the food for a bit not sure if you should start to eat or speak but he decides for you as he says. “We’ve spoken a few times right? No need to be nervous sweetie.” And with that you gulp down hard. Taking a sip of your water. Sweetie? What was he getting at.

“M’ not nervous.” You say but your voice gives you away as it shakes just a bit and he picks up on it with ease giving you his award winning smile.

“I just wanted to talk to you a bit. The pretty girl i have in so many of my classes. No harm in that right?” He chuckles lightly watching your every move like a hawk and you feel your cheeks get all hot.

“Yeah.” You take another sip of your water before finally making eye contact with him and with the way he’s looking at you, you could’ve died right then and there of a heart attack.

“You know I’ve been trying to convince Tashi to set us up for a while right? Ive always wanted to talk to you.” He says still smiling as he holds eye contact with you: You hold back a smile of your own by biting your bottom lip.

“Really? Hm.. She told me about it a few times, but i backed out everytime.” You giggle shyly tearing away from the intense eye contact that felt like he wanted to eat you alive. It had you pressing your thighs together as you glance back at your food forgetting it was even there.

“Why? Do i make you that nervous sweetie?” He teases as he finally picks his fork up and starts to eat the food on his plate. “Eat up before it gets cold.” His smiling never leaving his face once as he watches you finally pick up your fork and start eating. A grin creeping onto your face as you do.

-`✮´-

He walks you to the locker room so you can get ready for your game with Tashi today.

“I’ll be watching you.” He grins as you play with your fingers looking up at him as he stands in the door way leaning on it with arms crossed.

“I’ll look for you then.” You hum grinning right back at him as you get on your tippy toes reaching up to him and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Meet me after the game?” You ask shyly staring up at him eyes beaming. He smirks as he says.

“What kinda man would i be if i didn’t?”

With that you turn around to get changed into your tennis outfit and ready to get out on the court and he watches your every move until you disappear from his sight.

Art meets up with Patrick for a bite and to see how he’s been.

“So, you seeing anybody?” Art asks knowing damn well he’s not.

“Why would i be seeing anyone? Im a taken man.” He smiles thinking Art is being playful and in a way he is. Art hums nodding to him, sticking his tongue to his the inside of his cheek before saying.

“I’ll go get us some churros.” Walking off leaving Patrick to choose a seat for them. While Art is waiting for Patrick he glances back at him and Patrick is staring at something deeply. Tashi’s poster plastered on the wall across from him. Art clenches his jaw as his eyes meet the poster. But he soon snaps out of it as the man behind the counter tells him his churros are done. He takes them walking back to Patrick with a smile on his face. “Do you love Tashi?” Art asks as Patrick is still staring at the photo not even noticing Art was there and he grins looking up at him pulling the stool closer with his foot.

“Of course I do.” He hums while he watches Art take a seat in the stool passing him a churro. “It’s nice to see you lit up about something you know. Even if it’s my girlfriend.” Art feigns innocence as he takes a bite of his churro and shakes his head.

“I dont get lit up about Tashi. Thats in the past.” Patrick points a churro at him quickly saying

“You don’t even get this way about tennis.“ Art rolls his eyes before taking a bite out of the churro that was pointed at him, this causes Patrick to chuckle.

“It’s fine Art seriously. I mean who wouldn’t get that way over Tashi? Greatest woman I’ve ever seen.” Art only hums taking another bite of his churro and so does Patrick.

“Well since we’re on the topic of Tashi. What do you think she thinks about your relationship? I don’t think she thinks it’s a serious relationship.” Patrick raises his eyebrow as he chuckles again.

“Has she told you that?” Patrick inquires looking at the blonde with a never leaving smile.

“No. But I mean I’ve been around her and it just seems that way you know?” Art says defending his statement even though he knows it’s a lie. Patrick only hums studying Art’s face before shrugging and taking a bite out of his churro.

-`✮´-

Art makes his way to the court finding a seat and saving one for Patrick as he looks at the court and if as on cue, Tashi walks out, with you following right behind her in your matching red tennis tank and white skirts and bags. He grins as he has his eyes on Tashi before meeting yours and waving to you and you wave back a cute smile gracing your face. His plan has been set in motion and all he has to do is wait. He texts Patrick as he still isn’t there asking where he is and he says he’ll be there soon. And as soon as he reads it he hears Patrick calling his name before taking a seat next to him a bashful smile on his face.

“You ready?” You ask Tashi smiling at her as she just nods her head not really looking at you as she just got into an argument with her boyfriend over something so stupid. “Tash?” You ask concerned as she doesn’t answer and you look at her, putting your bag down next to hers. “You okay?” Tashi groans as she looks at you and huffs out.

“I’m fine. Stop fucking asking me.” You nod mumble an okay before digging through your bag to get your racket and towel out. Art witnesses all this from his seat and smirks realizing his plan is working out perfectly.

The match starts and you go after Tashi. Her place is fourth and yours is fifth. You and her watch your team go against the opposing team and by time it’s Tashi’s the teams are tied. Tashi goes up with her racket as the opposing team starts the match. It starts off good. You watch Tashi’s every move despite knowing there’s nothing to worry about you still do. And everything you could have ever thought to go wrong does with one wrong step she takes; she injures her knee. You gasp in shock as she screams and whines in pain and you run to her as fast as you can going to her side as Art and Patrick is quick behind you and so is a nurse checking out her leg as you hold her hand tightly.

-`✮´-

You, Art and Patrick are in the nurses office at your school you sit by Art on the left side and Patrick on the right of Tashi who’s in the bed.

“Tashi..” you look up to see the source of the voice and breaking the silence and its Patrick. He reaches out for her hand but she refuses it. Patrick stops hesitantly before taking Tashi into his arms. This makes Art clenches his jaw watching the two as Patrick hugs Tashi.

“Can we get a moment alone… please?” Patrick asks looking at you and Art before you nod walking towards the door and Art hesitates for a second before catching up behind you.

“Fuck. I know Tashi’s gonna be so upset with herself. That was a really big game for her.” You start the conversation looking straight ahead as you play with the hem of your skirt as Art walks right by you and he hums in agreement nodding before adding.

“Yeah I wonder what could have caused it. Do you know?” He asks looking at you as you two make it outside of the building.

“She said something about some shitty argument with Pat and I guess it threw off her whole game.” You shrug before sighing and looking at him. “Do you have a cigarette?” He gives you that knowing smirk before digging into his pocket and passing you one as you two head out of the building into the woods in front of the building to smoke.

“So you’re telling me, Patrick helped you learn how to jerk off in bordering school?” You laugh taking the drag of the cigarette as you lean onto the tree behind you.

“Hey i was like twelve!” He chuckles bringing his shirt to cover his mouth. “I shouldnt have told you now you’re just gonna tease me.” You smile looking at him breathing out the smoke into his direction before passing the cigarette to him.

“No m’not. It’s cute that you two are close like that.” You hum pushing your tongue to the inside of your cheek as you look at him. Really taking him in as he takes a hit from the cigarette himself. He notices you staring before he gives you that smirks and hums.

“Tell me something embarrassing about yourself hm?” He looks at you putting the cigarette out on the tree that you’re leaning on as he gets closer. “I can’t be the only one spilling secrets here sweetie.”

Your face gets hotter the closer he gets.

“A-an embarrassing story? Um..” you think for a moment tearing your gaze to your fingers as you start to play with them nervously… “Well.. i was walking down the street once to this event was going on, and i was with Tashi. I was following alongside her mindlessly as we enter the building i walk right into a glass window and i could hear her burst out laughing along with some people who saw it and i was so embarrassed…” you say and its your turn to cover your face with the back of your hand as you hear Art laugh. Its genuine. You hit his chest playfully as you say, “Don’t laugh!” But you’re smiling way too hard to even care if he laughs or not and whenever he calms down he looks down at you smile ear to ear.

“You’re really cute you know that?” He hums looking at you but you look down at your feet as you shuffle them feeling awkward. He takes your chin between his thumb and hand tilting your head up, forcing you to look at him. “Come on sweetie, don’t get all shy on me now.” He smirks. He has you right where he wants you. You breath hitches as your eyes meets his. It has that same look as earlier. Like he wanted to eat you alive.

“Good girl.” He hums with a smile before leaning in closer so now his nose is bumping yours. He presses his lips to yours closing his eyes and tilting his head to kiss you better as his free hand comes to rest on your hip. At first you’re taken aback so you’re frozen but you recover quickly closing your eyes and kissing him back with so much passion. He swipes his tongue against your bottom lip asking for permission. Permission to explore you more and you give it to him with no hesitation. His tongue presses against yours before he starts to suck on it lightly as he kisses you. Starting off slow before getting rougher his hand that was holding your chin moves to the other side of your hip to grip it harder. You mewl into his mouth at the touch. Leaning into him more as your arms wrap around his neck pulling him in impossibly closer.

“There you go sweetie.” He mumbles into the kiss as he slides his hands down the bottom of your ass gripping it before lifting you against the tree. “Wrap your legs around me baby.” And you do as he says wrapping your legs around him as he stops kissing your lips and kissing your neck. One of the hands leaving your ass to fondle your boob through your tank feeling your nipple harden almost immediately his smirks into your neck and you can feel it, it makes you whine grinding into his dick through the thin layers of clothing.

“Need more..” You whine desperate your hand moving to grip onto his hair causing him to groan into your neck. You want to make him do that a million times more.

“So needy.” He murmurs before pulling back from your neck and tugging onto the waistband of your tennis skirt pulling it down and throwing it onto the ground. He presses two fingers onto your panties. He smiles and teases you, “So wet and ive barely even touched you.” He sets you back onto your feet before dropping to his knees and peeling your panties off achingly slow but it’s worth the wait when he takes those two same fingers up your slick. Collecting your juices on them before rubbing it onto your clit. His pace is slow. Always starting off slow before speeding up gradually. Pressing kisses to your thigh as he suddenly stops rubbing your clit. Quickly replacing it with his mouth sucking on it as his finger circles around your entrance before gently pushing it knuckle deep. This causing you to let out a moan and cover your mouth shyly while your other hand remains in his hair. He’s quick to look up at you and take his mouth away from your clit and stops moving his finger which has you chasing him with your hips. “Let me hear you.” You nod moving your hand from your mouth with a whine of need as he takes your right leg and lifts it over his shoulder. He starts with kitten licks to your clit this time sliding another finger inside and moving at a slow pace. This has your back arching off the tree and moaning for him. Just like he wanted.

He soaks up every sound you make for him smiling against you. Committing everything about you to memory. It makes him forget why he’s even doing this. He gets lost in you, down to the way you taste and sound. He’s in too deep now that his stupid “plan” doesn’t even matter. He’s not turning back from you when you sound so good for him like this. No fucking way is he turning back. He continues to lick onto your clit fingers speeding up as he goes slipping another finger inside you causing you to moan so fucking loud. You’re sure someone has heard you by now. “You’re doing so good for me baby.” He groans into your cunt as he continues to ravish you as he feels your hands in his hair tighten. Making you feel so good you can feel your legs start to shake as you get closer and closer to cumming. “Wanna cum baby? Ask for it pretty girl.” He hums continuing his pace as you whine before answering him with a shaky voice,

“I wanna cum. Can i cum please?” You ask meeting his eyes and you swear you almost came on spot meeting his hungry gaze.

“Go head baby. Wanna taste you.” He murmurs speeding up his movements impossibly faster as he brings you to the brink of heaven before you release all over his face and fingers. “There you go..” he hums helping you through your high before withdrawing his fingers and mouth from your cunt. “Think you’re all ready for me sweetie?” He ask with a smirk getting off his knees and standing right in-front of you pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. He takes his shirt off before pushing down his black shorts to his ankles, boxers going down with them as you finally realize how big he is. You bite your lip staring at it as he chuckles looking at you. He talks your leg hooking it around his hip as he slaps his dick onto your cunt causing your hips to jerk up at the sensation.

“Dont tease..” You whine as he gives you that damned smirk before he hooks your other leg onto his hip. You wrap your arms around his neck whining as his tip circles your entrance still fucking teasing you before he finally enters you. His tip entering you as he stretches you inch by inch before finally thrusting into you fully causing you to let out a moan and throw your head back to the tree behind you. “Fuck.” You breath out as he lets you adjust to size peppering kisses all over your face.

“There you go. Filling you right up just how you need it.” He hums against your cheek as he starts moving at a slow pace his face going to your neck sucking on the soft skin with a smile. His hits tip your cervix just right as he whispers praises into your neck. Always starting slow and steady before he gradually starts to speed up. His hands gripping your hips. Sure to leave a bruise as he starts to drill into your cunt. Leaving you moan and whimper his name. Getting you so cock-drunk just by his dick. “You’re taking it so well for me.” You only moan his name in response your brain going all dumb as he fucks pleasure into you. You’ve never been fucked so well in your life. He shifts the angle hitting you even deeper inside causing you to moan louder your hands move to his back digging your nails into them so hard he’s whining into your neck. You clench around him at the sound he makes. He sounds so fucking pretty when he whines and you wanna hear it a thousand times over. “Sound so good fr’me baby. Lemme hear you more.” He whimpers before he takes a hand from your hip and raises up your tank. Taking your nipple into his mouth as he fucks you and this you clench around him again.

“F-feel so so so good art..” you mewl getting closer to cumming again. And he groans into your nipples continuing to suck on it.

“Gonna cum for me baby?” He murmurs removing his mouth from your nipple as he replaces it with his hand tweaking it pressing sweet kisses to your cheek as you nod so pathetically with a moan. “Go ahead and let go for me baby. Wanna feel you.” He whines into your neck before moving to kiss you sliding his tongue into your open mouth with ease. He swallows every moan and of yours as he fucks up into you as desperate as you to get a release. After a few more thrusts your cunt is fluttering around as you cum for the second time. You let out a scream of his name as he fucks you through it chasing his own orgasm. “Good girl, so fucking good.” He whines chasing his own orgasm, all whining like a dog who won’t be let outside. “Fuck- Where do you want it?”

He asks quickly in a hurry the need to cum intensifying by the second.

“Inside. Need it inside.” You whimper over stimulated your eyes all glossy and voice shaky. And with that he gives you exactly what you need. Cumming inside you coating your walls with him. He thrusts a few more times before slowly coming to a stop, pressing his forehead against yours. Both coated in sweat he presses a kiss to your cheek.

“Did so good sweetie.” He hums helping you back into your clothes before fixing his own. He takes your hand feeling content as he walks you back to your dorm. Fuck the plan. This was better than anything he could’ve thought of.

-

-

-

[amuyyi]

How Sweet .

synopsis: you somehow find yourself in Vietnam with your best friend Hanni, and the heavy southeast asian heat leaves hanni to her own devices... trope: non-idol!hanni x non-idol!f!reader, best friends to lovers, summer vacation, high school seniors, fluff

wc: 3.9k

cw: none

a/n: hello hello! this is my first fanfic in a long long time, and ive never shared on tumblr before.. but i love hanni's fuckass bob ! please let me know what you guys think, im bit rusty in terms of writing ^^'

-------------------

“So… What do you think?”

You stare at your best friend, mouth agape in complete and utter shock as Hanni stood in front of you. With a sheepish expression on her face, your eyes glaze over the silver blades within Hanni’s left hand as she holds a long lock of her naturally jet black air within her right. As your eyes travel upwards, you’re met with a rather uneven, extremely choppy bob planted on the top of your friend’s head alongside some hastily cut bangs. You would’ve thought it was a poorly done wig if she wasn't already holding evidence of her own wrongdoing within her hands. There's an uncomfortable silence that passes between the two of you as you simply stare, your jaw practically threatening to fall off of the base of your skull as you could see the other girl’s eye twitching ever so slightly in response to your silence. 

“Can you please say something?! It's not that bad I swear!” The vietnamese girl whines out, spinning on her heel and making her way back towards the bathroom where she had initially emerged. With Hanni no longer in your line of sight, you snap out of your daze, shaking your head as your brows knit together in confusion, just now beginning to fully process what you had just seen. You practically fall out of your seat on the couch as you scramble to your feet, following after the other girl as you call out, “wait, wait, what?! When did you do that???”

Hanni had made plans for the summer to visit her family back in Vietnam, and had graciously extended an offer for you to join. Excited and albeit a bit nervous, you instantly agreed, having been meaning to make some fun summer plans between the two of you for a while now. Your best friend’s family was sweet, having met her grandmother alongside a few aunts, uncles, and multiple younger cousins who were all pleased to meet your acquaintance. 

Despite the lovely first day of introductions and adjusting to the horrible jet lag you two experienced once landing, you soon learned that summers in Vietnam were, for lack of a better word, brutal. For the entirety of Southeast Asia, the heat during these months were ruthless, practically leaving everyone in sight panting, sweating, and doing anything possible in order to relieve themselves from the scorching sun– and the humidity. Oh, the humidity. The air felt thick and heavy in a way you’ve never experienced before. It almost felt hard to breathe sometimes because everything around you just felt so… sticky. How did Vietnam manage to make even a supposed nice summer breeze feel hot? Hanni had conveniently managed to not mention the intensity of the weather at the time, and as a result, left you two practically melting into the couch, marinating within your own sweat as Hanni’s grandmother left the two of you home alone for the day.

You practically break down the door to the bathroom to find a distressed Hanni increasingly becoming more panicked the longer she looks at her reflection.  “My Ba used to always cut my hair like this whenever I visited over the summer, I thought it’d be easy to replicate!” Hanni exclaims, staring herself down within the mirror as she tries to assess the damage that has been done at every angle possible. Honestly, the whole situation was almost too good. Almost like a scene from a sitcom or something.

Fighting back a snort, you smirk teasingly, “has she always made it so uneven?” Your unsolicited comment left Hanni clicking her tongue in offense, raising her hand holding the scissors threatening to hit you before shifting her gaze back towards the mirror, letting out a distressed groan in defeat. “I don’t even know what came over me, y/n. I think this unbearable heat actually fried my brain,” she runs her free hand through her hair, some poorly cut strands falling out as she winces, “I don’t know! I don’t know! My Ba made it look so easy!” You watch as her eyes dart around, not talking to anyone in particular as the panic seemingly begins to take over, “I can fix it though! If i just cut–”

“Nope.” You firmly grab Hanni’s wrist as she begins to lift the scissors back up towards her hair, cutting her words short as you wrestle the blades out of her grip. “Y/n–” she starts, “Hanni.” You begin, your voice a tone that is similar to that of an owner telling a dog to sit, eyebrows raised and head cocked to the side as you lock eyes with your friend. She silently stares back, mouth open as if to retort, but it soon closes as she sighs, sitting down on a nearby stool in defeat as you also let out a breath you didnt you know you were holding. At least she didn't have free reign over the scissors. 

“Now let me see what I can do about… this,” You hum, dragging the stool closer to where you stood as you get a better look at Hanni’s hair. The scissors she used were very obviously not haircutting scissors, but you doubted she had anything better on hand. Alongside that, she somehow managed to cut drastically uneven halves of her hair, and it was obvious the cuts on both the left and right side were not a clean process, leaving multiple bluntly chopped bits all within her hair. As for the bangs, thankfully she didn’t cut them too short, actually leaving a lot of hair left to work with. Knowing Hanni, she was probably too scared to commit to the act after seeing what she did to the rest of her hair. Now, you were no hair cutting expert, but anyone with eyes could see what needed to be done in order to fix this mess. Hanni awkwardly avoids eye contact seemingly out of embarrassment as you examine her, eyes looking practically anywhere but within yours as you contemplate your next steps, her cheeks faintly dusted a light shade of pink. You raise the scissors and start off by trying to even out both sides of her hair, the quiet snipping sounds filling the bathroom as Hanni sits up as straight as she can, hands placed a bit too formally on her lap. 

“Do you even know what you’re doing?” 

“Apparently more than you.”

“That's not very comforting.”

“I can always leave your hair like this.”

“Don’t you dare, y/n.” 

Soft, lighthearted giggles erupt from the bathroom as the banter between you two continues. Even in a situation like this, you and Hanni always managed to make each other smile– It's what drew you two to each other. You recall the day you two first met. Through some common friends or the other, somehow you ended up at a picnic within the local park, Hanni being one of the first to arrive. She had brought a container full of fruit to share, and practically dominated the conversation with her cheery attitude– but not in a suffocating kind of way. She somehow managed to know everyone who arrived and they all seemed to naturally flock towards the girl. You were no different than the people she attracted, but you were lucky enough to have her full attention the whole day, her large round eyes attentive and focused on you as you told stories and cracked with everyone. Ever since then, the two of you have been practically inseparable. Always waiting for each other after classes and somehow ending up in comical situations such as this.

After a few more snips of the scissors, you take a step back, taking in your work as Hanni’s eyes flutter open, blinking a bit as she stands up. She approaches the mirror, eyes lighting up as she sees the result. Thanks to your handiwork, her hair had ended up in a lovely dark layered bob with straight across bangs that actually looked intentional. It was a bit shorter than your liking, having the ends land just above her chin, but the other girl didn’t give you much to work with.

“Wow, this actually looks… really good.” Hanni spoke, her voice laced with awe as she continued to admire her reflection, “I kind of look like Mathilda! Y'know, from that kid assassin movie or whatever?” She comments, looking back at you expectantly as you pretend to think for a moment.

“Ah.. That's unfortunate, I was really trying to go for an Edna Mode kind of look… Maybe a bowl cut…” You trail off, feigning regret as you twirl the scissors in your hand, eliciting a snort from Hanni, punching you in the shoulder as you let out a laugh. 

The other girl doesn’t hesitate to pull you into a hug though, even through all of the laughter, and you tense up for only a moment before melting into her touch, your arms wrapping around her waist as her arms snake comfortably around your neck. The light smell of flowers emerges from the embrace, unintentionally causing you to sigh with pleasure as you can feel the vibrations of Hanni giggling into your neck in response. The feeling left your stomach fluttering with butterflies for some reason. Hanni had always smelt really nice, but this time it was a little different– a little more fresh? Maybe the tropical air was doing something to her. 

“Thank you,” you hear her whisper into your ear gently, and you could feel your cheeks warm at the praise as you pull back shyly tucking a strand of your own hair behind your ear as you shrug, “It really was no big deal,” You trail off as Hanni’s gaze shifts back onto her reflection. “Still, I wasn't expecting it to be so… Short.”

You arch a brow at her as you bluntly state, “Well you didn't give me a whole lot of leeway with your little scissor-happy act over there,” which rewarded you with another punch on the shoulder and a tongue stuck out in a childish manner from the short haired girl.

As the two of you exit the bathroom, Hanni lets out a relieved sigh, “aaah, that feels SO much better!” She cooes, stretching her arms and shaking her head, letting her short hair fly as she grins. You also smile at the sight of your friend so happy, but let out a tired breath shortly after. “Well I’m glad you like it, but it's still hot as hell in here.”

An imaginary lightbulb goes off within Hanni’s head as a grin forms on her lips. “I know a place, c’mon,” Hanni grabs your arm, guiding you outside as you immediately get hit with a wave of heat and a flash of light. Squinting, you use your free arm to try and shield your eyes from the sun above, “Do we HAVE to be outside?” You whine, feeling beads of sweat forming on your forehead almost instantaneously as you’re guided to a rather charming looking vespa parked nearby. It was pastel yellow in color, and had some stickers plastered on the side. You watch in awe as the other girl hops on it with confidence, taking a pair of keys out of her pocket as she pats the free seat behind her, “do you HAVE to keep complaining and not trust me?” 

You are once again brought back to a dumbfounded state as you slowly approach the vespa, admiring its quality and state before your eyes go back to Hanni, “Can you actually drive this thing? You never told me!” An almost cartoonish glimmer shines within her eyes as she winks, pressing a finger to her lips as she playfully grins, “There's a lot you don’t know about me, y/n.”

Very hesitantly, you slowly make your way onto the back seat of the vespa, awkwardly sitting as a brief second of silence passes. Hanni rolls her eyes, chuckling lightheartedly at your uncertainty as she grabs your arms and places them around her waist, “You can trust me with this y/n, I promise.” Her voice was soft and reassuring, and she looked at you with her all too familiar warm eyes that made it nearly impossible to not trust her at that very moment. Besides, Hanni wouldn’t actually let you get hurt, you knew that much. Reluctantly, you let out a sigh and tighten your grip on Hanni’s waist, saying a soft “okay…” which resulted in an unseen smile from the other girl and the sound of the engine to rev confidently.

-

If there was one thing Ho Chi Minh City locals perfected, it was the art of organized chaotic traffic. You fearfully bite back a scream as you watch as oncoming traffic simply did not stop for anyone anywhere ever. People did not look before crossing the street and every vespa, motorbike, car, or other miscellaneous vehicle simply maneuvered around one other to get around. You swear your grip on Hanni at this point would cut off all circulation in her body as she lets out a loud and hearty laugh amongst the chaos, speeding up as she weaves in between pedestrians with ease, as if she's been doing this her entire life. “Hanni what the HELL–”

Soon enough the two of you made it out of the city, and Hanni guides you through the dusty terrain of the more rural areas of Vietnam. You were a bit nervous at first, unsure if you were a fan of the bumpy nature of the rocky road that was debatably either safer or more dangerous than those in the city. Once you realize Hanni was no longer entertaining your fears though, you take a moment to finally get out of your own head and live in the moment. Inhale. Exhale. Your eyes glisten as you take in the sights around you. It was so… Green. The lush flora coats the environment with a serene green glow, and the feeling of the wind flying through your hair was such a freeing feeling. Your grasp on Hanni loosens as you let out a loud cheer, laughing as you let everything go. The dappled spots of light from the overhead trees rush past your vision below as you look forward, spotting multiple ox and farmers ahead within the flooded fields. The clouds ahead looked so incredibly soft, and the sky looked bigger than ever– even bigger than how it looked on the plane ride here. You can't help but wonder if it were nighttime, would you be able to see the stars here? You press your cheek against Hanni’s back as you relish in the feeling for a bit, closing your eyes in bliss as the sounds of the nature around you fade.

Before you knew it, the green forestry surrounding you was slowly diminishing, eventually being replaced with a more beige sandy soil. A small gasp leaves your lips as you look out, spotting a small beach with an even larger body of water. The waves glistened beneath the summer sun and you were surprised such a place had absolutely no human traffic. “I found this place when I first got Sunny here,” Hanni practically reads your mind, also glancing over at the ocean before finding a place to park her vespa and hop off, “It's a place the locals keep a secret, and now you also know of it as well.”

You tilt your head a bit in confusion at her comment, hopping off of the vehicle, “Sunny?” Hanni raises her eyebrow as she points to the back end of the Vespa, a large sticker labeled ‘Sunny’ in large white letters is proudly showcased on Hanni’s vespa, and you mentally facepalm as the other girl giggles. Still, it left a warm feeling within your chest knowing Hanni was sharing a hidden area like this with you.

“Come on, let's go in the water! It's hot out here!!” Hanni exclaims loudly, immediately booking it towards the ocean ahead, kicking her shoes off and into the sand in the process. Your eyes widen as you chase after her, hastily taking your shoes off as well as you call out, “Hanni, wait! We didn’t bring our swim suits!” You hissed a little as the sand was unrealistically hot from the sun practically cooking it throughout the day, muttering out little “ow, ow, ow’s” as you hopscotch your way into the water. You couldn't help but notice Hanni was unbothered by the temperature, her new hair allowing a newfound freshness within her step. It truly seemed like she was made for the beach.

“So…?” Hanni extends the word playfully with a grin, already calf deep into water by the time you awkwardly trudge through the ocean towards her, kicking up liquid in the process and splashing Hanni’s shorts. She gasps in shock at the cold sensation and you open your mouth to apologize before getting cut off by water getting shot directly into your face. Salty water entered your mouth and nearly up your nose and you spat it out, wiping your face with your hands as your eyes focused and landed on the culprit, who stared at you with a mischievous grin, bent down within the water to prepare for her next attack. 

“Oh no you dont–” You immediately side step and just narrowly miss an icy cold splash of water before you, bending over to counterattack with twice as much. A high pitched scream followed by genuine laughter followed suit, and the two of you go at it for a little bit, splashing water back and forth in between fits of laughter, completely drenching your clothes. You were happy. Being here, being with her. You took a moment to truly take in the sight of the girl before you. Eyes crescent shaped as she laughs from her heart, a toothy open mouth grin that you knew was genuine and grew to love over the years, and the way her newly cut hair was soaked and stuck to her cheeks and forehead charmingly. You loved the energy Hanni always brought to the table, her constant smile and the endless surprises she had up her sleeve. You were glad she chose you of all people to be her best… friend.

…Oh.

Hanni however, is not aware of your current sentimental and affectionate internal thoughts towards her, and decides to up her game with a new strategy, smirking to herself as she backs up, building up energy while you were catching your breath. You were so worn out and lost within your own thoughts you only noticed the charging bob-haired girl all too late, “Hanni WAI–” 

Practically all of the air got knocked out of you as Hanni strikes you down with a full body bear hug, sending the both of you into the water with a loud splash. Satisfied with her work (and quite worn out by now) Hanni doesn’t even make an attempt to hold you down, going full dead fish on your chest with an innocent grin and multiple giggles as you prop yourself up within the water with your arms. Coughing pathetically, you use one of your hands to wipe your face and slick back your hair as you look at Hanni, who rests very comfortably between your legs and on your chest, her arms wrapped around your waist as she looks up at you with those big dark brown eyes. Your breath hitches as you realize how close your faces are to one another. It wasn’t like you two haven't been this physically close before, but that never stopped you from being flustered. Something about the way she looks at you sometimes always caught you off guard, and you never knew how to handle it. The last time this happened was at your last sleepover together, having talked about past crushes, relationships, and how dating would work after high school graduation. Something about the way she looked at you underneath the sheets after asking about your crushes made your mind go blank. She had that look in her eyes again, and it drove you crazy how you couldn't read it. Cheeks reddening, you instinctively whip your head away, needing to look at something other than Hanni to keep yourself propped up within the water.

Frowning at this reaction, Hanni reaches a hand up and cusps your cheek, guiding your head to face her once again, forcing you to make eye contact with her. “y/n…” Her tone was soft and airy, if anything it was a bit needy. The blush on your cheeks was apparent at this point, and you still had no idea why you were even blushing in the first place, but the way her eyes flickered down to your lips for a split second intensified the color tenfold. You watch as her eyebrows knit together and how she subconsciously bites her lip, a habit she had whenever she was lost in thought– a sight you were familiar with. Even so, it felt different this time. 

You watch as Hanni closes her eyes and leans in, softly pressing her lips against yours. It was a gentle kiss, a very hesitant one at that. Just a small peck. You could tell it was Hanni’s way of “testing the waters” (ba dum tss) but to you? It was everything. You quite literally felt fireworks within your stomach as she kissed you, and the shock left you simply frozen in place, eyes comically wide open for the very brief moment. All too soon, she pulls away. She looks up at you again, a glint of fear and uncertainty in her eyes as she waits for your reaction.

You take a moment to simply sit there dazed, mouth agape in the water once again as panic settles within Hanni at the silence. “Oh my god. I'm so sorry y/n. I-I thought—“ She had begun to hurriedly make her way off of your chest when you quickly grabbed her wrist, pulling her back into you as you brought your lips together. Now it was Hanni’s turn to freeze up, but it was only for a moment. Almost immediately after, you could hear her blissfully sighing into the kiss as her arms snake their way around your neck, your free hand moving down her back and landing comfortably on the small of it.

Her lips were soft, and tasted ever so lightly like berries despite having been splashed with saltwater multiple times. You’d never think you’d find yourself within the beaches of Vietnam, kissing your best friend, yet here you were. The sound of waves surrounds the two of you as you find yourself lost within the movements of her lips. You felt her pull away for air and you almost let out a whine at the sudden lack of contact before she starts peppering kisses all over your face. Your cheeks, nose, chin, forehead, everywhere. “You look so pretty right now y/n-nie~” Hanni cooes as you roll your eyes, pulling her in closer as she focuses her kisses onto your cheek. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’ve been wanting to do this for a long time,” you tease, getting a hum in response as Hanni brings you back in for another kiss, whispering “you have no idea..”

“So… Do you have a crush on me or something?”

“Do you not like me back, y/n?”

“Well… I don't know about that...”

“I'm going to leave you here.”

“Noooo~”

Several splashes and giggles erupted from the both of you, and suddenly summer just became a little sweeter.

[kasagia]

right hand IV mini spoiler?🤭

One spoiler may be that I'm doing everything I can to get IV published this week, on Friday at the latest (and I'll probably do it, keep your fingers crossed for me). 😅🙈

But here is a fragment of part IV: 😈😈

(...)

"Yeah… he can be quite a pain in the ass." You nod, shifting your gaze to Feyd. He danced with Irulan. You try to ignore the pang in your heart, and without thinking much, you reach for two glasses, handing one to Fevas. The two of you make a quick toast, and you're relieved to feel the burning sensation of the alcohol masking the unexpected bitterness you feel.

"Well, since he's busy... will you allow me the immense honour of having my toes trampled by you?" You look briefly at the harpies, considering his proposition. It wouldn't hurt anyone if you will have a one dance with your old friend, right?

One of the harpies nods at you while the other two stare daggers at Irulan. And in that very moment, you decide that you will not allow yourself to become another of Na-Baron's harpies. You'd rather die than become the other jealous woman.

"I am better dancer than I used to be. You can get very surprised." You respond flirtatiously, offering him your hand. You giggle, rolling your eyes as he leans down and plants a kiss on it.

"Really? Impossible. The last time you danced with me, I had to go to a medic to heal my poor, trampled toes."

"And yet you still want to dance with me..." You reply teasingly as he leads you to the dance floor. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you a little too close to him for comfort. But neither of you care.

You think it's nice to feel seen and desired. It was certainly better to have a charming man like Fevas than to prop up the walls at a party. Sometimes being in the shadows bothered you. And even though Fevas was... too lively for you, right now you wanted to break out of your comfort zone for a moment. You knew he was perfect for this.

You didn't realise that the blue eyes of a certain Harkonnen were piercing your companion with a hateful look, which especially intensified when Fevas wrapped his arms tightly around your waist and leaned towards you to whisper in your ear.

(...)

"I think you've forgotten who I am to you, little witch. Say it."

"I… you are the Na-Baron." He hums dissatisfyingly, shaking his head at your response.

"Try again."

"Future Baron of Giedi Prime." Your answer was again unsatisfactory to him. You shiver as you feel him press the dagger against your chest, the tip of the blade playing with the strings holding the corseted bodice of your dress together. If he used a little bit of the dress, it would expose your breasts to his view.

"Don't play stupid, or I will punish you in front of everyone. And I wish that dirty, walking pile of muscles that had his hands on you didn't see me slapping your beautiful, little ass red. In fact, I'd rather be the only one enjoying this view, so be my good girl and tell me whose remains I'll throw to my harpies tonight?"

You hold your breath at his words. Feyd couldn't visit his harpies tonight. Not when they were supposed to be busy... getting rid of the baron's corpse. You think quickly, trying to find the best way out of the situation without condemning Fevas to a certain death. Feyd's intense, urgent gaze makes you blurt out words in an act of pure panic and thoughtlessness that you have probably never said to him before.

"No."

I hope you want more... 😊🩵🩵🖤🖤

[todorokis-girl]

I Never Knew You Were Alive - Soulmate AU (VI)

Chapters: Chapter I: So it starts Chapter II: A late arrival Chapter III: belive of be doomed Chapter IV: What are we doing? Chapter V: Last minute encounter

masterlist

taglist: @staygoldsquatchling02 , @alien-00715-blog

After the intense fighting earlier that day, she decided to take the rest of the day off. She had regained some sensation to her fingers and nose simply by warming herself up (and to be honest, Shouto had insisted on standing as close to her as possible until she felt better). Every time any of Touya’s family members treated her so kindly, she remembered what was going on with him, and how by extension, she was lying to them too. Would they forgive her? Would they think less of her?

The living room, usually a sanctuary of calm, felt oddly oppressive. She changed into her home clothes and settled into her couch the moment she was done preparing to spend the evening in. It had been a while since she had any semblance of normality. Her free time had consisted of correcting assignments, dangerous hero work, and late-night walks attempting to find a peaceful resolution to the situation with Touya, or more like Dabi. She was already starting to feel the toll of it all over her body. Something had to give, but she couldn’t figure out what to give.

Giving up on her responsibilities as a hero meant forsaking the very essence of who she was, the reason she fought so hard every day. Abandoning her hero students, the bright young minds she had vowed to protect and guide, was unthinkable. They looked up to her, depended on her. But giving up on Touya meant abandoning hope, surrendering to the idea that he was beyond saving. It meant accepting that she had failed him, and she wasn't sure she could live with that. The conflict gnawed at her, a constant battle within that left her weary and restless.

After a while of watching a movie, she heard a subtle knock on the sliding doors to her balcony. Turning off the TV, she was settled in the dark, deciding if it was actually what she heard. She was on the top floor of a very high building, and the fire escape was the opposite way. A knock on her balcony sliding doors was unrealistic; but, she heard it again. She stood up from her space on the couch and walked over to them, slowly making a silhouette on the other side of the curtain.

“Stop being so paranoid, it’s just me,” The familiar voice settled in her ears. Touya. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself now that she knew it was him. She took a step forward and opened the curtains, leaving the doors closed and locked.

“Are you going to open up?”

She glared at him and leaned her head a little to the side, making sure not to move a muscle. They had already had one encounter today. Yes, he had decided that he wasn’t going to kill her and tried to warm her up before she was rescued, but she still didn’t feel out of the edge quite yet. She felt his eyes roam her body, taking her in. “Appropriate home attire, makes me wanna come over more often,” he remarked with a smirk. She looked down at herself, remembering that she had worn an old crop top and a simple pair of underwear, obviously not expecting visits.

“I’ll go change.”

“No, please, I can’t have that,” he looked at her and tapped on the window one more time with his pointer finger. “I really just want to talk though. I want to hear our story from your side. Then I’ll tell you mine.”

She swallowed and looked over at a distance in consideration. “You seem very calm.”

“I thought I said I wouldn’t kill you. If I wanted you dead, there wouldn’t be a better chance than today.”

She looked him over once more, trying to gauge the sincerity in his eyes, the tension in his posture. Slowly, she walked to the door, taking a deep breath and sliding the door open, stepping to the side to allow him to pass.

As he stepped inside, the cold night air followed him, a stark contrast to the warmth she had been clinging to. He glanced around the room, taking in the modest, cozy décor. The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words.

"Nice place," he commented, his tone neutral.

"Thanks," she replied, trying to keep her voice steady. "Why now, Touya? Why come here tonight?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Because I can't keep pretending that everything is black and white. I need to understand. I need you to understand."

She nodded, feeling a pang of empathy. Despite everything, despite the chaos and the pain, there was still a part of her that wanted to sweet, intense, determined boy she never got to meet. 

"Alright," she said softly, gesturing to the couch. "Let's talk."

They sat down, the space between them feeling like a chasm. She could feel the weight of his presence, the deepness of his gaze.

"Start from the beginning," he said quietly. "What’s your story"

She took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts, and began to speak, her voice steady but laced with emotion. "It all started when you ‘died’..."

She paused, her throat dry from the emotion welling up inside her. “Would you like something to drink? I have tea, coffee, or something stronger if you prefer.”

He looked at her, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Tea would be nice.”

She nodded, grateful for the brief reprieve. She moved to the kitchen, the familiar routine calming her nerves slightly. She put the kettle on, her mind racing with the story she was about to unfold. As the water boiled, she glanced back at Touya, who was watching her intently, his eyes softer than she remembered.

Returning with two steaming mugs of tea, she handed one to him and sat back down, cradling her own mug for warmth and comfort. The room was dimly lit, with a soft glow from the various electronics and the room, and the yellow light of lamp casting shadows on the walls. Shelves lined with books and trinkets hinted at a life filled with memories and secrets. The aroma of the tea mingled with the faint scent of burning wood, creating an atmosphere of intimacy and reflection.

She watched him take a sip, his eyes closing briefly in appreciation. Accepting his look of satisfaction as her cue to continue, she began, her voice stronger this time. “It all started when you ‘died’,” she repeated. “Back then… Endeavor never stopped looking for your soulmate, and after a couple of days of your death, he found me. At the time, I was at an orphanage. From what I hear, my parents weren’t soulmates and decided to give me up when they finally found theirs. So he took me in.”

Touya sipped his tea again, his gaze never leaving hers, his blue eyes intense and searching.

“I was given all the ‘benefits’ that would’ve gone to you,” she continued, her tone tinged with a mix of bitterness and nostalgia. “I had the privilege to bond with Shouto during his training. Endeavor encouraged me to pursue hero work and figure skating. I always felt a little confused and disoriented because of the constant conflicting emotions. I was told over and over again that it was a normal sign of ‘soulmate loss,’ so I never really thought about it twice, always assuming it was just a thing I had to deal with.”

She paused to take a sip of her tea, savoring the warmth as it spread through her. 

“And then?” he asked, moving an inch closer to her, his interest piqued.

“And then,” she took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts. “I found out about Dabi. Some random stroke of luck sent me on a mission where I had to save some people from a building being on fire with his flames. It was an odd sensation. I started looking into him after that, and everything confused me. The connection between you and him. I didn’t want to believe it at first, but the more I learned, the more it made sense. It broke my heart, Touya. It broke me. But I couldn’t give up on you. Not then, not now. The idea that you’ve been alive all this time…”

She placed her mug on the wooden table in her living room, her fingers lingering on the rim as she tried to relax herself. It was the first honest opportunity she had had to properly talk to him about everything. It had been a year of this back and forth, and the building realization that this might finally be getting resolved, even if partially, allowed her to release some tension.

“I…” Touya started and paused, his eyes searching hers as he thought over what he had to say. “We’ve met before.”

“What?” she looked at him, surprise etched on her face. The revelation hung in the air between them, heavy and charged with the promise of more secrets to unravel.

“We were fifteen, you were buying some snacks at a convenience store. I had heard about you previously and had been watching you, making sure you were okay knowing you were living there.” He chose his words carefully, aware that from her perspective, this might have been a fleeting moment, easily forgotten. “I followed you there, and as you were choosing some snacks, I decided to approach you and introduce myself.”

Her eyes widened, and her breathing quickened. Memories she had long buried started to surface, each one sharper and more vivid than before. “I remember that… I thought you had read my arm and just wanted to hit on me…”

He swallowed hard, the weight of the past pressing down on him. “Your face mostly read disgust, and I could see how much you wanted me to die.”

“I believe you,” she said, her voice trembling. “The very idea of anyone pretending to be you would drive me into a rage. I thought…”

“I know that now,” he interrupted gently, his tone filled with understanding. “I didn’t realize then how much pain and confusion you were carrying. I just wanted to see you, to know you were real.”

She looked down at her hands, the warmth of the tea seeping into her skin. “That day… I told Endeavor about it, and he himself flew into a rage, a bad one. I…felt something strange when I saw you then. I couldn't put it into words, but it was like a part of me recognized you, even though my mind didn’t. It was painful to think about then, so I moved on.”

Touya nodded, his expression softening. “I felt it too. It was a lot. I knew I had to keep my distance. From my perspective, you rejected me, but it was hard. Every instinct told me to stay close, to reveal everything, but I couldn’t. It just made me angrier to think about you. The more I thought about you, the more I wanted you dead along with him. And your name on my arm, your emotions consistently there, never allowed me to forget.”

A silence settled between them, filled with the unspoken emotions of years lost and a connection rediscovered. The light in the room played across their faces, casting shadows that seemed to mirror the complexities of their past, it added an almost surreal quality to the moment, as if the past and present were merging into one.

She finally met his gaze again, her eyes filled with a mixture of sorrow and hope. “I wish I had known. Maybe things could have been different.”

“Maybe,” he agreed, his voice low and contemplative. “But we’re here now, and we have to deal with the consequences.”

She nodded slowly, a small smile forming on her lips. “Yes, we do. And I want to know everything, Touya. No more secrets.”

He reached out, his hand covering hers, offering a silent promise of honesty and connection. “No more secrets,” he echoed, the weight of his words carrying the hope of a new beginning. Even though he knew, in the back of his mind, that as much as he craved being with her and living happily ever after, they would probably never get the chance.

He moved closer to her, his eyes flickering down to her lips. In one swift movement, their lips met, the kiss filled with a mixture of longing and desperation, a culmination of years of unspoken words and hidden feelings. His sadness seeped into it, the taste of the tea lingered between them, mingling with the raw emotion that surged to the surface.

As they pulled apart, their foreheads rested against each other, breaths mingling in the intimate space between them. “I’ve missed you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“I’ve missed you too,” he replied, his voice equally soft. “More than you can imagine.”

He didn’t know if she has processed what would happened next but even if just right now, qhile they were together, they could have a normal moment, he wouldn’t break the spell they were in. He never though they’d have this, and she probably gave up on it years ago, why would he break the hearts of both of them now? They had a life time to do that. 

They stayed like that for a moment, absorbing the warmth and comfort of each other’s presence, they had found a piece of solace in their shared truth. 

“Whatever happens,” she said, pulling back slightly to look into his eyes, “we face it together.”

He nodded, determination hardening his features. His current thought procesess tempting to leak out, but at the end“Together,” he agreed. “No matter what.” Even if it was a lie. 

[baldwin2001]

IMPORTANT TO MENTION. SORRY, BUT ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE. I'M STILL LEARNING.

I already posted the One shot in Spanish, now it's in English.

The queen of his heart.

ENGLISH

"In the distance you can see the castle, gentlemen," the red-haired woman communicated loudly to her soldiers behind her. Just in time.

Surieth Sahar. Mother of the kingdom of Aktakistan. Despite being so recently after the death of his father, four years, his people and his knights feel immense respect for her. In such a short time she achieved public and economic policies that greatly favored her people.

Now she was about to reach Jerusalem, far to the south of her kingdom. But he was only doing it for one purpose, his late mother was originally from the holy land, she had promised him to maintain a good relationship with the Christians despite being of different religions. Currently he was in a delicate situation, Saladin's army had taken over much of the eastern lands, managing to expel the Crusaders from there, so he was going with his best warriors to recover the lost lands and can not advance towards the capital.

"Suri..." exclaimed Sibylla with a smile when he saw her enter the palace with his most important knights. "Well, rather. Surieth Shahar, mother of the kingdom of Aktakistan."

The redhead could not help but let out a little laugh, scaring her warriors, since hearing her laughter was something unusual. Since the death of her parents, her spirits had fallen to the ground, and the only people she was a little more affable with were the children of the village.

"Leave aside the formalities, and come here." said Suri, extending his arms and making a little movement with his fingers.

Even though making such demonstrations was against the manners she had been taught, Sibila was going to make an exception for her best friend.

"You don't know how much I've missed you." she murmured into Surieth's arms.

"I've missed you too, Sibylla" she replied with a small smile.

"Everyone in the palace has, even Bald..." she was interrupted by her friend.

"Where is your little son? The last time I saw him, he was a little above my waist." she asked ignoring her comment. Surely he's all grown up now.

"Yes, he's grown up a lot since the last time you were here" he smiled at her comment, took her hand and pulled her a little towards the palace. "But come, he's waiting for you in the garden, he even prepared a whole banquet just for you.*

"Oh, it wasn't necessary."

" Suri, don't be modest. I know you're not here for a visit, but you deserve it after all the trip you made to get here." This time he took both her hands as he brought them to his chest, giving her a smile making her fall for his charms.

"It's okay, Sibylla."

That only made the red-haired girl's smile grow bigger, she and her son had missed her terribly. And even though she didn't want to say it, her brother had missed her too.

Throughout the banquet the laughter was heard all over the garden, Baldwin V had grown into a very handsome boy, and now he surpassed her in height. And the first moment she saw him she almost did not recognize him, but he had not forgotten her, and she did not hesitate to give him a big hug. While in the distance Sibyl watched them with a melancholic smile. Since he was a child, he managed to establish a nice friendship with the redhead and he was glad that despite the years, it was still there.

The only thing that caused great discomfort during the meal was to feel the intense blue eyes of King Baldwin IV on her, but he was not alone, but at his side was his wife, it was a little strange, since he usually ate alone in his room, but to tell the truth he had not managed to hold the desire to see her after so many years, he missed her. And why not, if they were once lovers, but they ended when she found out that he had to marry a Christian, and could never be next to a paid one like her, or at least not let him marry her, or at least they wouldn't let him

Now, several years later, they meet again, she without any kind of love relationship, focusing on ruling her kingdom in the north, while Baldwin had been married for almost five years to a young woman of high society named Salome, daughter of a duke of the west. However, despite having been together for so long, they never got along well, he tries to have a good relationship with her, but because of her shocking character, it is impossible for him.

They had no children yet, and Baldwin did not want to have them with her, but he had an obligation to give an heir to his people, and he has felt pressured, since they have not managed to conceive one.

They were both in the royal library talking about the war tactics they would perform during their confrontation with Saladin, with dozens of maps and books scattered around the large table, while Surieth did not stop talking about the strategy she would do with her knights, Baldwin did not stop staring at her, she was still as beautiful as the last time he saw her, only without the tears that fell down her eyes after having broken her heart, and having told her that they could no longer be together.

"I miss you."

But she ignored him, she felt bad but it was for the best.

" Suri..." the affectionate way she called him, broke.

"Your majesty," she said bluntly, and without taking his eyes off him." I must inform you that the future war with Sultan Saladin is more important than something that is already in the past."

"For me there is still a chance, Suri," he said, sure of his words.

"Well, not for me," she said coldly.

She didn't support him anymore, she was ready to leave, anywhere but far away from him, but he stopped her by taking her arm and getting dangerously close to her.

"Kiss me," he challenged her without looking her in the eyes, "Or wouldn't you kiss a leper?"

"No," she exclaimed, giving him a furious look, "I wouldn't kiss a married man.... It's against my morals."

"You're right," she gave a little giggle of naivety, "it was daring of me."

" Please..." she was about to call him by his name, "Baldwin" but she regretted it "your majesty. Don't make this even worse, I didn't come for you, but to fulfill my mother's last will, despite marrying a man of a different culture who took her far from here, she never stopped having Jerusalem in her heart."

" I understand..." he lowered his eyes, not having the courage to look at her "I lost her heart a long time ago."

"It was at that moment... when you told me that you couldn't be with me because you was thinking of marrying another woman, it was then" she didn't look at him with anger, but with melancholy. "But that doesn't matter... Let's continue with the strategy"

He did not say anything, at least not on that subject. He was a fool, what he felt and lived with Surieth, do not compare with anything, not even with the five years he has spent with Salome, that more than a marriage, for him has been nothing but a hell.

[ambers-archive]

who am i, darling to you? (iv)

loss of my life

Bookmarked on page fifteen, the last page of chapter three, the closed book in your hands stand still against your heavy heart. You were waiting to read chapter four together with her. The story of Rapunzel was your favorite princess story. One of a long lost princess with beautiful long hair who fought to live the life she wanted. And she was able to fall in love in the midst of it all. 

It was a staple bedtime story; you went to sleep hanging onto the words.

Sometimes when you see your mom in your dreams; you can hear her sweet voice reading you the stories, and you can feel her gentle kisses even now. A beautiful yet haunting reminder of her. 

You never got to read chapter four, and you haven't been able to move the handmade bookmark since your mom stopped on chapter three seventeen years ago. It's her birthday today, seventeen years of missed laughter, hugs, and love. Maybe it would have been bearable if you had someone to share the burden with, someone who knew her just as intensely.

But the only two other people were dead along with her.

"Alright, let's go over our story one more time," Hotch says, his voice low as he walks into your honeymoon suite.

It had been a few days since you two checked in, it was a beautiful suite overlooking the sea. You loved the sea and the feeling of sand between your toes, but just like many of the things you loved - it was just out of your grasp.

You were spending the days discussing specifics of stories, anniversaries, birthdays, and first kisses. All set to disappear into an imagined world and meet him in a love story that was not yours. You two weren't hopelessly in love on your honeymoon, and Maya wasn't you. That story was only saved for last, hidden deep within your heart under-heading the section labeled grief. 

Because where else can one store unspent love. 

You've never even held him, but your feelings for Hotch are nothing short of love. You've never held him, and yet you have memorized every dimple, freckle, and crease by his eyes.

He has never touched you, and yet has touched every fiber of your being. 

And so many sleepless you stayed up, next to him, feeling his heartbeat you wondered what it would be like to press yourself against his larger body. To tuck yourself underneath his arm and lay your head against chest as if you belonged there all along. 

You resisted of course. 

“We met at one of the galleries I was showing; you bought all of my paintings and asked me out to dinner later that night,” You respond quietly, your hand still ghosting over the peeking bookmark. Feeling the lines of the book's spine, it was a small but thick paperback book. Not worth much, but to you, it was priceless, one of your most prized possessions.

You manage to catch the last of his question, all your focus on your self-inflicted sorrow. "Ages?"

"Um," You start, trying to piece the story together; it's buried somewhere deep in your head, this past week has just been so hard. You always visit your mom on her birthday, but now you know it won't be possible.

Your pain was always such an imposition.

"If we're going to do this, I need your undivided attention,” Hotch’s voice breaks through your head. You turn to face him, his eyes focused on the case file, not even sparing you a glance.

"Sorry, sir. It’s just a lot to think about.”

“I told you it would be. If you’re not ready for this, Agent.” You wish he would stop calling you Agent, it's an unnecessary boundary he's creating to distance himself from you. 

“I am,” You cut through his words, swallowing the dryness forming in your throat. "Of course, I am." You repeat back, standing up straighter this time, trying not to let the indifference in his words bother you.

He passes you his notes, filled with Maya and James's life. Their story, their family. They're respectively twenty-six and forty, so a little off here and there. James has a big family that Maya is able to fall into, two brothers and a sister. No kids yet, they're just enjoying life with the two of them.

It would be perfect if it was yours to truly live in.

Perfect, just not yours. Always yours to love, but never to keep.

"This case is one of the most important the team has had in a long time. Everyone is counting on us; memorize the notes. We should take this opportunity to meet other couples tonight at the welcome dinner." He pauses for a second, surveying and noticing the book in your hands. You defensively put the book away, shielding your memories from his judgmental eyes, ripping yourself away from any judgment, away from a job that punishes you for caring.

"I can't do my job successfully if I'm always watching over my shoulder, babysitting a capable agent," he says, as he walks out of the room, selfishly avoiding your eyes so he can shield himself from the pain he's inflicted. The door shuts quietly, but no thoughts seem to take over, and you suddenly feel small. Like a child who's been abandoned, left alone, and to fend for herself.

༺༻

You sit there, staring at the closed door, trying to steady your breathing. The silence in the room grows louder, as if it were taunting you, reminding you of your isolation. You clutch the book tighter, as if it could anchor you to some semblance of stability.

Minutes pass, maybe hours. Time blurs as your mind drifts between memories of your mother and the pressing reality of the case. The sun slowly sets, casting long shadows across the room. 

And you wish you could just sit there and wallow in your misery but the reality of the case pulls you out, your feelings will just have to wait. 

As the orange from the evening sky peaks through the curtains, you hear the door open again. Hotch steps back into the room, his expression softer yet determined. "Strauss wanted to have a conference call with the director. She thinks the welcome dinner is a good approach."

You look up from the case notes, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a warm light over the room. "When should we start heading there?" 

"In about an hour, we should get there early to take in the environment. The Unsub could be anyone." You nod as he finishes the last of his sentence, the tension is still there letting you loose only to suffocate you once again. 

"Just give me a few minutes to shower." You say not meeting his eyes.

Making your way to the shared bathroom you let the warm shower engulf you. Wishing to wash away your insecurities and the weight of the day. You close your eyes and visualize the tension fading with every drop of water, but it doesn't last nearly as long as you would like it to. Reluctantly, you walk out of the shower as your obligations drag you back.

Thinking of these small things makes you believe she is an actual person, not just someone you and the team invented. The details bring her to life, giving her a heartbeat within your imagination.

You rarely had time to dress up since work took most of your time and energy. You take the time to do your hair and for a second you get to engage in something fun, a constant which was sperate from the rest of the world. Reaching instinctively to play with your bracelet, you sigh.

It was an evil eye bracelet, or as your family called it, nazar. It was a gift from your Nani (grandmother); she said it would keep you safe from everything evil. You smile to yourself, thinking about her words and the warmth they still bring you.

If only there was someone else who loved you just as much now.

Hotch's knock on your bathroom door pulls you out of your trance, "Just a second!" You say adjusting your dress. 

Taking one more look in the mirror, you open the door, surprised by how good he looks. He always wore suits, but before you stands a man in a dark gray shirt, tucked into his trousers, his usually neat hair now slightly tousled, framing his face.

You smile at him, for a second forgetting that you're upset at him.

"I didn't know you had curly hair," he says, looking at you with a small smile on his lips. You mirror him briefly, putting on your earrings.

"It's hard to maintain, especially at work, so I just straighten it a lot." You had your hair moved to the side; you can't remember the last time he had looked at you for so long.

"It suits you."

"I get it from my mom. Everyone told me I look like my dad growing up, but the one thing I got from her is the hair," you say, looking for your shoes. Hotch is standing behind you, hands in his pockets.

"You don't talk about them much," he says, his tone softer now, more curious than probing.

"Once I start, I can't stop."

"I was the same way with Haley, especially around Jack. But there are people who care about you here, including me." You don't know when he came so close to you, his face now merely inches away, his presence suddenly more comforting than intimidating.

Suddenly, your perfectly guarded emotions come undone. "I have so many memories of her; it's an overflow sometimes."

"Then let's start small. What is your favorite memory?"

You let out a small smile, walking towards the dresser and pulling out the book to show him.

"Rapunzel?" he asks with amusement. "I didn't know you liked fairytales."

"My mother did. She used to read me a ton of them, but this one was my favorite."

Recognition flashes in his eyes as if he suddenly remembers something. "I'm sorry, it's not hard when people we love leave." He knows grief better than most people. Although you weren't there when Beth died, you can still see remnants of who he used to be underneath.

A man torn between the love for his wife and duty.

"I think you're wonderful despite everything you've gone through. I know it's easy to feel responsible for what happened, but it wasn't your fault," you say softly, still holding onto your book.

Hotch nods, taking his hands out of his pockets and resting them on your shoulders. It's hesitant, as if he's unsure, but you don't mind.

"I was mad at them for coming home so late," you whisper, meeting his eyes.

"My dad promised to watch a new movie with me. I waited by the door all night. But they never came. Today is her birthday, and I'm missing it."

"This is why you always take this week off?" He asks.

Nodding, you tighten your grip on the book. "I always visit her grave, and since they're buried together, I visit my dad's too."

Before you can take in what's happening, Hotch lets his hands fall from your shoulders with a look of determination. And before you can ask him about the welcome dinner he starts walking towards his keys. 

"Tell me where."

"W-What about the dinner?" You ask barely able to register the man in front of you. 

"We will have other opportunities. Right now, you should be with your mom on her birthday. I spent too long letting this job keep me from the people I love. I can't see it happen to you."

"It's all the way back home."

"That's alright. I can probably call in some favors and have the jet get us there in a few hours," he says earnestly.

You look at him, taken aback by his determination. "Are you sure? What about Strauss?" 

Hotch nods opening the door for you. "You're honoring your mother. I'll explain the situation, don't worry about her." 

How could someone not fall in love with him?

taglist: @zaddyhotch @mrs-ssa-hotch

[dballzposting]

Hi . . .

I mean it's really not hard to google things. Yknow. So you would think that I would know things. Yknow.

That tiny EOZ strip in the anime is what had made me go cuckoo for dragon balls initially, or, it was the circumstance surrounding the inevitable. And, yknow. When I found out about the EOZ Kakarot DLC, I was stoked.

And, yknow, I had the thouhgt the other day. "Is there EOZ manga? What is Kai sticking true to?" Easy google, right?

No . . . I decided tyhat if that was real, SURELY I would simply Know about it by now. But I've never heard of it, So it must not be .

Which is unfortunate, becasue ive always mourned how the art at EOZ kind of sucks. I would like to see it by Toriyama's true hand.

Um . . .

Well . . . Howdo I put this . . .

IT'S REAL !!!!! TINY VWEGETA !!!!!! NEVER BEFORE SEEEN SCREENSHOT OF GOTEN !!! GOOD ARTSTYLE !!!

LOOK AT VEGETA'S BILL MURRAY SWAG !!!!! HIS BROWN JACKET & ORANGE SHIURT

TUNKS !!!

TEE-HEE !!! Ive observed in he anime and in the kakarrot dlc, how Cool Trunks is/thinks he is ... He's just like "yeah."

Awesome Cool panels and scnees

MR SATAN AND MR BOO SWAGGED UP

ARE YOU SEEING THIS /1/1/!??!?!\

IM SO THRILLED BY THIS !!!!!! IT'S REAL IT';S SO REAL !! ! ! !!!

Goten Rude AF for just calling him "Satan." I'd slap him if he were mine. No I'd slap him anyway. It takes a village to raise a bastard.

Perusing this EOZ strip in the managa, I feel like I understand Goten's character BETTER .... Therwe's always been this teeth-grinding contradiction to me, with what I want and what I extrapolate from his circumstance and what they actually present. But this makes sense to me.

Goten is like ... an insect. Like a dragonfly or butterfly. Just sort of . . . Floating.

He is what he is ... He frowns when the more lucid Trunks rememberes to smile . .

He is just ... There ... NOT COMPLETELY DAFT .. Just .. Earnestly airheaded. He's definitely present but . . . . Not intensely.

He still looks around and talks shit.

And he is like a frazzled little bee. LOVE HIM <3

Also what did Goku mean by that. The coupling was by chance (save for a few. . .). There's really no correlation or causation. "Why did all the dinosaurs die out?" "Becasue you touch yourself at night." That's pretty much what they said

VEGETA BUTT:

Truns & Goten Tee-Hee

I LOVE THIS PICTURE OF TRUNKS. FLINCHING HARD WITH BOTH ARMS

Now Fopr Something Really Impressive .

They Cut This Out For The Anime And They SHOULD NOT HAVE .

It is Key .

THIS

THIS IS THEMATICALLY SIGNIFANT OR WHATEVER .. LIKE .. IT'S CYCLICAL . THIS IS IMPORTANT .. WHY DID THEY NOT REPRESENT THIS IN THE ANIME ?

I always assumed that Kinto-Un must be a family heirloom or something. BUT NAUR .. UUB SHOULD GET IT. HE'S GONNA PROTECT THE EARTH AFTER ALL.

Also these were in the prwevious chapter so I ddint see them until the end but this is here too. I love how Trunks just doesnt mince words. None of them do becasue it's the manga and it's shorter but still, it was like this on screen too. In the anime he didnt hang around to visit with Chichi. In the mnaga he doesnt even hang around to visit Gohan. He's like Hey what's up. Where's Goten. I have business with his candy ass

JUST WHEN YOU THINK YOU COULDNT BE SURPISED ANY MORE ...YOU FIND EOZ MANGA ONLINE.,

CHEERS

[katy-l1988]

Chapater IV: The child

Zestial was momentarily paralyzed as he saw Carmilla standing, illuminated by the spotlight, her figure shining amidst the dimness of the venue. Their eyes met, and in that instant, everything seemed to stop around them. Buried feelings and forgotten memories resurfaced in his mind, reminding him of how much he missed her. Araziel, noticing Carmilla's intense gaze and reaction to seeing Zestial, felt a flash of jealousy ignite within him. His fingers slightly tightened on the edge of the table, and a cold, defiant gaze settled on the angel who had interrupted his night.

Meanwhile, Carmilla, standing in the middle of the restaurant, struggled internally, her heart torn between illusion and commitment. On one hand, she longed for the lost connection with Zestial, a spark of nostalgia and desire burning in her chest, something Araziel could no longer awaken in her. Asmodeo seized the opportunity for his own entertainment. Without hesitation, he took to the stage.

For him, it was all comedy, entertainment for his drama-hungry audience. However, behind his mask, there was a disdain for love he had never managed to feel, a belief that darker desires were superior to any romantic feelings.

"Listen up, everyone! Today, three great celebrities from Hell visit us!" Asmodeo exclaimed sarcastically, with a mischievous smile, relishing in the audience's attention. "Come here, Araziel!"

The angel combed his pink hair, which shimmered under the spotlights he loved so much. Among the Infernal Rings, he was known as the "Father of Titans," the first angel to break one of God's sacred rules by conceiving hundreds of Nephilim with human women. These giants were violent beings who wreaked havoc in ancient times, wiping out many human settlements. Upon their death, they became demons of great strength but little intelligence. Araziel gathered them all, turning them into thugs whose services would be offered to sinners and other renowned beings, including, of course, Asmodeo.

"This demon is a legend! The very embodiment of desire and rebellion!"

"If Sin of Lust says so, I'll take it as a compliment," he smiled, delighted that the audience praised him. "Remember, my friends. If you need protection, don't hesitate to call."

"Oh, Carmilla, how did you manage to snag such a stud?"

"Come on, Asmodeo, who could resist my charms?" Araziel continued, addressing his wife and inappropriately groping her breasts.

"Don't touch me!" Carmilla shouted, pushing Araziel away. "Is this why you brought me here? To humiliate me?"

"Look at that! You have a real firecracker, Araziel. These kinds of jewels are too valuable and desired. You should take better care of her," he declared, pausing dramatically before continuing his biting comment. "After all, a 'relationship' of so many years isn't maintained solely by good manners."

"Don't you know any other way to attract your customers?" Carmilla interjected, trying to camouflage her distress with anger, though the pain and shame were evident in her voice. "Or are you so miserable that you only feel powerful by playing with others' lives?"

"Carmilla, enough," Araziel warned, grabbing her arm, but she pushed him away.

The audience, surprised by the woman's audacity, murmured among themselves, some even discreetly applauding her bravery. However, Asmodeo, accustomed to being the center of attention and having absolute control over his stage, felt increasingly uncomfortable for being challenged in that way.

"Touché, Madame," he muttered under his breath, trying to regain his composure in front of the audience watching the tense interaction. "You've got guts, I'll give you that. But don't forget who owns this place."

"Oh, I know who you are, Asmodeo. The question is, do you really know who I am?"

Asmodeo, momentarily taken aback by the firmness of her response, quickly regained his composure, though his eyes flashed with a mix of disbelief and resentment.

"Mmm, a purposeless soul? Araziel's doll? A caged bird?" Asmodeo said, his tone sarcastic and contemptuous, echoing Carmilla's doubts and insecurities.

Araziel watched with a mix of amusement and arrogance, relishing in his wife's submission. For him, that moment was like punishment, punishment for always preferring an old man from heaven over him. Shame consumed her, as she struggled to maintain composure under Asmodeo's ruthless gaze and the scrutiny of the audience. Zestial, consumed by anger, chose to use his monstrous form, an imposing and threatening creature. With a quick movement, he moved toward Carmilla to shield her. His eyes gleamed with fierce intensity as he looked at Asmodeo, warning him in a grave and severe tone.

"Don't ever stick your venomous tongue where you're not called, Asmodeo. I won't allow you to dare insult Carmilla again," growled Zestial, his voice resonating with authority and determination.

Asmodeo, surprised by Zestial's intervention and the fury emanating from him, instinctively recoiled, though his expression remained defiant.

"Who do you think you are to give me orders? This is my house, and I do as I please here," Asmodeo responded disdainfully, though it was evident that Zestial's imposing presence made him uncomfortable.

Carmilla, sensing the tension in the air, gestured for Zestial to calm down and return to his normal form.

"It's not worth it," she said, giving Zestial a smile. "Come on, anyway, I don't like this place. It's just trash."

She and Zestial left, leaving the two demons behind. However, they had barely taken a few steps outside the establishment when Araziel quickly caught up to them. Blinded by fury, he pounced on Carmilla ferociously, his hands gripping her hair tightly, and with a swift motion, he pulled her back, causing her to fall to the ground with a dull thud.

Zestial, witnessing the violence against the woman, could no longer contain himself. With a wild roar, he lunged at Araziel, and in an instant, the scene turned into a whirlwind of blows, grunts, and the dull sound of bodies violently colliding with the ground and alley walls. Their fists danced in a deadly ballet, each blow laden with fury and desperation. The golden blood splattered on the pavement, reflecting their true nature. The rage in Zestial's eyes was so intense it seemed to glow with its own light, while Araziel fought with fierce determination, fueled by indignation and wounded pride.

Carmilla, still dazed from the fall and the blow to her head, tried to get up from the ground, but a sudden sharp pain pierced her stomach, paralyzing her completely. The spasms of pain shook her as she clutched her abdomen with her left hand, feeling as if something was tearing her apart from the inside. Desperate and in tears, she screamed with all her might, begging them to stop the fight. As expected, Zestial was the first to react. He pushed Araziel away with a shove, freeing him from his tight grip, and turned to Carmilla. Without hesitation, he reached out his hand to her, offering assistance to help her up.

Carmilla clung to Zestial's arm, trying to alleviate the discomfort in vain.

"Stop pretending already!" Araziel exclaimed, visibly frustrated. "We're not fighting anymore."

"She's not pretending, Araziel," Zestial responded firmly, as he lifted Carmilla in his arms. "She's in a lot of pain. She urgently needs medical help."

Upon Zestial's words, Araziel nodded somberly. Without saying another word, he opened a portal to the Ring of Sloth and rushed Carmilla to the hospital. There, both Zestial and Araziel remained by her side as the doctor examined her. With a peculiar mask reminiscent of the plague era, the doctor asked them what had happened, but none of those present could offer a clear answer. They explained that they were in the middle of a fight, and suddenly she started screaming.

The doctor, with expert gestures, examined the affected area in Carmilla's stomach, causing her to cling tightly to the top of the stretcher, with Zestial holding her to prevent her from moving too much. The doctor didn't offer immediate explanations, instead, he positioned Carmilla in a specific way and ordered the nurse to prepare some additional supplies. He also requested that they call obstetrics, which further puzzled Zestial and Araziel.

Carmilla, feeling great pressure on her back and hips, spread her legs trying to relieve the discomfort. The doctor, observing the woman's unusual position, instantly understood what was happening. Without wasting time, he pulled out a pair of scissors and skillfully cut the pants she was wearing, revealing what was causing her pain.

"Do you want me to prepare her for the delivery room?" the nurse asked.

"It won't be necessary. The baby is already coming, and she won't let herself be moved," the doctor responded calmly, assessing the situation.

"A baby?" Carmilla, Zestial, and Araziel said simultaneously.

"Why didn't you tell me you were pregnant?!" Araziel exclaimed, his tone filled with anger and frustration.

"How could I tell you something I didn't know? ¡Carajo!" Carmilla responded, her voice trembling and on the verge of tears.

"Don't give me that! You should have known!" Araziel insisted, his anger growing with each word.

"Enough!" Zestial intervened, his voice resonating with authority. "Now is not the time."

The seraph fought to hold back tears as she clung to the edge of the stretcher, trying to endure the pain. She was aware that God, her father, had designed her with the ability to conceive, but she never thought she would face this situation so suddenly and overwhelmingly.

As Carmilla struggled to stay awake, Zestial approached her with tenderness. His presence was comforting, and his warm hand on hers offered silent support amidst the enveloping agony. Although Araziel was the father of her child and her husband, at that moment, it was Zestial who could help her. Their eyes met, seeking comfort. Despite everything that had happened between them, at that moment, Zestial was her rock, her refuge in the storm.

Araziel, feeling once again displaced by the presence of an elder, stepped away frustrated. Without saying a word, he headed towards the hospital exit, needing a moment alone to process everything he had just discovered. The cool night air greeted him, and with trembling hands, he pulled out a cigarette and a lighter from his coat pocket. He lit the cigarette with brisk gestures, letting the smoke slip between his lips as he sank into his thoughts. On one hand, he felt hurt and angry by Carmilla's sudden revelation of her pregnancy and the apparent emotional bond between her and Zestial. On the other hand, a part of him knew he had no right to feel that way, given the state of his relationship with Carmilla.

As he took a deep drag, a wave of understanding suddenly washed over him. That woman he so desired was having his child. The thought hit him like a lightning bolt, momentarily clearing his mind of all worries and fears. He extinguished the butt, letting the night breeze dissipate the remaining smoke. With firm and determined steps, Araziel returned to the hospital with a clear resolution in his mind: that creature was his, and he would not allow Zestial to take his place as a father, having stolen his wife's heart.

With a quick gesture, the doctor turned back and exclaimed excitedly:

"There you are! Come, do you want to see?"

Araziel approached cautiously, feeling a mixture of excitement and nervousness as he watched attentively. As he leaned in to get a better look, he could distinguish how the baby's head began to emerge, with strands of white hair identical to her mother's.

With a gleam of excitement in his eyes, Araziel turned to Carmilla, his voice full of enthusiasm and astonishment.

"It's our baby, Milla!"

But Carmilla, still overwhelmed by the pain and surprise, looked away. With one final gentle push, the baby emerged completely. A beautiful girl with silver hair and a tan complexion, identical to her mother. She had no wings, but that was beside the point, as there was a precedent that Nephilim, and even the Princess of Hell herself, did not possess them. Araziel, momentarily forgetting his resentment, cut the cord with the doctor's guidance, and with the baby wrapped in a towel, he approached his wife. However, Carmilla, overwhelmed by confusion, was not ready to face reality. She shook her head, refusing to take the baby into her arms.

"No, I don't want to see it," she murmured, looking away and feeling a lump in her throat. Zestial, sensing Carmilla's distress, tried to reassure her by gently caressing her arm.

"Milla, it's a girl…our daughter," he insisted, his voice soft but firm.

"That's exactly why. What can I expect from her if you're her father? Will she inherit your lies and deceit?" Carmilla responded, with a hint of bitterness in her voice, as she diverted her gaze from the baby towards Araziel.

Zestial knew the child shouldn't bear the brunt of their issues, so he sided with Araziel, and after a few moments, Carmilla relented. With his large hands, she held the baby against her chest, while the little one instinctively sought her source of nourishment. Araziel watched in silence, while Zestial stepped back.

"I can't believe you want to name her that," commented Araziel, furrowing his brow.

"Why not? It's a beautiful and unique name," Carmilla replied, defending her choice with determination, though a hint of doubt lingered in her voice.

"But…Velvette? Don't you think it's a bit…extravagant?" Araziel persisted, not hiding his disapproval.

"What's wrong with that? I like it, and that should be enough," Carmilla retorted, maintaining her stance.

"Fine, I won't argue with you."

Five years passed since that event, when Carmilla and Araziel made the difficult decision to officially divorce. They agreed, of course, on a shared custody arrangement that allowed them both to spend time with their daughter. According to the agreement, from Monday to Friday, Velvette would be with Carmilla, while on weekends, namely Saturday and Sunday, it would be Araziel's turn.

However, Velvette still grew up under the predominant influence of her father. He was her idol, her role model, although let's say he wasn't the best. Under his rule-free upbringing, Velvette became a passionate young woman, with great energy that could sometimes turn into a problem. Araziel, though he loved his daughter, was not the conventional father figure. His approach to parenting was more relaxed, allowing Velvette almost total freedom to explore the world around her. This resulted in a close relationship between father and daughter, but also in the lack of boundaries and structure in Velvette's life.

On the other hand, her relationship with her mother was more distant. Although she lived with her and spent time together, Carmilla was immersed in her career and other responsibilities outside the home. This caused a gap in their relationship, and the girl began to resent her mother for what she perceived as a lack of attention and commitment to her. Arguments between the two were frequent, and the young girl openly expressed her dissatisfaction with the situation.

"I'm home!" Carmilla announced, placing her keys on the bedside table near the door. "Velvette?"

Carmilla went straight to Velvette's room, and upon entering, she was met with a dense cloud of smoke that made her nose twitch slightly. However, before opening the window to ventilate the room, she noticed the surprise on her daughter's face, who had obviously been startled by her sudden entrance.

"Mom! You have to knock," Velvette scolded.

"Not when you live in my house," Carmilla replied, looking at her, noticing the cigarette in her hand. "I've told you not to smoke inside the house; you should go out to the terrace."

"But it's cold outside," Carmilla picked up some things to throw away, then came across a blue pill.

"It doesn't matter, there are rules in this house," she insisted, while picking up some things to throw away, then came across a blue pill among the objects. "What's this?"

"A pill?"

"Don't play dumb, pendeja. Tell me, where did you get this?"

Carmilla, unable to contain her frustration at not receiving an answer, grabbed Velvette's face tightly, her hand covering almost her entire head.

"Mírame, mírame..." Carmilla insisted, shaking Velvette harder. "I'm talking to you!"

Velvette, annoyed by her mother's treatment, looked at her with defiant eyes.

"Since when are you involved in this, Velvette? Since when are you taking drugs?"

Velvette forcefully released herself from Carmilla's grip, turning her face away with fury. Her eyes sparkled with a defiant gleam as she faced her mother.

"Since when?" she repeated sarcastically. "For months now, what did you expect, Mom? We're in damn Hell."

"I don't care where we are. I didn't raise you like this!" Carmilla exclaimed, her voice trembling with a mix of frustration and anguish.

"You? Raise me?" Velvette scoffed, with a look of contempt on her face. "Dad was right about you being a proud, selfish bitch."

Carmilla felt as if a dagger pierced her heart upon hearing her daughter's words. Anger and sadness mixed in a whirlwind of emotions within her. However, Velvette wasn't finished.

"You don't even bother to leave your office to see what's happening with me," Velvette continued, not stopping. "Do you think I don't notice how you hide behind your work to avoid dealing with your own problems?"

Carmilla was overwhelmed by Velvette's barrage of accusations. The tension in the room was palpable as mother and daughter faced off in a battle of wills.

"¡Ya basta!" Carmilla shouted, her voice trembling with emotion. "I won't allow you to talk to me like that, do you hear me? I'm your mother, and I deserve respect."

Velvette let out a bitter laugh, her eyes filled with disdain.

"Respect. Do you think you deserve respect after everything you've done? You know nothing about me, Mom. You never have."

A heavy silence filled the room as Carmilla's words hung in the air. Tears of helplessness began to well up in her eyes as she looked at her daughter with a mixture of pain and resignation.

"If that's what you think of me, then there's nothing more to say," she said firmly, though her heart was breaking in her chest.

Velvette looked at her with disdain, no hint of remorse in her gaze.

"Fine by me. I don't need anything from you anyway. I've always been self-sufficient, remember?"

Her daughter's words were like a direct blow to Carmilla's soul. She turned away, unable to bear the pressure of the moment. With heavy steps, she left the room, heading to hers. Velvette stayed in the room, feeling a strange mix of anger and sadness for what had just happened. She knew that things between her and her mother would never be the same again, but for some reason, that didn't matter to her as much as she thought it would.

On Friday afternoon, when Araziel came for his daughter, Carmilla led him to her room to discuss in private. Velvette knew that her mother's anger wouldn't last long, as every time those two were together, their instincts took over. Anger turned into desire, into bites, and scratches. The teenager, aware of the situation, sought refuge in her headphones, trying to block out the noise emanating from the next room. The muffled sound of

music flooded her ears, providing her with a barrier of isolation against the intensity of the encounter between her parents. With closed eyes and a heavy heart, she swallowed a pill, letting herself be carried away by the sweet promise of oblivion it offered. The enveloping melodies of her music intertwined with the passionate whispers filtering in from the adjoining room, creating a separate world where she could temporarily lose herself. However, even in her self-destructive retreat, a thread of concern persisted within her.

Once her parents left, leaving behind a charged and messy atmosphere, Velvette felt a momentary relief. She sighed deeply as she removed her headphones, allowing the silence to fill the room, if only for a moment. The tranquility was interrupted by Araziel's voice.

"We're ready to go," Araziel announced, his tone firm and decisive. "But I need to talk to you seriously once we get home."

Velvette followed her father with quick steps, feeling Carmilla's gaze boring into her back. Though she tried not to look directly at her, she could sense the anger emanating from her mother like a stifling wave of heat. For the first time in a long time, Velvette realized that she had crossed a line, had hurt her mother in a way she hadn't anticipated.

Carmilla watched her with a mixture of pain and disappointment in her eyes. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, and her expression was cold and distant. Though Velvette tried to read her thoughts in her face, Carmilla's gaze was impenetrable, hiding her true feelings behind her mask. For a moment, Velvette wished she could turn back time and undo her words, but she knew it was already too late. She had made a grave mistake, one that had angered her mother to a new level.

[valinoar]

hotd ao3 recs that make me slightly feral

it’s finally here!!! i will potentially be adding to this in the future so keep an eye out <3 also this may not stick only to hotd and extend to the wider asoiaf world.

baby teeth by zoe_millin_writes

aemond x helaena. incredibly written aemond character analysis. chapters are from aemond’s pov throughout his childhood and into his adulthood and his trauma surrounding sex, his parents, his injury etc etc is so incredibly and profoundly done. i don’t think i’ve read anything more beautiful and intense. there is also one helaena pov and my god is it so amazingly written. the characterisation and details are out of this world. definitely read all the warnings because it is very intense and potentially triggering. the exploration of aemond’s relationship with religion and by extension his mother and sister is done so well and genuinely what kept me tied to this fic.

see, what had happened was… by daylander

aemond x rhaena. from rhaena’s pov. i can’t remember it all as vividly as i should because i read it a while ago but god is it a delight. it’s funny, sad, amusing, entertaining & overall just so incredible. there is so much about rhaena’s experience living without her sister for so long on dragonstone and how it impacts her relationship with baela. so much about her relationship with daemon and by extension the velaryon/targaryen relations. just so so great. the scenes with rhaena and aemond are just.. chef’s kiss. they’re my favourite chaotic childhood friends to… whatever they are LMAO

spring’s end by navree

oneshot (9k words) from alicent’s pov about the lead-up to her wedding to viserys. made me wince more than a few times just because she deserved so much better :( the way her relationships with rhaenyra, her father, viserys & even criston (although brief) are shown is so beautiful and haunting to me.

would that they were not by navree

i fucking cried. a oneshot (7k words) about the fateful encounter with blood and cheese. so beautifully written and the relationships between the kids, alicent, cole and otto are described so heartbreakingly.

in your grave by 136108

This is the thing you married, the voice in the back of her head whispered gleefully. You saw its pretty smile and its dainty hands and so you dragged it into your bed and upon your cock and trusted that it could never hurt you. You bred it like a bitch and you promised to cut out its tongue and all this time you should have been worried about its teeth. But you did not and now it will leech your throne and your legacy and its pretty mouth will swallow the House of the dragon whole.

SO FUCKING CATHARTIC!!! we deserved vengeful evil alicent and i’m forever mad we didn’t get her… season 2 will be her moment trust. this is a short yet incredibly impactful piece about alicent visiting viserys on his death bed. amazingly written and the most satisfying thing ever.

5 times alicent and criston almost kissed and the 1 time they almost didn’t by gracelesson

I FUCKING CRIED!!!!!!!!!!!! most healing comforting beautiful thing ive read in a while oh my god op is crazy talented i’m in awe. the way s/a, marriage, sexuality & growing up were handled here were literally incredible and i cant even begin to express how much i love this. this is a modern au and it’s probably very different from whatever you’re expecting. i adore the dynamics shown between alicent, cole & her children ugh i swear i feel giddy all over. beautiful.

my hand was the one you reached for by nuncasais

literally the best. snapshots of alicent, criston, and her kids’ lives at the keep during the time jump. i love these types of fics that cover unseen periods of time — the detail and thought gone into each chapter is incredible and so so meticulous. chapters are from either criston or alicent’s pov’s. beware u might (definitely) cry.

[have-a-hiddles]

Within Your Heart, A Story To Be Told

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five

Pairing: Cardinal Copia/F!Reader

Words: 4.5K/16.4K

Warnings: Vague reference to suicide, but no such act occurs. Intense bullying both verbal and physical. Reader is a Sister of Sin and is written to be quite plump. Lots of swearing, both in English and Italian.

🔞 MDNI 🔞

A/N: I’m keeping Primo, Secondo, and Terzo alive. Because I fucking can. However, Sister Imperator is still the only one aware of Copia’s familial connection. Copia knows Imperator is his birth mother, but not that Nihil is his father.

Everything takes place circa 2018-2019 between Terzo getting dragged off-stage (30 September 2017) and Copia being anointed as Papa IV (March 2020).

Tucked away in a short hallway that only led to a janitor’s closet, hiding among discarded crates of merchandise, you struggled to breathe without sobbing. It was not the first time you’d had to utilize this barely frequented hiding spot. You’d been with the Ministry for nearly five years; yet you still remained unable to find your place. It seemed to be a lifelong fault of yours; never fitting in.

Your earliest memory was of being picked last for recess sports in elementary school; of stern-faced priests telling you to stop crying, stop being so sensitive. Boys will be boys and boys like to pick on their classmates. Maybe if you didn’t present such an irresistible target, they’d leave you alone. Always turning a blind eye to your skinned knees and bruised arms.

Middle school was no better. In fact, it was worse. Now, the girls got in on the bullying too. They mocked your chosen hobbies; reading, drawing, singing. The one time you got a solo in the school choir for a special Mass for some important visiting Cardinal, they made farting and oinking noises behind you, whispering and laughing just low enough that the Sister didn’t hear them. You’d faltered in your singing, trying desperately not to cry, your cheeks flaming red. You had worked so hard on this part! It was your favorite hymn! Sister had yelled at you and berated you for not practicing enough on your own. In the end, she took the solo away from you and gave it to another girl who wasn’t as good a singer as you were but was vastly more popular.

And high school? High school was pure torture. Everything that sucked about middle school, but now with hormones and heartache mixed in for a toxic cocktail. Other students now sought to humiliate you by dangling a mirage of hope. Some bold joker would sidle up to you to say something along the lines of: “Hey, my friend over there thinks you’re super cute. You should ask him out.” And naturally, naively you did, hoping against hope that said boy was telling the truth.

Said boy never was.

University life hadn’t treated you much better, although the overt bullying ceased. You tried to keep a low profile. Went to social events even though you were an anxious wreck the whole time; house parties that your exasperated roommates might drag you on, street festivals for arts and crafts by local artisans, concerts in crowded and often smoky clubs.

It was at one such concert that you first saw the band Ghost and had something of an epiphany. If the so-called “good” people were so horrible to you; then maybe the so-called “evil” people would treat you nicely. Twelve years of Catholic school with its mean nuns and creepy priests had soiled much of your interest in faith. You hadn’t been to Mass since graduating from Saint Hubert’s. Not even for Christmas or Easter. When you’d flat out refused to attend a Catholic university, your family had all but disowned you. And sadly, that changed very little for you. They’d never been much interested in you.

Then Ghost had returned to your city, now as their own headliner instead of an opening act. You’d ponied up the money for general admission tickets to the Haze Over North America tour even though the idea of being jostled around by a bunch of sweaty strangers made you feel nauseous. You’d queued up before anyone else even got there. You’d even caught sight of the band and roadies arriving, although you wisely did NOT rush over to them even though you really wanted to. You very briefly caught sight of Papa (still Secondo at that time!) in his full robes heading from a black SUV into the side of the venue.

You’d been all but clinging to the stage, watching them and, more importantly, listening. Secondo liked playing to the pit, often making eye contact with various individuals. He had a reputation of being something of a man whore and you could see where that idea had come from. Despite his papal robes and miter (or maybe because of it?), he exuded a dark and very tempting sexuality. Still, he didn’t see you, his mismatched gaze always seemed to go to someone just to your left or right.

Then came the encore, Monstrance Clock. The quieter instrumentals reminded you of that long ago choir that you had loved so much. You had closed your eyes to take it all in, your heart feeling as though it was expanding to press against your ribs, a shuddery sensation going through you. You were a virgin, yes. But you knew what an orgasm was; and although not quite the same, this feeling was very similar. Distantly, you remembered that many paintings and sculptures depicting a spiritual awakening often called them an “ecstasy”.

Hypnotizing horns of ram Paralyzing pentagram And the eerie sound of the monstrance clock Singing

Come together Together as one Come together For Lucifer's son

You then felt as though you were falling, but you weren’t scared at all. The sensation of a dark and heated cloak being draped gently over your shoulders, wrapping you in warmth and safety, made you feel completely protected and loved. It was a feeling you had searched for all of your life and never expected to find at a metal concert! When you finally opened your eyes, Papa was kneeling on the stage right in front of you with his eyes boring into yours. And despite his very stern and somewhat scary expression, you weren’t afraid. He’d narrowed his eyes briefly then nodded at you, claiming one of your hands and brushing his lips over your knuckles. When he rose to his feet, he looked to one of his ghouls and jerked his head in your direction.

When you’d stayed put long after everyone had left the pit, that same ghoul had darted out to you, explaining that Papa wanted to see you. To say you’d been surprised was an understatement. Backstage, Secondo had already removed his skull paint, although the absence did not lessen his presence. Under the watchful gaze of the Nameless Ghouls, he explained the Ghost Project and the Ministry. As Papa, he had a few subtle quirks that sometimes helped him find those who would be excellent additions to the faith.

And apparently Satan had singled you out. During Monstrance Clock, when you’d been so overwhelmed by the music; that had been something of a test. A test to see how you reacted to His Light, His Presence. A test you passed with flying colors by not panicking or blaming the feeling on some physical malady caused by the festival environment, by accepting the warmth of the Father of Outcasts.

Did you want to join their faith? You would be sheltered and cared for. You would be protected. You would have a job for which you would be paid. You would take classes to further your knowledge. And, oddly enough, your Catholic upbringing would prove to be an advantage. You already understood the ritual and hierarchy and language. You knew enough Latin to easily understand what the prayers meant. You understood nebulous concepts like transubstantiation and substance–attribute theory.

You’d agreed with almost no hesitation.

Everything after that was a blur. You’d packed up your few belongings and quickly been instated as a postulate in the New York ministry. You’d had very high hopes after being lauded for your intelligence and organization skills. You were set up as an assistant in the library, which also gave you plenty of time to study up even more on this new path you found yourself on. As such, for the first few months, you mostly kept to yourself, your hyper-fixation on learning temporarily replacing the bleeding need for companions. When you did try to make friends, swallowing down your fear as best you could, things did not go as planned. Attempts at jokes only got you blank looks. Trying to join in on conversations or activities only seemed to make others around you uncomfortable.

After two years, it was decided that you didn’t fit in at the New York ministry. And while they weren’t kicking you out, they thought you might do better in a different location. One year in Los Angeles later, it was decided you didn’t fit in there either. So, you’d been moved again, this time to the main Ministry in Sweden.

Two years into your life here and you were still longing for that feeling of belonging that you’d experienced for a scant few moments at the festival while Secondo had sung. Secondo had “retired” and it was Terzo’s turn under the miter. He was wildly successful; more personable with audiences than Primo or Secondo, more confident and charismatic. You’d never spoken to him directly. The handful of times you’d made eye contact (during Black Mass or on-site rehearsals) he had smiled and winked at you. But you knew full-well that he did that to everyone. It was a band-aid over a slit wrist, but it was better than nothing.

Abruptly, that had all changed too and now there was no Papa, but a Cardinal was “filling in” while he was also schooled in being the new Papa. You’d only seen him a few times, his red cassock drawing attention amongst all of the black and white of the habits you and your Siblings of Sin wore. He always seemed to be off in his own world, muttering to himself in Italian, probably going over prayers or sermons. Most people thought he was a tad weird. You, however, found him a bit fascinating.

Most of the other Siblings fawned over Terzo, which you could hardly blame them for. He was incredibly popular. Cardinal Copia, though? Something about him struck you with warmth whenever you did catch sight of him or overheard him at rehearsals with the band. You found him very handsome in an off-beat kind of way. Whenever he led Mass, you were more attentive than you ever were for any of the previous Papas. Something about him just called to you.

Whatever that something was, it was obviously one-sided. The Cardinal had never so much as glanced in your direction.

You were still working as a librarian, but no longer an assistant. You were the scribe of the ancient texts; carefully going through delicate parchment of dense Latin and digitizing them so they would never be lost. Being one of the younger members in the Ministry scholary, your grasp of technology was far and away better than that of the other librarians.

You didn’t know what you’d done to draw attention to yourself; but less than a month into your time in Sweden, you were re-living junior high school. A trio of your fellow Siblings; Kaser, Lynx, and Cantata, had decided that you were a fun target to torment; with plenty of ammo at their disposal. You were still awkward and anxious. You’d developed something of a nervous stutter and struggled more than ever to put your thoughts into words. Worse, your body had decided that freshman fifteen was meant to be a challenge; as you had gained thirty pounds, so you were much chubbier than most of the others; wide hips, a sizable ass, a rounded belly, and tits that refused to be contained by most bras. Like the long-ago middle school boys, they liked to painfully snap your bra strap. Or they would trip you in the hallways. Shove you into walls. Tug off your veil when they knew Sister Imperator was near so that she would scold you for having it off.

Their favorite thing, however, was to harass you about the fact that you’d been a postulate for five fucking years! Most postulates became novices within a year and then a full Sibling at three. Were you too stupid to pass the exams? Were you such a loser that even Satan didn’t want you? Were you afraid that Papa would turn you down?

That last one was closer to home than they knew. Part of a postulate’s “graduation” into a novice was to have sex with Papa; sometimes in private, sometimes on the altar in front of everyone. You simply couldn’t stand the idea of any of the Papas taking one look at you and deciding that he was not going to put his cock in someone as pathetic as you. It had never happened before to your knowledge (and you’d looked it up!) so there was no reason to fear such a thing. But fears are nothing if not irrational.

All of which led to your current predicament, sitting on a crate of Ghost merchandise near a janitor’s closet, hiding from your triad of bullies behind a double-stack of the same crates. If the closet hadn’t been locked, you’d have been in it. You sputtered and coughed, choking on your own tears. Were you always going to be so painfully lonely? You prayed as hard now as you ever had as a Catholic… and, like God, Satan was now frustratingly silent. Perhaps it was just time to accept that you didn’t fit in anywhere and never would. Maybe you’d ask to transfer to another Ministry just to escape your abusers; but you’d stay with the church since at least your work was satisfying.

Footsteps approached, prompting you to cover your mouth to silence yourself, not wanting another round of abuse if it was Kaser, Lynx, or Cantata. You curled yourself into the tightest ball you could, cursing your extra weight for making that very difficult.

“Eh, hello?” a soft voice, lightly accented in Italian. Oh, fuck… had they lied to Sister that you’d done something wrong to get you in trouble? They’d done it before; blaming you for something they’d done. Fucking hells bells, what had they done that would prompt one of the elder Italians (of which, there were many) be addressing you?

“I’m sorry!” you burst out, covering your face with your hands. “I was just, um… j-j-j-just… ah, taking a… m-m-moment-.“ Curse that idiotic stutter!

“No! N-n-n-no, sorella. It’s… ah… okay. I only… I mean I just was passing and I h-h-heard you.”

The foreign sound of someone else stuttering made you look through your fingers. At first, all you saw was red. A long, red cassock and black gloves.

The Cardinal.

You were so shocked by the revelation that the man who would soon be Papa was apparently a bit anxious and awkward too, that you didn’t say anything for a moment. You merely stared at him, your cheeks still stained with tears, but at least you were now breathing somewhat normally.

“You’ve been c-crying,” he pointed out as if it wasn’t obvious.

“It’s… it’s nothing, Your Eminence,” you shook your head, finally remembering your manners and lowering your gaze, wiping hurriedly at your cheeks. “You needn’t worry about it. You must have many more important things to do!”

A long silence followed, both of you seeming to size the other up with caution. Strange, he was so confident and eloquent when he performed Mass or gave sermons. And now he seemed genuinely lost as to how to talk to someone one on one.

“C-congratulations, by the way!” you finally blurt out. “If… if that’s the proper thing to say. I’m sure you’ll make a wonderful Papa. I’ve overheard some of the rehearsals and you sound amazing.”

That was at least true. The Cardinal had a beautiful singing voice and a powerful stage presence.

“Oh! Eh, grazie… thank you. It’s a great honor,” he smiled slightly, his black upper lip curling up at the corners in a way you found immediately endearing. “Not to be, eh, too forward, b-b-b-but… what has so upset you?”

“It’s… it’s nothing. It’s stupid. I just… I feel like… I don’t really…” you paused, closed your eyes, and took a deep breath. “I’ve never really fit in anywhere…and even though I’m trying so hard… I don’t seem to fit in here either. Square peg, round hole.” Woah, that was the most pulled-together thing you’d said in months!

You silently prepared yourself to be told to try harder, not be so sensitive, don’t be so weird, or some other variation of unhelpful advice that authority figures always tossed at your feet.

“Sì, it’s very difficult. I understand.”

You snapped your eyes open to meet his uneven gaze head-on.

He continued, “Some people just seem to effortlessly be adored and others… others must work tirelessly to be accepted by even a few.” He sounded contemplative, even a touch sad. “It… it can be overwhelming, I know.”

“Are you saying that… you’ve had t-trouble fitting in? But you’re terrific on stage and at Mass! In fact, every time I’ve heard you talk, you’re always so sure of yourself!” you exclaimed.

He gave an ironic smile. “It helps, sorella, to have a sc-script. At the microphone, I already know what I’m going to say or s-s-sing. I don’t have to anticipate the questions or comments of others because I’m the only one expected to t-talk, sì?”

“Oh,” you said with a note of surprise. You’d never really thought of it that way. “I’ve not really ever spoken to an audience. Or sung. Not by myself anyway.”

“You sing, sorella?” he perked up, the motion making something warm slide over your heart.

“Yeah, yes. I mean… I used to. I sang in choir all through school and I was in the Mass choir in Los Angeles. I’d like to join the choir here, but they aren’t accepting new singers right now,” you shrugged, biting your bottom lip.

“The choir at the L.A. ministry?” his eyebrows rose. “You must be talented then, sorella. The choirmaster there is very exacting.”

You smiled, despite knowing that your cheeks were flaming red. That had been one bright point of the last few years. The confirmation that you did still have a good singing voice had meant a great deal to you. “He is. The rehearsals were grueling sometimes, but I loved it just the same. Music is just so… powerful. I can’t think of a better word. Even ‘powerful’ feels inadequate. It’s what brought me to the Ministry in the first place. I saw Papa Secondo during the Haze tour and, I don’t know… something just clicked in place.”

“Papa Secondo, eh? Small wonder, he was quite the commanding presence when he was Papa. Still is, actually. But, wait…” he paused, looking up and muttering in Italian. “Papa Secondo hasn’t been Papa since, what 2013? That was five years ago. You’ve been a postulate for that long?”

Motherfucking Christ on a popsicle stick, why did you have to mention Secondo?

“Um… yeah. It’s just… never felt like… the timing was right. And… if I’m honest, I’m scared,” you swallowed tightly.

“Scared?” he repeated with a cock of his head. “What is there to be scared of?”

“If I may speak plainly… it’s the whole… um… sex thing..?” Your words came out more like a question than an answer.

“You’re scared of… sex?” he said, seeming to only want to confirm that he had heard you correctly.

“Not exactly. I’m not afraid of the act. B-b-but I’m afraid of… it’s-s-s-s-stupid of me, I know… but I can’t help but be sc-sc-scared of being… rejected…” you managed to strangle out, eyes glued to your hands folded in your lap. “No one’s ever wanted me before. Why would this b-b-b-be any different?”

“Sorella, it’s not stupid. Fears like that are very… d-difficult to shake. However, being as currently said deed would fall to m-me, I can promise you that I will not be rejecting such a lovely soul.” His voice had gone a little lower and he drew closer to you, kneeling down so you were at an even level, although you didn’t look up at him.

A black leather glove obscured your view, curled fingers tucking up your chin, coaxing you gently into looking up at him. “Sorella, I promise it. I would be more than honored to help you complete your… eh… training, if that is the word.”

You chanced looking up and meeting his gaze. Even at a distance, it was obvious that the Papas and Cardinal all had one ghostly white eye. But this close, you could see that his other eye was a rather pretty shade of green. You’d always liked green eyes.

Apparently, your momentary contemplation of his eyes made him a little nervous, because he looked down, cheeks slightly flushed. “I-if-if you like, of course… I’m not… I mean… eh, Sathanas, no pressure? Is that the, eh, the phrase? If you don’t want to have me as your initiator, it’s eh… it’s o-o-o-okay. One of the other Papas would be happy to serve in my place. I know most people seem to like T-T-Terzo the best. And if I know him, he would never turn down an initiate,” he rambled slightly.

Under any other circumstances, you would have assumed that he was agreeing to make you feel better and then trying to pass you off to one of the former Papas to get out of the chore. But something about the Cardinal’s anxious patter convinced you that he was only trying to give you options, not avoid the task.

Completely on impulse, you clutched at his nervous hands, holding them still. This also served the purpose of stilling your own hands. “You don’t need to advertise the others to me. It will be you, Cardinal.”

He looked up from your joined hands with a half-smile. “It will, eh? Does that mean you’ve decided to go through with becoming a novice, sorella?”

Your breath stopped. You had just implied that hadn’t you? Shit. Shitshitshitshit! “I guess it does, Your Eminence.”

“Bene, sorella. I look forward to it,” he smiled, though his gaze returned to your hands. A small shift and he was able to press your hands into his, palm to palm, with your fingers entwined. The motion reminded you of something…

-Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,  Which mannerly devotion shows in this; For saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch,  And palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss.

The Cardinal chuckled softly under his breath, a rather deep sound that gave you delightful goosebumps. “Shakespeare, sì? Hmm, let me think…”

Fuck! Had you said that out loud? You must have! Random Shakespeare was not going to get you anywhere and of course you’d choose a passage rife with Catholic imagery.

- Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?

Holy shit on a shingle, he was reciting Romeo’s part now? Oh Satan. Lucifer. Lilith. Hecate. Kelly Clarkson! What was the next bit?

-Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.

-O then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do. They pray: grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.

-Saints do not move, though grant for prayers’ sake.

-Then move not while my prayer’s effect I take.

You’d both been leaning closer to each other and now were barely a breath away. You licked your lips nervously. That small gesture apparently spurned him on. He completed the connection, kissing you so sweetly that you thought you might actually pass out. You’d been kissed before; but those previous kisses felt nothing like this! Your lips felt as though they were burning, the familiar heat of arousal curling low in your belly.

-Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged.

How could he even remember the next line after that! It took you a decent minute and a half to recover your thoughts and remember the next line.

-Then have my lips the sin that they have took?

He smiled, nearly grinned, teeth very white against his black upper lip.

-Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again.

You were ready this time, meeting his kiss with one of your own, tenderly mapping the sensation of his lips and the searing path of want as it spread in your veins. Fuck, you already had a little crush on Copia; this would inevitably push it into full-blown infatuation.

-You kiss by th’ book.

You practically moaned that last line as you both paused, foreheads pressed together, hands still palm to palm. He was panting ever so slightly, as were you.

“You understand what I mean about having a script, sì?” he whispered softly. “Neither of us stumbled or hesitated even once. Not what you were thinking when you began reciting, I know. But, for myself at least… I would not yet have had the nerve to kiss you. But with the Bard’s words to encourage… it felt very natural to kiss you.”

You felt your cheeks grow hot, although for once it was not from humiliation or shame, but from pleased embarrassment. The way he was looking at you! No man… hell, no person or ghoul or whatever… had ever looked at you the way Copia was looking at you. There was a hunger in his eyes that made your stomach do flips. But under that desire lurked a sweet, longing kind of affection.

A beeping noise interrupted your thoughts. “Cazzo!” he hissed and pushed back the sleeve of his cassock to reveal an old digital watch. “Perdonami per favore; I seem to be running late for rehearsal. Had I the choice, I would not be leaving you so… eh… abruptly,” he apologized with sincere regret.

“It’s OK,” you replied somewhat dreamily, still feeling a bit floaty from his kisses.

“I will look for your… ehm… initiation papers and authorize them. Then you n-n-nneed only set the date,” he assured you as he rose to his full height. “I must go, sorella.”

“Oh! Yes! Right. Don’t let me keep you. Rehearsal’s important,” you nodded hastily, not wanting to come across as needy even though you wanted to bury yourself in his chest and cling to him like a koala.

“It is, si,” he allowed, before looking down on you with a fond expression. “But you are important too, no?”

He turned to leave and was almost around the corner before he stopped and turned back to you. “Eh, mi scuzi, but… I didn’t get your name, sorella.”

“Huh? Oh! It’s Y/N, F/N L/N,” you replied perhaps a bit louder than you should have.

“Y/N… lovely,” he echoed with a small smile. “Arrivederci, Y/N.”

What? Just? Happened?

FOR THE LOVE OF (deity of your choice) PLEASE LIKE AND REBLOG! COMMENT! VISIT ON AO3 AND LEAVE KUDOS AND COMMENTS!

I NEED FEEDBACK!

[artdcnaldson]

okok basically relationship lore, i feel like this is like super deep and personal 😭 apologies i didnt know how else to condense it and still explain it properly

we met like 2 years ago. he was doing an exchange year in denmark, which is where i am from and live (insane lore drop), and he came to visit my school for a week as part of his program. and basically i was part of the group that had to welcome them and spend time with them, and we just like totally hit it off. like, watching soccer with him and having him explain the rules even though i could not care less, type thing. him taking me out on walks at night and telling me about constellations. asking if he could brush my hair for me at night before bed. cooking for me and my family and teaching me his family's recipes. then we kept seeing each other like all the time after he left my school and until he had to move back to italy after a few months.

and then he like invited me to come stay with him for a bit of the summer at his house down there. it was like a crazy summer fling, like in the movies, like short but really intense. we never like really dated properly, cuz i didnt want to put a label on something that would inevitably expire. he wanted to do the long distance thing, so we tried it, but it was just not working yknow. so i ended up breaking it off, and like telling him that i couldnt do it so long as he was so far away.

and now he like texts me every couple of months to check in, he always just wants to ask if im happy, and ask if he can see pictures of me and what ive been doing. and he always says that he loves me, even though ive told him not to say that. but we'll just catch up, he'll tell me about his job, and his tennis, and his family. and he'll ask me about my mom, and my school, and if i still cook as well as i used to. and then we wont talk for months again, cuz what is there to say?

-🐞

Omg the lore is so crazy….. love this for you

[beefromanoff]

Project Mockingbird Ch. 9

summary: Charlotte gets out of the infirmary and clashes with Bucky.

pairing: Bucky Barnes x OC

author's note: second chapter this week, woooooo! Merry Christmas to ussss! working on the next chapter, hopefully will come out very soon!

tag list: @bangtanxberm @scott-loki-barnes (let me know if you want to be added <3)

chapter list

_______________________________________

The sparring room echoed with the rhythmic thuds of Bucky Barnes's fists against the punching bag. The sound resonated through the expansive space, his sweaty gray t-shirt the only movement in the otherwise empty room as Charlotte walked in. 

It had been four days since the incident at benchmark testing. The first day in the infirmary, she admitted, was warranted. The pain was excruciating, she could hardly get herself out of bed. As hellish as it was, the experience was far from unfamiliar. This whole song and dance was one she knew well, and the hospitalizations were a necessary evil. Or so she thought. 

In the past, when she’d collapse after back to back rounds of fighting for cash or any other means of using her abilities, it was always the same. She’d get a nosebleed, have roughly thirty seconds to find herself somewhere soft to land, and black out. Usually, she’d wake up a few hours later in an unfamiliar hospital, alone. Doctors would examine her charts, tell her she was dehydrated and overexerted, her kidneys barely making it through. They’d use words like septic and nearly fatal and intensive care. They’d implore her to stay, insisting on another round of bloodwork and testing to get to the root cause of this issue. 

Charlotte would smile weakly, making her eyes wide and innocent. She’d thank the doctors vehemently before claiming she was tired, queuing them to leave the room. After a few bags of IV fluids and recovery, waiting on the nurse shift change and for the awful pain in her lower back to subside, she’d sneak out. Sometimes through the service staircase, sometimes through a window. Sometimes, under the cloak of chaos, she’d walk right out. Thanks to her lack of identification or loved ones to come claim her, no one even had enough information to fill out an AMA form for her to sign. 

In her experience, the pain was worst in the first 24 hours. Her back burned, her body ached, her head pounded. She could hardly move or speak without fear of vomiting or blacking out again. Slowly, it faded to a dull ache. In the infirmary, she’d given a horrified Bruce her timeline as she prepared to leave after the second full day. She could see his hesitation to detain her or make her feel trapped warring with his concern at her leaving so soon. Ultimately, it was the lab tech/nurse Maddie who convinced her it was better for her to stay a few more days. Maddie had pointed out that Charlotte never had a chance to do the full round of fluid treatment and thus, had likely never fully recovered. She removed all the unnecessary medical equipment from the room and even brought in lamps to make it feel less clinical. Charlotte obliged. If she was willing to put in so much effort to keep her there a few more days, maybe it would be worth it after all. 

There had been a steady influx of visitors over the four days. Natasha spent almost all her time there, acting as though it were any ordinary day and not her visiting someone in a medical wing. She’d put her feet up on the bed and flip through magazines, reading the salacious gossip out loud. They’d watch movies on the TV Peter had brought in, paint their nails, sit and read their separate books in silence. If words existed to tell Natasha how grateful she was, Charlotte doubted she could even choke them out. 

Peter and Steve were regulars, too. Steve would bring in cards and play them at the foot of the bed, letting her win until he realized he didn’t have to let her do anything. Peter brought in a clunky old piece of technology, calling it a GameCube. He wired it into the TV and showed her dozens of old, pixelated games. 

Ultimately, the four days flew by. Aside from the IV in her arm and slowly subsiding pain in her body, she hardly felt like she was in the infirmary at all. 

Another bonus, she finally understood what was happening to her when these episodes happened. 

“Do you, uh, would you like me to explain what’s happening?” Dr. Banner nervously shuffled his feet in the doorway to her room. He’d just confirmed the last round of her vitals were steadily improving, but seemed to stop himself before he left the room. Steve raised an eyebrow at him, curious but leaving the decision up to Charlotte. 

“Can’t hurt, I suppose.” 

“Okay, great, excellent. Well, this is what we’ve - what Tony and I have determined. I should say, hypothesized. But we’re nearly certain,” He stammered. 

“Bruce.” Charlotte smiled softly. “Tell me what you know.” 

“Right.” He paused, taking a calming breath. “Well…based on your brain scans, the ones we took before we,” He gestured to her nose. “Anyways, they showed something abnormal. It looks like you no longer have the ability to regulate your own physical exertion or pain. Most people have something in their mind to warn them when they’re getting too tired and their body can’t handle any more. Yours was…disabled. So…when you’re exerting yourself, say…fighting or running, you can actually push yourself past your physical capacities and not even know it. Everyone, even Super Soldiers, have a limit. Yours is higher than an average human, but somewhere below Bucky and Steve’s. When you get past that limit, your body actually starts to shut down.” 

Charlotte’s brows knit together as she lowered the playing cards in her hand, giving Bruce her full attention. 

“Everyone’s body has the same response to those things, to overexertion. Your muscles start to break down, protein enters your bloodstream. At some point, your kidneys can’t keep up. They start to shut down, along with the rest of your body. Your heart can’t pump enough blood and oxygen to keep everything running. That’s when you black out. The pain in your back, that’s your kidneys fighting for your life.” 

Wincing, Charlotte shifted in the bed, memories of stabbing back pain flooding through her. 

“So…all that to say, you pushed your body to…well, past it’s breaking point. From the files I’ve seen, you’ve done it over a dozen times now. I’m not sure the circumstances in the past, or if you were aware of -”

“I wasn’t.” She cleared her throat. “I…had no idea. I hadn’t really been…in my body for a while. I thought it was some kind of defect, some side effect of being in and out of cryo. I didn’t know.” 

Bruce smiled softly. “Well, then I’m glad you do now. The good news is you seem to be making a full recovery every time. Your enhanced healing saved your life, time and time again. Without it, you’d be burning through kidney donors like nobody’s business.” 

“I guess it’s only fair that if my enhancements are killing me then they’re the thing saving me, too.” She shuffled the cards in her hands, ignoring the pained look from both men. 

“Well, uh, I’ll leave you to it.” Bruce shifted the tablet in his hands. “Charlotte?” 

She looked up at him. 

“Thank you for staying.” His smile was genuine. “Thank you for trusting us to take care of you. I don’t take that lightly.” 

“Thank you for being trustworthy. I don’t take that lightly either.” She returned his smile. 

Tugging on the hem of her sweatshirt, she strode into the empty room. As soon as Maddie had confirmed her full recovery and bandaged up Charlotte’s arm, IV finally removed, she’d practically sprinted out of the infirmary. The morning was still early, the compound only barely beginning to wake up. Still, she had a feeling she knew exactly where to find the man she wanted to see.

"Hey there, Soldier," she called, leaning against the doorframe. "You're a tough man to find.”

Bucky's movements didn't falter as he continued his assault on the bag, his metal arm delivering powerful blows. He spared her a sidelong glance but said nothing.

“Why didn't you send flowers to the infirmary? I hear that's a thing people do these days." Charlotte pushed off the doorframe, approaching him with a playful bounce in her step. "You know, a 'get well soon' bouquet would have been nice. Maybe something with daisies. They're cheerful, could really brighten up a space."

Bucky grunted, a sound that could have been mistaken for agreement or annoyance.

Charlotte cocked her head to the side as she stood near the punching bag. "What, no witty remark, no winning smile? You really need to work on your bedside manners, Buck."

He finally ceased his assault on the punching bag, turning to face her with an intensity that caught her off guard. "You need to be more careful."

Her brow furrowed in confusion. "Careful? What are you talking about? I'm fine, good as new. Doc says I'm practically a medical marvel." She flipped her hair over her shoulder, grinning.

Bucky's expression remained stern. "This isn’t a joke. You collapsed during the benchmark testing. Blacked out, on the ground, unresponsive."

She waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, please. Just a little overexertion. Nothing I haven't bounced back from before."

Bucky clenched his jaw, frustration evident in his eyes. "You're not taking this seriously, Charlotte. You're human. You need to take care of yourself."

Her playful demeanor faded, replaced by genuine bewilderment. “I’m human as much as you’re human, Winter Soldier.”

“It’s different and you know it.” He grit his teeth. 

“How?” Her tone cut through the empty room. 

“Because I’m not the one bleeding and collapsing in the woods.” His words were a controlled his, as if it pained him to keep such restraint.

"Buck, what's gotten into you?” She spoke softly, curbing her rising anger. “I appreciate the concern, but you're acting like I committed a crime." 

His voice, low and intense, cut straight through her as he stepped closer and towered over her. "I've seen too many people get hurt, too many people get pushed too far and meet preventable consequences. I won't stand by and watch it happen to you."

Charlotte's gaze softened, her defensive tone replaced by sincerity. "Bucky, I appreciate that you care. I do. But you don't need to worry about me. I can take care of myself."

His frustration seemed to boil over, his words sharp. "This isn't about me worrying. It's about you being reckless. Clearly you can’t take care of yourself, considering this is, what, the twelfth time you’ve done this? Do you even understand the risks? What if you had collapsed somewhere more dangerous than a training exercise?"

“I have.” Her tone was curt. “And I was fine then, too.”

He turned from her, hands on his hips as he paced in frustration.

"Bucky, I didn't expect a lecture. I thought you'd be glad to see me up and about."

He sighed, a conflicted look in his eyes as he turned back to her. "I am glad, Charlotte. I am. But I won't pretend everything's okay when it's not. I can't…lose someone else to HYDRA’s sadistic bullshit."

The weight of his words hung in the air. Charlotte blinked, processing the unexpected intensity of his concern. "Bucky, I... I didn't mean to upset you. I'll be more careful, okay? But you don't have to worry about me. Nothing is going to happen…I’m not going anywhere." She gently reached out and laid a hand on his arm, squeezing gently.

He took a step back, pulling out of her reach. “Not if you keep being stupid and reckless.” 

Charlotte’s eyes widened, hurt rippling through them. She turned on her heel and fled the sparring room, leaving Bucky alone to grapple with the emotions that had surfaced. Taking a moment to breathe, he sat down on the bench and closed his eyes. 

He yanked at the tape on his hands and chucked it across the room. “Fuck!”

______________________________

The evening had settled over the Avengers Compound, casting a tranquil glow across the lake. Charlotte sat alone on the dock, her legs dangling over the edge, staring into the rippling water. It had only been four days, but she longed for the peace and calm of the water. Her first day ‘out’ had been simple. After her upsetting exchange with Bucky, she’d gone for a long walk, not run, through the woods. A late lunch with Nat and Wanda, a few hours keeping Peter company as he worked on homework, and then opted to skip dinner, not wanting to run into Bucky yet.

Steve’s heavy, even footsteps approached, echoing across the water.

"Hey," He greeted, settling down beside her. "You missed dinner. Everything okay?"

Charlotte forced a smile, her gaze never leaving the water. "Just not hungry."

“If you prefer the infirmary food, that can be arranged.” She didn’t crack a smile. Steve tilted his head, studying her. "Hey…you can talk to me, you know. What's going on?"

She hesitated, contemplating how much to reveal to the best friend of the one causing her to lose her appetite. "It's Bucky. We had this...exchange in the sparring room this morning. He was…angry at me.”

Steve's brow furrowed, his confused look making Charlotte wonder if Bucky had even told anyone about that morning. "What? Charlotte, what happened?"

She sighed again, a mixture of frustration and confusion. "I got out this morning and went to find him. He didn’t come to visit me, not once in four days. But that’s fine, I didn’t expect him to. So I was just teasing him, you know, like usual. It was harmless, I thought. And then he snapped at me, telling me to be more careful. He was actually angry at me…I didn’t know where it was coming from."

Steve nodded, a concered expression on his face. "Bucky has a…complicated history. He's been through a lot, and sometimes he struggles with expressing his feelings, especially when it comes to people he cares about."

Charlotte's gaze turned to Steve, seeking clarification. "So, what, he yelled at me because cares about me?"

Steve chuckled. "More than you might think. Trust me, I’ve been on the receiving end of his particular brand of caring many times. Bucky is fiercely protective. He might not always say it, but he feels everything incredibly deeply. With you…I think it’s complicated." He paused, choosing his words carefully. “You’re a friend, a member of the team, but you’re also a direct reminder of his past. I think he feels…responsible for what happened to you.” 

Charlotte opened her mouth to say how ridiculous that was, but Steve cut her off. 

“I know, I told him that’s outrageous. You’re both victims. He just doesn’t see it that way. His guilt runs deep, even now. I think he sees you and feels like you’re in this position because of him. So, when he sees you suffer,”

“He thinks it’s his fault.” Charlotte breathed.

“Right.”

She processed Steve's words, a mix of emotions swirling within her. "But why avoid me now? If he cares, shouldn't he want to clear things up?"

Steve sighed. "Bucky's got his own set of issues. Sometimes he thinks it's easier to keep people at arm's length than risk getting too close. If I had to guess, he’s beating himself up over how he handled things this morning."

“You think so?” 

“Well, considering he didn’t come to dinner either…I’d say I’m not far off.” 

Charlotte leaned back, her eyes on the starlit sky. "So, what do I do? Wait for him to come around?"

Steve smiled, a reassuring glint in his eyes. "Maybe give him a little time. Bucky might not be great with words, but he's got a good heart. He'll come around when he's ready. Just don't be too hard on him. And, if you want my advice, let him know you're there when he's ready to talk."

As they sat by the lake, the conversation drifted into lighter topics, and slowly, the tension that had settled over Charlotte began to dissipate. Steve's insights had provided a new perspective on Bucky's outburst, and she empathized with him. 

Once night had draped its obsidian cloak over the Compound, Charlotte retreated to her room, seeking solace in the embrace of her bed. The plush bedding, the room devoid of antiseptic smells or beeping monitors, the comfort of being able to bend her arm and curl up as tightly as she wanted. As she lay in the darkness, the playful facade she often wore began to wane. Troubling thoughts crept in, threatening to burst the cheerful and plucky bubble she kept around herself as a protective shield.

The weight of her own existence pressed on her shoulders. The unpredictability of her abilities, the lingering shadows of HYDRA's experiments, and the realization that she couldn't trust her own body haunted her. In the solitude of the night, the facade cracked. Tears filled her eyes and soaked her pillow as she silently wept.

_________________________

Morning arrived, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold. Despite the sleepless night, Charlotte knew she couldn't avoid the team meeting. FRIDAY had announced throughout their building that there was a mandatory meeting at 8am sharp, taking place in the private conference room on the first floor. Reluctantly, she made her way downstairs where the Avengers had gathered. The atmosphere felt suspiciously tense, and the array of stern expressions mirrored what seemed like an intervention.

Tony and Bruce stood at the front, armed with expressions that screamed 'serious business.' Taking a seat at the table between Natasha and Steve, Charlotte swallowed to keep her nerves at bay. No one had mentioned what the meeting was about, but given that she was included as the only non-Avenger…she guessed it had something to do with her. Peter, Sam, and Wanda weren’t present, but Bucky appeared quietly in the doorway, not taking a seat.

Tony cleared his throat, and with a dramatic flourish, Bruce unveiled a holographic image of a sleek, silver cuff.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the future of mysterious pseudo Super Soldier self-preservation," Tony announced, his tone a mix of showmanship and genuine concern. “We’re working on shortening the name.”

Charlotte's eyebrows shot up in skeptical interest. "I didn’t know you were dipping your toe into women’s accessories.”

"It's a monitoring device, Charlotte.” Bruce cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses. “We've been working on it since we saw your brain scans. Just in case…something came up."

Tony continued, "It monitors your vitals and gives you a heads-up when you're pushing past your limits. And if you choose to ignore it, it gets louder and alerts everyone around you."

Charlotte squinted at the holographic display, her arms crossed. "So, what, it’s a babysitting device?"

"In a nutshell, yes.” Tony nodded. “We thought it might give you some peace of mind if you decide to continue training. Hell, even if you leave the compound, it might come in handy elsewhere too. I can imagine this whole fainting thing gets a little tiresome."

She scoffed, her sarcasm not entirely masking her discomfort. "How considerate of you. Does it come in pink?"

“Whatever you want, kiddo.” Tony’s lack of a quippy remark felt oddly sentimental.

Bruce kept going. “It's non-invasive and doesn't interfere with your abilities. Just think of it as…a safety net. We made it small already, but we can put the technology into any kind of vessel, a ring, if you’d prefer -”

Crossing her arms tighter, Charlotte eyed them both with a mix of distrust and curiosity. "And if I say I don’t want it?" She heard a soft, frustrated noise from the doorway behind her.

"It's your call," Tony replied, a rare softness in his eyes. "We're not forcing anything on you. Just think about it."

She whirled to look at Bucky, expression icy. “Was this your idea?” 

“What? No, I-” He frowned, protesting. 

“Charlotte, Bucky didn’t even know we were developing this until after you collapsed, and even then, he didn’t know the specifics,” Bruce held his hands up earnestly. “We all, collectively, discussed the best way to help you and when Tony and I told everyone this idea…we all thought it was worth a try.” 

“Did anyone think to ask me my opinion?” Her tone was flippant, but her body was tense.

“In case you forgot, you were a little incapacitated.” Bucky countered. 

“How would you know? I don’t remember seeing you there, Sergeant.” 

Crossing the room in two strides, Bucky’s hands hit the wood of the conference room table as he leaned across it, his face inches from Charlotte’s. “Who do you think carried you in?”

She swallowed, taken aback. Her face didn’t reflect the wave of guilt that washed over her, but Natasha noticed the almost imperceptible sag of her shoulders. Of course he was struggling, he hadn’t just heard about her collapse, he was the only one around to see it. He was the one who caught her, carried her in. Thinking back to the last few moments she remembered before losing consciousness, and sure enough, Charlotte recalled his pleading eyes as he told her to slow down. She dropped her gaze, breaking eye contact with him, still leaning over her. 

“That’s enough, Buck.” Steve spoke softly. “You made your point.” 

Bucky moved slowly, but he obliged, dropping into the seat across from the trio.

“If…if it helps,” Bruce interjected, rolling up his sleeve. There was an identical cuff on his, thin and sleek, the dark metal casing looking like no more than a simple, masculine bracelet. “I got the idea from this. I made it for myself a few years back,” 

Tony coughed. 

“Tony and I made it a few years back.” Bruce leveled a glare at his friend. “I wasn’t able to control when The Other Guy wanted to make an appearance. I lived in constant terror of losing control and everyone around me having to pay the price. So I made this. It tracks my gamma signature, and if it spikes…as in, if I start to have a Code Green, it gives me options. I can override it, like on missions when extra backup is necessary…or I can trigger the Lullaby.” 

“What’s the Lullaby?” Charlotte’s curiosity beat out her anger for the moment. 

Bruce grinned. “It knocks my ass out.” 

“Technically, it sends a micro-electric pulse through his body to his brain, causing a very short-lived blackout.” Tony explained.

“Which is enough of an interruption for me to get back under control by the time I come to.” 

“And you don’t feel…strange about that?” 

“Not at all. I feel much better without the fear that I’m going to wake up and be told about the millions of dollars of buildings I destroyed.” Bruce smiled sheepishly.

“True story, by the way.” Tony elbowed him. “The single most expensive Avenger, right here.”

Charlotte forced a smile, but it was half-hearted. She couldn’t exactly protest when another one of them was wearing the exact same technology, selflessly protecting the rest of the team, the world even. All of the medical intervention, the technology, all of it was sending a persistent chill up her spine this week. As much as she tried to fight it, the trauma from her past was not so easily hidden. 

HYDRA never sat me down in a conference room to ask me what I wanted. 

HYDRA never brought me magazines and junk food while I recovered.

HYDRA never cared if I recovered at all. 

HYDRA never gave me a choice. 

Somewhere in her internal war, Charlotte felt Natasha’s hand grasp hers beneath the table. Swallowing, she looked at her friend, who gave a reassuring nod and squeeze of her hand. 

“Okay,” She met Bruce’s eyes. “I’ll think about it.”

He opened his mouth but Charlotte cut him off. “But,” She pointed a finger at both scientists. “I have specifications. I would want it small enough that it can fit into the sleeves of the training suits…and it would have to be durable. I don’t want it breaking when I’m sparring, and don’t even think about putting a camera in it, you dirty bastards.” 

“I’ll take it off the blueprint.” Tony winked. 

______________________________

The late morning sun warmed the cold December air. Charlotte, prohibited from training for a few more days, despite her insistence that she was perfectly fine, sat at a table outside the main Compound building. A deck of cards lay scattered before her, her fingers idly shuffling them in a rhythmic dance that mirrored her restless thoughts. She’d gone with Natasha to observe her in some one-on-one sessions with the combat agents, but ended up leaving out of agitation she couldn’t participate.

The compound buzzed with life as agents and team members carried out their duties all around, leaving Charlotte feeling even more annoyed at her lack of participation. Her gaze flicked up from the cards as a shadow fell over the table. Bucky stood there, his expression difficult to read.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked, the words carrying a hint of uncertainty.

Charlotte motioned to the empty chair with a half-smile. "Be my guest."

Bucky took a seat, his eyes tracing the patterns Charlotte's hands formed with the deck. Tension lingered in the air, a palpable reminder of their complicated history and the recent incident that had rattled them both.

After a few moments of awkward silence, Bucky cleared his throat. "Look, Charlotte, I get it. Not wanting people messing with your head or your body. It's... hard. I've been there."

Charlotte's gaze met his, her eyes reflecting a mix of surprise and curiosity.

Bucky continued, his usually gruff demeanor softened. "Tony and Bruce, they helped me when I got here. I was…struggling. Thought I could handle everything on my own. But they understand, Bruce especially."

He hesitated, as if gauging her reaction. "I wish I would've trusted them sooner. Maybe I wouldn't have spent so much time fighting myself."

Charlotte absorbed his words, the weight of their shared experiences creating a fragile connection between them. "You're saying I should just let them put that shock collar on me without question?" she mused, a wry smile playing on her lips.

Bucky chuckled. "Nah, not exactly. I'm just saying... consider that they're not out to control you. None of us are."

Charlotte arched an eyebrow.

“I’m not trying to control you and it isn’t fair for me to tell you what to do.” His face was strained, as if making himself speak the words was painful. “I’m sorry for yesterday.”

“Yeah, you were a real asshole.” Her eyes crinkled ever so slightly. 

“Yeah. I was.” 

“I’m sorry you were the one to see it.” 

“I’m not.” His eyes flicked to hers. “I’m glad I was there.” 

“I guess it’s a good thing you’re the slower Super Soldier.” 

Bucky groaned, despite the growing smile on his face. “You try distance running with the weight of a vibranium arm and let me know how fast you are.” 

She laughed, the tension between her brows easing for the first time in days. As her smile faded, she spoke softly. 

“Bucky?”

He met her eyes. 

“Thank you.”

[flutterbysnowflakes]

Vipers And Dragons

PART IV

-------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter IV

Fury ignited in Y/n's chest the moment she stepped through the doorway. There, sprawled across her leather armchair, was Jimin, looking like a panther draped across its kill. He was all cool confidence, a smirk playing on his lips that did absolutely nothing to lessen the heat that flared in her core.

"Park," she spat, slamming the door shut with a resounding thud that echoed through the office. "What unwelcome surprise do I owe the pleasure of?"

He tilted his head back, a single black eyebrow quirking upwards. "Always so dramatic, Viper. Can't a man visit a business partner on a rainy night?"

His casualness grated on her. This was her territory, her sanctuary. His presence here was a blatant violation of the fragile truce they'd established.

"Business can wait," she said, her voice clipped. "Unless you've lost your men and need a Viper to clean up your mess again?"

He chuckled, a low, throaty sound that sent shivers down her spine despite her best efforts. "Never underestimate the Dragons, Viper. But speaking of cleaning up messes..." He leaned forward, his eyes glinting with a dangerous amusement. "We have unfinished business."

The air crackled with unspoken tension, a potent mix of hostility and something far more volatile. Y/n crossed her arms, refusing to be swayed by his sudden shift in tone.

"Business was the Falcones," she reminded him, her voice firm. "That's done."

"Not quite," he countered, his smile fading. "There's been a complication. A leak in one of our factions. Someone's feeding information to the Crows." The Crows, a rival mafia outfit notorious for their ruthlessness, were a constant threat.

Y/n's pulse quickened. A leak in their ranks could spell disaster for both the Vipers and the Dragons. "Who do you suspect?"

Jimin shrugged, his movements fluid and predatory. "That's for you to figure out, Viper. You have your informants, I have mine. Consider this a joint investigation."

Joint investigation. The very idea was laughable, considering their volatile history. But the threat of the Crows was a bigger concern. Y/n knew this wasn't just about business. This was a game of control, a power play disguised as a collaboration.

"Fine," she conceded, the word leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. "But don't expect me to share my intel with you, Park. This is a Viper operation."

"As long as the Crows are dealt with," he responded, his gaze holding hers with an intensity that made her cheeks burn. "Besides," he added, a slow smile creeping back onto his face, "wouldn't working together be a bit more… interesting?"

The implication hung heavy in the air. The sexual tension that thrummed between them was no longer subtle. She hated the way his words affected her, the way his nearness sent a jolt through her system. He was the enemy, a viper in his own right, yet she couldn't deny the thrill that coursed through her veins.

"Interesting, perhaps," she finally said, her voice husky despite her best efforts to appear unaffected. "But don't forget the game, Park. Alliances are temporary. Victories, however..." Her voice took on a dangerous edge. "Those are permanent."

He met her gaze, a spark of something dangerous flickering in his eyes. "We'll see about that, Viper," he said, rising to his full height. "This game has just begun."

As he walked towards the door, his cologne leaving a lingering scent in the air, Y/n felt like the ground beneath her had shifted. The lines between enemy and something more were blurring with every encounter. This joint investigation was a gamble, a dance on a knife's edge. But as she watched Jimin disappear into the rain-soaked night, Y/n knew one thing for sure: the heat of this game was only going to rise.