#never sure if the descent into madness is real or an act. sending your friends off to get killed. called in to solve a problem for a ghost

[talentforlying]

i'm about to run off to class but i've been going positively apeshit about shakespeare for the last three hours so like: what shakespeare play would y'all most associate your muses with?? in terms of story themes, related aesthetics, character arcs/tropes, etc?? or see if i can assign them one that fits if you'd like, idk, i'm vibing

[mercy-burning]

Honeybee

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: While attending Seraphina's wedding, Y/N discovers that her crush on her best friend’s older brother hasn’t gone away after all these years. Category: SMUT (18+) Content: Strong language, alcohol consumption, fingering, penetrative/protected sex Word Count: 5.7k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: I know I promised a oneshot over the weekend, but I’m a messy, inconsistent bitch, so you get it a day late 😅🥰

———

Looking back, I was starting to wonder if Seraphina only got engaged and asked me to be her maid of honor just to witness my slow descent into a heaping puddle of lovesick mush.

Truly, it was pathetic.

Yeah, yeah, she was getting married because she loved her fiancé and whatever, obviously, but she was also using it as an excuse to try and get me to admit my feelings for her older brother. Feelings, I might add, that only surfaced when I was a middle schooler and went away once he went off to college.

Sure, I'd thought about him on occasion when he was inevitably brought up around Sera's house throughout the years, but that was it. I'd hardly say I was hard-core in love with him. And I was totally prepared to see him for the first time since our high school graduation.

At least, I thought I was.

And Seraphina—the little shit—knew it, too. The smirk on her face the moment we were all in the same room for the first time in ten years made me want to run and hide more than her brother's figure, right in front of me and hotter than ever.

I was mad. Not at Sera as much, because really there was nothing she could do about the fact that he was her brother, but I was mad at myself. Because how in the hell had it stood to reason that a man I actively didn't think about for a whole decade had this much of an effect on me after all this time?

Honestly? I blame the FBI.

If he'd done literally anything else with his life I probably could have made it. Well, not by much if we're being honest, but come on...

Where he'd been a bit nerdy and reserved as I knew him, the man in front of me had clearly changed. Not just physically, though that was also a pleasant surprise. He looked like he'd been through some shit... And he carried himself taller. There was a new air of confidence that perched on his shoulder and helped him along as he talked with old friends and family members at his sister's rehearsal dinner.

Spencer Reid was older and more experienced this time around, and somehow even more goddamn delicious...

I was a total wreck. And it was about to get a whole lot worse.

He was coming this way. Right for me. He'd noticed me staring at him all night, because I couldn't keep my shit together, and now I was absolutely doomed.

Guess it was a good thing I'd practically grown up with him and knew how to act outwardly.

Still, the moment he was up close and flashing me that little smile of his, I felt the pit of my stomach scream out loud, sending shockwaves through my bloodstream.

"Hey, Honeybee. It's been a while."

Fuck. That fucking nickname...

"Spencer... It has."

When we hugged briefly, I tried as hard as I could not to inhale his scent, knowing that not only was that pathetic and embarrassing, but also I'd never stop smelling it otherwise. I did take note, though, of how strong he was now. He wasn't a bodybuilder of any kind, but he was certainly less bony and more defined.

I had to hold back a whine as I felt him let go of me, because I didn't want to leave his warm embrace but also because I didn't think I could stand to look at his face anymore without losing any and all semblance of my cool.

Still, I let him release me, and even then he didn't go far. We only stood inches apart, and my whole body was practically numb at the proximity. It also didn't help that I had to tilt my head up to see his face— It made me feel extremely submissive, and I could already feel myself starting to shrink.

Whether he was amused at that or just at me in general, the feeling I got was the same.

"Sera tells me you've been busy..." He paused, seemingly searching for the right word, though I could tell he already had it on the tip of his tongue. "Modeling?"

I closed my eyes with a sigh. "It was one job for some obscure European magazine, no one in the country's probably ever heard of it... It's not that big of a deal."

Spencer huffed a laugh. "You sound embarrassed..."

How was I supposed to respond to that? If I lied and told him I wasn't embarrassed, he'd figure it out, and if I told him the truth? I'd still be screwed. Honestly, my best bet was changing the subject.

Though, maybe it wasn't— When I asked him about his travels for work, he ignored it and responded with, "Ah, so you are embarrassed."

"N— I am not!"

"You changed the subject so fast I barely had time to blink... There's nothing to be ashamed of, Honeybee, I don't know why you'd—"

"Look, dude, I'm not ashamed, and I'm certainly not changing the subject. We were on the subject of jobs. So there."

I was aware of how childish I sounded, but I stood my ground nonetheless. And thankfully Spencer seemed to let it go, though not without amplifying that amused sparkle in his eye.

"Okay... Well, I've got some more people to see, but, uh... I'll see you around. Maybe you can show me some of your work."

He didn't even give me time to protest. Though if he had, I was sure I wouldn't have been able to get any words out what with that goddamned face he had, twisted and sculpted into all these beautiful ways that were designed specifically to make me a blubbering hot mess.

I could only gather the courage to nod in response, though he'd turned his back and walked away by the time I got it out.

———

All things considered, I'd managed to avoid him for the majority of the wedding festivities. I focused all my energy on being happy to see my best friend get married, and likewise it seemed that Spencer was inclined to do the same.

He walked his sister down the aisle, and seeing them both so happy truly made my heart sing. To think I'd known them since we were all kids more or less, and now they were both successful, beautiful human beings... It warmed me to my core, and despite the other flames that stung my insides at seeing Spencer in his tux, thing were going swimmingly.

That being said, we were just about two hours into the reception, and there was absolutely nothing stopping me from begging Seraphina to put me out of my misery.

Except maybe pints upon pints of alcohol.

In hindsight, that may not have been a good idea, though. Because as much as the open bar had it benefits, it also hated me. It was mostly my fault, because I was stupid enough to forget that I get frisky when I'm drunk, but that didn't stop me from blaming the bartender for continuing to serve me.

I wasn't quite at the point of all-out inebriation, but I was definitely toeing the line between tipsy flirting and total disaster.

And when Spencer came over to ask me to dance, I knew I was doomed.

I didn't find myself caring about what he was saying, only the fact that he was there, in front of me, putting his hands on me and breathing in the same air that I was putting out. My entire body buzzed, and while I would have panicked otherwise, my tipsy brain welcomed the tingle and made me a bit bolder.

"You enjoying yourself tonight?" he asked, like he couldn't already tell that I was having the time of my life.

"No way. You suck at dancing." The joke rolled off my tongue with ease, a product of years spent teasing him for countless things.

And just like all those times before, he rolled his eyes and then immediately flashed an affectionate smile all the same.

I should have stopped there, maybe tried to do something a bit more romantic like teach him how to dance... Placing his hands and fixing his posture, taking the time to gracefully have an excuse for exploring his body with my hands...

But romance took a backseat when I pressed myself in even closer to him and hummed just under his jawline. "Mmm, but I bet you're good at other things..."

I felt his hands grip my waist just a little tighter, and his throat visibly twitched. "How much have you had to drink, Honeybee?"

"Spencer," I whined, pressing my face into his neck. "Don't tell me you're turning me down, please..."

I could tell by the way he was touching me, his hands wavering and undecided, and the way his heartbeat thrummed loudly and quickly against my own that he wanted nothing more than to entertain my desires.

The thought made me quiver and press further into him. I kissed his jawline tenderly, silently begging him to whisk me away and finally make me his, but it broke my heart a little to feel him peel away from me.

When he looked into my eyes though, I swore the gleam in his own is what put me back together. It could have been the liquor swimming around in my body that made me feel lightheaded, but when Spencer lifted my chin with his fingers and looked me over, I knew that wasn't it. It was wholeheartedly, without a doubt, him.

"Tell you what... You get sobered up by the end of the night, and maybe I'll come find you."

I wanted to nod, but his gentle grip on my chin held me steady—At least until he glided his fingertips down my throat and over my shoulder. Then I downright slumped forward with a whine and a weak nod that seemed to make him smile.

"Thank you for the dance," he said earnestly, leaning forward to press the lightest of kisses to my temple.

Just like that he was gone, and I wanted him back almost immediately.

———

And so the night dragged on, and the longer I sobered up the more it dawned on me what the fuck just happened— What the fuck was going to happen, too, if I played my cards right.

It didn't help that I could practically feel Spencer's eyes on me the whole time. Probably to make sure I really wasn't drinking anymore, a fact that only made this feel more real.

On top of it all, I was starting to lose count of the amount of men here who were trying to buy me drinks. Even if the one man I really wanted tonight hadn't given me a deal, I still wouldn't have accepted them, if only for the pathetic fact that I would have been trying to catch his attention instead.

So much for trying to convince myself I wasn't in love with him...

Was that really what it was? It had to be, right?

Either way, I was determined to find out, and that meant declining every flirtatious offer to drink and dance.

Unfortunately, Seraphina seemed to notice, even on the one day in her entire life she shouldn't have been thinking about anyone but herself. "You're not having fun," she pouted, plopping down next to me and handing me a shot. "Have fun."

I laughed and set the tiny glass down on the table. "I am having fun, I'm just... tired. And being hungover tomorrow does not sound fun."

"Mmm," she responded, visibly suspicious.

I didn't really know what to say to her to convince her not to be though, so I grabbed her hand and smiled. "You're having fun though, right? 'Cause I will not hesitate to kick someone's ass if you're not."

With a bellowing laugh mildly tainted with the smell of champagne, Seraphina squeezed my hand and leaned in close. "I'm having the best time. I couldn't be happier."

"Well, good. You deserve it."

After a small moment of silent shared smiles, my best friend glanced over elsewhere and then back to me with that look in her eye that kind of scared me.

And her words were even scarier... "So, you talk to Spencer at all tonight?"

"Uh— Yeah... Briefly."

"Mhmm... Y'know, I saw you two dancing together earlier. You seemed reeeally close..."

There I was, getting defensive in front of a Reid sibling for the second time that night. And just like before, I was awful at being subtle. "Sera, stop it! It was just a dance..."

"Bullshit! He had his hands all over you, and he had that gross-ass, dreamy-ass look in his eye! He so wants to sleep with you!"

"Sera!" I gently shoved her and tried not to smile at the goofy smile she had plastered on her face.

"Am I wrong?"

"I... I don't..."

"Ha! I'm not wrong!"

The defeated look in my eye did nothing to disconfirm her story.

"So, what's stopping you from letting him?"

I went wide-eyed. "Se—You... You seriously would... You're okay with this? It doesn't... gross you out?"

There were a lot of things I could have seen Seraphina do in that moment, but pinching and yelling at me were not any of them. "Y/N! You idiot! I've been trying to get you two together for years! If I knew all it took was me getting married, I would have accepted Theo Decker's proposal..."

"Wa— In fifth grade? Sera, that wasn't—"

"I know, but you get what I mean! You two are so painfully attracted to each other, it physically hurts me. It's actually disgusting, but if it means there's a chance that you might get to be my sister? I say go for it."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "You... You really mean that?"

"What, you think I'd joke about that?"

Everything that she conveyed to me within the look in her eyes, her words, and the squeezing of her hand over mine told me she was sincere.

"I love you, you know," I told her just as sincerely.

Her smile was as radiant as ever, but the teasing tone in her voice was enough to make me scowl again. "Right back at'cha, Honeybee. Just do me a favor and don't tell me any details. I don't wanna know."

I stuck my tongue out at her, followed by a short shove. "Oh, and as soon as you get back from your honeymoon? I'm kicking your ass for telling him about that nude shoot I did for that magazine..."

She only grinned. "Why? I think I did you a favor..."

I rolled my eyes at her, but in the end, I guess she was right.

———

I shouldn't have been pacing. Really, it was pretty fucking embarrassing the way I walked in circles around my hotel room, waiting for a knock at the door or a text message on my phone, or something to let me know that Spencer had really meant what he said and was on his way to come find me.

I didn't have a single drink after we danced, and I swear to God, if he made me go through this entire night all nervous without the liquor to calm me down, for nothing? I was going to kill him tomorrow.

Later today... Whatever.

The point? I was well and truly ready to feel him taking up my personal space, and I was going to feel like a real idiot if I waited around and prepped and everything, only for him not to show. The funny thing was, it was almost two in the morning, and I would have stayed up until the sun rose for him.

Thank God he had the decency to save me the trouble.

A short two-rap knock on the door made me jump, but I ran at it full-speed, flinging the large wooden panel open and letting its momentum blow cool wind over my body. And I needed it, too.

Because standing right in front of me was Spencer Reid in all his semi-exhausted glory. His outfit was loosened, buttons undone and bowtie untied, hanging limp around his neck. His hair sat wild atop his head and a thin layer of sweat coated his skin. Maybe that last part sounded gross, but looking at him? It was anything but.

Especially when he flashed me that damned smirk. "Someone's eager..."

I tried not to sound as dumbfounded by his presence as I felt. "Well, you made me a good offer I couldn't refuse. Excuse me for being excited."

"And here I thought all this time you hated me, Honeybee..."

"That would be easier, wouldn't it?"

His grin transformed into a full-on beaming smile then, and it only made my skin feel warmer and my heart beat faster. I returned his smile with my own, so genuinely happy to see him again after all this time, and with the brightest show of happiness I'd ever seen.

Turns out, smiling like a lovesick idiot was all I was capable of.

"Are you... gonna let me in?"

The low suggestive tone in his voice had me springing into action, stepping back and allowing him the space to come in. And though he had plenty of room, Spencer still decided to brush his body over mine as he passed. His eyes bore into my own as he gently kicked the door shut and enveloped us in a dimness that came from cheap hotel lighting.

Still, I was unable to speak, and hardly able to even breathe, with each passing second.

And then, his hands were on my waist, pulling me to him with a softness that matched the whisper in his throat as he said, "C'mere..." Looking up at him then, his fingers burning holes through the thin fabric of my dress while he looked back down me, eyes swimming in tender desire... It almost didn't even feel real.

And it certainly didn't feel real when he leaned in, one of his hands coming up to touch my face while the other pressed me firmly against him.

The moment his lips touched mine, I was gone. I positively melted into him, so much so that it felt like I was just becoming a part of him entirely, losing myself in the moment and unwilling to let it go.

Even when he sighed against my lips and parted his own to kiss me deeper, I just followed suit and let him take the lead. We moved together as one, fluidly and with as much eagerness was possible. I'd wanted to get a taste of him for so long, and he obviously felt the same way, what with the thorough and precise exploring his tongue did with my own. It shot warmth throughout my whole being, and my legs threatened to buckle underneath me from how weak they felt.

Spencer seemed to understand what was happening to me, because as soon as I'd thought it, he was just as quick to literally sweep me off my feet, scooping me up bridal style and carrying me over to the large bed in the middle of the room.

"I know we're at a wedding and all, but geez," I laughed, watching as he laid me down gently and crawled over my body. "A little much?"

He only rolled his eyes. "Well, excuse me for trying to be romantic..."

"Mmm, I think you're just being an overachiever. As per usual."

That remark earned me a pinning of my wrists above my head, and the fire that erupted in my very core at my current position only cemented that this was very real.

Spencer grinned, his hips coming down to roll over mine teasingly. He spoke nice and slowly, his voice slicing through my soul like smooth butter. "Oh, Honeybee, I'll show you an overachiever..."

Once again I was rendered speechless. Not like I expected to be talking his ear off or anything, but words genuinely escaped me.

Luckily, Spencer didn't seem to mind. In fact, he knew exactly what to do next, and it made me even hungrier for him than ever before.

He captured my lips in another dizzying kiss, his hands still flexing over my wrists to keep them steady. I moaned softly and writhed against him, and though I would have liked to say that it was a conscious choice to coax him to give me more, really it was just me being unable to handle the fact that this was actually happening.

Actually, if not for the overwhelming and familiar scent of him, I would have thought I was only imagining it.

But alas, here he was in all his floral peppermint glory, grinding his hips down into mine and kissing me like I'd never been kissed before, driving me mad with each adept movement.

Thankfully he seemed to get as lost in the moment as I was, because he loosened my wrists in his grip, and I broke free, flying my hands in between us and down to his belt.

His lips pulled away from mine with a soft smack, a smile forming smugly upon them. "Have you no patience?"

As my fingers fumbled with the metal and leather, I pressed my nose to his and quickly pecked his mouth. "I thought we already established that I have no patience the moment I opened the door..."

"Fair... But still..."

Spencer grabbed my hands again, moving them to my sides and then hiking my dress up slowly. His skin was hot against my own, and it took everything I had not to break down begging for him.

And then he spoke again, his lips barely grazing mine as he did. "Teasing you is so much fun..."

I couldn't really explain what sound escaped me then, but it reminded me of a disgruntled animal, erupting from my throat and getting muffled the moment I took my hands and brought his face to mine. I kissed him fervently as his hands matched the intense nature of my affections— With every soft groan I gave him, he returned it with an inch higher up my leg, until eventually he was toying with the hem of my underwear.

Unable to take it anymore, I gave in and mumbled the most desperate plea I could think of. (Like I had to think that hard...)

"Spencer, please..."

I half expected him to tease me again, but this time I felt him tremble over my body. His fingers slipped under the satin of my underwear and he sighed into my mouth. "God, how could I ever say no to you..."

No sooner had the words left his mouth did he spread me apart with his fingertips, getting a feel for me and a broken sigh falling from his tongue and onto my own. I captured it and kissed him with as much precision as I could while under the influence of his hands working wonders.

Truly, his hands hand a magic of their own that should have been considered as an eighth Wonder of the World. They flexed in all the right places, splitting me open and caressing the most sensitive parts of me, simultaneously breaking me apart and putting me back together...

God, and those was only his hands...

The thought of what else he had waiting for me made me cry out into his mouth, though I'm sure it also had to do with the fact that his fingers were curling expertly inside me and summoning an orgasm that I knew would satisfy us both.

I almost cried out again when his lips left mine, but then they travelled to my neck and paid it the most glorious attention. The alternation of his fingers and his tongue on different spots of my body had me in shambles, and it took no longer than a few seconds to snap.

"Fuck, that's my girl," Spencer grumbled into my neck, helping me through my orgasm. "That's it, honey..."

What I wouldn't have given to hear him talk to me like that until the end of time... His words, their tone and praise seeping into my skin and bringing my soul to life... Coupled with his soft hands and his even softer breath fanning over my neck, I was just about ready to ask him to keep talking to me, to say my name and never stop.

He pulled away though, removing his hand from my lower half and bringing it up to his mouth, and I had the feeling my request wouldn't be a problem.

Spencer's eyes rolled back and his tongue gathered my arousal off his long, well-endowed fingers. And though I could hear his groan well and clear, I felt it more than anything. It reverberated through my body and brought me more to life in a way I never thought imaginable.

No one had ever made me feel that way with one single sound, and that's how I knew.

I thought I knew it from the start—from when we were growing up—that I wanted to be near him forever. But It was always just a silly dream, something I was never quite able to reach, and as I got older and we rarely saw each other, it got harder to even imagine anymore.

Now I didn't have to imagine.

Spencer Reid was right in front of me, touching me, tasting me, verbally praising me with sounds I'd only ever dreamed of...

I wanted him to have his moment, because I was positive he'd wanted this just as much as I did, but this sappy sort of revelation I was having made it nearly impossible to not be utterly wrapped up in him, and I wanted more.

So I wiggled and adjusted myself underneath him before grabbing his hand and placing it over my heart. His eyes widened softly at the sight of me, and I knew then that he was taking the time to memorize my face, and the image of his hand resting at my chest, right where my heart was encased beneath bones, flesh, and fabric.

"I could look at you forever," he whispered then.

I would have been ashamed to admit that I whimpered when he said it, but the way he looked at me afterwards made me feel the exact opposite.

He smiled, using his other hand to come up and touch my face. "You want it bad, don't you, Honeybee?"

I didn't even argue with him this time. My head nodded and my hands reached out to pull him closer. "I want you... More than I've ever wanted anything."

Before he leaned down to kiss me, I could have swore he looked like he was going to shed a tear. The duality of him, his ability to be all teasing and cocky one second and then reduced to a lovesick mess at just a few words from me the next, made my heart sing.

And it kept singing, a sweet, steady melody as Spencer kissed me and touched me like he meant it.

Only this time, he didn't pause or tease me with theatrics. He went straight for the kill, fetching a condom from his pants pocket and then sliding the material down, all while keeping me trapped under his embrace. I welcomed it naturally, humming happily into his neck and jawline and anywhere I could reach as he got us both fully undressed and situated, until finally he had the condom on and his hands rested nicely on either side of my head.

"Promise not to sting me?"

I laughed, draping my arms over his shoulders and flashing him a wink. "Mmm, only if you promise to give it to me good..."

"Deal."

He slowly pushed into me then, and the stretch was far more satisfying than his fingers, though I was in no position to complain either way. If he was even half as skilled with his hips as he was with his hands (which I had no doubts about whatsoever), then neither of us had anything to worry about.

It didn't take long for us to find our rhythm, but I didn't have time to think about that. I was so consumed with just the feeling of him being everywhere that technicalities didn't matter.

That being said, the technicalities were really fucking good.

His hips snapped into mine with sharp precision, and I felt it deep within my bones. My cunt clung around him willingly and accordingly, as did my legs, which hooked over his waist as I dug my heels into his ass.

Meanwhile Spencer grabbed my hands and pinned them above my head again, this time interlocking our fingers and then leaning down to kiss me deeply. It was met with my undying welcome, of course, but with the way he was fucking me, deep and with a devotion that nearly exploded my heart, I couldn't help but whine out for more.

His name was all I could manage.

"What do you want, Honeybee?" he cooed, holding himself deep inside me and grinding his hips in small circles that made it harder to breathe.

"M—More... I..."

"Can you be more specific?"

How he could be such a cocky little shit in this moment I wasn't sure, and it frustrated me to no end. He knew damn well what I wanted, and I knew just the thing that would make him give it to me.

I have him the biggest pout I could, also whining out the most pathetic, "More," in my arsenal. And with a roll of my hips up into his, I gasped out at how deep he got, and whined out again.

"Spoiled brat," Spencer grunted in defeat, retreating only to slam into me at full force.

My small gasps and cries turned into full-blown howls of searing pleasure as he fucked me then. My head tipped back and my back arched slightly, exposing my neck and chest to him, and he took it as an invitation to lean down and put his mouth anywhere he could reach. I was sure there would be small nicks and bruises littered over my skin the next morning, and just thinking of everyone seeing them, seeing Spencer's mark on me, made it harder to prolong the inevitable.

I came with a shout, flexing my hands into his as my body tensed then relaxed, over and over while he whispered praises into my skin. He followed soon after, shoving his face into my neck and muffling the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard as he came.

By then his hands had loosened, so I snuck my own away from his and brought them over to hug him close. One hand knotted into his hair while the other grazed over his back. The thin sheen of sweat forming over his skin once again was more enticing than it probably sounded, but I loved it all the same. I felt him relax and bring his arms down to rest at my sides, his fingertips dancing lightly over my skin and giving me goosebumps.

Then out of nowhere, he said something that confused and mildly panicked me. "I thought you said you wouldn't sting me..."

I pulled away to try and look at his face, loosening my grip on his body. "A—Am I hurting you? I'm sorry..."

He laughed though, peppering tiny kisses up my neck until he got to my jaw. "You're not hurting me, Honeybee... You've just... stung my heart, that's all."

"I... Is that a bad thing?"

"It's a strange thing..."

He looked at me like I was the one thing on the planet he adored, but his words sounded different.

I raised an eyebrow. "You're not helping me understand..."

With another laugh, Spencer Kissed my cheek and rolled off of me, settling for laying on his side and turning me to face him. "Do you remember how I gave you your nickname?"

Despite my confusion about all of this, I entertained him with a huffed laugh. "Yeah, I spilled honey all over my shorts without realizing it, and I had ants all over me in a matter of minutes. I was terrified."

"I was highly amused."

I shoved him. "Yeah, dork, I know you were! You and Seraphina both thought it was the funniest thing on the planet, and then your mom had to come out and spray me down with a hose before I came back in the house."

Spencer barked a laugh, and I wanted to punch it right out of his mouth.

"Tell me again why this is relevant to our current situation?" I reminded him with and sigh, already over his antics.

Thankfully he seemed to take pity on me; He reached a hand out and played with a strand of my hair, smiling even brighter than when I opened the door for him. "That's when I started to feel it. You were just... so cute all angry at me and Sera for laughing, and it... It changed everything."

"You know, that would be more romantic if I hadn't been covered in bugs," I responded with a laugh.

"It's true! And it confused the hell out of me, because how was I supposed to cope with the fact that I actually had a crush on my little sister's best friend like some stupid cliché? You were always so feisty after that, too, and it certainly didn't help... And when I graduated and went off to college, I thought... I thought there was no chance you would ever be able to break the heart you'd managed to steal."

He swiped his thumb gently over my bottom lip and smiled, his eyes going all tear-y again. It sent butterflies through my whole body.

"I would never even dream of breaking your heart, Spencer..."

Our foreheads pressed together then, and the unwavering adoration in his voice when he spoke made me forget all prior confusion and minor embarrassment over re-living our origins.

All that mattered was that he was here, holding me in his arms and making me feel like the luckiest woman in the world.

"I know you won't, Honeybee."

———

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[arkus-rhapsode]

MHA Chapter 266 Discussion: The Character of Twice, His Arc, and What I think of Horikoshi’s Decision

So this is a post I wanted to wait on making. Not because I didn’t have anything to say. No, it was more that I wanted to let the recent events settle in. Because as of chapter 266, we have witnessed a big shake up in the world of MHA.

And I wanted to cover the character it concerns and discuss his history, as well as what I felt about it and if I agree with what Horikoshi decided to do.

Which is why I need to say that this is spoilers.

As it appears, Twice, one of the longest members of the League of Villains has died. Killed by Hawks in the raid on the Paranormal Liberation Front’s base. Twice was apparently a high profile target given his quirk’s power, with the hero association giving the order to Hawks to neutralize him.

Now this has... Upset some people. Twice is known to be one of the more beloved characters in the fandom. His Deadpool like antics coupled with his unabashed sincere personality had made him an easy to identify character. But he was more than that. And lets look back on that for a moment.

Twice was more than a villain, he was a character. He was more than just a obstacle that the protagonists would have to overcome. He wasn’t Muscular or Mustard, he had more layers to him.

In chapter 115, as the lead in to what would be the Yakuza arc, its Twice who narrates his own views on life and his own backstory. Why he is the way he is.

Its a gritty peak into Twice’s backstory. He’s someone who will never know if he’s real and the closest thing he has now to friends are the League of Villains.

This kinship he has and seeks plays a large role in the Yakuza arc, as Twice unintentionally causes the death of the League member, Magne. Unlike some villains who make a decision that backfires, Twice doesn’t do some “I swear revenge!” No, Twice blames himself. This was his friend and he got her killed.

He’s torn up. Hurt. Not made better by his previously mentioned fragil mental state. And in the end, gets to avenge Magne by ruining the Yakuza from the inside, leading to Overhaul’s defeat.

We next see the league in the fantastically done Meta Liberation Army arc, where Twice and the League are called out to fight the aptly named Meta Liberation Army. Twice is targeted by the Liberator, Skeptic, for his quirk. Twice’s double is powerful, but he limits himself due to his past.

Skeptic preys upon this and attacks Twice with clones of his own.

Twice breaks down as he’s practically helpless in this scenario and we see the beginning of Twice’s descent.

Twice’s fall into crime is much different from Toga and Shigaraki’s. Verbally acknowledged by ReDestro and Skeptic. Unlike Toga and Shigaraki whose destructive urges were exacerbated thanks to society, Twice was just a normal person who made wrong mistake and he just kept falling.

Skeptic’s puppets break Twice’s arms, yet doing so unintentionally answers Twice’s greatest question, he is in fact the real Twice. Twice, no longer afraid of his own powers develops the technique of Sad Man’s Parade, where he doubles himself ad infinitum. It overwhelms the Liberators and gives the League a fighting chance.

Now that Twice has finally achieved his answer for his identity, all that’s left for him is to now achieve his goal of being useful to his friends. Not only does he now have a place as one of the lieutenants of the Paranormal Liberation Front and a leader of the BLACK squad, but he has full control of his freakishly strong quirk.

He even reveals these feelings anxiously to Hawks, who he befriends in the Army.

Oh dear...

Yes, unfortunately, Twice has done it again and inadvertently put his friends in danger. He tries to fight back against Hawks but its ultimately not enough, not helped by the hideout of the PLF falling around them.

Hawks notes that Twice’s quirk makes him incredibly dangerous. Him being an enemy of society would surely be disastrous. He can either leave the PLF and reform or die. Well as I’ve pointed out, Twice is more than your typical villain. Twice genuinely cares for the people he’s with and will never betray them. Hawks is ultimately left with no choice but to end Twice.

This seems to be thrown into flux when Dabi enters the picture and gets Twice out, but Twice still has his goal. To be useful for his friends. Twice makes clones to assist Toga and Compress in the battle, yet that moment where he finally helps his friends, he is killed by Hawks.

I bring up that long recap not to remind you of the obvious, but rather to show you just why Twice would be a beloved character. Twice was more than just someone with an identifiable personality and design that the head canon community could latch onto. Twice was a character, a damn good one at that. Its easy to see how he would garner a fanbase.

Which is why I do not blame anyone for being upset at his death. He was a fully fleshed out character. And this is ultimately the reason why I was okay with his death.

Twice was a character, and like all good characters, he had an arc. Horikoshi is made quite a unique cast of villains when they seem to be evolving alongside the heroes. They were truly antagonists, an opposing force to the protagonists.

Yet with an arc comes closure. Every character who goes along the path of their arc is trying to reach a goal, their story will end when that goal is achieved. As previously seen in the first ever look into Twice’s past, he is haunted by the question of “Is he the real Jin or just a clone?”

Twice lives in a fragile state of fearing he is not real and will vanish if he’s hurt too much. This erratic thinking contributes to the his own incompetence. Making bad decisions that ultimately hurt those around him and send him downwards. Twice is clearly bothered by those kinds of mistakes, evident by his own past before his choice to become a criminal.

But when Twice finally got his answer of if he was real or not, then he was already half way down with his journey. All there was left was for him to become useful? What was Hori gonna do? Have Twice become hyper competent? Use that hideously overpowered quirk of his to constantly give the villains an edge. When they already have Gigantomachia, a Nomu creating doctor, quirk killer bullets, etc?

Or was Twice going to keep making mistakes? This gubber in the army of society toppling villains? Was he just gonna be a joke to be exploited?

Well we got our answer, Twice does finally get to be useful to his friends, but all too in character does it comes with bad luck. Twice achieved his final goal, but only through self destruction.

To me, this was the best way for the character to go out. His story was done, and instead having him hang around and take up space or force Horikoshi into a corner, he was removed. But if removal was what was called for, couldn’t Horikoshi simply put Twice in jail like Stain?

Well no. Unlike Stain who still has unfinished business, I don’t think simply Twice helping his friends but getting caught would work with the Twice wanting to be useful. He would now be a new burden. With his erratic behavior, he could unintentionally spill the beans about the PLF and put his friends in danger. And being locked in a cage would keep him from being to help them from that blunder.

I think fitting with Twice’s bad luck, the time he is finally useful, would be the time people finally were able to stop worrying about him. And the only way to do that was through his demise.

Now there are those also unhappy with the fact that this seems like Horikoshi was trying to remove him because Twice would be too much of a force to defeat in battles. This would be especially wasteful of given he had just gotten his power up. Now this is where I have to give speculation, so forgive me for theorizing against that legitimate criticism.

You’d be right, it is wasteful, yet I do believe Horikoshi has bigger plans to not let Twice’s power go to waste. In the Meta Liberation arc, it was more than Twice who got a power-up, but so did Toga. Toga had gained the power to mimic the power of those who’s blood she had taken. Not just their form.

During the Yakuza arc, Twice and Toga were paired together, with his final act being to protect Toga. It would not be a stretch that due to their connection, Toga would make it so that Twice could live through her. But thanks to her limitation of her quirk to take other forms, it would make an added limitation to Twice’s quirk.

As I said, I can only offer speculation on that, but if Horikoshi intends to go that route, then bravo. But even beyond that, I still agree with this decision. I would rather see a character I love have closure and finality than artificially lengthened to match the series run time.

But if you’re still upset or mad at Horikoshi at what he did, I don’t blame you. As I hope I made painstakingly clear, Twice was a character worth feeling something for and Hori was an author who gave that character life. People should be sombre or angry or satisfied, because Hori made a character worth feeling anything about.

Now maybe you understand everything that I’ve written already, but just because you understand what Hori is going for doesn’t mean you agree with it. That was my reaction to Deku having multiple quirks. I understood what Hori was doing and get what he was going for, but I don’t agree with it as I thought it hurt the story more than helped it. For some reading this chapter, they probably felt the same.

I can’t offer any words to change that view if you have it. It is yours. But as for me, I think Horikoshi made an incredible character, and like all good characters he had an arc, and like all good stories, Twice’s story ended with his arc. But the story of MHA is still hasn’t ended yet.

[princessmadafu]

I have the conch!!!

Good morning. Mad’s still snoozing, so I’m popping this up while it’s quiet. This is a Forbes article from March 2019 that I thought was important enough to save:

Meghan Markle: Does The British Tax Payer Know How Much 'Me-Gain' Royal Is Costing?

Roger Aitken Contributor

The Duchess of Sussex, aka Meghan Markle, is watching her popularity and acceptance sinking, possibly taking the British Royal Family with her. Apparently, the way to make the public in Britain like her is to spend tax-payers money on PR machines on both sides of the Atlantic, in addition to a generous allowance.

Being in the public eye puts a person under a degree of scrutiny – and especially when you are a Royal. Some voluntarily choose the public eye, and some are born into it.

It is also not easy to be famous in the age of social media, especially as an entertainer, sports star or actress. Royalty also endures scrutiny, as we can attest to with the lives of Queen Elizabeth II, Princess Anne, and even Prince Charles and Princess Diana.

Mixing the two, entertainer and royalty, results in a new breed of fame, which can sometimes work out. Or not.

Just last weekend (March 23) in The Express tabloid it was reported that royal expert, Anna Pasternak, ventured that Meghan Markle and Prince Harry’s marriage is “going to become increasingly difficult.”

The author of ‘Untitled: The Real Wallis Simpson, Duchess of Windsor’, Pasternak claimed that Duchess is heading into a “tricky situation” – akin or similar to that faced by Wallis Simpson and Princess Diana, where the “ultimate goal is survival.” Strong stuff. Like Simpson, Markle is a divorcee.

The most famous marriage of royalty to entertainment was in 1956 when Grace Kelly, the American film actress, became Princess of Monaco after marrying Prince Rainier III in April of that same year.

One of the most famous actresses in the world at the time, armed with a stable of films for which she received high acclaim, plus an Academy Award for Best Actress (1955) tucked under her arm, retired from acting at the age of 26 and began her duties as the Princess of Monaco.

According to reports, Princess Grace was loved and accepted by the public during her lifetime, and when she died at the age of 52, according to biographer Jeffrey Robinson, “…it was like the lights went out. Monaco just stopped.”

Move forward to 2018, where another actress has married into a royal family – this time, in the United Kingdom (U.K), which has for the last three years been torn apart by ongoing Brexit trials and tribulations. The tension in the country is palpable.

Meghan Markle, a relatively small-time actress say some, married Prince Harry of Wales on May 19, 2018, at St George’s Chapel, Windsor Castle.

Although not so well known prior to this – her second marriage – she was best known for a small role in a series named Suits. Prince Harry, the Duke of Sussex and sixth in line to thrown, on the other hand, was the younger son of one of the most famous Royals in history, Princess Diana of Wales, and known throughout the world due to his Royal status.  His Royal Highness spent ten years working in the Armed Forces, ending operational duties in 2015.

Meghan Markle, who grew up in a middle-class household, was looked after by her family throughout her life. When her father won the lottery when she was nine years old, he seemingly made sure that every cost was covered for Meghan, sending her to the best schools and training. Well, why not if you have it.

Of course, Prince Harry grew up as a Royal, and unlike his brother Prince William, seemed to like the partying side of life a little more. As his Royal Highness grew up he was in the papers often, normally for partying in Las Vegas or some other antics. But he knew the price of being in the public eye and putting a foot out of place. Yet he is 100% British and the public love him, still, regardless of these reports.

There was finally an announcement in November of 2017 that Meghan Markle and Prince Harry were engaged, which was soon followed by an interview, which was the start of Meghan’s descent.

During this interview, Meghan proclaimed that she did not know much about Prince Harry, and because she was American, did not really understand the importance of the Royal family – although she was snapped in a photo in front of Buckingham palace when she was 15 and apparently had many books on Diana and the royal family, according to reports.

All of this gave fuel to the British public, who started to leave negative remarks in the comments sections of online publications by the hundreds, if not thousands.

At Meghan and Prince Harry’s wedding, on May 19, 2018, there were no family present from her side, except for her mother, in sharp contrast to the marriage of Catherine Middleton and Prince William of Wales, the now Duke and Duchess of Cambridge.

Catherine was surrounded by friends and family, with her sister acting as Maid of Honor in pictures that went viral for ‘that dress’.

Meghan’s wedding received widespread attention for the lack of family and close friends. Prince Charles gave her away, although her own father is alive and living in Mexico, and she had her own shadow as a Maid of Honor. Again, the British public were left puzzled, as seen by the comments in the media.

Of course, with their exclusion from this great event, Meghan’s own family took great exception, with the most vocal being Samantha Markle – followed by her father, uncles and cousins – who could not understand why this happened. And, they never got an answer. But they had a clue when Prince Harry went on the radio and said that the Royal family would now be the “family Meghan never had.”

Meghan’s family shot back immediately that this was all a lie, protesting and offering proof of the opposite. Samantha even explained that the father financed all of Meghan’s education, while Meghan stated at a conference she paid for her own education. Yet Samantha has receipts from the father, apparently.

At the same time, reports of the cost of this wedding, mixed with the drama of the Markle family, hit fever pitch. According to the British tabloid, the Express, the Duke and Duchess of Sussex’s Royal wedding is said to have racked up a £32 million bill (c.$41.6 million at the current exchange rate), with the majority of that hefty sum (paid for by the British taxpayer) going towards security – a whopping £30 million (c.$39 million), to be exact.

One might argue that with all the zillions of tourists flocking to Britain with pull of Buckingham Palace, seeing the Royals and the nation’s deep and rich history, it was frankly a drop in the ocean.

Figures also show that £1.5 million (c.$1.95 million) was spent by the Department for Digital, Culture, Media and Sport (DCMS), a U.K. government department that has responsibility for the creative industries, tourism and leisure across the nation. Some will be more familiar with the DCMS in the pursuit of Facebook CEO Mark Zuckerberg in giving oral evidence before the committee in Parliament.

All this while wages and living standards for your average working Brit are depressed and have been so since the last financial crisis around a decade ago.

The public seems to have had enough now, with people writing on sites that they feel Meghan is embarrassing the Royal Family, and the public in turn, even “taking them for fools”, adding that “Harry is a young and naive and cannot see what is happening before him.” Prince Harry is 34 and Meghan in 37, which is very close in age.

People have seemingly too become incensed at all of the reports and apparent lies that Meghan has told, and started to turn against the Duchess of Sussex now in serious numbers, on blogs, forums and websites. Not Harry. Meghan. The Duchess of Sussex.

She has even apparently been given a nickname by royal staff at the royal household – “Me-Gain.” And, Harry quite clearly is said to be very unhappy with that.

Dicky Arbiter, a Royal insider and ex-Palace press, speaking to Nine News Australia on Harry’s reaction to these reports, was quoted as saying: “He would be angry that something like this is coming out. You have got to remember too…I mean, you were here for the wedding and you saw how the media were operating. They were putting Meghan and Harry right up on a pedestal. Since the end of summer in the autumn, they have been chipping away at those pedestals and really having a go.”

Cosmopolitan magazine stated in a report referring to “Me-Gain” comments apparently made by royal staff writing: “To be honest, there’s probably little to no truth to rumors that staff call Meghan by this nickname, but that doesn’t make the reports any less hurtful, obvs!” That said, gossip about the Royal family certainly sells newspapers.

Every day it seems, articles come online and in print about Meghan, reporting on everything from the dishes she serves guests (avocado on toast) to her wardrobe (with outfits costing  up to £100,000 (c.$130,000 each), her extravagant baby showers – two to be exact and more.

The public perception of her started to sink faster than a millstone in water. They made it clear that they would not suffer another Wallis Simpson.

The palace knew they were in trouble and started to hire PR, separating the Duke and Duchess of Sussex from the Cambridges, and giving them their own household.

According to reports, even Prince William and Catherine observed the negative publicity, fearing it will outshine the work and legacy of the Royal Family as a whole, and wanted to separate themselves from what has been labelled “the Markle Effect.”

Meghan Markle’s PR chief     moved positions and became the fifth aide she has lost since she married     Prince Harry. According to The Sun, Jason Knauf is now a “senior adviser” for the     Cambridges’ charities. In addition, the general consensus among royal reporters is that Meghan is     seen as difficult and high energy and is said to “snap” at palace     employees.

Following this move, and     the desire to separate the Sussexs’ from the Cambridges’, according to The     Daily Mail The Queen agreed to the creation of a Household for     The Duke and Duchess of Sussex and gave permission for it to be based at     Buckingham Palace.

As part of the new order,     Harry and Meghan have named Sara Latham, Hillary Clinton’s former Senior     Campaign Advisor, as their new dedicated head of communications. With     costs estimated and thought to be in the ball park of £500,000 to £1     million (c.$650,000 to $1.3 million), it will be paid for by the tax     payer. The ultimate irony. They are spending tax-payers money to make the     Duchess of Sussex likeable to the very people who are not warming to her,     by spending their money.

Viscount Yves de Contades, CEO of International Excellence Magazine and luxury expert remarking on these recent matters, said: “Relating to populist media through PR experts has become indispensable, because if you are not talking to them directly, they will simply take it from any source – however unreliable.”

He added: “Unfortunately sensational stories get read substantially more than the truth. Good PR is about maintaining certain values and connecting honestly with your audience. And, it would be wise to pay those bills yourself.”

Frank Marr, CEO and owner of A Marr + Associates and a reputation management/PR expert based in London, said: “Reputation management is imperative for the monarchy. In an era of discontent, erratic political situations along with the big gap between the rich and the poor, there has never been a more important need to explain why the royalty is needed for the nation.”

He added: “Their role as pillars to society and how they can play their part to support the nation [Britain] needs to be managed in order to maintain reasoning for this existence of influence.”

Is this really the right approach?

According to inside sources, who like Meghan’s friends cannot be named, Royal Communications have a very lucrative deal with People Magazine in America. The reason? Apparently, they feel if Americans fall in love with her, then the Brits will naturally follow.

This is made clear when American actors like George Clooney have recently criticized media treatment of Meghan saying she is being “pursued and vilified”, and likening her scrutiny to that was received by Princess Diana. Like all PR for Meghan, this statement, too, seems to be doing more harm than good, with thousands of people leaving vitriolic comments.

Others have expressed the thought that “Princess Diana-style PR will backfire on Meghan Markle and it’s not worth the gamble”, as reported in The Sun. And why is that? This one is quite simple. Because she is not Princess Diana, and many people are quick to point out that she is quite the opposite.

According to Lorraine Kelly’s viewpoint, the well-known Scottish journalist and broadcaster wrote: “Meghan Markle has mishandled her relationship with her dad Thomas ever since she began dating Prince Harry and she seems intent on making it worse.”

“By all accounts the Duchess of Sussex has taken it upon herself to brief several of her “close friends” to blab to a U.S. gossip magazine about how hurtful she has found the whole saga, and that – contrary to what everyone thinks – she has been in touch with her father Thomas.”

And, according to Samantha Markle, this could not be further from the truth. And again, she has the proof.

The British public expect the Royal Family to be wholesome. Perhaps not virginal, but wholesome, and a divorcee from America who has perhaps told a little fib or two, or ten, is just not sitting well.

And, the fact that the British public, again, are left paying the bill is a bridge too far for many of them as she as seen as the antithesis of what a Royal should be – loyal, demure, honest, caring, family oriented, frugal and modest.

Meghan is appearing, by her own fault, to be none of these. And to be honest, why would she want to be anything but herself? Why should she care what the people think about her? Well, again, it is simple. It is because she now represents a Royal Family, one which has outlasted most, and wants to live to see another day.

According to an article in Town and Country magazine, Meghan is worth $5 million compared to Prince Harry’s $40 million, a sum he has accumulated from funds left in trust to him by his mother, Princess Diana, an inheritance from the Queen Mother, and his former salary as a captain in the British Army.

Yet, the British public ARE paying for Meghan’s PR, and hopefully they will learn to love her, for Harry’s sake. Regardless of what opinions are about Harry’s girl, the bill for Meghan Markle, the Duchess of Sussex, is being paid for by the British tax payers, and hopefully they will get what they pay for. And, it’s certainly racking up in any currency.

Let them eat cake? You betcha!

Follow Roger, an ex-FT writer who has penned various investment stories, on Twitter @AitkenRL, LinkedIn, Forbes, Google+. He won a State Street Institutional Press award in 2015.  

Roger AitkenContributor

[thestormlionessmemes]

Mary Queen of Scots 2013

Tomorrow there will no longer be two queens in ___.

I find I bear you no grudge.

I know you are as powerless to change your role, as I have been to change mine.

l am frightened, Your Majesty.

Don't be.

I thank you for staying with me.

I'm not going to let them take you.

I will protect you.

For you must be allowed to have your own life.

You will be the queen, they never let me be.

When I think back ___ years ago in ___, I realize neither of us had an easy start in life.

I could barely move my tiny hands, yet politics was already clawing at my unsuspecting soul.

Pay attention, give me your hand.

Hold your dress.

Concentrate, keep your head up, look straight ahead.

Mine was not' a very settled upbringing.

As you must know your father was so determined I should marry his sickly son he sent troops to ransack my country.

Many ___ lost their lives in my rough wooing as an infant queen.

When I was being carted from one stronghold to another, sometimes I couldn't tell whether what I was seeing was real or a nightmare.

Farewell, my child, and may God grant you safe passage to a more peaceful land.

They will protect you.

You are feverish again.

That's good, my dear, the fever will take away your fear!

The only way my mother could protect me was to dispatch me overseas.

Overnight' my destiny changed.

Packed off like precious merchandise to spend a lifetime with another mysterious bridegroom.

It's lucky for you I took that' boat'.

If I'd have stayed, you wouldn't be sitting on the ___ throne today.

What is your name?

But which one is the Queen?

I can kill just by moving my finger.

Come back.

Come and look!

She is dead.

She is Queen now...

l am the Queen.

That's impossible.

You should have said so right away.

And there you will stay.

Why do you laugh?

I thought we were cousins.

I will reply to her immediately.

We will be the best sisters in the world.

I shall send her my portrait.

Better yet, let me go and meet her in person.

We understand each other, she and I.

We are like twins.

You cannot address her as Queen.

That woman is a bastard.

Have you forgotten what the ___ have done to your country?

They burned and destroyed it.

It is frightful to think that I was the cause of a war.

Do not succumb to your womanly instincts and kindness, do not let them cloud your reason.

There can be no dialogue with that... that pretender to the Throne.

When she dies, you shall be the ___ Queen.

Why should she die?

You and you alone can restore the true faith in that blasphemous land.

Carrying three crowns is a grave responsibility, but impossible as long as that illegitimate heretic is alive.

She has to go.

I will not crush her, I will win her over.

A delightful conundrum.

But not everyone here approves of me consorting with a foreign power.

I have been advised that my claim for the ___ crown is based on legitimate descent.

Accordingly, I am having the ___ coat of arms added to my royal portraits.

You need not' fear for your person.

I have no wish to disturb you.

But if you do ever respond to me, you should address me as Queen of ___, ___ and ___.

What an enchanting voice.

You are charming.

You make me tremble.

Come up and join us.

That hurts.

Tomorrow I will join the hunt.

Isn't it a little too early?

I feel strong again.

For the first time this year, I will lead the hunt.

I am confident that I still have a life to discover.

You of all people will appreciate that once born a queen, one must be a master of one 's own destiny.

If I can no longer be Queen of ___, I am still and will remain Queen of ___.

Let us sing our song.

It's so cold here and my subjects seem to hate their Queen.

That is because your subjects don't know their Queen yet and the Queen has to get used to sharper blades.

How does my cousin do it?

You cannot simply behead everyone who contradicts you!

I could throw ___ into the dungeons, but that would merely make matters worse.

Tolerance can easily be misinterpreted, Your Majesty.

At least you're beautiful.

She is really ugly, they say.

Even if they do write erotic sonnets about her...

No wonder! She has no husband, but countless lovers!

And she's seven inches shorter than you are.

And look at my bump.

Mine is worse.

Come closer.

My heart and my pride have just been stabbed by this rabble-rouser.

I'm frightened, dear cousin.

Why do men of god seem so afraid of women?

___ and ___ living in peace, guided by the example of our sisterly unify.

Oh, I wish I'd seen her face to face.

Believe me, she is as curious about you as you are about her.

Does she really bathe in warm milk?

Is it true she has bad breath?

They say she beats her lovers.

Off you go, ladies, we wish to discuss political matters.

I promise to divulge more gossip later.

Could you perhaps suggest the prospect of a meeting between the two Queens?

She extends to you any help you may need in making preparations for a future match.

I wonder who she will recommend to be my husband.

What of her empty matrimonial bed, your Majesty?

At least, you know what it's like to be married.

I'm delighted to hear you are interested in the possibility of me marrying again.

I 'm rather excited at the prospect of receiving a queue of young suitors.

Alas, I seem to lack the good fortune to meet any man capable of stirring my blood or touching my heart.

Have I not the right to choose whoever I want.

I, too, shall be free, free to stand by my own choices.

I must confess I'm not completely satisfied with my new husband.

I'm worried about his extreme views.

Likewise I hope I can count on you to disarm my treacherous lords and stifle their fanatical plots against me.

The heir to both of our kingdoms is growing safely within me.

Above all, it will heal this country's wounds.

Mama will do everything.

l am a prisoner now.

The child of this traitor is growing within me

and I do not know how to bring it to safety.

How will I know when I'm really in labour?

How can I possibly maintain a pose as serene and confident as you, when inside I feel like screaming?

You cannot know what it feels like to be a mother surrounded by vipers.

Maybe you are right' never to marry.

You can be absolutely certain that the future King will be in good hands.

In my end will be my beginning.

I have a healthy son and a secure future.

I'm besieged by a new force that I do not know how to meet.

Should I surrender or should I resist?

Can I count on my ancestors?

I have found something I never dared hope for.

I know everyone will turn against me and condemn me.

Don't call it sin.

It is true I conceived a child with my husband.

I've always had to make my own decisions and act on my own instincts.

I've been waiting all my life for a man like you.

For him I have risked dignity and conscience, for his sake I have come to regard my friends as less than nothing. For his sake I would fain

renounce the world, I would gladly die that he might rise.

It pleases me to see my husband suffer.

His very being has repelled me for so long now. But how can a wife get rid of a husband?

Careful - the people want to punish you for what you've done.

Some deeds are done by doing nothing.

I'm pregnant.

I know you must resent my sudden marriage, but surely you will appreciate that a pregnant queen must be married to the father of her child.

You cannot imagine the anger and desperation I feel to have my new husband blamed for the murder of my previous one, but I can declare that we are innocent a hundred times and there will still be slanderous voices condemning us.

To fight them would be madness, Your Majesty.

I have no wish to fight them.

They must submit to the Royal Lion and there will be peace again in ___.

There will be no single combat, no negotiations, only surrender.

You must send him away. You have no other option.

I lose count of the springs and the winters.

Has she killed me already?

I am actually more alive than she is.

She can do it! She can chop off the crown.

But she is the crowned sovereign now, and I am just a poor woman, without a crown, a country.

I can't bear it any longer I wish she would kill me.

Two great Queens, caught in a deadly stalemate. In an endless purgatory.

No way out, until one of you fades away.

This could go on forever.

Please don't leave me alone!

Don't hesitate to do what has to be done.

I would only be too pleased to get out of this bed and face your headsman.

And when that secret moment finally comes, will you then have the courage to face me?

With or without you by my side, I long for a new, for the chance to return to my beginning.

Oh, my dear ___, I would be deeply grateful for a sharp ace.

[myaekingheart]

87. Open Water

If your love is just a dream, don't wake me up It's hard enough to face the world alone You are the one I waited for, I knew it all along (knew it all along) You are the one I'm fighting for, I knew it all along -Open Water, blessthefall

               This was a terrible idea. Or maybe it was a brilliant idea that turned terrible. Either way, Rei was certain that the universe was out to get her. Somehow she always had a way of finding herself in the worst possible situations, ones that always hinged on her exact preoccupations as if manifested from her own obsessive thoughts. She sunk even deeper into the bath so that only her eyes and the top of her head were above the surface and wondered what could possibly kill her first: boiling or drowning.

               When Mikazuki suggested a girl’s day, Rei found it incredibly difficult to refuse by virtue of Mikazuki’s demeanor. Ever since she and Tenzo had begun dating, she said she felt more and more out of touch with her friends. The trouble with dating a fellow ANBU, as Rei could surely attest to, was that you never truly escaped them. When you went to work, they were there. When you were off duty, they were there. There was no balance to it whatsoever. It was enough to drive even the most lovestricken person completely mad.

               There was a sense of suffocation in Mikazuki’s tone when she asked, her peridot eyes darting around the locker room as if the slightest rejection was bound to send her over the edge. How could Rei possibly say no? On the way home, she tried to convince herself this was a good idea. Maybe this was what she truly needed anyway—a day with the girls to just sit back and relax and let the tension melt from her shoulders. And god, did she have so much tension.

               As she made her way to the bath house, she thought of Kakashi. The longer she dwelled on how they ended things two weeks before, the more dissatisfied and bothered she became. Why couldn’t she just make a damn decision? Why didn’t she know what she wanted? But this was no concern of hers right now. Today was not the day to overanalyze. She was supposed to be relaxing. She shoved all of those thoughts out of her head as she slid open the front doors and stepped inside.

               Yugao and Mikazuki were already there when Rei arrived, chatting casually in the women’s dressing room as they slipped out of their shirts and tossed their panties aside. Rei peeked her head in and waved, then scampered inside to join the ritual. The echoed voices of a few other women wafted from the bath on the other side of the wall.

               “I’m really glad you were able to make it” Mikazuki smiled. “I really needed this.”

               “No problem” Rei said, ripping her shirt off and tossing it haphazardly into one of the cubbies. ���Besides, I could use some relaxation anyway.”

               “It’ll feel great to ease my muscles” Yugao said, stretching her arms up over her head. “The cold weather always makes me so stiff.” Mikazuki and Rei nodded in agreement before approaching the bath.

               The water was a warm relief, all of Rei’s tension disappearing the minute she made her descent. She settled in at the edge and rested her head on the ledge, closing her eyes and letting the steam defrost her face.

               “So how are things going with you and Tenzo?” Yugao asked, tying her hair back as she dipped below the surface so only her shoulders and up were visible.

               Mikazuki’s face reddened and she averted her eyes. “Things are going…well” she said.

               “Uh oh” Yugao laughed. “You didn’t sound very confident there. Is everything alright?”

               Nodding, Mikazuki replied, “Oh, yes, everything’s fine! I just…I’m still so new to all of this. I’m not quite sure what I’m doing. I don’t know…we’re still learning about each other, I guess.”

               Yugao nodded. “That’s only natural this early in a relationship” she replied. A somber smile touched her lips. “I remember when Hayate and I first started dating. I was so clumsy! We would spar together all the time, but whenever he was near me, I would lose my footing and look like a total idiot!”

               Mikazuki chuckled softly; Yugao’s reminiscing seemed to help ease the tension. “Do you think you’ll ever love someone as much as you loved him?” she asked.

               Tracing the ripples in the water, Yugao shook her head. “No, I don’t think I ever will” she sighed. “He was my soulmate. Without him, I don’t even think I care to love again.”

               “That’s so sad” Mikazuki frowned, brushing a stray strand of hair back behind her ear.

               Their conversation faded out as Rei felt herself dozing off, the kinks in her shoulder muscles loosening. She had no idea how much time had passed, however, when she was snapped out of her daze by gasps and shrieks. When she opened her eyes, her head spun. None of this felt real.

               Standing before her, almost entirely naked save for a towel wrapped around his waist, was none other than Kakashi Hatake.

               He froze for a moment, his masked face reddening, before he chuckled nervously and waved at the air. “Uh…heh, wrong room” he said. One of the other women, rather stout and likely middle-aged, hurled a stool at his head and shrieked at him to get out, insisting he was a pervert. Truthfully, though, all he saw was Rei. They locked eyes and she felt her entire body ignite. This was too much. A yelp escaped her lips as she sunk even deeper into the bath and wondered what would kill her first: boiling or drowning.

               The moment Kakashi escaped, he realized he hadn’t been breathing. He rubbed his eyes as he tossed his towel to the floor and slowly waded into the men’s bath. Hardly anyone else was there except for maybe one or two utterly disinterested young men. He sighed and tilted his head back, trying to get the image of her out of his brain. The look on her face left him paralyzed, that absolute panic and embarrassment. All he was after an afternoon to destress, to even hopefully get her out of his head, but now here he was certain he had ruined whatever chance he had left of being with her again. The hand of fate truly was far too cruel.

               The women’s bath was silent for a solid three minutes before finally the stout, middle-aged woman spoke. “I have never in my life felt so violated!” she shouted, then proceeded to dump an entire bucket of water over her head. Her thin, graying hair adhered flatly against her skin. She seemed completely unphased by the waterfall she had loaded onto herself.

               Yugao stared at the woman a moment before turning back to Rei and Mikazuki with a slight laugh. “I wonder what the hell that was about.”

               “He must be following you” Mikazuki joked.

               “What? No! Fuck off” Rei fired back. Her face was bright red and her heart refused to slow down. She wrapped her arms across her chest, both in an act of self-consciousness and in an attempt to keep her breasts submerged.

               “I don’t know” Yugao replied lyrically. “It does seem like you two have been running into each other pretty often these days.”

               “It’s not that often” Rei muttered. “It’s only been, like, three times…”

               “In this week alone, right?” Yugao asked. Rei hated that she had a point. Through no fault of her own, her and Kakashi seemed to constantly find one another in the most random circumstances. She didn’t want to believe he was stalking her, but at this point she wondered if it was even a question. Or perhaps fate was just playing dirty tricks on her, constantly shoving him in her face for shits and giggles. The look of utter disdain on Rei’s face at least told Yugao everything she needed to know. “What is going on with you two, anyway?” she asked.

               “What do you mean?” Rei rebuked.

               “I mean are you two ever getting back together?” she asked. The question was so straightforward, it almost knocked the wind right out of Rei’s chest. “I only ask because it seems like no matter what either of you do, you always find your way back to each other. It’s honestly getting a little weird.”

               “Maybe I should consult the cards!” Mikazuki exclaimed. A rare sense of frantic excitement crossed her face as she leapt to her feet, eager to make herself useful, but Rei protested enough for her to sit back down in defeat.

               “Really, it’s nothing. I swear” Rei insisted. “Kakashi and I are just…incompatible. It’s not the right time, we’re not on the same page. It just wasn’t meant to be.” Yugao and Mikazuki blinked despondently, glancing to one another as if trying to discern whether they believed a word she said. And quite frankly, Rei didn’t even think she believed herself. The statements were fact and yet they sounded so unconvincing. As if they weren’t valid enough excuses.

               Mikazuki pursed her lips and shook her head. “I really think the cards—” she started, but Rei interrupted her.

               “I said it’s fine” she said, rather impatiently. Raking her fingers through her damp hair, she sighed and added, “Listen, I just really don’t want to talk about this right now, okay? Let’s just relax and forget this ever even happened.” Rei closed her eyes and rested her head against the edge of the bath again, trying to pretend she was weightless and invisible. In the back of her mind, however, all she could think about was how fucked up this all was. She could only keep this up for so long. Sooner or later she was going to have no choice but to confront the situation. Dive or ditch. If only she wasn’t really still in love with him.  

               The loud padding of footsteps echoed through the bath house then as the stout woman rose and made her way to the dressing room. Before she departed, however, she looked back at Rei and said, “If you don’t snag that man up quick, I’ll do it for you.” With an exasperated groan, Rei let herself fully sink beneath the water and this time, she really did want to drown.

               Rei took the long way home, circling around corners and doubling back this way and that. Anything to keep herself from making a decision. The evening air was freezing and the sky overhead had grown dreary and thick with cloud coverage. There was only one logical thing left for her to do. Only one logical thing she could manage to do. She needed to talk with him. She just needed to knock on his front door and have a valuable, civilized discussion about all of this. Maybe once she stood her ground and verbally organized her thoughts, she could finally find a sense of peace in all of this. She created a set of talking points in her mind, running down the list ten times over to ensure she woudn’t trip over her words. She could not afford to fuck this up. With hands shaking at her sides, she ascended the stairs of the apartment complex and knocked on Kakashi’s door.

               It would go so smoothly. He would answer and she would be diplomatic and upfront. The five seconds between the initial knock and the first turn of the doorknob felt endless, her heart rising in her throat. She needed to get this over with. She needed peace. She needed relief. And then there he was standing before her, his face tired and his hair sticking up in all directions. She froze, their gazes locked, and she could feel her entire body suddenly going numb. She had been so confident and determined on the way there, so sure of herself. Now she felt small and weak and terrified. Her eyes darted to every little part of him, surveying his wild hair, his eyes like black holes prepared to swallow her whole, his bare arms and the faintest outline of his abs beneath his shirt, his hand on the door frame. He looked at her expectantly and a sudden anxiety pulsed between them. She needed to speak, to say something and fast, or else the entire world was going to cave in and obliterate the both of them. Her fists clenched at her sides, her stomach tightening. Relentless fear.

               Rei opened her mouth, expecting something eloquent and direct to spill out. Instead, all she could manage was a croaked, “I need you.” And then, her body moving on its own accord, she surged forward, ripped off his mask, and pressed her lips hard against his.

               Kakashi stumbled backward, taken aback, but did not protest. Once the shock wore off, he fell into the rhythm of their kiss and for the first time in a year, it was as if he could finally, truly breathe. He tangled his fingers in her hair and kicked the door shut, their lips working ravenously together. “I was hoping you would come back. I always…hoped you would come back” he whispered whenever their lips parted enough for him to speak.

               “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” she whimpered, cupping his face in her hands. She swayed on tiptoes, struggling with their height difference, before the frustration became too much. Kakashi lifted her up in his arms, hands beneath her ass, and spun on his heels toward the bed. She wrapped her legs around his waist and drew his face nearer, desperate to feel him. Her body was starving for him, screaming after a year of deprivation.

               “I’ve missed you so much” Kakashi whispered, his breath against her neck. He nuzzled her cheek, pressed his lips against her jaw.

               “I’m so fucking stupid” Rei said, and now the tears were threatening to fall. “I never should’ve left. I never stopped loving you.”

               “I know” Kakashi replied. He cupped her cheek, wiped away a tear with his thumb. “It’s okay. I know.”

               “I was such an idiot” Rei murmured. She buried her face in his neck, gripped at his shirt. Her voice was quivering and hoarse. “I’ve felt so dead…I’ve felt…I’ve felt so…broken…”

               “You weren’t an idiot” Kakashi protested.

               “I was an idiot” Rei insisted.

               “You did what you needed to do” he replied. Every kiss was more desperate than the last, as if they were running out of time to exhibit the maximum amount of love toward one another.

               Rei shook her head, planting kisses all over his face as tears streamed down her cheeks. “What I need is you.”

               Kakashi pressed his forehead against hers and raked his fingers through her hair, effectively loosening her ponytail. “I’m right here…everything’s fine. Everything is going to be just fine.”

               “I never should’ve left” she whispered, locking eyes with him. “I never should’ve left you.”

               “You won’t have to. Never again” he whispered back, and there was a strong sense of determination in his eyes, a promise. “I’m never letting you go ever again. This is it now. You and me, from this point forward.”

               Rei sniffled and nodded, her heart soaring, before pressing her lips against his again. Their mouths worked in tandem with one another as Kakashi sunk back onto the bed, breaking the kiss only to draw her shirt up over her head. The dreary sky cast a blue-gray haze across the room as they stripped down, bodies tangled together and lungs gasping for air. Nothing else mattered but him and her; his nails digging into her thighs, her mouth nibbling on his neck, his hips swerving to get deeper inside of her. Her body electrified at the feeling of him, his rhythmic motions and warm touch. His lips grazed her jawline, whispered in her ear, “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.”

               He held her close as he climaxed, overflowing into her, and whispering her name as if it was a prayer. She snuggled close and drank in every moment here with him: his strong arms wrapped around her, his messy hair, that familiar scent. In the pit of her chest, a warm, rising feeling began to grow and she couldn’t fight the smile itching at her lips. This was it. The beginning of the rest of her life. She refused to know a future in which he was not by her side always. Inseparable, irrevocable. The vast expanse of the rest of the universe was laid out before them, full of promise and hope. They would hold hands and greet whatever came at them with open arms, the two of them against the world, because when they were together, there was nothing too big or too catastrophic that they couldn’t face.

               Rei sniffled and turned to look out the window, a small smile touching her lips. She rested her hand on Kakashi’s forearm and whispered, “Look.” He craned his neck to follow her gaze, a gentle snowfall just beginning. “It’s the first snow of the season” she said. Kakashi nodded and kissed her freckled shoulder, then tugged the blanket up under their chins. He watched the snowfall idly as he ran his fingers across the contours of Rei’s body, tracing her hips and her collarbone and the slope of her nose. He felt as if he needed to keep touching her; as if should he detach himself for one second, she would disappear and prove this was all just a dream. But no, she was here and very real. A soft sigh escaped her lips as she nuzzled closer and drifted off to sleep and for the first time in a long while, she looked truly at peace. He brushed the hair out of her face and kissed the tip of his nose. She was finally back and all was right in the world.

[whitewolfbumble]

Behind Enemy Lines - Part Two of Two (Bucky x Reader)

COMPLETED

Summary: Bucky was trapped in a locked down facility, the very one you were home grown in. Now you were back and to get him out you had to battle criminals, your past, and your fears to do it. Alive, preferably, but there was no promise of that.

Prompt: “What are you doing here?”

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Language, violence/blood, death, angst, kissing because let’s balance that angst lol

Word Count: About 5k

A/N: Don’t get too comfy because down we go... This was written for @sweetboybucky 1K Writing Challenge! Congrats babe!

MY MASTERLIST // SEND ME A REQUEST // PART ONE

The descent down to save your lives began quietly, though you doubted it would stay that way for long. This hell hole was full of gruesome surprises, most of which were burned into your memories and left you screaming from the nightmares of it.

The floor below the one you saved Bucky from was empty, as was the floor below that. Soon enough you would have to get through the carnage of bodies and blood you left in your wake, lining both stairwell and hallways. But facing that would hardly be a problem to you. There was another, bigger problem now that changed the game since your ascent up here.

“So, your brother?” Bucky asked beside you, reserved and concerned.

His arm was slung over your shoulder as the pair of you walked, Bucky’s leg hitching awkwardly and making him falter a bit with every step. You figured maybe something (or somethings) was broken. Not an easy feat to break the bones of a super soldier, but he’d heal. Eventually. If your brother held up his end and the two of you could get out alive. But it wasn’t going to be fast enough.

The big thing now was that you had added Bucky- a powerhouse of a person to be sure- but he was hurt and slow. Days of torture and electricity frying his flesh plus a broken bone (or several) left his usual prowess more than a little muted and sluggish. You couldn’t risk moving too slow but also couldn’t run full speed out of here with your hurt team mate in tow. 

It was a precarious position to put it lightly.

“The one and only,” you muttered, eyes scanning the corner of the hallway for the cameras. The little ever blinking red lights indicating they were watching were still off. You breathed out a puff of air and walked on, pulling Bucky along with you. 

Switching stairwells was a fucking ballsy move, but you knew this place better than anyone. Certain doors were locked on certain floors from the stairs to the hall (literally over to fuck people trying to escape over). Meaning if you didn’t shift stairwells and had the unlucky fortune of getting trapped, you absolutely knew with Bucky’s slow speed you wouldn’t get out alive. So better to take a big risk than guaranteed doom you figured.

“And you trust him?” Bucky questioned, limping along, his hip to yours as you held on to him.

You gave Bucky a sideways glance and a grin with little real joy in it.

“Of course not. He ratted me out more times than I can count,” you sighed before continuing, and it wasn’t because of your brother’s betrayal in your old life. You had a hard time now faulting him for keeping his head above water by throwing you under it, however painful the outcome for you. “But we won’t make it alive without him.”

And you tried not to let the two entirely empty corridors you had just passed through give you too much hope that Ward would actually pull through for you. Nothing ever worked out when you hoped. Blood and sweat and pain was how you got out of situations like this, and to that formula you would stick too.

You scooted along the wall at the far end of the hall, the little L-shape section giving you two some protection from view of anyone who left their apartment. You rested Bucky against the dirty wall, taking a break to straighten up and look around.

“Alright,” you began, taking precious seconds to fill Bucky in. You couldn’t wait until this powderkeg of a scenario blew up so now was as good a time as any. “To survive hell, you need to know a couple things. Stay away from the windows unless you want to be shot by snipers. Machetes are the weapon of choice here, so assume everyone has one and enjoys butchering in their spare time. There is no place to hide, no safe place to lay low, no time to make a plan, no time to think. You act or you die. This is worst possible life scenario here, so no pulling punches.”

“Understood,” Bucky nodded. He was a man that could handle a mission as well as any you had seen, but you watched his eyes flit back between yours, something bubbling underneath their surface. It made you shake your head slightly.

“Pity won’t help you here either.” you warned, guessing at the guarded emotion behind his eyes and poking him in the chest. 

Yeah, you grew up in this, and yeah you were irreparably damaged by it, but that only meant if there was a person who could survive this it was you. No time to stop and feel upset about it now.

But instead he stood up from the wall to his full height and pulled you in close, pinning your body suddenly to his. He gave no warning before his lips hit yours, warm and instantly intimately deep.

Your breath caught in your throat, stopped by a euphoric little hit of emotions flooding your pained and split open body. For a brief moment you felt his broad hand wrap around your waist, pressing you into him harder as his kiss did the same. 

It was a fast and deep fire that passed between you, the flames still licking inside you under you skin when he broke apart from you just a quickly as he connected. It left you as breathless as a fight did and as dazed as a punch to the head.

“You said no time to think, so I didn’t. Just acted.” Bucky murmured to you, tucking a piece of sweaty, dirty hair behind your ear. His ice blue eyes shone an inch from yours with an intensity that did nothing to quell what you were feeling.

Mission minded my ass, you thought, reversing your previous musings.

“Not exactly what I meant,” you swallowed, willing yourself to step back and not back into him. Despite how fucking amazing that felt, you two just did not have the time here. “But I’m not complaining. Last thing, no more lovey-dovey shit til we get out with our hides in tact, hmm?”

Try as you might you couldn’t help a side smirk break through your expression. Or a spark of hope in your chest that you’d get out with him at your side. Because you wanted more of that fire. More of the feel of him pressed to you.

But hope had never been your friend. The fact that you were feeling it now was undoubtedly an ominous herald of what was coming.

Three more floors and not a single other living person to dodge or fight or kill.

Bucky didn’t comment or even give you a sideways glance at the carnage that painted the floors and walls of your recent ascent. Brains and limbs, blood and shards, bone and muscles lined these halls as the dead bodies they belonged to lay in silence. You had been a one person army in a war for someone far dearer to you than a thousand of these wretched people.

Beyond the judgement of Bucky, which didn’t seem to come, you hardly cared what you had done or what it looked liked. All you wanted now was the get out and leave this behind, ideally forever.

But with every step you were growing more impatient. And anxious. And restless.

Another floor, another now cold bloodbath, and another empty desolate space. That stillness as the two of you shuffled and huffed down each hall started in you a feeling that was growing with every step.

Fear.

Maybe you had only escaped this place once, but you had tried practically daily for years to get out. You were always making plans, always trying to wheedle and plot and struggle your way to freedom. You knew these gritty halls, knew these awful people, understood the routine…

This was wrong.

That thought hit you like a ton of bricks and it was only then that you realized a bit of hope there rooted in you. There was too much of it for you to dash it away out of hand as though it had never been there, and it made you feel sick. When you stopped and looked to Bucky you could feel the panicked flooding of a fresh batch of adrenaline in your veins to match the doom you felt.

Shit. This was all wrong.

“What is it?” he whispered low in the near dead silent space.

Your eyes were moving a mile a minute, taking in absolutely everything you could, though this grey concrete lined hall with cheap wooden apartment doors looked like every other hallway. Nothing was out of place (even the blood dripping and pooling around the several bodies at one end).

“There is something… Just…” You struggled with the words to describe a formless, emotion-wrought weight in the depths of you. “I don’t…”

This came on so suddenly there had to be a reason. Had to be something that sparked this survival instinct you hadn’t felt in exactly this way since you were last here.

Narrowly your eyes picked up something at the end of the hallway.

It was small, easily ignored, and nothing invasive or obvious. But you spotted it and immediately kicked everything inside you into high gear, noise and stealth be damned.

Despite your size and strength verses Bucky’s, you squeezed your arm around him tighter and pulled him along with you as you took off down the hallway. He kept up as best he could but your speed wasn’t hampered by either his hindrance or help here. He could be unconscious and dead weight in your arms and you doubted you would move any slower.

As you two passed by the camera, only then did Bucky see it too.

A tiny red blinking light of a security camera, now on and capturing your every move.

They were coming.

They were coming.

The drum of voices and footfalls and knives scrapping on the ground echoed and followed you, sounding louder, getting faster, driving you mad. It followed on your heels and chased you down the huge concrete stairwell, hidden in the shadows you until you just couldn’t take it.

They were several floors above you, screaming and jeering and gaining speed. They would overtake you in minutes. You clung still to Bucky, holding him upright and trying not to scream at the top of you lungs as your worst nightmare- your worst reality- was so fucking close to happening all over again.

You clenched your fists so tightly in your palms you felt the warm pricks of blood popping up from your fingernails breaking skin. The humidity in here was stifling and cloudy and felt like it was holding you down enough to make tears spring up in the corner of your eyes.

You were never going to let this dirty concrete coffin be the last place you saw before death took you, and in all the years that hadn’t changed. It made you desperate and reckless, but with the oncoming horde of unseen people on your tail you weren’t going to make it out if you didn’t try something. And try it right the fuck now.

“C’mon,” Bucky said over the echoing yells, willing you forward with words and holding you back because of his injuries. “Only a few more floors to go! We can do this!”

You shook your head, sweat dripping off and landing around your tired, lead-heavy feet as you shuffled him and yourself forward as fast as your frantic steps could.

“Not here,” you said, strained and on the verge of panic. Shit, you had to keep it together. If only that wasn’t near impossible, as you too vividly knew what would happen if you were caught. “We have to get to the north-side staircase. Now!”

You veered the two of you to the exit of the fourth floor- only four more to go until freedom that you would not probably never reach- and through the hallway. This was the one you exploded a couple hours earlier, with sticky red completely coating every square inch of this place. It covered the light fixtures and lightbulbs, casting a dark and twistedly eerie crimson glow on everything.

Bucky blinked surprised at the carnage as you entered the floor, but you didn’t. Your focus was in trying your best not to lose balance underfoot with the chunk of sinew and organ slime covering the floor, and decidedly not thinking about the decision you were currently making.

You pushed through the most unnerving corridor to exist, only rivalled by blood river in The Shining, to get to a small stairwell that you had avoided in every single one of your escape plans as a child. Because even then you weren’t stupid enough to try and escape this way, even at your most desperate. It filled you with far more dread than the hallway you just left.

The white light cast down around you with an uplifting, almost palpably calming glow as you entered the north-side stairwell. The feeling was a lie, a cruel deceit, as this was anything but a safe haven. It was lure and a dangerous one at that.

You swallowed, halting Bucky as he stepped forward and instead pushed your backs to the door.

He looked confused, both at you stopping and your drawn furrowed look of hesitation. You had come in head first into this building with little regard for safety, and now this bright and airy path to freedom gave you pause?

Grimly you nodded to the windows. They lined floor to ceiling in a filmy glass that carried all the way from the top floor to the bottom one. No one was allowed in here, save the Boss. You would be safe from the mob at least, but as far from actual safety as you could be.

“First rule,” you muttered. “Stay away from the windows.”

Bucky’s mouth opened slightly as he looked to the windows before clamping shut.

“So, hacked to death by a crowd or shot by a sniper, huh?” he said, cluing in grimly. Anyone coming in here that wasn’t the Boss would be shot, friend or foe. You had taken a bullet to the leg before and you weakly tried to forget that feeling.

“If we go fast,” you said, trying your best to stay optimistic and almost succeeding. But not quite. “We’ll be fine.”

And if not, at least your deaths would be quick. Hopefully.

Before you even took a first step out to what was a fucking terrible plan, a voice sounded from above, your skin tightening in sudden fear and locking your bones together.

“I don’t think so, sweet princess.”

That name. That little pet name that haunted your dreams and filled you with equal measure of crippling fear and burning rage, said from the mouth of your torturer for so many years.

You didn’t have to say a word to Bucky or explain who the voice was. His face grew dark and muscles tensed for a fight, having heard your stories in gruesome detail before being subjected to his own round of torment at the vile man’s hand.

Steps came down from above, slow and measured. Two pairs, actually.

When the man came into view, stopped at the top of the flight of stairs in front of you, he looked exactly as you remembered as a child. It was as though he was endlessly bound to outlive you and time itself, always alive as though to be a continued, nagging torture in your mind.

He was wearing a thin linen shirt that was too faded to be butter yellow, a sweat stained white tank top, and old beige shorts that couldn’t contain his beer belly. But the most noticeable attribute of him was the disgusting air of unchecked power a dirtball like him exuded. He ran this place and he knew it. Even called himself the Boss, his real name lost to time. His wrinkled, papery skin was almost tattooed with the invisible, disgusting deeds he had proudly done in his life. One such victim of his power being you.

And beside him was your brother.

You didn’t know if the punch to your emotional gut was because of the Boss or because of Ward, who must have ratted you out. Just like when you were kids.

“Bucky,” you said quietly but controlled. “Meet my brother Ward.”

You abstractedly gestured to your brother and Bucky’s only response beyond cold eyes was the slight squeeze on your shoulder, the pressure of his hand the briefest of comforts.

You noticed Ward’s hand, blood dripping in a stream it. It once- the last time you saw him actually- had a total of five fingers on it. Now there were two.

“Punishment.” Ward said, voice not fully like or unlike his usual tone.

It was that same tone the usually vibrant and annoying brother used when he sold you out. Shut down and robotic, but still your brother all the same.

“And what’s the reward for a job well done than?” you said bitterly, looking to the Boss.

He merely smiled, thick lips drawn over scummy teeth.

“You get to die.” he said simply.

That made your eyes narrow at him, not particularly fearful of the threat. You were marked from death since you walked in here, but that would never be the Boss’s first choice typically. He loved watching the sweet agony he inflicted on people, more addicted to it than any junky you had ever seen.

“He kills you, ruins you, and you die by your own brothers hand.”

Ah okay, so it was agony he wanted. He wanted one of his righthand men to pay for betraying him. 

“But if you survive,” he continued, thickly smug. “Then your brother is killed and you, little princess, are strung up like a present just for me. That is until you find some way to kill yourself. Because there’s going to be no other way to escape this time.”

You took a breath, shaking your head. Eventually you couldn’t help a bit of a smile spread across your face, with a low breathy chuckle following. Bucky was both furious at the Boss and slightly unnerved at your reaction, though his eyes stayed focused protectively on the threat in front of you.

“I’ll stay…” Bucky said, low and firm before you could get your laughter under control. “And you’ll let Y/N go. That’s the only thing going to happen here.”

“Bucky,” you said, smiling and trying to calm yourself down a little and set your smile back into a neutral (or even angry) face. “It’s alright, whatever happens, it’s going to be fine.”

You could see in a brief flash of his eyes to yours that he knew it wasn’t going to be. The horde would close in at their commanders orders once given, the snipers were visibly poised across the street, the Boss had your brother (as much as chip to play in all this as anything else was), Bucky was injured and barely able to fight, you had no backup, no way to escape unharmed, no chance to get away… This wasn’t going to end well at all.

But all that didn’t matter. For a brief moment, it just didn’t matter to you anymore.

“What?” you said to the Boss, rage creeping into your speech and overtaking each word as you spat them out, turning from humourous to furious. “You thought you could put me in a cage match all those times and get off without having to fight me yourself? Huh? Or sell me off by the hour to scumbags and not think I’d be back to fuck you up?”

You took a measured step forward, dropping away from Bucky, voice lowering dangerously.

“Whatever happens to me, you don’t win this. I won’t let you win this. Whether it’s at my hand, or Bucky’s, or someone else on my team, or even my brother one day when he grows a pair of fucking balls… Someone will take you down and I will win that day. I will.”

There was silence, deafening and suffocating, his beady eyes watching you, dark and angry at the insubordination from the likes of a “little princess” like you.

You waited for him to signal to the snipers to mow you and Bucky down, or maybe giving the okay to the few who were left to come in and overtake you and end this theatre.

The outcome was worse.

“Kill her, Ward.” he said darkly, taking a step back.

Ward immediately took a step forward, face guarded and unreadable. The same face he always had when he found you or sold you out to get ahead in this shitshow. It was distant and shut down, emotions gone and certainly wasn’t personal to him anymore going by the look on his face and speed in his movements. But to you, this was obviously and completely personal.

You weren’t kids anymore, and it wasn’t only your life on the table here so you forced that aside.

You pushed Bucky back, who reluctantly complied though despite his injured, slow body his muscle were tense and begging to be let loose. But it was finally time to teach your stupid brother a lesson.

Your brother, for all his skills, was never a creature of evolution or growth. He had enough ambition to be cunning and move up in the ranks, but that was all. You were a person who thrived and collected fighting techniques, martial art skills, practiced strategic maneuvers, always looking to expand and grow and become better. Become faster. Grow beyond any restraint or enemy.

But he was taller, less exhausted, less concerned with your feelings than you were of his. It left you two equally matched.

Once in striking distance Ward’s fists lashed out without regard for three entire missing fingers, powerful swings seeking your flesh. Blocking was useful to a point, so you did block the first few hits, your elbows swinging up and fists covering your own face. But ducking down you kicked in his knee twice and hard, rolling on the ground swiftly and with the ground as leverage, kicking out the side of his leg powerfully.

Like a ton of bricks he went down and you pounced, slamming down on top of his body with fists and feet wailing at every pressure and sensitive point your trained mind could hit. You had to get him unconscious or incapacitated, get him out of the way and deal with the Boss.

Your determined thought was interrupted with a boney, battle-hardened fist to the face, a crack of pain matching the sound that echoed in the stairwell at the impact.

You were thrown off of him and on your back, your feet flying up protectively as he tried to pounce on you this time. In a flash you saw the glint of a knife and raised your knee to his chest, using the force to move his body too far to one side and yours too far the other for Ward to plunge it into your abdomen. The knife went sliding out of his hand and clattered blissfully down the stairs.

Another kick to his side and punch to the face happened instinctively almost as shocked, you began to realize he was actually going to do it. Was actually trying to kill you himself this time.

That thought and the rage that went with it spurred you on enough to land a couple more pounding hits, but Ward landed far more. He had you on your back and had the upper hand before long, but killing you with his bare hands was something far different than killing you with a weapon.

As the strikes came, the hits became ever so slightly lighter, but maybe that was just the amount of pain you body was starting to feel, numbing to the sensation after so much fighting.

But maybe the Boss saw it too, as something that had been trained on Bucky, keeping him back and out of the fight this whole time, was thrown into the middle of you two siblings.

The distinct clatter of a gun hit the concrete floor, coming down from the Boss’s position up the flight of stairs, not a foot from you and Ward. Immediately you heard Bucky yell out your name in furious panic as both you and your brother reflexively reached for the weapon.

You hand gripped the metal fast as lightning and before you could blink two shots rang out, the light clinking of the bullet casings floating down to the ground a moment after.

You breathed deeply and calmly, the sight in front of you not reconciling with rational thought right away. You were on your back, still hands holding out the gun straight at Ward as your training dictated. He was just in front of you, body wavering a little as hands clutched his chest.

Confused, you watched dark fluid spread out from underneath his fingers, staining his grey shirt. Another few seconds later you saw that it was a deep red. A moment after a thick drop, then a steady stream began to pour from his mouth.

His guarded gaze suddenly didn’t look shut off from you anymore. The gleam in Ward’s eyes looked pained. Heartbroken even. His watery, accusatory eyes held yours, forcing his tormented and betrayed look squarely on you.

He watched you a few seconds before those vibrantly deep eyes went lightless, and his body dropped onto your legs. His warm blood soaked into your clothes, but the sensation did nothing but chill you so deeply into your bones you never thought you would be warm again.

You saw Bucky drop to his knees in front of you, several metres away, his blue eyes catching yours, but you couldn’t exactly see him. You couldn’t really see or feel or understand anything right now. What did break through your shock was a laugh. It was a familiar one. Cold and terribly cruel.

You turned to the source of the laughter, seeing the man of your nightmares at the top step, looking down on the scene with sick glee.

You got up with the same speed as the sun rising at dawn. But this wasn’t a fresh new day. This wasn’t anything close. Not a beginning at all.

With the gun in your hand you waved the man down from the steps, him not having much choice in the matter now. Unhearing and unspeaking, you waved him down the next flight as you and Bucky followed suit, each taking the man’s sweaty arm in hand.

Being so close to him, the snipers wouldn’t shoot. The mob wouldn’t come and stage a rescue. With your gun on him, trained at his side, he wasn’t going anywhere you didn’t want.

The Boss spoke, rambling on about how you wouldn’t kill him. How you were soft- always had been- and it wasn’t your way. How the team wouldn’t let you. How much fun it was watching you kill you only brother. Your only family. How he had now and always taken everything from you. How there was nothing left to you at all.

A hitch caught in your throat at those words as you stepped down to the ground floor. You pushed it down reflexively, trying to breathe through the weight that was increasing on your chest, threatening to burst.

Light hit your face and warmth your skin, though it went no deeper into you and did nothing to set off the chill in your bones. The sun outside was weak but there. The sky wasn’t much blue but it lingered in spots between the clouds. The freedom of escaping this building was lost on you though, the air none the fresher and just as stifling as inside had been.

You were dazed, about to choke on acidic bile rising up inside your beating chest when the sounds of reality snapped back in your ears, however minimally.

They rung, like someone had been yelling, Bucky by the red-faced, chest-heaving look of him. He turned an angry eye from the Boss to you, softening and pained look replacing it as you looked back at him. You saw you were at the gate. The far reaches of your torturers power and domain.

You didn’t speak. Didn’t think. Didn’t feel. You hadn’t done any of those for some time now it seemed.

What you did do was pull the trigger three more times- one for each of Ward’s fingers he took- and left the Boss on the ground to bleed out without so much as looking at him.

Back on the compound there was quite the whirlwind of activity, everyone hearing about what happened from your brief radio home on the jet. It wasn’t exactly common occurrence for a lot of the past day to have happened. 

An Avenger kidnapped without anyone (save you) noticing, another member sneaking off and finding them, not calling for backup, saving the day and bringing the kidnapped Avenger back home relatively unscathed? It was not stretch to say usually things were a bit more structured with mission briefings, a plan of attack, a team assembled and leader to call the shots.

But from what you told them, no harm no foul really. Bucky kept generally quiet on the matter, except for concerned and pained looks in your direction speaking volumes and not going beyond notice. He was unusually quiet- even for him- with face pale and breath shallow, like it hurt him to breath in too much though there was no physical injury to account for it.

“I got in, found him, got him out,” you said to sum up again with a loose shrug, eyes locked to your friend’s. “He was being tortured, probably for some Avenger-related information but if that’s what they wanted, they really picked the wrong team member. He’s a tough one to crack, that Barnes.”

The lie roll off your tongue easily and coolly, as though reality had also been like that. Like this had all merely been as simple as a grocery run from a bad part of town.

You could see a hesitation in Natasha and in Steve behind her, like something in your demeanour wasn’t quite right. Their expressions wavered, their personal little ticks showing themselves: Steve’s concerned frown and a bit of a furrowed brow from Natasha.

It didn’t matter to you though, you would never tell them the truth anyway. Everyone has secrets, you still weren’t ready to give up yours yet.

So you stayed in the med bay for a time and got patched up, before listening to stories from Sam and Clint being their funny, foolish selves, always needing to bring the centre of attention back on them somehow. After that was a drink with the others now that everyone had congregated to see and hear the drama of the day, followed by jokes and laughter and mundane talk of political landscapes and such.

But eventually, after some hours when you were sure you wouldn’t be noticed, you slipped away.

You didn’t go to your room or escape to another quiet place of the compound. You couldn’t handle being inside any longer. Instead you walked calmly straight outside.

You carried straight on across the grass until the glow of the compound was only faint on your skin. Once enough distance was between you and them, you broke out into a run, breaching the forest line in a sprint, thrashed by twigs and scratched by bushes until you had enough.

Collapsing to the ground you gasped for breath, clutching your throat and the ground, body shaking and heart dying in your chest as panic and grief not only set in, but shattered both your facade and numbing shock with an explosion of sheer agony. You had no other option, no other ability but to face your past and the murdering of your only family member, and it stole every particle of oxygen from your body.

In among your strangled gasping, your body let out a sound from deep within your soul, choked out like that of a wounded creature, pitiful and unearthly in the dark night. It was pure pain, greater and deeper and from the most tortured dying place in your soul. The moan didn’t stop, just ran out and echoed alone louder and louder. The sound of it broke you over and over again.

The mask was broken, the pretense gone. The truth of where you were from and what you had to do laid bare and open in the darkness around you.

The mournful wretched moan from that dying part inside you snapped in half, a scream taking its place in a shrill ear-shattering volume, anguish flooding every inch of you like stabs to your flesh you just couldn’t see or get away from.

Footsteps sounded behind you, almost negligible to the sound of your cries, warm arms around your hunched over body barely a comfort to you at all.

Bucky’s frame was wrapped around yours, his scent and presence and touch unable to broach your pain. The stumble of his cheek was against yours, rough and bracing against your tear-softened skin.

“I didn’t- I didn’t want to go back!” you sobbed, unhinged and uncontrolled, face digging into his own. “Please, I just didn’t want to go back!”

“You won’t have too,” Bucky whispered to you, trying in vain to say something- anything- that would help a helpless situation. He knew what it was like to lose everything, to give up a piece of yourself to simply survive even when you don’t want too. But not what it was to kill your only family in this world. “You will never have to go back there.”

“He’s dead,” you sobbed, coming out like a high pitched shot, the words bringing more tears and more torment in your veins. “My brother’s dead, and I did it! Bucky, I killed him! How could I.. why could.. how can-”

Words tumbled out without reason or control, tears flooding your eyes and clothes.

And Bucky simply held you. There was nothing else to be done. Nothing he could say, no amount of gratitude or sympathy or reasoning able to fix this or take this pain away from you.

Like you, he could only endure it, his few tears slipping down with your endless ones.

A distance behind him the silhouettes of the Avengers lay dotted in the woods and on the ground in front of the compound, both called and held back by your sobs in the darkness, and as unable to help you as you were. As unable to erase the horrible place and what was done to you. To erase what horrors you had committed.

A/N: Thanks for reading loves! Let me know what you thought of this angst!

Permanent Tags: @dontpanc, @smodvocate, @bunsterjonez, @buckybonky, @marveloustrashpanda, @hangirl93, @captainrogerrsbeard, @friendly-neighborhood-lich-queen, @thisgirllikeme, @jjsoccer11, @innerpandablizzard-blog, @fanatic-fanfic, @mdgrdians, @christinky

Bucky Barnes Tags: @bexboo616 @kaaatniss

[jujubieberbae]

Missing You

Request: can you do an imagine where justin misses Y/N and be clingy everytime they talk bc he's on tour and with the help of Scooter and the crew, Y/N surprises justin on tour. love your imagines! <3

So sorry for the wait. Im a terrible writer. But I hope it was worth it.

Lectures - probably one of the most boring and time consuming activity incorporated into my daily week as a university student. The constant blabbing of a professor and failed ability to keep your eyes open only made the hours so much more unbearable. 

The female professor currently diverging into a heavy lecture on the topic of economic perspectives was really beginning to become increasingly annoying - not that it wasn’t before - but at this current moment, I had never contemplated throwing a text book at a persons head more then I had now. 

“From an economical point of view - the standpoint of where you are on the spectrum of wealth, age, health, income-” If I didn’t focus on something other then her voice soon, I was seriously going to cause a scene.

And that won’t look good on my report card.

If only someone were to come to my rescue and save me of my misery. A.K.A this class.

‘But that’s one thing that I know for sure. I’ll show you....’

The sound had my entire body stifling and eyes widening in cringing shock. All people within a 5 meter radius of me, turning my way with annoyed eyes. The professor at the front shot me a quick glare for interrupting her class, and as I dove for my phone, she continued to speak over the ringing.

I could of sworn I put it on silent before class.

Finally reaching the source, I managed to click the main switch and silence the phone, also setting it to vibrate only. A sigh of relief was blown through my nose, but was quickly drawn back in once seeing the name displayed amongst the screen.

A picture taken by Carl of Justin and I mucking about displayed against the name ‘Justin my baby boy ❤️❤️’.

I almost wanted to tear up at the name but managed to hold back the emotions and shove my phone back into my pocket. It had been months since I’d seen the boy and right now I knew he was in Sydney for the Hillsong conference. 

(😏😏 Hehe)

The poor boy had a completely different time zone then me and was probably up real late at whatever time it was, waiting for an hour he knew I’d be free. Though something I had forgotten to mention to him was that they had rescheduled my lecture today.

Damn it

After a second or two, silence from my phone finally overcame the blurring tone and all that was heard again was the professors voice. I listened intently, jotting down some notes as she spoke before once again, the ringing began.

Though it was nothing but a buzz this time, the sound was still audible throughout lecture hall, and once again, all attention was drawn back on me.

My first instinct at this moment being to just act like I couldn’t hear it and continue on with my work was a complete fail when the professor stopped and directed her eyes towards me, a scowl of disapproval present.

The professed folded her arms in clear annoyance, “Is there an emergency Miss L/N or are you deliberate trying to distract my class?” She called out in an annoyed tone.

Was she serious? It wasn’t like I was calling myself! I can’t control whoever was on the other line  - that person more then likely being Justin.

“No professor,” I vigorously shook my head. “It’s just that my bo-”

“Phone.” She suddenly interrupted, drawing out an arm with grabby fingers. At her request I froze with a frown. 

“What?” I questioned. 

“Phone Miss L/N!” She called out. I would be lying If I said this woman didn’t scare me, and with a huff - not wanting to annoy the woman further - I slid my phone from my pocket and stood up. 

I began my descent down the isle, feeling all eyes of many students following my figure with either a humoured, thankful or annoyed glare. Soon I was stood directly in front of the frightening woman, watching as she motioned me to place it in her hand.

And with a sigh, and a glance down at my boyfriends name, I sadly obliged. 

My shoulders slumped as I watched her draw away back over to her desk, and began walking back to my seat with a sad aura. Friends from around all glanced back with sorry eyes and with one last huff, I slumped back in my seat.

The professor on the other hand was glancing down at the phone, obviously ready to roast the shit out of me. All professor’s were the same. They all knew who my boyfriend was and loved to have a go at me. Maybe they felt satisfaction in having power over a popstar’s girlfriend.

“’Justin my baby boy, love heart, love heart.’” She read out the contact name for the class to hear. Many chuckled at her announcement all except me, who slumped back in the chair with red cheeks. “I’m guessing this is Mr Bieber.”

Lord kill me now.

“I didn’t know you were so kinky Miss L/N.” She smirked. Was this even permitted? Though once again, the class laughed and I remained silent.

Suddenly, a ping was heard throughout the room, and the professor’s smirk grew as she looked down at my phone. “Justin wants you to call him as soon as you get this message. Or, and I quote ‘Baby girl please call me when you get this I miss you’re touch, sad face’.”

Why was she doing this?! Oh lord I feel so embarrassed.

Then another message rolled in, and as the professor smirked, scanning her eyes over the message, she suddenly paled over and it hadn’t taken me less then a minute to realise what had happened.

Justin tended to talk dirty when I didn’t pick up, it was a method he had which was to make me flush enough to the point where I got mad and called him back to verbally abuse him, which usually lead to a normal conversation.

“Uh, Y-You can take you’re phone back Y/N.” The professor suddenly stuttered. “You can call you’re boyfriend outside.” She announced, until she suddenly perked up, the professional manner once again taking over. “But you only have 5 minutes.”

With an exasperated nod, I made my way down the aisle, grabbing aholf of my phone and was out the door dialling the boys number.

The call hadn’t even made it through the first full dial before Justin’s voice was heard through the other side, his voice urgent and excited. 

“Hey baby girl! God I missed you, What are you doing? Wait- don’t answer that you’re probably studying as usual. How are you?” The way the boy raced through his words had my heart swelling in adoration, it really showed how much he missed me.

With a chuckle, I glanced around at the few students bustling through the halls before sighing. “Slow down baby, I’m good. What about you?”

“I’m great! The Hillsong is really fun. But’s it’s kinda boring without you.” He muttered. 

Awe my poor baby. “Yeah, I’ve seen some photo’s. You’ve actually been stopping to take some pictures with fans. It look’s fun. But don’t think too much about me, don’t let me spoil you’re fun.”

“I miss you.” He suddenly blurted and I chuckled heartily at the way he felt the need to tell me.

“Me too baby.”

“I wish you were here.” He sighed quietly. “How’s Uni?” 

“I-It’s good.” I stuttered. “I’m actually in lecture hall right now.”

Justin’s voice ceased for a minute, before he suddenly spoke up with a shocked and apologetic tone, frantically spluttering words in urgency.” Oh shit! Are you getting lectured? Did I interrupt you? Shit baby I’m sorry. I didn’t kn-”

“Relax Jay.” I giggled. “It’s fine. I mean my professor publicly humiliated me but It backfired in her face when you started sending messages, and I got to leave the class for a bit. Win win, right?”

“Backfired in you’re professors face?” He questioned. 

I sighed. “It’s a long story, I’ll facetime you later.”

“Facetime.” He muttered to himself. “I wish you were here to tell me instead.”

The way he spoke always made me feel so bad. I was the one who rejected his offer to go on tour with him but school came first, he always told me to never quit it considering he regret dropping out himself.

“I’m sorry baby.” I frowned, furrowing my eyebrows. But Justin’s voice once again came back with urgency.

“No it’s not you’re fault! I just miss you is all.” 

“I know.” Then it was silent for a second before I decided to speak up. “What time is it over there?” 

A few shuffling sounds were heard, as well as justin breathing an “Um.” before he spoke. “It’s 3:30.”

“In the afternoon?” 

“In the morning.” He corrected. 

I gasped. “Justin baby, you need to sleep!”

Though I could just picture Justin shaking his head. “I don’t need sleep, I need to hear you’re voice.” 

His words, so charming, he knew just how to make a woman feel special, but overall I sighed. “Baby you have to be up early tomorrow and I’m sure Scooter will kill me if he knows I kept you up.” 

“Scooters awake too.” Justin announced and I sighed muttering a ‘smartass’ under my breath.

“Well I gotta get back to my class anyways. At least before my professor eats me.” I muttered.

“Hey!” he growled. “Only I get to eat you.”

My cheeks heated at the sexual joke he pulled, sighing as i heard him chuckle through the line. “You are disgusting.” I whispered. “Alright, I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Okay.” He frowned.

And as I went to pull the phone from my face, he suddenly called. “Wait!” 

I hummed. 

“I love you.” He cheesed and I chuckled. 

“Love you too babe.” 

And then the line went dead. I felt bad for the boy, he’s been so clingy lately and I knew that was just a result of the distance and the lack of time we’d had to spend together. Now time for one more quick call.

With a few clicks of a button and a number of dials, the person finally picked up.

“Hello?” The raspy voice questioned.

“Scooter!” I exclaimed. “Hey, I need you’re help...”

Justin POV

“Hi Justin!” 

The smiles of people from around were really beginning to get to me, a smile of my own plastered across my face. The way people where really respecting me here made me feel welcomed, they gave me space and most kept their phones away.

I waved at the girls currently calling my name, grateful that they ceased to take their phones out. They smiled, approaching me with an intent to converse and not take pictures, God I was enjoying this. 

But I wish Y/N was here.

“Oh my gosh, hi.” A blonde smiled in a cute australian accent. 

(A/N: Ew. I hate it. But Justin likes them so.... *sassily flicks hair over shoulder*)

“Were so excited you’re here.” She exclaims, motioning to the brunnette besides her who began vigorously shaking her head in agreement.

“Are you enjoying hillsong?” The brunnette asked. 

I nodded, smiling down at the two, they looked young, but not child-like. Mature, maybe 16, no less then 15.

“I’m loving it. I love being able to exclaim what I believe, ya know?” I smiled to which the girls nodded. 

“Yeah, I come every year, It’s a fun way to preach.” The blonde said.

“It is, isn’t it?” I agreed. “Yeah my friend Carl is a pastor and we came together, I just feel li-”

“Justin!” A voice suddenly exclaimed, interrupting me of my sentence, and I spun on my heels to spot scooter motioning me over. With a nod, I held a hand out to the two in front of me, a pout on their faces as I announced “One second girls.” But they nonetheless nodded. 

“Yeah?” I questioned as I approached the man.

“Was I interrupting something?” He questioned. 

With a glance back at the eager girls still eyeing me with patient eyes, I nodded. “A little.” 

“Well in that case I should just leave.” This time, the voice came from somewhere behind the bulky man in front of me, this one being a familiar rasp of femininity who I had yet to hear in person for months.

My eyes widened, heart sinking but also speeding up momentarily. I felt mixed, emotions wise - happy, confused, joyful. She was here, really here. My baby girl.

“Y/N?!” I questioned with a hopeful mindset, some sort of doubt that it just might not have been her building within, but as I spot a petite body emerging from behind, that doubt withered into a joyous reunion.

“Baby!” I exclaimed, running forward. Catching Y/N In my arms, I lifted her and began twirling my baby girl around. She laughed, clutching into me for dear life when I finally settled her down.

“Are you really here?!” 

At the words, she chuckled, reaching both arms to link behind my neck. “Yeah baby I’m here.” She clarified. 

The smile on her face left me trailing my eyes over her lips, a tugging urge to lean forward and place mine against her’s was overpowering, and in a matter of seconds I found myself doing just that. 

She wasted no time in returning the gesture, no surprise evident on her small being as she intensified the kiss. People around watched on with smiles, some with their phones out recording the scene before them but for once, I didn’t mind. 

I wanted to remember this moment for the rest of my life. I had never missed her as much as I had now and now she was finally back in my arms. Slowly, we finally began pulling away with red cheeks, a slight blue tinge also from the lack of oxygen.

God, I missed those lips.

“Fuck I missed you.” I sighed, leaning my forehead against her own.

“I missed you too.” She whispered.

“But I mean, what about school?” I frowned. 

Y/N only shrugged. “They can wait on me for a while. Besides, this is so much better then daily lectures.”

I chuckled, closing the space between us. I intertwined our lips once again, moving the flesh in sync with each others. Pins and needles shot up between the space she touched, the girl had me numb with her fingers yet I loved the feeling, just like I loved her. “ So much better.” I agreed.

___

[lavellansthree]

1, 14, and 16 for all three of them!! (from the OC codex prompts list)

Cole Lavellan

1. An overheard conversation about your OC

“The Inquisitor is not what I expected. Being Dalish, I assumed-”

“What? That he would be some barefoot savage? He’s anything but. He’s well spoken and polite, ready to assist any who come to him in need. He is a good man.”

“I didn’t mean-”

“Of course you did. You Orlesians all assume the worst of others who aren’t from a higher stock. If you had been in Ferelden during the Blight, you wouldn’t look down on the Dalish as you do.”

—An overheard conversation between an Orlesian noblewoman and a knight of Redcliffe in the great hall of Skyhold.

14. Your OC talking about your favorite quest

An excerpt from the journal of the Inquisitor, Colhoun Lavellan. The hastily written entry shows the quill was held by a shaky hand and the words feel heavy with guilt and uncertainty.

I don’t understand what has happened to the Grey Wardens. When I joined the Fereldens during the Blight, they were few but honorable.

Using blood magic and summoning demons. Corypheus could have succeeded in building his demon army, especially after we fell into the Fade… An experience I wish I never had… A decision I wish I never had to make.

The Wardens are lost and fear corruption. They have the right to be afraid for Erimond proved they could be corrupted and controlled by Corypheus.

Still, I couldn’t let them fall victim to the mistakes brought on by fear and duty. I know Solas is upset with my decision to bring them into the Inquisition but he doesn’t know the Wardens. He hadn’t fought beside them during a Blight. He didn’t have to call for the sacrifice of a good man to prevent Nightmare from entering our world and tearing it apart.

Adamant will be burned into my mind for the rest of my life. As will the guilt of leaving Stroud.

16. A conversation between your OC and their best friend

“I can’t believe you come to tavern to drink this swill.”

“I come to the tavern to catch up with friends, Dorian. Besides, the dwarven ale and the Dragon Piss that Bull drinks grows on you after a while.”

(a snort of derision and a short laugh could be hear over the din of the Herald’s Rest)

“Oh yes, I’m sure a supposed drink named Dragon Piss is a wonderful concoction to consume.”

“Hey now, I didn’t say it was wonderful. I just said it can be consumed. After the first sip, all the nerves and tastebuds are basically paralyzed. It’s an easy way to get drunk on short notice.”

“Oh yes, because we all need an easy way to get drunk.”

“Says the mage who is currently drunk.”

— A conversation between Colhoun Lavellan and Dorian Pavus, sharing drinks in the Herald’s Rest after returning from Emprise du Lion.

Kida Lavellan

1. An overheard conversation about your OC

“The Inquisitor’s brother is something else.”

“Kida? The red head with the sour face?”

“Don’t let that fool you. He’s a good kid. Smart too. The amount of knowledge he has is invaluable. What he was able to tell me about spirit healing amazed me.”

“A Dalish mage knows more than a well educated circle mage? I find that hard to believe.”

“He knows quite a deal more than you give him credit for. He’s spent his entire young life studying and perfecting his magic. The First Enchanter believes he has some real talent.”

“I’ve dealt with Madame Vivienne before. If she says he’s got something, then you’re probably right.”

— A conversation between a Circle Mage and a Templar outside the Herald’s Rest.

16. A conversation between your OC and their best friend

“You know a lot of spirits.”

“I do.”

“They help you help others. People think they’re just working for you but you see them as friends.”

“That’s right. They wouldn’t come to me if we weren’t friends. If they’re unsure or uncomfortable, they ignore people.”

“But you want them to feel safe when they join you and help.”

“That’s right.”

“It’s the same for me. You want me to feel safe around you.”

“You’re my friend, Cole. I want you to be safe.”

— A conversation between Kida Lavellan and Cole in Skyhold’s garden.

Kala Lavellan

1. An overheard conversation about your OC

“Did you hear about what happened to the Iron Bull?”

“You mean his involvement with the Inquisitor?”

“No, darling, that’s old news. I’m talking about what the Inquisitor’s sister did to him?”

“Kala? She seems like such a fine girl. What could she have done?”

(A muffled giggle could be heard over the ruckus in the great hall of Skyhold.)

“She and Sera had collected a beehive, you see? They took this beehive, climbed to the roof of the Herald’s Rest then vaulted off.”

“They jumped?!”

“Yes! They jumped off and aimed their descent toward the Iron Bull. They lodged the beehive right on his horn and goodness were the bees mad!”

“Were they all right?”

“Oh yes, dear, they’re quite all right. Covered in bee stings, the three of them, but the healers weren’t too concerned. The Inquisitor, on the other hand, is livid.”

— A conversation between two noblewoman, overheard by Varric Tehtras to be wrote about later.

16. A conversation between your OC and their best friend

“So, you and the Commander? Never would have thought that was your type.”

“And why is that? Is it because I’m an elf and he’s a human? Because if that’s the cause, you’re being a little hypocritical.”

(The sound of Dorian choking on his wine and Kala laughing interrupted many other conversations within the Herald’s Rest)

“Oh yeah, by the way, I know about you and Kida.”

— A personal and teasing conversation between Kala Lavellan and Dorian Pavus during dinner at the Herald’s Rest.

Kida and Kala Lavellan

14. Your OC talking about your favorite quest

“Kala! You need to calm down. Everything is all right!”

(Quiet sobs and elven curses could be heard on the outer edges of the Inquisition camp outside of Adamant)

“He almost died!”

“But he didn’t! He survived the fall and the Fade! The Iron Bull was there. So we’re Dorian and Varric. They wouldn’t let anything happen to him, especially Bull.”

“There was nothing we could do, Kida. We watched him fall and we couldn’t do anything to help him.”

“We couldn’t but we can help him now. We need to be strong for him, act as a crutch until he recovers, physically and mentally. That’s what we need to do, Kala, that’s what he needs.”

— A conversation between Kida and Kala Lavellan, the night after the Inquisitor’s party returned from the Fade and Erimond was defeated.

((Sorry this took me so long to get done. You picked some hard ones! They were a lot of fun to write, though. I also combined number 14 for Kala and Kida. Thanks for sending in the ask!))