#she is an authority-hating little shit and that cannot be taken away from her

[lovsalvatore]

Your name on the list

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!reader

Summary: After missing a few notes during rehearsals, you have to prove once again to your Maestro that you still deserve a chance.

Warnings: +18, Minors DNI!, smut, nat has a penis, loss of virginity, groping, overstimulation, rough sex, pet names, a bit of manipulation, light choking, unprotected sex, praising, abuse of authority, infidelity, age gap.

Word count: 6.2k

a/n: here's part two for all you horny people. also; comment if you want to be tagged in the next part <3 ✰ series masterlist, main masterlist

"Okay, stop!" the Maestro's loud voice makes everyone stop playing their instruments immediately. Your hands that were previously on the piano keys just rest on your lap, playing with a loose thread of your blouse. "What's going on today huh? Just because it's Friday and you guys want to enjoy the weekend doesn't mean you have to play like a high school band."

When she says this your eyes go directly to your friend on the other side of the orchestra room, Kate. She widens her eyes, and makes a funny face like she's bored. Even though Natasha's words can be a little harsh at times, everyone here is used to it. Especially Kate. You remember one time Natasha just walked out of the auditorium after making you guys play the same song for hours and hours, saying it was still bad, and all that Bishop said was that at least she didn't say it was terrible, just bad, and that coming from Natasha is like a compliment.

You end up quietly laughing at your friend's action, but then Natasha's body get in the way, stopping a few meters away from you, right in the direction you were looking. All you see for a few seconds is her white shirt, but lifting your gaze you meet her green eyes, feeling her strong judgment in you. Fuck. Your smile disappears instantly. "If you keep playing like this, you don't even have to show up on the day of the big performance." she continues, looking away from you and crossing her arms in front of her body. "An empty stage is better than a whole audience listening to whatever this is that you're playing. Because as much as this symphony was composed by me, the way you guys are playing make it sound like shit, and I don't want people to think I compose shitty music."

She takes a step forward, getting out of the line of sight between you and your friend. You look at each other again, and Kate mouths an 'ouch.', exaggeratedly making an offended expression with her face. You again cannot contain a smile. Bishop always finds the fun in tragic moments, and you love her for it. And you know that if Natasha even saw these kinds of interactions that you two have during rehearsals she would be pissed, not out of jealousy, of course she's not jealous of you, but out of the fact that she hates not being taken seriously.

"In the next rehearsal I don't want any mistakes, especially in the violin part, you're not playing in sync." Natasha takes a deep breath through her nose, turning her face to look in your direction, but you’re more focused on staring blankly at the keys of the instrument in front of you. "But for now... you're dismissed." as soon as she says the words everyone starts to get up, walking towards the stairs to go down from the auditorium stage. You follow your colleagues, going to the first row of seats, which is where everyone usually leaves their belongings. 

"Today she's in a bad mood." Kate says as soon as you reach her side. You take a quick look at the person she's referring to, she has her back to you, tying her hair up in her usual bun. You tried not to spend the entire night thinking about what happened between you two. But all you could imagine when you closed your eyes was how her cock felt inside your mouth, and how good it felt. You don't even remember when, but your hand was already inside your pajama pants, imagining it was her. You even tried using two of your fingers to mimic the feeling of what it might be like to have her inside you, but it hurt, all you were able to bear was half of just one finger of yours, so you stopped. You already know that she'll want to do something else today, and you think if it will hurt too. Or if she's going to let it hurt.

"I mean, it's impossible for her to be in a good mood."

You ignore Kate — so oblivious to your thoughts that you don't even know what to say to her — before picking up your backpack, slinging it over your shoulder. Every Friday you guys usually go to the bar at the end of the street after rehearsals, but you remember Natasha asking you to stay today again, and the way her mood is you sure don't want to give her another reason to stay even more grumpy. "I... I'm staying a little longer, the Maestro is helping me with some of my compositions." you lie, you don't even compose songs. "But you can go to the bar with the others, I'll meet you there."

"Oh... okay... I'll definitely want to listen to your piece later." she says in an excited tone, closing her violin case. "Just promise not to take too long, the bar is kinda boring without you."

"I promise."

"Okay perfect, and good luck with her." she pats your shoulder twice before walking past you, and you just stand there waiting for everyone to leave the orchestra room. When silence sets in, you realize that you are finally alone with Natasha again. She remains onstage as you grip the strap of your backpack so hard it looks like you want to tear the poor thing apart. You think if you look good, if the outfit you chose today caught her attention, if all the strands of your hair are in place. You’re nervous.

Natasha stares at you for a few seconds, actually, she couldn't take her eyes off you the entire time you were playing the piano, which isn't all that unusual, but this time she knew that at the end of the day she would have you, and that she wouldn't come home just to have to relieve herself alone thinking about you. But she didn't have a good day, you could tell from the way she was harsh with her words throughout rehearsal. Not that she isn't like that naturally, but today she put a lot of work into the insults. So all she wants now is to have something to make this day better. And you are the best option she has to solve this problem.

Her steps get louder as she steps down from the stage to approach you, who still has your back to her when you feel her presence so close to you. "Why don't you drop this, you're not leaving." she says referring to your backpack, and you immediately do as she asks, dropping it on the floor. Natasha smiles, seeing that she doesn't need to ask you twice for you to obey her. "Don't think you're an exception Y/N, you also disappointed me today."

You swallow hard, feeling her smooth the strands of your hair to the side to be able to kiss the curve of your neck. You close your eyes, her breath so close to your ear that you pay no attention to any other sounds in your surroundings. "You're gonna have to work really hard if you still want to be my first choice for the world tour, because with all the mistakes you made today..." she sucks your pulse point after saying this, making sure to leave a mark for everyone to see. "...maybe you don't really deserve this opportunity after all, hm?"

You haven't missed a single note, since you've been playing for her you've never made that mistake. You play the piano since you were six years old, so hitting the wrong key is something very unusual for you. But when you hear her saying that you made a mistake, you end up believing, it's her song, not yours. And Natasha knows it, she knows you played the song perfectly. But she needs a something to make you give her what she wants, even though deep down she knows you'd give in for no particular reason. "I-I... I know I deserve it." you say in a weak voice. "I can prove to you that I'm the best option, I know I can, Maestro."

"Yeah?" you gasp as her strong hands grope your breasts, pulling your body towards her and making you feel her hard bulge against your ass. You tremble in anticipation knowing that you're going to lose your virginity to her today, and you've kind of been preparing for it all day, so maybe that must have caused you to miss a few notes. Yeah, that would make sense. "I can put your name on the list today, you wouldn't have to wait another day to be part of the world tour... but only if you prove to me that you really are the best choice. Would you like that?" she asks close to your ear, and you nod frantically. "Good."

You feel a cool breeze hitting your body as she suddenly pulls away. As you turn to face her, you see her grabbing your backpack from the floor, slinging it over her shoulder before taking your hand. You look at her confused, but let her lead you to wherever she is leading. The two of you enter the hall of the building that you come to every day to stay hours playing the piano. It's dark, probably all the other employees working here are gone by now. You're known as the late-night musician crowd here, the ones that play for more hours straight too, five hours of class in total. So it wouldn't be surprising if in fact the only ones left here are you and Natasha. "Did your parents complain that you were late yesterday?" she lets go of your hand to get a key from her pocket, and unlocking a door she takes your arm to pull you into the room.

"No, I told 'em I was practicing, and they believed." you answer, hearing the door lock behind you. It's a relatively small room, it has a piano against one of the walls, but unlike the one in the orchestra room — which is a grand piano — this one is an upright one. There's a couch with red upholstery, a few other decorations, and then a desk. You walk towards it, running your finger across the wood material from one end to the other. "Is this your office?"

Natasha drops your backpack on the sofa along with her glasses before walking towards you. "No." she answers, and you again feel her warmth behind you. "I have my own office somewhere else, I just leave my stuff here from time to time." her hands go to your hips, sinking her nose into your neck to smell your perfume. "I spent the whole night thinking about you." you understand that she's not here to talk, she just wants something specific from you. You let her grip your body possessively, her hands squeezing every inch of you like she doesn't want you to leave. It's hot, you think that's even a little weird considering the fact that it's winter, but having her so close to you makes it feel like summer. And you can't deny that feeling her gaze on you throughout rehearsal has you completely needy for her, you already know that your underwear situation isn't the best, and you can't wait for her to finally do something about it.

But then something on the desk draws your attention. A ring. Natasha is a married woman, but she rarely wears her wedding ring. She just puts it on before leaving the house to prove her wife that she wears it, but whenever she gets here for rehearsals she leaves the little accessory in this room. There were times when she forgot, and kept the ring on all day, but rarely did anyone notice. Because as much as she loves her wife, Natasha still hates showing everyone that she belongs to someone, and that thought only started when you entered her life, what a coincidence. You bend your body to pick up the accessory, and when you look at it you can see a date engraved on the inside. It has a name too, but before you can read it Natasha snatches the object out of your hand.

"Sorry." you whisper, expecting her to call you names for taking something that isn't yours, but she doesn't. She doesn't have time for that. Natasha puts the ring on her finger, before turning her attention again to gripping your body. You feel bad for a few moments, knowing she has a wife who don't even imagine the things she does to you. But your mind is immersed in desire when Natasha's hand starts to go down between your breasts, to the button of your pants. She plays with your zipper while planting kisses all over your neck, with that, you find yourself thirsting for her with every passing second. "Nat..."

"Did you hear what I said? That you didn't get out of my head last night?" she unzips, and slowly pulls your pants down to your thighs. You feel your cheeks burn, feeling her play with the hem of your underwear. Are you really prepared for this? You think. But also think of the world tour, and the answer becomes clear. "I had to fuck my wife thinking about you to relieve myself." you bite the inside of your cheek, hearing her say such words makes you wet. You feel bad for her wife, yes, but turned on to know that Natasha thinks so highly of you. She thought about you all night, just like you thought about her. Maybe this could be more than just an exchange of favors, no?

With one hand, Natasha spreads your legs apart. You have both of your hands resting against the desk, as her hand starts to move up your inner thigh. "You're always so quiet." she chuckles when her hand reaches between your legs, your body squirms, pressing her fingertips against your underwear Natasha can feel how wet you are for her. This just makes her harder. "Is it because you've never done this before? Is that why you don't know what to say sweet girl?"

"Uhum." you hum, closing your eyes when she presses on your clit. "I just... I just need..."

"What?" in one swift motion she pulls your underwear down, and you end up moaning as her hand goes straight to your slit. You spread your legs a few more inches apart when she starts to move back and forth over your folds, looking down Natasha groans at the sight of your cheeks so close to her covered cock. "What do you need?" she continues to spread your wetness all over your pussy while her other hand grabs one of your breasts, making you close your eyes at the aggressiveness she does. "Do you wanna tell your Maestro what you need from her, hm?"

You want to talk to her, you really do. But it's the first time anyone's touched you like this, and you can do anything but form a complete sentence. You didn't think she'd be this quick, you really thought you'd at least talk before she had all of you, but feeling her fingers slip through your slits makes you not mind too much about that. You just need her, you're practically begging her to finally ruin you. "I really need you to say it so I can keep going." she murmurs, opening your folds with her fingers before teasing your entrance. "Do you want me to stretch your tight little pussy? Want me to be your first?" she ends up sliding just the tip of her finger inside you, and since you tried to do the same last night, the sensation is not so strange for you, but even so, because she’s the one doing it, it makes you feel different type of feelings.

You manage to nod your head at her question, gripping the edge of the table tightly as she switches from teasing your entrance to playing with your clit. You smile trapping your bottom lip between your teeth, trying to follow her movement into your sex with your hips. "I need words baby, please."

"Y-yes, fuck I need you, p-please."

The Maestro smiles, her heart beating wildly inside her chest. She pulls down her own pants and boxers, her hard cock as it springs out brushes lightly against your cheeks. Your hands that were once on the edge of the desk are now both pressed against your low back as Natasha takes your wrists, and with her other hand she forces your body into the desk, causing you to whine in pain when your cheek is pressed against the icy wood material, your breasts practically smashed against the table. You close your eyes for a few seconds at her subtle movement, and think about how easily she can position you however she wants. She's much stronger than you. And she wasn't really planning on ending up being this aggressive, but sometimes she can't help herself.

"Fuck... you're so wet." she says as she pulls back a little just to get a good view of your sex, her hand still holding yours against your lower back. "Who knew you got so turned on in the presence of your Maestro huh? What would your parents think of that? I don't think they would be so proud to hear that you lie to them by telling you're practicing when in reality you're letting yourself be fucked by your conductor."

You turn your head away to hide the embarrassment you feel, but pressing your forehead against the table is even more uncomfortable, so you end up turning your face away again, resting your cheek on the furniture. Natasha uses her free hand to rub her cock against your slits, groaning at the sight of your wetness mixing with her pre-cum. "Natasha... I..." you whisper, remembering that this can hurt. Even though you're so turned on, so wet that you might not feel a thing, you're still tinged with fear, and the red-haired woman can see it too. "I don't know if-."

"Shhh." she silences you, letting go of your wrists to brush the strands of hair that fall over your face. "It's okay, no need to be scared, it will feel good, I promise." you find comfort in her words, and that makes some of the fear go away, even though you know she's not that honest sometimes. The older woman even thinks of getting the lub she brought, but seeing how wet you are she thinks that won't be necessary. A gasp escapes her lips as she continues to rub her cock into your slit, and feeling the heat of your sex only make her more painfully aroused. “Stay still detka.”

You close your eyes tightly as you feel her tip slowly stretching your hole, and you realize it's very different from when you tried to use your fingers. She stays still for a while, and you think it's not that bad, at least not until she starts sliding even more inside you. You grunt in pain when half of her cock enters you, and even though you are wet, it still burns a little, trying to get used to this new sensation. "Fuck, you're so tight." Natasha breathes out the words, moving her hips back and making your pussy clenches around nothing. "Is this okay? Can I keep going?”

"U-uhm y-yes." you open your eyes again when she pulls your head by holding your hair, lifting it slightly but your body still pressed against the table.

"Good... This might hurt a little. Tap my thigh if you want me to stop."

You don't understand why you would have to tap her thigh when you can use your words, but feeling her hand pressing over your mouth you understand why. She uses her hand to stifle the scream that rips from your throat as she thrusts her cock all at once inside your pussy, and it hurts, it hurts like hell, but even so, your hand remains still, making no move to tap her thigh. Your entire body protests Natasha's gross invasion, but you remember she said this will feel good, and that's what you want to believe in. She pulls out, leaving only the tip inside you, before moving her hips forward in a blunt act, causing the table to swell slightly beneath you. "F-fuck." you mumble against her palm, every inch of her stretching your walls, feeling like at any moment she's going to destroy you from the inside by the thickness and length of her. She is indeed really big, you don't know what was on your mind when you thought this would be easy to take.

"Fuck baby, you're so tight, how am I supposed to move inside you hm?" Natasha's fingers continue to wrap around your hair as she presses your face back against the table, while her other hand grabs your hips to keep you still. She starts to fuck you slowly but hard at the same time. Her every thrust is aggressive, some things on the table even move with every move she makes against you. You palm your hands to the side of your body as that aching feeling inside you starts to turn into a feeling you didn't know would feel so good until now. "Do you think you can take more? Want me to fuck you hard?"

You clench around her dick at the thought of her fucking you harder than she already is, and the sensation this causes around Natasha's length makes her moan in pleasure. "Oh that's it... clench around my cock, fuck you're so hot." she sinks her nails into your hips, pulling you closer to her. "Do you want me to continue? Want me to fuck you mercilessly?"

"P-please." you beg, even deep down you want her to take it easy at first, moving your hips back when she stops suddenly with her movements. "Keep going, feels so good."

"Hm?" you feel her strong hand against your throat, pulling you up and making your body fully erect again. You feel the relief this caused on your cheek, but what holds your attention the most is the way Natasha's cock starts to fuck you from behind. "Like this? Want me to treat you like a slut?" your arms are pulled behind your body while her other hand is still around your throat. Natasha fucks you while preventing you from moving your arms, and at the same time making it difficult for oxygen to rise to your brain. You arch your back, your eyes rolling as you feel her hit against the deepest part of your pussy.

She's rougher with your cunt than she was with your mouth, sinking her thick cock into your tight walls and making you moan over it. It still hurts, you didn't have time to get used to its size completely, but you get wetter with each thrust that gets easier and easier for Natasha to fuck you hard. You feel your pants sliding down your legs with every pound of her, and it's not long before it falls to your ankles. "You wanted this didn't you?" she asks tightening her fingers around your neck even more. "I bet this isn't the first time you've wanted this from me, tell me, did you touch yourself thinking about me too? Did you use those talented hands of yours to imagine I was fucking you?” she wants to hear it from you, she wants to know that she wasn't the only one doing this all these months that you've been her apprentice.

"I-I, yes." you admit it, even though it's not true. Even if you had impure thoughts about your Maestro you've never really touched yourself thinking about her, but if that's what she wants to hear, that's what you'll say. And again, a big mistake you just made. "Fuck. it. hurts." you end up saying it out loud between labored sighs, feeling the tightness in your throat loosen.

"Want me to stop?" you shake your head from side to side quickly, feeling embarrassingly closer to the edge. Natasha slows down her thrusts inside you as she lowers the hand that was previously around your throat to massage your clit. She fucks you slowly, while making circular motions on your bundle of nerves at medium speed. With her light movements you can feel better the way she moves inside you, not just hard thrusts. You feel her cock sliding over your walls, and how her fingers work so well on your clit.

That's much better, slowly and carefully. You throw your head back, not understanding how you can still stand when the way she fucks you makes you feel boneless. "S-so good." you murmur, your arms move a little when you feel her ridge digging deep into the spongy part of you, but natasha holds them tighter, pulling you against her, almost making your back press against her covered breasts. She again feels your perfume invaded her senses, and thinks how she never wants to try anyone's scent but yours.

You didn't imagine that your first time would be in a random room, with a woman much older than you, and whom you admire so much. But now you don't think how it could just be better that already is. It's just wonderful the way her dick enters you carefully, as if this whole time it was meant to be. You wonder if it's normal to feel so ecstatic so quickly, you didn't think that anything other than your hand would be able to pull you over the edge so fast. And you want to hold on longer, trying to prolong her pleasure as well, but it gets hard when all you can feel is her thick cock sliding in and out of you, as your clit begins to grow sensitive to her touches. “You’re doing so good.” she whispers close to your ear, increasing the stimulation on your nerve just a little bit, only to pull you further towards the climax.

She hates that it took you so long to give yourself to her, and even though you're not completely hers yet, she already feels that way. She's wanted this for a long time, and now that she finally has what she wanted, it's going to be hard for her to let go. She rolls her hips over yours, and it's torturous but perfect at the same time.

Natasha has a hard time keeping her movements slow, all she wants is to abuse you until you can't walk the next day. But she also wants to make you feel good, she wants to make your first time worth it. And it's working. You feel the orgasm starting to build, and you know you won't be able to hold it back for long because of the way she makes you feel like you're out of gravity. "I... fuck... I'm so-." you don't even know what to say, you just try to control the moans that insist on coming out of your mouth. "Fuck I think I'm-."

"Come for me pretty girl, come on, I know you're close, come on, I got you."

It doesn't take long for you to reach your peak, and unlike when you're alone, this time feels totally different. You close your eyes tightly when the pleasure is all you can feel in every muscle in your body, Natasha rests her forehead on your back as she feels you squeezing her cock, feeling the wetness that spreads on her hand as she keeps stimulating you. "That's it..." she stops inside you, pressing her finger against your clit and feeling your sensitive area pulsating on her fingertips. Your breathing is uncontrolled when you finally break out of the trance, feeling your body sweating even though she did all the work.

It feels like you're drugged, and you're afraid you'll end up becoming addicted to her. And this was only the first time, you don't know if there will be others, but really hope so. With time she stops completely, waiting for you to get back together. And you thank her for it. It was so good, you want to go again, and again, until you can't take it anymore. You didn't know it would feel this good, you really were afraid that it would just hurt, but even though it did, in the end it was worth it.

You stay that way for a few moments before Natasha slowly pulls out of you, and you suddenly complain about the emptiness. Your legs are shaky as you turn your body to face her, her eyes showing nothing more than desire as they look directly into yours. "You okay?" she asks gently, cupping your face in her hands. You nod, staring at her parted lips. You try to bring your face even closer to kiss her, but the Maestro holds your jaw, preventing you from getting any closer. "No... no kissing."

"Why?"

"Oh detka, we're not trying to fall in love here, are we?" she speaks in a subtle way, even though she knew those weren't the words you wanted to hear. But you end up agreeing with her, it's really not what you're looking for, it's just an exchange of favors. You force that thought into your head, feeling the tip of her cock pressing against your bare sex. You look down, seeing the length of her glistening with your fluids, she imitates your act, this time getting a perfect view at your pussy. Is certainly one of the best views she's ever had. "Gonna keep fucking you okay?" she warns, running her fingers over your slits to make sure you stay wet, You shiver as she runs her finger over your clit before returning to your entrance. She pulls two fingers inside you, wetting them before leading them to her mouth. Natasha hums while feeling your taste on her tongue, and you think it wouldn't be possible for a scene to be this mesmerising, but ends up being anyway. Being completely aware of your arousal she quickly gets back to work.

Natasha groans, lifting one of your legs up to her hip to continue. She hasn't come yet. You weren't expecting it when she pushes her cock back inside you, and unlike how she was doing it a few minutes ago this time she just uses you like a fuck doll. And that's what you are to her, just someone to fuck, not someone to create emotional bonds with. At least that's what she's trying to get herself to believe in.

"You don't know how good it feels to have you squeezing my cock... my god how tight you are." you'll never get tired of hearing her tell you this, it just works the way you feel around her even more. The sounds you two make aren't low by any chance, and you're grateful that there's no one around to know what the two of you are up to behind closed doors. "You're so fucking beautiful, you're perfect."

Your legs feel like jelly, still trying to fully recover from your last orgasm, and noticing your difficulty standing up Natasha holds both your thighs, pulling you to sit on top of the desk, while thrusting her cock even deeper inside you.

She grips your jaw tightly, forcing you to look deep into her eyes as she fucks you. You see the darkness that consumes her, so lost in desire it makes your body convulse. "You're just a tiny little talented slut aren't ya? Look how good you take me all in." her breath hits against your lips, and you try to control yourself so you don't end up realising it again, feeling overstimulated by her every second. "So... so good for me, only for me.”

You rests both your hands on the table, wrapping your legs around Natasha's hips feeling her fuck you quickly and aggressively. Her hands grip tight on your thighs, and she tries to maintain eye contact with you, but she wants to see how she fucks you, she wants to see the scene of her destroying you from the inside. She lowers her sight to focus on the way her cock disappears inside you, how you take her so well even being your first time. "Gonna come so deep inside you." she whispers, feeling closer with her own words. "Gonna fill you up so good baby."

You feel the heat getting more unbearable, as it seems the walls of the room get smaller around you, one of your hands going towards her shoulder for better balance. You expect the table to break at any moment, just like Natasha is doing with your insides. And unlike her, you keep your eyes glued to the expressions on her face; how her eyebrows furrow up, how she tries to keep her moans from being audible. "Oh fuck... fuck... keep taking it... that's it..." you feel her nails digging deep into the skin of your thighs, and you know you're going to be bruised all over, but the thought of it makes your heart warm. "Is this making you feel good? Oh I bet so. Want to tell me how good I make you feel?"

"Y-yes... you make me feel so good." you say in uncontrolled breaths, squeezing her shoulder hard as you feel yet another orgasm slamming against your body like a brick. But still Natasha doesn't stop, even noticing the way your walls tighten around her cock, she still keeps pushing inside you harshly. "Fuuuck... fuck I don't think I can... Nat... p-please-."

"Shhhh, yes you can, I'm almost there, keep taking it." her hands lift your shirt up to your breasts, and she grunts at the sight of them covered by your bra. All she wanted right now was to get that stupid piece of clothing off your body, but being content with what she has she just squeezes them, your breasts fit perfectly into her palms, and she gropes them so hard it seems like your skin burns with her touch.

Your legs fall from her hips, feeling so overstimulated you don't have the strength to keep them wrapped around her. Natasha also finds it difficult to keep pushing inside you because you're so tight, and you try your best to keep taking her. That pain that had passed comes back, making you cry when you realize that you won't be able to hold on. "Please... please!" you beg, squeezing her shoulder and making Natasha hiss from the strength you do it. "Nat please I can't… it hurts.”

"Baby, begging isn't going to get you anywhere... you didn't ask me to stop, so keep quiet hm?" you nod your head realizing that what she says is true, you didn't actually ask her to stop, you just begged, but for nothing in particular. You feel so sensitive, her cock feels so big on you that it really hurts, but also a pain that feels really good. Fuck, it hurts so good you even feel ashamed to admit it. It feels like you're going to pass out, the room grows dark and your breath gets shorter. And the Maestro sees the tears running down your cheeks, and that's the last straw for her. With a few more thrusts you feel her warm fluid being released inside you, painting your inner walls all over. "Yeah... that's it... fuck… you feel so good."

Natasha practically collapses on top of you, resting her head in the crook of your neck as she continues to fill yourself with her cum. She moves her hips slowly to fuck the cum inside you, and you hate to admit that the wet noises of her action are so arousing. She closes her eyes for a few seconds feeling her dick throbbing inside you. "Nat..." you whine as she pulls away, and then taking her cock outside you you can feel the liquid seeping through your slits. You sigh with immediate relief, and only then do you realize your face is wet with your tears. Natasha grabs her shaft, rubbing it in your pussy and watching as her white juice spreads through your folds. She slides the tip back inside to keep every last drop that’s left in you, before going back to rubbing the end of it on your clit. Natasha is mesmerized, and even though she wants to continue she takes a step back.

"You did so good, I'm proud of you." she runs her knuckles over your cheeks, wiping the tears away. You close your eyes in her caress, feeling your pussy throbbing. "You were perfect."

And then the room is back to its normal size, the walls aren't suffocating you anymore, and the heat isn't so unbearable. Natasha picks up your underwear on the floor, and passes them by your feet to help you put them on, and you end up getting up from the table so she can pass the piece of clothing to your thighs. She doesn't say anything as she picks up your pants as well, holding them out to you before running her fingers over the strands of her hair. She's still hard when she tucks her cock into her pants, and as soon as you're fully dressed again you approach her. "I can help you with that..." you say directing your hand to the bulge in her pants, but Natasha shakes her head no.

"No, it's okay sweet girl." you smile when you hear her call you by the nickname, then just nod as she starts walking towards the door. She unlocks it, and holds it open for you to pass. As you move you can feel some of her cum that was still inside you wet your underwear, and then it hits you, you really did it, it doesn't even seem real, and the worst of it is that you liked it more than you should have. After you pick up your backpack on top of the sofa, you two begin a silent path through the corridors. You feel your legs weak, and you fear it will only get worse when you wake up the next day. But as has been said before, it was all worth it. When you're next to her, you see Natasha fiddling with her phone, talking to someone in messages. You also notice the way she squeezes her cock over her pants, the discomfort you left her in still isn't entirely gone. "Are you gonna get an uber or something?" she asks as soon as you step onto the sidewalk outside of the building.

"Uhm... no... I'm gonna go to a bar with my friends at the end of the street."

She just nods, not taking her eyes off her phone screen. You tighten your backpack straps, rocking your body back and forth not knowing if you should just walk away or wait for her to say goodbye first. She types quickly to whoever is talking to her, and you see the way her brows furrow, like she's worried about something. "I uhm... I should go." she says before finally looking up at you, giving you a weak smile. "Are you okay with what happened today?"

"Yes." you answer immediately. "It was... really good."

Indeed it was, you could do it for hours. You didn't know sex could feel this good. Or at least the sex with her definitely was.

"Okay good." she's relieved that she didn't make you do anything you didn't want to, even though she knows the real reason why you actually did it. "And... I'll talk to you next week about what I told you earlier."

"What?" you ask, not really knowing what she's talking about.

"The list... Your name on the list."

Oh, this.

For a moment you even forgot about it, you felt so good in her presence that you didn't even remember that in fact all of this was for other intentions. "Oh yes of course… okay." Natasha stares at you for a few more seconds before walking towards her car, leaving you alone. When she drives away you follow the vehicle with your eyes until it completely disappears from your view. And then you're back to reality. And what a shitty reality.

taglist: @kksalexa @madelineleong @shaniaauld03 @natashafanatic @gayerthanevertbh @wifeofnatasharomanoff

[ragingbookdragon]

I'm Only A Crack In This Castle Of Glass (Hardly Anything Else I Need To Be) PT. 2

Batfamily x Batsis Story!

Word Count: 2.7K Warnings: Explicit Language and Angst!

Author's Note: It's amazing how much one can write when they've got a story to tell, eh? Enjoy! -Thorne

Set Three Years After PT. 1:

Life for her revolved around work in the A.M. and community college in the P.M. If she wasn’t brewing cappuccinos and baking apple turnovers, she was writing research papers and taking physics exams. It was hectic and it was hard, much harder than anything she’d done, but it was her life, and she was going to make the best of it. The money she’d taken from her savings account had only lasted her long enough to get a decent one bedroom one bathroom apartment in a small complex and the rest went towards tuition. The coffee shop two blocks from her building had fortunately been looking for a new hire when she arrived, and she took the chance where it was, not going to look the gift horse in its mouth.

The life she lived now was a complete 180 from her old one. Back then, she didn’t have to work (though she did at a high-end department store in the mall—her father got her the job but at least she had one) and there wasn’t anything she couldn’t get with a swipe of a credit card. Now she was on a budget that consisted of five and ten tips and the last time she actually bought a new pair of shoes over a hundred dollars had been last year when she needed them for an interview, and even then, it cost her a limb.

Everything was so different, but she didn’t want to go back, preferring to be on her own and away from Gotham. From the newspapers and media, her family had convinced the world that she’d taken a few years to go overseas and spend time in Europe. A mental reprieve, they’d called it. Partially true if she was honest, but she wasn’t going to open her mouth about it lest they learned where she was. She didn’t go through all that trouble to be found within three years.

“Melisandre.”

Maybe I should move again?

“Melisandre?”

Moving would take a long time but it would be effective.

“Melisandre!”

Someone grabbed her arm over the counter, and she jerked with a start, eyes widening as she finally realized someone was standing in front of her.

“Barry?” she asked, and he smiled.

“Finally,” he snorted. “I’ve been calling your name for like ten minutes now.”

She felt a flush creep along her cheeks, and she smiled apologetically. “Sorry, I was thinking about something. Usual?” she murmured, marking a disposable coffee cup with a marker.

Barry nodded with understanding and handed her a credit card. “I hear you. How’s studying going for that physics exam?” His blue eyes darted to the science book she had sprawled over the counter.

“It’s going,” she muttered and turned, starting to mix together his latte. “I still can’t get the thermodynamic laws down. They’re a bit confusing.”

“Yeah, it’ll take a while. You know if you need my help, all you gotta do is ask, right?”

Shrugging, she glanced at him as she poured. “You’re a busy man, Barry. I can’t have you trying to help me while trying to solve cases too.”

Barry chuckled and accepted the freshly poured latte. “I’m an excellent multitasker, Melisandre. Besides, you don’t have to worry about it messing with my work.” She opened her mouth to retort but he cut her off. “Seriously, shoot me an email about whatever questions you’ve got, and I’ll take a look at ‘em, okay?”

Her eyes narrowed warily, and she inquired, “You’re sure it won’t interfere? I’d hate for you to get in trouble for working on non-work-related things.”

“I promise, Melisandre,” he smiled and accepted a bag of apple turnovers too. He couldn’t help but pull one out and bite into it, letting out a delighted noise. “God, what do you put in these things? They’re phenomenal.”

She giggled and winked as he handed her a twenty. “A baker never reveals her secret, but if you really want to know, I use a little vanilla extract.”

Barry shook his head with a chuckle and started making his way to the door. “See you later, Melisandre!”

Waving at him, she called, “Bye Barry! Take care!”

Just as he opened the door, he stopped and spun around, suddenly asking, “Hey, what are you doing tomorrow?”

Blinking, she glanced at the physics book then back to him. “Well, I was going to be studying for the exam…why?”

“My nephew is in town and I wanted to introduce him to you. I’ve already mentioned you a bunch of times and he wants to meet you.”

Her face pinched. “Barry Allen, what did you tell that poor boy?”

He stuck his tongue out at her. “That there’s a lonely college student who has no friends but has the greatest baking abilities in the world.”

“I cannot believe you told him I had no friends! Why!”

“You don’t.”

“Well, yeah! But still! You don’t just tell someone that! It makes me seem like there’s something wrong with me!”

Barry waved a hand. “Relax. Wally’s the least jerky person you’ll meet.” He smiled. “You’ll like him.”

She frowned. “I still don’t think this is a good idea, Barry.”

“Why not?”

“Well, he’s here to see you and your wife, not come meet the person who feeds your apple turnover addiction.”

The blonde’s cheeks turned a dark shade of crimson and he spluttered, “It is not an addiction!” he spun around and marched through the door. “I’ll send him over tomorrow! Bye!”

And he left before she could even say a word.

***

It had to be hieroglyphics. It was either that or some ancient cuneiform he’d recently taken up interest in, because there was no way whatever he’d written on the paper was English.

She cocked her head to the side, muttering, “Jesus Christ, Barry, did you write this on a caffeine bender? Your writing is like chicken scratch.” She tipped her head to the other side trying to decipher it when someone leaned over her shoulder.

“Which problem do you need help on?” they asked, and she pointed to the sheet.

“I have no idea what that says.” She turned and saw a red-haired stranger. “If you think you can, be my guest.”

He took it and read over it a moment, green eyes scanning over the page then he said, “Let’s see, he wrote first, ‘The third law of thermodynamics states that the entropy of a system at absolute zero is a well-defined constant. This is because a system at zero temperature exists in its ground state, so that its entropy is determined only by the degeneracy of the ground state.’”

Pausing, he scanned it again and added, “Then he marked a note beside it and wrote, ‘In simplistic terms, if an object reaches the absolute zero temp. of (0 K = -273.15C = -459.67°F), its atoms will stop moving. In other words, at absolute zero, the entropy of a perfectly crystalline substance is zero.’”

Glancing at her, he smiled. “Make sense now?”

She huffed and nodded, taking the sheet back. “Yeah, thanks. I don’t even know how you managed to get all that from his writing.”

He nodded. “Yeah, Barry’s handwriting is deplorable.”

Her eyes went wide, and she immediately questioned, “How did you?”

Sticking a hand out, he greeted, “Wally West. I’m Barry’s nephew.”

Shaking his hand, she couldn’t help but laugh. “I can’t believe he actually told you to come up here and meet me.” A smile came across her lips. “I’m Melisandre Hale.”

“That’s a pretty name, Melisandre.”

“Thank you,” she grinned and waved him to one of the bar-stools on the adjacent side of the counter. “Have a seat and I’ll get you something to eat and drink.” As she slid behind the counter, she inquired, “Anything specific?”

Wally stared at the bored, offhandedly mentioning, “Barry said something about apple turnovers that could make you cry with joy, so I’ve gotta have one of those.” His evergreen eyes met hers. “Maybe two if I’m being honest.”

She grunted, but a grin crossed her lips, nevertheless. “Barry exaggerates a lot, Wally. They’re good, but they’re not mind-blowingly good.”

“Then I guess that leaves me to be the judge,” he countered with a smirk. “What should I drink?”

She thought for a moment then offered, “Have any judgments about drinking before five o’clock?”

He let out a startled laugh and shook his head. “It’s five o’clock somewhere.”

With a grin, she turned and started working her magic and a moment later, she was sliding a plate with two iced apple turnovers over along with a clear steaming mug of dark coffee with cream on top. She leaned her hip on the counter and watched him pick up one of the apple turnovers and take a bite.

Immediately his eyes went wide, and he exclaimed, “Holy shit.” He gaped at her. “This is delicious, Melisandre!”

Despite herself, her cheeks warmed, and she gave him an easy smile. “Thanks, Wally.” She nodded to the crystal mug. “Try the Irish coffee.”

He did so and tossed his head back, letting out an exaggerated groan that had her laughing until her stomach hurt. Wally was on his second turnover and he looked at her.

“You’ve gotta open up a bakery or something, Melisandre. Your pastries are awesome.”

She huffed and took the plate from him as he finished the last bite. “Let me get through college first and then I’ll wonder how to rack up enough to open a shop.”

“What are you studying?”

Pausing, she tossed a quick glance at him. “There’s no specification right now. I’m just doing general studies to get all the basics out of the way.” She put the dish in the sink and started rinsing it. “I’m at the four-C right now.” His brows pulled together, and she added, “Central City Community College.”

He snapped his fingers. “Right! It’s been a while since I went to the four-C.”

Her eyes found his and she curiously asked, “Did you go there?”

“Yeah, a few years back.”

“You don’t look that much older than I am. How old are you, Wally?”

He sipped his coffee and set it down as he replied, “I turned twenty-eight a month ago.”

“Happy belated birthday,” she smiled, and he gave her one in return.

“Thanks. How about you?”

“I turned twenty-one a few months ago.”

“Hmm, happy belated birthday to you as well.” He grinned, quipping, “How’s it feel to finally be able to legally do all the things you were doing before you turned twenty-one?”

She shot him a look. “Shame on you, Wally West, for assuming I was doing illegal things.” He chuckled and she shrugged. “But to answer your question, it feels great, so thanks.”

Wally snorted at that. “My best friend and I got absolutely hammered on our twenty-firsts and swore to never drink hard liquor again after we woke up in the bathroom in our underwear after passing out on the floor.”

A shudder passed over her at her own memory of waking up beside the toilet after her birthday celebration with a bottle of white rum. She cocked a hand up with her water bottle in it. “Here, here,” she toasted and took a sip as Wally raised his coffee and drank too.

She glanced at him. “Are you in school, or are you done?”

“I finished a while ago. I work out of a tower with a group of friends in Manhattan.”

For a moment, her eyes drifted to the simple pair of jeans and graphic shirt he was wearing. She lived in the upper area of Gotham and she knew what uptown Manhattan was like, and it wasn’t jeans and t-shirts.

Evidently, he did too because he scowled, “I have suits and ties, thank you very much.”

She snorted and took the empty mug from him. “I didn’t say anything, Wally.”

“You made a face.”

“Is a face a ground to be hostile?” she grinned. “I was just wondering what type of business in Manhattan ran on flash t-shirts and skinny jeans.” She eyed him. “Tech?”

He shrugged. “It’s…a bit of everything if I’m being honest.” It sounded like he didn’t exactly want to say, and she let it be, rinsing out his cup before setting it to dry.

A buzz sounded and she felt for her phone when he said, “That’s mine.” Wally pulled his phone out, read the message, and stood up. “I’ve gotta go, Melisandre.”

She nodded and took the twenty-dollar bill he handed her, waving her off when she tried to hand back the change. As he started towards the door, she called, “Wally?”

He turned on his heel and waited and she felt foolish for saying it, but she admitted with warmth in her cheeks, “It’s been a while since I had any semblance of a friend…so thanks for this afternoon.”

Wally gave her a pearly white grin. “Barry said you’d say something like that,” he chuckled as she scowled and he added sincerely, “Can never have too many friends, Melisandre…and I hope you’ll become a great one of mine. So far, you already are.”

She smiled, “Same here, Wally.” The bell signaled his exit and she let out a heavy sigh as her heart warmed in her chest at the feeling of a newfound friendship.

***

She was dead on her feet when she finally got through her front door and into her living room, practically collapsing onto the couch. Though it wasn’t far from the truth as she flopped down and toed off her shoes, heaving a long and winded sigh as she stared at the dark ceiling. She wanted to turn on the lamp on the table beside her, but she didn’t want to move. Hell, she barely wanted to get up and take a shower, so she didn’t go to bed sweaty.

Just a moment. She thought. Just a moment to close my eyes and I’ll get up and go shower.

Of course, the second the shut them, she was opening them to her phone telling her it was two A.M. She groaned and picked herself off the couch to shuffle into her bedroom, and when she got there, she peeled off the clothes from her body and let them fall, not caring about the hamper just a foot away. She’d do it tomorrow after class.

The shower was quick, and she crawled into bed a few minutes later, glancing out the window at the stars that were still in the night sky. Even if she tried to avoid thinking about it, she couldn’t, and her mind drifted to when she was a young girl and would stare out the window in her bedroom back in Gotham, watching the spotlight come alive and paint the silhouette of the bat symbol against the night sky.

She missed them. She missed them a lot. Missed eating meals at a full table and the laughter in the manor. Hell, she even missed being ignored, because at least then she could see familiar faces every day. Now, it was wake up, go to work, go to class, then come home. And the process repeated every morning. She was alone in a city where she didn’t know anyone except for one forensic scientist and his wife, going to a college that didn’t even have her real identity. She’d not even said the name “(Y/N) Wayne” out loud for fear that someone with super hearing would hear her and tell her father, instead going by “Melisandre Hale”, a twenty-one-year-old born and raised Central City citizen going to community college. It pained her to admit, that with her decision to grant herself the freedom she desired, it came with a heavy price, and that was the loneliness. And it was worse compared to what it was like back then.

Sighing, she rolled over and pulled the covers up over her head, hoping that when she shut her eyes, she’d stop thinking about what she left behind. Unfortunately, the universe and her mind were never kind, and as she drifted to sleep, she saw the pained faces of her family.

[chocominnie]

One Last Time 06 —  Pjm. (M)

⇢ pairing: Jimin X Reader

⇢ Genre: Idol!Jimin, Exbf!Jimin, model!reader, sad au, fluff, tons of smut, angst

⇢ Synopsis: Your idol ex boyfriend Jimin cheated on you. You two have been broken up for a while now and the media has been keeping track of you and him. You’re trying to get over him, but the things that happen inbetween makes you re-think the entire breakup, and so does Jimin…

⇢ Song : xxxxx

⇢ Word Count : 3k

⇢ Warnings: dominant jimin, makeout sessions, this is honestly a sad angsty au, cheating, pregnancy, unprotected and protected sex, a bunch of sex, no really a LOT of sexual themes too, I know I’m forgetting some but sorry in advance!

⇢ Copyright: please do NOT repost, translate, or modify my works in any way, shape or form, on any platform. If found doing so , it is considered as plagiarism and appropriate LEGAL action will be taken

⇢ Authors note: This is my mini series for the summer! Get your tissues, things to take your anger out on, and sit back and watch the drama unfold. Shall we begin?

‘‘ I swear I am going to have someone beat your ass Park Jimin!’’

‘‘ It’s not my fucking fault! I broke up with her but you lead her to the apartment  knowing she’ll follow!’‘

‘‘ Damn it Jimin im going to kick your ass!’‘

Your eyes pop open just in time to see Jungkook on-top of Jimin hitting him repeatedly on the face while Jimin manages to push him off of him and begin his fist fight against him. He straddles Jungkook to the floor and punches are thrown left and right. Now the sudden headache of seeing the two brothers fight has began in your head and you cannot stand hearing the groaning and yelling between them. Bringing your hand up to signal them to stop, you realize they don’t even know you’ve awakened.

 Jungkook on the other hand is not having it so he throws Jimin off of him harshly making Jimin groan. The way he grabs Jimin’s collar with venom fast strength finally gives you the courage to yell out to them.

‘‘ Stop! Damn it, you two are like literal fucking teenagers. Act your age!”

The both of them turn their heads toward you slowly. Jungkook drops his fist, which was going to connect with Jimin’s face. You take a good look at them. Freshly bruised from each-other. Great.

‘‘ You think fighting is going to solve this problem huh? Get over here now.” You say, eyebrows furrowed in anger.

Jungkook gives Jimin a death glare before rushing to your side and feeling your forehead. You slap his hand away and pull him down by his shirt only for him to recieve a harsh slap to the forehead.

‘‘ Shit!” He stumbles back and rubs his forehead. He shoots you a glare, wanting to yell at you but doesn’t.  You motion for Jimin to come to you too. He raises his eyebrows in amusement.

‘‘ I don’t think it’s necessary for you to do that..” He says, as if your death glare towards him isn’t enough to tell him you aren’t joking whatsoever.

He gets the memo when you disregard his comments before hanging his head low and bending down a little to your height. One slap against the forehead and two across the wrists.

‘‘ That’s for you fighting He was only looking out for me. The last two were for having a psychotic girlfriend who almost killed me. Look at my wrist!’‘

You hold them out to see two I.V’s, one for blood transfusion and the other a regular for nutrients on your right wrist. Both of them bandaged up which does need to be changed because of the old blood.

‘‘ I know and I’m sorry. I didn’t know she would be this upset.’‘ Jimin says, hanging his head low. Jungkook rolls his eyes at him out of annoyance.

‘‘ Whatever. I already called my lawyer for your case. Since Isabel tried to attempt murder to you, you will win this case for sure.’‘ He proudly leans against the wall hoping to atleast crack a smile from you.

You don’t smile though. The last thing you need is another scandal. If this were to make the news and blogs right now then it could be a bad thing. You’ve just started your modeling career again and right now would be the worst time to have something like that. 

Jimin leans on the wall with his hands in his pockets, still avoiding locking eyes with you which is something he usually does. Something tells you that he’s hiding something. Something that you just can’t put your finger on.

‘‘ The police will come shortly for witness statements and your statement. Then they’ll call for a court date as soon as possible.’‘ Jimin’s voice low, illuminating with a hint of sadness.

Out of curiosity you want to say something more. To ask him whats going on and why he’s acting rather like this. It’s really not like him. He’s hiding something for sure and you just cannot put your finger on it. You just agree and pull out your phone. A missed call from Ryan. You try texting her and she almost always responds immediately. This time she doesn’t. What’s really going on?

You don’t know but Ryan took it upon herself to pay Isabel a visit. Usually visitors aren’t allowed for people in holding but with a little sweet talk of hers she got to get atleast 10 minutes to talk. That’s all she needs. When it comes to you, her bestfriend, she never messes around. Hearing the news from Jungkook yesterday she almost went luncatic. Throwing things at him, calling his brother every disrespectful name in the book. Oh she hates him now for sure.

Jungkook had to stop her from going over to the hospital to beat his ass into a bloody pulp for causing you pain and getting together with that crazy girl just to break up with her. Ryan was heated. 

But now she can take this heat and serve some to Isabel right now. She walks with confidence into the room. Nothing and nobody can stop her and if they even try, she’ll chew them up and spit them out. Catching a glimpise of Isabel sitting at the table with her hands cuffed and security next to her, Ryan shoots her a devious glare.

‘‘ What brings you here? I expected my boyfr-’‘

A harsh slam from her hands hit the table as she bends a little to her seated level, ‘‘ He’ not your fucking boyfriend. You were lucky I wasn’t there to beat your fucking ass.”

The guard tenses up at the sounds and sudden movements. Ryan notices, and decides to take her seat to calm down before she’s the one sitting behind the jail bars too. 

‘‘ Ryan.. I thought we were friends?’‘ She frowns, pouting her lips while fake wiping tears away. 

Ryan scoffs,shaking her head ever so slowly with a devilish grin on her face. “ We aren’t. Don’t let me catch you un-attended without your manager or body guard.. Isabel.’’

Isabel laughs one of her evil laughs, throwing her head back then coming back up, “ Oh how cute. Is this a threat from little ol’ you? Me and Jimin were doing just fine before your bestfriend had decided to enter his life again. I’m not the only bad guy here. She should know boundaries for taken men. Ex’s aren’t supposed to be firendly and lovey dovey. Spending nights and going everywhere with each other. Especially when one’s a famous idol with another idol girlfriend. Do I make myself clear?”

“ Maybe you should take that up with your hoe of a boyfriend. He’s the one who can’t leave her alone.” She yells, inches away from Isabel’s face. The two stare at each other long and hard. Isabel is no match for Ryan though.

The guard clears his throat to break the two’s glares. The tension is thick in the air.

“ If you ever touch yn again, I’ll make sure you’re the one in the hospital this time around.”

‘‘ You’ll all see. I’ll win this court case. Trust me… there’s things you do not know.” 

Ryan rolls her eyes, strutting her way out the room with the sound of her heels clicking right behind her. Consider the message recieved. 

It’s been one week after the situation. In which in between those days you were dismissed from the hospital and have been in at Jimin’s house ever since. You didn’t want to be here. You want to be at home with your cat, Clara. Jungkook’s been going over to feed and play with her. Jimin kept pleading for you not to return home just yet because it could be a danger to you. It makes sense. You never know what Isabel has up her sleeve. 

So you’ve been sitting here doing the same old thing everyday. Eat, watch movies and netflix tv shows,  sleep, and repeat.

Jimin would come in and out of his home studio to check in on you. He still has to work on producing and singing his songs. He’d bring the food and your medicine he prepared per usual,  kiss your forehead, and go right back out to producing his highly anticipated album.

It all seems fake to you. Something is off. Something is not being told to you. You can feel it in your gut but can’t put a finger on it.

‘‘ This is so cliche.’‘ You murmur to yourself, switching the flat-screen T.V off.

And as if on cue Jimin comes inside your- well his room with a glass of water and prescribed pain killers for you. The slight smile on his face makes you want to smile but you don’t.

‘‘ Smile for ocne yn. Do you not like staying here?’‘ He says, sitting next to you on the side of the bed and places the glass in your hands.

You furrow your eyebrows at him, taking the two pills out of his palm. “ No.. but be honest with me Jimin okay?”

His face turns a quick shade of pink then pale as if you had said the wrong choice of words at the wrong time. As if he had seen a ghost at this very moment. That’s not a good sign at all.

‘‘ Are you.. hiding something from me?’‘

The atmosphere is thick and silence fills the room. You don’t say anything and he doesn’t either. Your eyes meet his and for once they don’t pull away first. 

Jimin doesn’t know how to break it to you though. It’s now or never.

‘‘ She will never leave me.”

You bite your lip hard, “ What do you mean?”

“ That she said that she’d do everything to ruin our relationship if we continue to persue one. She’d spready rumors about you to Dispatch. Make a scene whenver you’re near me. Anything she can do, she will do it.”

You don’t know how to take this all in. You knew Isabel was possesive but not this possesive. The thought of her doing things on purpose for you to make everyone hate you makes you want to cry. To just bawl your eyes out right here right now. You can’t.. you won’t do it. 

You won’t give in because thats what she wants. To make you cry. To ruin your reputation and work. Jimin came back into your life and of course you don’t know what to do or how to deal with it. But this is what you wanted right? You’ve been longing for you and him to get a second chance. It’s you. You’re the one who’s been putting things off and not letting things go with the flow. Maybe he came back to you because he realized how wrong he was for cheating on you. For leaving you behind. For not seeing things for truly how it is. 

You knew Isabel was bad luck from the beginning. Now is the time to try and take back what was originally yours. That will hurt her more than ever. 

“ She needs to have a reality check. Not everything revolves around her.”

‘‘ I agree. Putting her behind bars might give her a reality check. It should serve her right for harming people.” Jimin sighs. 

The silence is thick. You both don’t know what to say and it’s sure as hell awkward more than ever right now. Until that silence breaks. 

‘‘ I feel like you aren’t being your true self to me. If we are getting things out now.” 

His sudden comment makes you lift your head up from playing with the comforter. “ What do you mean?’’

‘‘ You.. don’t want to take actions on what you feel, say, or want to do with or about me. It’s killing me inside.”

He’s right. You do try to push your feelings aside no matter what the cause is. It’s just you trying to not set yourself up for hearbreak again. You do want him. You do want everything to do with him. Considering the things that happened in the past, it’s no doubt theres a fence guarding your heart from intruders. 

You exhale out heavily, “ Im just.. scared.’’

‘‘ Of? “

‘‘ Being hurt again.”

Dead silence again. This time he’s the one trying to come up with words to redirect your view of him. Yes, he broke your heart in the worst way possible. He wants you to see he’s changed. 

Jimin bites his lip, voice shaky when he begins talking again. ‘‘ How can I show you that i’m not the same anymore. Im not I promise you. I want you to see I have changed. I know it’s my fault. I destroyed you but let me fix it.”

It’s all come down to this. You’ve wanted this and now is the chance to get it. Now is the chance to have what was once yours. But the feeling of doubt had taken its course on you at the worst time.

‘‘ Jimin.. how do I know that for sure?’‘ You say, unintentionally fluttering your eyes at him. To you it’s to prevent from letting tears fall. 

Jimin see’s it as that specific thing you used to do when you wanted him. When you craved him and would drop hints. To be completely honest, you do crave him. You do want him. Make-up sex was something you two used to do often. It was your toxic way of saying im sorry. 

Somehow you want to put that toxic thing into action right now. As fucked up as it is, that’s how you two know you’re sorry towards each other. Actions speak louder than words. 

He closes his eyes for a quick second before clenching his jaw to contain himself. Your weak spot.

‘‘ Stop doing that. Unless you want to start something you don’t want to finish.” 

You smile just a little, hoping he’d get the memo. “ What if I do want to start and finish it..”

As if a car alarm went off, Jimin’s eyes pop back open with a suprised look. That’s the last thing he’d thought he’d be hearing from you. “ Are you sure about that? I mean we don’t have t-”

You lean in closer to where you guys are inches apart, his lips softly rubbing against yours. “ I’m all for it.”

Within seconds, Jimin’s shirt is removed off of you only revealing your blue panties which have became a little soaked with your wetness. He takes in the scent of you before his mouth connects with your thighs, slightly sucking to leave bruises on you.

‘‘ Jimin.. don’t tease me.”  You sigh, laying fully down to spread your legs even more. He hums against your skin making you catch chills up and down your spine.

‘‘ That’s my specialty baby. You know that.” He trails a kiss with each word all the way down to your core where he dips a finger inside. You tense up attempting to close your legs. He doesn’t allow it, spreading them open harshly again. 

‘’ Jimin-’‘ You barely utter before he begins to move his fingers in and out of you slowly. You let out a whine to try and make him go faster but it doesn’t work.

He comes up to your mouth and plants a wet, sloppy kiss. “ No whining. You’re gonna get what you want. Just relax baby.”

Is all he tells you before he goes back down to your core to tend to your desires.

The first lick between your legs is ever so gentle. Too gentle for you right now considering that you want release badly and Jimin knew exactly that. He opens his mouth and swirls his tongue up and down your slit. A groan leaves his mouth once he gets a taste of you which sends a vibration to your sensitive bud.

Each time his tongue laps against you your body jerked and shook but that only makes his tongue go faster. Sending you into a moaning and groaning mess as you tug on his hair.

“Mmh you even taste the same like always.” He moans with a smirk.

“Jimin please-” you cry out, locking your fingers into his hair when a finger is inserted into your dripping wet hole.

‘‘ No whining babygirl.’‘ His voice gentle as ever when he removes the finger inside of you making you pout a little. But that pout soon turned into your eyes becoming wide when he starts to take off his shirt, then grey sweatpants, then his underwear where his thick cock springs up.

Your eyes can’t leave his body. God it’s been a while. He looks pretty damn good. You wan’t to take all of his length in your mouth right now. To hear him praise you about how good your mouth feels against him. God you want it right now. 

He gives it a few strokes before walking over to you. Just before hovering over you, he gives you a passionate kiss while lifting up your legs and positioning them to his liking. Missionary.

The tip of him pokes at the entrance of you, teasing in and out. Soon enough he enters you slowly making both of you moan together.

You still wrap and fit around his member smug as ever, and he could not believe it. The feeling of familiarity of being inside you sends him into a moaning mess with each stroke. You can’t contain your moans and screams. He feels way too good. 

Jimin begins to deep-stroke you by pulling all the way out and slamming back in. You scream his name out in pleasure as your nails scratch up his toned back. Wet sounds fill the room with him picking up his pace. You take a glimpse of him only to admire his figure right now. Forehead forming sweat beads while he groans and moans biting his plump pink lips.

Your breathing becomes faster when that familiar feeling soon starts to take over. You turn your head to the side and let out a string of moans. Jimin isn’t having that though. His hand grabs your face gently and makes you make eye contact with him. Your legs start shaking as your head tilts back moans getting more faster. You finally let out one last one in sync with him, his hot sperm shoots inside of you.

Jimin pulls out, breathing heavily and collapses ontop of you. You let out a small grunt with the sudden extra body upon you, then giggle at him when he lays his head lays against your chest. This is what you wanted. He’s true. He’s sorry. 

‘’ I love you.”

That word surprises you. You weren’t prepared for it. Somehow though, you enjoy the fact that he’s said it to you. Love. Jimin’s love. Your love. 

‘’ I love you much more Jimin.’’ 

[lisinfleur]

The Perfect Date

The request:

Author’s Notes | It seems the family has more than one genius. Universe | Vikings Pairing | Ivar x Reader Info | Modern Age AU, requested by anon for 5CW Ivar II. Posted for HTGI Event. Words | 1857 ⁑ Warnings: Some self-ableism from Ivar, cursing.

It was more than time for you to move on over that childish passion.

You had been cultivating that hidden love for so long that you couldn't even remember when it was the first time you'd looked at Ivar and thought he was the owner of your heart.

But it was past the time to be over with that and move on with your life.

You were his friend.

Period!

You weren't his kind of girl. You mean... Look at Freydis! She was completely different from you, right? And Margrethe before her...

It is ok that Margrethe got the record of banging four of the five Lothbrok brothers, but Ivar was on her list, and you weren't like her.

At least, you never felt pretty like the two of them.

At least...

At least, Ivar never looked at you with those flickering eyes he had for them here or there in the story of your lives.

So, when Hvitserk told you he'd settled a date for you with someone he was sure was perfect to be with you, you've decided to give him a chance. He also knew you pretty well, and if he was saying someone could conquer your heart, then probably this person could have a chance to really do it.

So, at the date he settled, you got yourself prepared. Your best dress, soft makeup. Gods, you even made your hair in a saloon to feel prettier for that night!

However, the last person you thought you would find in that restaurant was Ivar: sitting at one of the tables, he seemed to be as prepared as you were but waiting for someone who dared to get late for whatever they had settled together.

Oh, great.

Your past and your feelings would be right there while you would be trying to surpass them.

Fuck!

At first, you tried to dodge his presence, sitting on a table that was a little away from his.

But, as the minutes passed, your heart shrunk by seeing he was becoming angrier as the person he was waiting for didn't show up. And your "perfect date" was also getting late...

Did Hvitserk lose his good finger? He knew how much you hated people who weren't punctual!

When you noticed, your date was about ten minutes late! And Ivar's angry grunt reached your ears as your friend seemed to be frustratedly threatening to get out of the restaurant.

You could almost read Ivar's thoughts.

Another failure.

OF COURSE, she wouldn't come! Nobody wants to date the crippled.

And that whole ableist bullshit you knew he would be thinking throughout days, maybe months after that failed date.

Fuck the perfect guy! You got up and walked towards Ivar's table, pretending you had just arrived and taking a seat right beside him - just to avoid taking the place his date would be taking in front of him if she was ever to come anyway.

"Ivar! What a coincidence!" you tried to start as if you didn't see each other there.

But Ivar's surprised blues told you your dodging skills were better than you thought: he didn't really have seen you before.

Or the thing with the dress and makeup had really gone right somehow...

"Whoa... You're pretty, Y/N".

Your cheeks burned hot! Did he have any idea of what was that simple sentence doing to you?

"T... thanks," you answered. "You look great too. Occupied?"

His eyes looked at the empty chair in front of his table, and he sighed.

"I guess I'm not. Want some fries?"

Your favorites!

Ivar knew everything about you. And you, about him.

"And ribs!"

His favorites... Ivar couldn't avoid smiling.

One hour of conversation and the two of you had completely forgotten the late dates that never came.

Two hours and Ivar was betting you would be drunk with half of a quarter he was able to drink!

When the two of you took notice, five hours had passed from the time settled for your dates, and no one had come through those doors searching for you guys.

Nevertheless, that was the best night the two of you shared together. You had gotten rid of your heels under the table, he had left the fancy coat on the back of his chair, and the two of you were now side by side on the table, playing with each other at the cellphones with an interesting application he had found to play hnefatafl against you online.

"That's not fair! You always win!" you complained after losing the tenth match for a proud Ivar smiling beside you.

But his smile had a different tone. A gentle tone.

"Thank you," he mumbled, confusing you.

"For what? For repeatedly losing ​to you in this complicated game?" you tried.

"For making this shit of a night something good for me to remember," he answered, impressing a serious tone to the conversation you'd started.

"Ivar," you mumbled.

"No, Y/N. This would've been a disaster if you weren't here to make this night perfect!" he completed, looking at you. "I'll never listen to Hvitserk ever again, but I cannot say I regret coming to this date he settled for me. You were here. And it was amazing to be with you tonight."

"Wait..." you said, looking at him. "Hvitserk settled a date for you  here?"

"Today, at..." he started.

"...eight." you finished, and your eyes became large. "Oh, my gods..."

"Y/N, what happened?" Ivar asked.

For the first time since you knew him, not being the one able to figure out the whole picture.

"Your date didn't come, did she?" you asked.

"No. The 'girl that would be perfect to me' doesn't exist, and I got Hvitserk's stupid pun."

Oh, no. He got it wrong...

"That's not the actual pun, Ivar," you mumbled, feeling your cheeks burning hot once again.

"What do you mean?" Ivar asked, already annoyed things were happening faster than his mind could understand.

"My date didn't come either," you said, looking at him. "I had a date today, here, at eight... Hvitserk said it would be the perfect guy to conquer my heart..."

"The motherfucker decided to make the same stupid prank with the two of us!"

Oh, how charming... There was a detail you always thought was cute about your brilliant best friend: he would always become dumb when he was too angry to think properly.

"Indeed, he pranked us, Ivar. But..."

Shit!

Why was it always so hard to tell him the truth?

"I'll punch his face for hurting you like this!" Ivar said, disposed to defend you with all his strength, but you held his hand, looking at him in the eyes.

"It is you, Ivar," you said, breaking his focus and causing him to look at you, confused.

It took him a second to figure out what you were talking about. And then another ten seconds for his face to frown in complete disbelief.

"Excuse me, what?" he asked, looking at you. "Are you telling me Hvitserk settled us on a date in the same place and at the same time trying us to..." he stopped.

His brain was finally making the right math this time.

"He was trying for us to date each other," you mumbled.

Already feeling, by his reaction, that he would somehow burst into laughs and say his brother was completely insane.

That you could never be perfect in any way to conquer his heart.

However, his head leaned, and he looked at you with a surprised expression.

"Sometimes I think there is a genius inside my brother's mind that he drowns every day with the amount of different alcoholic shit he drinks," he said.

Causing you to burst into laughing the way you would always laugh at his jokes.

Only you were able to understand his jokes, no matter how deep they were. And you would always think they were funny.

You would always be there for him, by his side, making his worst days better and his better days the best.

How come he'd never noticed this?

You were still laughing when Ivar's fingers touched your chin, catching your eyes.

"Hvitserk was right... You are the perfect woman to conquer my heart."

You froze.

And it was your time to frown and look at him, taken aback.

"Excuse me? What?" you mumbled, causing him to smile.

"Unexpected, but predictable," he mumbled, looking at you with a larger smile. "You know me better than anyone else. You like the same things I do. And you make me happy... You're prettier than any other woman I know... And by the way you're shocked by these conclusions now, I can almost say I finally discovered what's the only secret you've always kept from me..."

Fuck!

Fuck fuck fuck a thousand times!

You'd always told him that: there was only one thing about you he would never discover. And it was that he was the love you had hidden in your heart as deep as you could to keep your secret safe.

"And... What would be this secret, if you're so smart, Mr. Smartass?" you said.

Trying to keep your pose until the moment he approached, sealing his lips on yours all of a sudden, surprising you with the most delicious stolen kiss you had ever tasted in your life.

You melted in his hands, sighing against his mouth.

As his hands landed on your waist, yours embraced his neck and it was almost as if the two of you had been made to embrace each other like that.

The kiss didn't last too long, but it was enough to feel like an era for you. And Ivar smiled against your lips, fully cocky about his next words.

"I'm the one who has your heart," he said, revealing the only secret of yours he'd never laid hands on. "It's mine... You're mine. How could it be different?”

His fingers caressed your face and you noticed he was genuinely happy with that discovery

"I didn't want to lose our friendship," You mumbled, justifying your silence for so long beside him.

"We didn't lose it," he said, "It just evolved to a better level," he completed.

"And it was about time!" Hvitserk's voice sounded from the restaurant's door.

"You motherfucker!" You grunted at him.

"You little asshole!" Ivar growled.

And Hvitserk burst into laughter: his plan was a success and he smiled, throwing the car keys to Ivar who caught them.

"Mother told me to take you home, but I don't want to bother the love doves..." he joked just to receive a pair of fries from you and a cube of ice from Ivar's cup against his head. "Fuck, stop it!" he laughed. "You should be thanking me!"

"We're throwing food on you! Count it as gratitude!" Ivar joked back causing you to laugh out loud.

Hvitserk crossed his arms, smiling at the two of you.

"'Take care of each other," he said.

You would remember to prepare his favorite Damascus pie as a reward for being the perfect friend.

You couldn't be happier with the date he chose for you.

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[effei-s]

anderson and his paradox:

about the duality of a man.

(aka see me rambling in this 1500-words long essay about how much i love him)

the first half of his paradox: he’s more than capable of love. i would even dare to say that love is a driving force behind 99% of his actions.

let’s look at examples:

adam’s mom (aurora):

i’ve said it before, i’ll say it again: he worshiped the ground she walked on. it’s a fact. it’s what adam said about him in unravel me: i know he loved my mom. it was always her, everything was about her.

her death was probably the worst thing that happened to him, the loss that made him truly suffer, hence him constantly talking about how he wants to shield warner from it. that whole thing with lena is not about control itself, it’s about warner not making his own mistakes. there’s a genuine desire to protect there.

evie:

considering how little information is given about them it’s honestly amazing how much there lies between the lines (can mafi write everything the way she’s written them, please?).

they’re the perfect example of my favourite type of soulmates. he’s actually second worst person on this planet, because first place is already taken by her. there’s no one who knows him better then her (she knew about adam = she knew about aurora). there’s no one who understands him better than her (them being two vital parts of the RE from the very beginning). it doesn’t matter how much they fight, he trusts her with his life no questions asked: he comes to her before ignite me and asks her to make him immortal. considering evie’s words in defy me about how she was ready to kill him for trying to kill juliette in unravel me it was very risky of him (because if there’s one person that could slit open his throat and kill him for good, because he let his guard down, it would be evie). he trusts her to do her job and has no doubts about her capability to succeed. his first reaction to her death is ‘what? it can’t be real!’ because evie for him is almost untouchable entity ‘if they couldn’t hurt me, they sure as hell won’t be able to hurt her’. when he realizes that it’s true he’s terrified.

and anderson doesn’t do terrified.

/i really don’t know what can scream LOVE louder than this/

warner:

we can’t not talk about warner here.

warner betrays him and he still saves warner life. you need to remember that the only reason why warner is still alive in defy me, after he committed treason, is because anderson protects him.

by that time in restore me/defy me anderson, who technically lost his position as a supreme, still managed to save warner’s life /because he’s cool like that/.

“I had to call in a number of favors to have you transported here unharmed. The council was going to vote to have you executed for treason, and I was able to convince them otherwise.”

even evie doesn’t dare to fuck with warner because she knows anderson will come at them with the wrath of god.

“If Aaron were anyone else’s son,” she says, “I would’ve had him executed. I’d have him executed right now, if I could. Unfortunately, I alone do not have the authority.”

anyone else’s son.

so yeah the problem here is not that warner is one of the heirs of the RE. the problem here is that he’s anderson’s son.

plus his entire conflict with juliette is rooted in the fact that she

a) tried to hurt warner

unravel me:

I cannot allow him to protect a person who has attempted to kill him.

restore me:

The monster we’ve bred has tried to kill my own son.

b) tried to take warner from him.

restore me:

Worse, she’s become a distraction for Aaron. He’s become—in a toxic turn of events—impossibly drawn to her, with no apparent regard for his own safety. I have no idea what she’s done to his mind.

and then in imagine me he declines warner’s offer.

“You would be willing to sacrifice yourself—your youth and your health and your entire life—to let that damaged, deranged girl continue to walk the earth? Do you even understand what you’re saying? You have every opportunity—all the potential—and you’d be willing to throw it all away? In exchange for what?Do you even know the kind of life to which you’d be sentencing yourself ?”

/i dare you to tell me he didn’t love warner, i dare you/

juliette:

as a cherry on top, there’s juliette, of course.

when we’re talking about hate we’re talking about juliette, no questions asked. i truly believe that his hatred for her was stronger than his love for aurora and evie combined. and still what brings him down for good is not hate for her but adoration of her (oh irony, my irony).

after 12 years of hatred, after 12 years of her being ‘the bane of his existence’, he still ended up spending his dying breath to make sure she will be safe.

“I ordered you to remain silent,” he says, glancing back at her. “And I am now ordering you to remain safe, at all costs. Do you hear me, Juliette? Do y—”

“Kill them,” Anderson gasps, blood staining the edges of his lips. “Kill them all. Kill anyone who stands in your way.”

just like defy-me warner, imagine-me juliette survives ONLY because of anderson.

he even apologized to her at one point.

“You know, I realize now that I’ve been too hard on you. I’ve put you through too much. Tested your loyalty perhaps too much. But you and I have a long history, Juliette. And it’s not easy for me to forgive. I certainly don’t forget.”

anderson??? admitting??? that??? what??? he??? did??? was??? wrong???

and not because he needs to get off the hook, but because he actually feels like it was too much???

ALERT THE MASSES, THE WORLD NEEDS TO HEAR ABOUT IT!!!

btw, do my eyes deceive me, or did this ‘not easy to forgive’ mean that he actually already FORGAVE her for trying to kill him?

anyhow if that wasn’t enough look at this:

“What could possibly go wrong?” Anderson asks. “She’s more powerful than any of them, and completely obedient to me. To us. To the movement. You all know as well as I do that she’s proven her loyalty again and again. She’d be able to capture them in a matter of minutes.”

do you see it?

it’s the same thing that happened with evie: no one here is strong enough to hurt her (oh, i can see some PROJECTIONS here happening).

it’s funny how the way Anderson acts is EXACTLY what I expected from Warner. he isn't just talking about how she can do anything, when moment comes he ACTS.

Anderson is guarding Juliette. The same Anderson who’s spent so much of his energy trying to murder her—is now standing in front of her with his arms out, guarding her with his life.

i’d still prefer for her or him to kill ibrahim but even without it... he says you can burn this place to the ground, I don’t care as long as you’re safe, he chooses her over not only the RE, he chooses her over WARNER.

/and you expect me not to ship this??? sure, jen, i’m not gonna/

conclusion number 1: yes, my beautiful people, everything Anderson does in one way or another tied to love.

the second half of his paradox: love doesn’t make him a better person, it doesn’t even make him fully human. you’d think that if person capable of such strong feelings there’s supposed to be something worth saving, just like castle’s said:

“Of course he’s a regular person, son. That’s exactly the point. We’re all just regular people, when you strip us down. There’s nothing to be afraid of when you look at Anderson; he’s just as human as you or me. Just as terrified. And I’m sure if he could go back and do his life over again, he’d make very different decisions.”

(castle is a fucking idiot, never listen to people like him or you’re gonna end up neck-deep in shit)

but at the end of the day anderson remains a fucking monster.

his love for aurora doesn’t stop him from marrying another woman and having a child with her because it’s the easiest way to social climb.

his love and devotion to evie and re (mostly evie, because evie is the reestablishment) doesn’t stop him from playing games with juliette and putting everything and everyone at risk just because he’s bored.

i won’t even start commenting on warner’s situation, because otherwise we’re gonna sit here for days and i’ll end up with 100k words essay about them.

and even his enamourment with juliette doesn’t actually protect her from his violent nature. even this perfect, absolutely perfect juliette still has to prove herself (cut off her finger to show her loyalty). it still very easy for him to hurt her.

conclusion number 2: him being in love, him caring about someone, him trusting someone doesn’t change his fundamental nature. he still remains a destructive force put into a human body.

he’s a fucking satan.

and that’s exactly why i love him.

[persephone-andromeda]

Three Words (i)

Summary: Three words shatters the potential for a relationship but will it be able to recover?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: Reader calls Bucky ‘James’, angst

Author’s note: Hi everyone! It feels weird flexing this fanfiction muscle again after so long but I’m back at it again! The second part will be up sometime over the weekend. Happy reading!

Three words, that’s all it took. Three words to backtrack on a relationship, an understanding between two people, no matter how distant it might have been to begin with. Maybe you were friends, maybe you could dream of something more but any chances of that are slim now.

He wasn’t the only one who had suffered at HYDRA’s hand and now with the emergence of other powerful figures on the horizon, he wouldn’t be the last. He, who had been through so much, and you, suffering endlessly for no apparent reason other than to just exist, had beaten the odds for a chance at a new life, a good one.

You didn’t know him all that well, only from his Winter Soldier days when everyone was afraid of him, even Pierce, even though he would not admit it. You were a weapon too, not to the same extremes, but you made sure to stay out of his way.

You didn’t plan to find him in Bucharest but when he vanished from the sudden appearance of the Avengers, you took that as a sign that you weren’t ready yet. But when Thanos didn’t wipe out half of all life, your paths crossed again on the streets of Brooklyn and you thought for a few seconds that he had found you.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” he told you gently. “I’m here to offer you a home.”

You didn’t even know that he had noticed you before. You thought you were just another faceless name, another weapon to be used. You were wrong. They didn’t have complete control. You still made sure to stay out of his way but the frequent passings in the halls turned to little smiles and now a silence between…coworkers on top of the roof.

The stars were shining, the lights on the tower were all turned off so you could see the twinkling against the darkened sky. It was supposed to be perfect. But he was staring at you, a kiss exchanged, and doubts swirled around in your mind too fast for your mouth to stop.

You had stepped back away from him and was looking anywhere else instead of his eyes.

“What did you do that for?”

He furrowed his brow.

“Did you not want me to kiss you?”

You scoffed and started picking up the blanket from where it was laying on the ground. You could feel the traces of his warmth still lingering on the fabric as you held it against your body as a shield.

“Why did you do it?”

He’s quiet for a moment.

“You looked beautiful.”

“So, you just go around kissing people?”

“God, (Y/N), if I knew that you were going to react this way, I wouldn’t have done it at all!”

“Good,” you say and shift further away from him.

You look at your feet for a moment against the gravel of the rooftop before looking back up at him. He’s simply looking at you again, but you know what he’s looking for. How are you supposed to tell him? A kiss is simple, and it doesn’t have to have meaning to it. People kiss all the time just to kiss. But how is it supposed to be special with it’s yet another thing taken from you?

“You should have asked.”

“I’m sorry.”

You exit the roof and go down the stairs back onto solid ground. Your mind is foggy and a thousand different memories of a thousand stolen moments pass by too fast to catch. But you can feel the pain behind all of them. How can anything be special?

You scurry away back to your room and toss the blanket onto the floor to rid yourself of the memory. To make sure, you sweep it away under your bed so that you won’t be tempted to look on it. You have a moment of peace laying down on your bed before a knock sounds at your door. The soft whir of his arm gives him away and you’re not in the proper state to say anything to him. You’d only end up hurting him more than you already have.

“Go away, James,” You tell him, using his real name for him to understand.

“I’m just returning something,” he says, muffled behind the door.

You furrow your brow and then feel up to your neck where the locket hanged. You wrench open the door and in his flesh hand is the locket glimmering under the soft lights of the hallway. You stretch out your hand to take it from him, but he pulls back.

“I’m really not in the mood. Give it back.”

“I’m sorry. I should have asked you.”

“Give me my locket,” you try again but he holds firm.

“Would you listen to my apology?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Anger starts to flare up again and you take a breath before you speak.

“I’m tired. Give me my locket so I can go to bed.”

Your hand is shaking now as you await the pressure of the metal back in your hand.

“Okay,” he says simply and hands it back over.

Once it’s secured in your hand, you run your thumb over the smooth metal of the front before securing it back around your neck.

“Don’t ever pull that shit again. You know how much this means to me.”

“(Y/N)-”

“I hate you.” Instantly, you feel the acid make its way up your throat. It isn’t true. It’s not his fault. He doesn’t deserve this reaction. “Just leave me alone.”

You shut the door and after a few tense moments, you hear his footsteps retreat down the hallway before you let yourself cry.

****

“You should talk to him,” Wanda says gently as she gently brushes your hair.

It’s morning now and you knew from the moment you woke, that she would be there, as she always was. You don’t know where you would be without Wanda to help you through your tough days. Working through your traumas is not something that is easy to ask for or even to talk about, but she understands almost better than anyone else.

“I don’t know how,” you say softly.

“You don’t have to tell him everything. You can say that he should have asked because no one ever asked you to do anything you wanted to.” You swallow and turn away from her reflection in the mirror. “He would understand.”

“That means telling him that I was under HYDRA’s thumb too. He’s already been through enough.”

“So have you,” she speaks gently before setting the hairbrush down. “You cannot compare your trauma to his. That’s not fair.” She starts to part your hair into a braid.

“I know.” You take a moment to pause. “I don’t know where to begin.”

“Tell him about the locket. He knows it means a lot to you, but he doesn’t know why.”

Only Wanda knows. She has seen everything but she cannot feel the pain of the memories. Maybe it’s better that way. The locket was the last gift you received from your parents before HYDRA took you away. It’s the only proof that you had a family, that you were normal before they made you into a machine of destruction.

“It feels too intimate,” you say softly. “I don’t know if I can.”

Wanda is quiet for a moment as she is slowly braiding your hair down your back.

“You don’t have to tell him right away but soon. They’re going on a mission next week and Steve said it might be a long one.”

You nod and face the mirror again. Wanda looks at you for a moment before returning her focus to your hair.

“Steve-”

“He’s not putting you out there. He won’t until you’re ready. He knows.”

You sigh in relief and look away again out to the skyline.

“Is he?” You ask.

Wanda pauses.

“I don’t know.”

[patchwork-panda]

“I won’t tell a soul” (BSD Nakahara Chuuya x Reader #3. Complete!)

“Title: “I won’t tell anybody”/“誰にも言わない”  Genre: Romance Rating: PG-13 for alcohol usage and mild violence/language and a kiss scene. /////>w<;; Reader-insert is written as femme and 20+ Plot: You meet Chuuya at a wine bar and over time, you become close. Your regular meetings become something you both enjoy so when Chuuya stops visiting for several weeks, you begin to worry... When you meet again, you learn the truth... But do you care? Mini Fic is written in 2nd person. title is reference to new Utada Hikaru single                 

CW: street harassment, physical violence

AKA Chuuya saves reader and you get a kiss/get together :3

AO3 link for full fic: HERE

Part 1 Here Part 2 Here                                        

It’s well past last call when you leave. 

You ended up staying until past closing and, perhaps out of a feeling of guilt, the mustachioed bartender decided not to kick you out.

Because his “feeling” had been wrong.

Chuuya hadn’t come.

The bartender had offered to call you a cab but you adamantly refused. You wanted a nice long walk in the cool night air, which would hopefully clear your senses a little. You don’t want to go to bed tonight thinking about Chuuya or you might just wake up crying.

Because this was the last night.

No more.

You needed to move on.

As you leave the bar, you see a group of men, a bunch of hoodlums by the look of it, gathered near the alleyway to your far right. One or two of them give you an appraising look (you wish your skirt were longer but you make no move to tug it down) and to your disgust, another whispers something into the ear of yet another of their companions, who suddenly leers at you.

Ugh.

You keep your eyes trained on the road ahead of you as you walk past them, hoping to get away with nothing more than a wolf whistle but alas, it is not to be. One of them, a man with a scar over his eye, calls out to you.

“Hey, hey you! Lady!”

You roll your eyes and ignore him. You hated running into creeps like this in the daytime as it was. Nighttime is so much worse.

Not to be deterred, he runs after you and stops and slows once he’s caught up.

“Haven’t we seen you before?” he asks, looking you up and down. You suddenly regret wearing heels. You don’t answer but he acts as if you have.

“Yeah, I remember you. You’re here at that bar every Friday, aren’t you? Always sitting there at the counter with that short fellow, the one with the fancy hat and the jacket draped over his shoulders. Chuuya-san, you called him, right?”

You keep walking and scowl when Chuuya’s name crosses his lips. Scum like this shouldn’t have the right to talk about Chuuya like that, much less exist in the same world as him. And how dare this man call Chuuya short when he wasn’t more than a few centimeters taller than either of you.

“Hey, Missy.”

He grabs your shoulder. His tone is suddenly menacing.

“I’m talking to you here.”

“Let go of me!” you snap, tearing your shoulder away.

You turn to walk in the opposite direction but his companions are blocking the way back. In fact, they’re blocking every possible escape route you have. You spin around in a circle, only to come face to face with the man who insists on speaking with you. He smiles and you curse.

“Shit...”

He raises his scarred eyebrow. He looks amused.

“There’s no need for language like that, Missy,” he says, his tone every bit as patronizing as it is threatening. “We just want to talk to you. You see, we’re looking for ‘Chuuya-san.’ Been looking for him, in fact, for a long, long time now and we’re hoping that you can maybe help us find him. You see, we owe him a favor...”

“Well, you’re talking to the wrong person,” you spit acidly, “I haven’t seen him for several months now and even if I wanted to help you find him--which I don’t--”

You voice cracks and you swallow heavily. You hate that you’ve become so upset but that’s what the mere mention of Chuuya’s name did to you tonight. You were really hoping the bartender was right and you were absolutely crushed when he wasn’t.

“I don’t even have his phone number.”

You throw your hands up into the air, as if to indicate that you’d given up. 

“So why don’t you just let me go home and we’ll forget that this whole conversation ever happened?”

The man looks at you. Stunned. Then he starts laughing.

As one, his crew starts laughing at you as well and you feel your cheeks flush in sudden rage and embarrassment.

“Look at that, she just ordered me around, didn’t she?” the man chortles, turning to his companions as if he’d just told a very funny joke. “A real spitfire, aren’t you? And a looker to boot! No wonder he spends so much time with you.”

He snaps his fingers and at once, two of his men come forward and seize you by the arms. You try to fight them off but their arms are twice as thick as yours and you’re still a little tipsy from the wine.

“Why don’t you come with us, little Missy? We’d like to have a chat with you.”

“Hey!” you snap, “Get your hands off me!”

“See, your friend, Chuuya-san,” the man says, a note of humor sneaking into his voice as he copies the way you say Chuuya’s name. “He and that pesky Port Mafia he works for... have been making things difficult for us smaller gangs in Yokohama.”

His eyes narrow.

“Unnecessarily so.”

They start dragging you away. Your efforts to fight back seem meaningless. Panic rises in your throat. You should’ve taken the bartender’s offer of hailing a cab.

“Hey! Hey!!”

You struggle and fight harder but it’s no use.

“And our boss gets the feeling they’re going to be a lot more willing to negotiate with us,” the man continues, following you as you’re pulled backwards by the arms. “If we have a proper bargaining chip.”

His lip curls into that disgusting leer.

“Especially that midget. Can’t wait to see his face after he sees you missing a few fingers.”

You stiffen. Your eyes narrow.

“You asshole...” you growl.

You shoot him a piercing glare.

How dare he talk about Chuuya--your Chuuya--like that. 

“Keep Chuuya’s name out of your fucking mouth,” you spit, “you piece of shit--”

He silences you with a slap across the face and you stumble. The men behind you keep holding you up. Your cheek stings.

“Stupid bitch.”

He laughs and the men laugh with him.

“We’ll see how brave you are after we cut you up.”

As you continue to struggle, they drag you into the alley.

Tears of helpless rage fill your eyes. This was stupid. You were stupid. You should’ve just stayed away like your coworker said.

Now these assholes were going to take you away, do who-knew-what to you, and because of your own foolishness, you would never get to see Chuuya again.

You bite your lip.

Chuuya...

You’re trying not to cry.

Help me...

Just then, a harsh voice cuts through the night. It’s quiet but it rings with authority.

And barely suppressed rage.

“Let go of her.”

You stop struggling immediately. You’d know that voice anywhere.

As one, you and the men gripping you by the arms turn to look down the alleyway, where you see a lone figure standing there at the very end of the street. He is a black shape outlined against the backdrop of the downtown streets, his dark clothes bathed in the harsh blue and red glow of signs made of neon lights. His face is in shadow, but...

The lone figure wears a fancy black hat and a jacket draped over both shoulders.

Chuuya.

“Chuuya-san...!”

Your breath hitches in your throat.

You want to say more. You want to call out to him, loud enough for him to actually hear but for some reason you cannot. Something’s wrong with him tonight. His very presence is unnerving and without knowing why, you begin to tremble.

“Well, look who’s here,” the man with the scar crows.

He takes a knife out of his pocket.

“Nakahara Chuuya. We’ve been looking for you. Come with us. Our boss needs to have a little talk with you. And if you don’t...”

He holds the knife at your throat. You hold your breath as it presses against your flesh.

“The Missy here gets it.”

Chuuya steps forward and out of the shadows and at once, you know why you’re suddenly afraid. You feel the men holding your arms falter.

There’s an odd red glow around Chuuya, around his entire outline. As he steps forward, his long black jacket begins to lift off his shoulders in an unseen wind, billowing around him like a cape. You think you hear something like a dull roar echoing throughout the alleyway and when Chuuya looks up, his gaze is fierce. His eyes burn like twin blue flames in the night.

This isn’t the same Chuuya who’d flirted with you at the bar.

This man is something else.

He continues towards you.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Chuuya snarls, his teeth bared.

When his foot hits the pavement, it cracks underfoot. Rubble rises into the air all around him, glowing red like the aura around Chuuya’s body.

“Get.”

Another step forward. The pavement breaks yet again. It’s as if Chuuya’s weight has increased threefold when he took that second step towards you.

“Your.”

The roaring sound grows louder. More rubble rises into the air.

“Filthy.”

Chuuya’s footsteps grow heavier. He’s now leaving craters in his wake. You don’t understand how it’s happening but the rubble is now orbiting around his body like the rings of a planet.

“Hands.”

The men loosen their hold on you but they haven’t let go. Chuuya sees this and his eyes seem to glow more fiercely in the dark. He looks utterly terrifying.

“Off.”

Chuuya grabs a handful of the rubble around him and draws his hand back. He steps into a pool of dim red light and his body looks like it’s bathed in blood.

“My woman.”

He takes out a stone, flips it into the air like a coin and flicks it with his thumb.

You don’t even see it move.

There’s just a brief whistling sound and a crack.

The arm of the scarred man--the arm holding a knife to your throat--explodes in a shower of blood. Some of it splatters the front of your dress. You’re so shocked, you don’t even scream.

The man next to you, however, does.

He lets out a howl of pain, clutching his ruined arm and dropping to the his knees, his knife clattering uselessly to the ground in front of you. He’s crying and screaming about his arm, blood gushing from the stump of his elbow and into the street. The puddle inches towards your shoes.

The men holding you drop your arms and tear off into the night--the entire crew goes running back towards the street, leaving you in the middle of the alleyway between them and Chuuya.

Chuuya’s bright blue eyes narrow and he repeats his earlier movement, flicking several more stones towards the men in the alleyway with deadly precision. One by one, the men drop to the ground, their screams cut short. The last one is quicker on his feet than his companions and is just about to round the corner when Chuuya crouches down and leaps into the air.

You watch in awe, turning to follow his movements as he soars over you, gracefully arcing through the sky, his body suddenly as light as a feather. The stones follow him, continuing to orbit around him in a ring like a miniature belt of asteroids. With one flick of his wrist, several rocket towards the man who’s almost made it into the street. You turn your face away as you hear the dull, wet squelching of the stones tearing through his body, splattering his organs on the nearby buildings and sidewalk.

The man next to you is still crying and clutching his arm. He rushes past you, desperate to escape.

You can’t see Chuuya, but you know where he is.

You start towards his location but within moments, he’s in the sky again. You whirl around to see him several paces behind you, standing before the man whose arm he destroyed.

He grabs the man by the throat and slams him against the wall. Cracks appear in the drywall behind his body. Miraculously, he doesn’t pass out.

“You tell your boss,” Chuuya hisses, his tone low and menacing, “that if you try this shit again, I’ll send what’s left of his cronies back to him in a fucking bento box.”

He slams the man against the wall again.

“If you’ve got business with me or with the Port Mafia, then it stays with us. You got that?”

The man nods, tears streaming down his face.

Chuuya lets go of him at last and he crumples to the ground in a heap.

Scowling, Chuuya turns to you at last, the glow in his blue eyes suddenly fading as the red-tinted aura around him dissipates. Behind him, the scarred man scrambles to his feet and scampers off into the night.

“Chuuya--” you start but he is in no mood to let you finish.

“You,” Chuuya growls, stalking forward. “What were you doing out here so late at night? Are you an idiot? Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

You’re stunned. After all this time, he’s angry?

“I came looking for you,” you protest, equally bewildered and hurt by the sheer anger in his voice. “I haven’t seen you in so long and--and you never gave me a single way to find you--Chuuya, I--”

“Why would you do that?!” he roars, slamming his fist against the wall.

No crater appears, but the drywall cracks.

Chuuya grits his teeth. He seems to have difficulty looking at you. He drops his gaze and the brim of his hat falls over his eyes, obscuring his face. Bits of drywall crumble down around his gloved hand. His fist is shaking.

“Why would you try to find me?” he asks, his voice hushed.

He’s asking you this? Why is he asking you this?

“Because...”

Your hands clench into fists when Chuuya does not not look up.

Fuck.

You bite your lip, hard, so that you don’t cry.

After all this time, he won’t even look at you? After everything you’ve been through? After all this??

“You really don’t get it?” you ask quietly, holding back those hot, bitter tears.

Chuuya doesn’t answer. Still doesn’t look up.

Why won’t he look at you?

It makes you angry. Angrier than you’ve been in years. You want to scream.

“You want to know why I came looking for you?” you ask bitterly.

Chuuya inclines his head slightly, which you take to be a nod. Pissed, you take a step towards him.

“It’s because I missed you, you fucking dumbass!”

Chuuya twitches violently.

He looks up, a mixture of shock and wonder clearly visible in the depths of his deep blue eyes. He looks mesmerized by you.

He’s not moving so you take another step towards him, suddenly feeling like you’re approaching a skittish alley cat. You hold out your hands when you speak.

“Don’t you understand, Chuuya-san? I wanted to see you. I wanted to see you so bad.”

You don’t care that he just maimed or even killed several people in front of you, that he has power beyond imagining and could turn his Gift on you if he so wished. He killed those men to save you.

To you, he was still Chuuya-san.

He was your Chuuya.

“I came looking for you... because you never even said goodbye. I didn’t have your phone number, or address. I don’t even know where you work or what your last name is. Chuuya, I had no way of contacting you.”

“That was the whole point,” Chuuya interrupts but you talk over him.

“So when I heard you might be here tonight,” you say, loud enough that he has to stop talking. “I had to come. I had to, you understand?”

Chuuya falls silent. His expression is contemplative, with an undercurrent of pain. His deep blue eyes are fully focused on you.

It was the same face he made the night he left the bar all those months ago.

“Chuuya-san...”

You swallow, ready to ask the question you’re afraid to hear the answer to.

“Didn’t you want to see me, too?”

But Chuuya doesn’t answer. Hot pinpricks sting your eyes. Shit. You’re going to cry.

“I see,” you say stiffly.

You gather your jacket more tightly about your body, preparing to leave.

“Sorry to have bothered you.”

You’re about to turn around and go when you see Chuuya’s fist tightening. With a start, you see his jaw tensing up. He’s gritting his teeth too. But he still doesn’t speak. You sigh.

“Goodbye,” you whisper. “Chuuya--”

“Wait.”

Chuuya rushes forward and before you can finish speaking, he’s gathered you in his arms in a fierce hug. His grip on you is so tight that you can hardly breathe.

“I did,” he whispers.

His voice is so small you can barely hear it.

“I wanted to see you too.”

“Chuuya-san...”

“The barkeep told me everything,” he growls. “He told me that you’ve been coming here almost every Friday night at our usual time. That you’ve been looking for me.”

He rests his chin on your shoulder and you reach up to comfort him. You gently pat his back.

“And waiting.”

“Chuuya-san.”

You swallow thickly.

“Tell me the truth. Why didn’t you want me looking for you? Are you...?”

You feel his arms around you tensing. He knows what you’re about to ask.

“Are you really with the Port Mafia?”

For a long, heavy moment, Chuuya doesn’t answer. But when he does, his voice sounds slightly hoarse.

“I am.”

As he speaks, you can feel his grip around you tightening, his arms wrapping more securely around your shoulders and waist, as if letting go of you would mean letting go of you for good.

“Chuuya-san...” 

Your fingers slowly curl into fists against his chest and the expensive fabric of his jacket wrinkles beneath your touch.

“My full name is Nakahara Chuuya,” he whispers against your hair. “And I’m not just any member of the Port Mafia. I’m one of the executives.”

Involuntarily, you stiffen and the instant he feels your fingers twitch against his chest, Chuuya groans.

“I knew this would happen. I knew it would. Fuck.”

His arms loosen and unfold from around you. He’s pulling away.

But before he can, you reach out.

“Wait, Chuuya! Don’t go!”

You grab fistfuls of his jacket and pull on it to stop him from leaving. You bury your face in his shoulder and he stops short. You feel his sharp intake of breath.

“Please,” you whisper. “Don’t leave again.”

“H-hey...”

Chuuya’s voice is flustered and unsteady. But he doesn’t move away.

“I kept thinking about it, you know...” you mumble, closing your eyes as you feel Chuuya’s black-gloved hand smoothing down your hair.

“About the way you look when you’re sitting there at the bar with me. The way you laugh when we talk. The way you look at me when we’re together. You were wonderful. Chuuya-san... You’re not a bad person, I know you’re not.”

“But I’m not a good guy,” Chuuya insists.

He drops his hand. Now he’s just standing there as you continue to cling to him. You lift your head and look right into his eyes, which widen in sudden surprise.

“I don’t care whether Chuuya-san is a good guy or a bad guy!” you exclaim. “All I know is... I’ve never seen anything as beautiful as your smile.”

Chuuya stiffens. You can barely feel him breathing.

“You...” he starts, and the emotion in his voice is enough to bring tears to your eyes. “You really think that?”

You nod vigorously.

“Yes. Yes, I do. I think about you all the time... Chuuya.”

I care about you...

He wraps his arms around you and, wordlessly, you do the same. For a moment, you just stand there together, locked in a silent embrace in the middle of this dark, bloodstained alleyway. You nestle your face against the crook of his neck, breathing him in. He smells like the subtle musk and spice of an expensive cologne, like roses and gun smoke and something more, something uniquely Chuuya...

Finally he speaks.

“I can’t leave the Port Mafia, you know,” he says in an undertone, his fingers stroking through your hair.

“I know.”

In response, you hold him tighter. There’s a subtle wrenching in your gut, but you won’t let go.

“I’m not asking you to. It’s fine.”

“This isn’t going to be the last time this happens,” Chuuya protests, “You could get hurt.”

“I said it’s okay,” you insist. “Just...”

You swallow with some difficulty. You know what you’re asking and you know how selfish it is... but you can’t let go of him.

“Just let me stay by your side.”

You press yourself further into him. His body is warm, still humming with some kind of energy, but beneath that well-fitted vest, you can feel his heart beating against yours.

“Please.”

Time passes. You stay like this for what feels like hours but you aren’t willing to let go. Neither, it seems, is Chuuya. Finally, he sighs.

“I knew you were special from the moment I laid eyes on you,” he says, a hint of a chuckle in his voice. You can feel the low rumble of his silent laughter travel through his compact frame and despite your worry, you feel better.

“I just didn’t realize,” Chuuya murmurs, “that ‘special’ meant ‘crazy.’“

“If I’m crazy,” you laugh, “then it’s only because I’ve gone crazy for you.”

The words are out of your mouth before you even realize what you’ve said and upon hearing you, Chuuya lets out a bark of a laugh.

“You,” he cackles, “you really are something, you know that?”

His laughter fading, Chuuya loosens his hold on you. He lets you pull back just enough so that he can see your face but not enough that you can move out of his arms--not that you want to. Even in the dim lighting in this dingy alleyway, Chuuya looks so beautiful up close. His deep blue eyes gleam brightly as they stare into yours and without thinking about it, you lean in and press a quick kiss to his lips.

And then Chuuya smiles. Really smiles.

His grin is toothy and somewhat lopsided with obvious delight, and yet, his expression still doesn’t lose any of that cool, self-assured energy you’ve come to associate with Chuuya and only Chuuya.

You smile back. Your body grows warm.

Yes. This is the smile you wanted to see. The smile you’d missed so much for the last few months that it nearly killed you to think that you might not see it again. But right now, Chuuya’s smile is different. Good different.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him looking quite so happy before.

“Chuuya...”

Wordlessly, you wrap your arms around his shoulders as one of his hands slides down to your waist. Chuuya places two black-gloved fingers beneath your chin and tilts your face towards his.

“Makes sense that you would be something special,” he whispers, his breath warm against your lips. “You are mine, after all.”

You close your eyes and the distance between you disappears. Chuuya’s lips are soft and sweet as they move against yours and you feel your breath hitch in your throat as his tongue ghosts over your upper lip. He feels so good and you cling to him as he deepens the kiss, pressing your body to his so tightly, you half wonder if you might be crushed by his strength.

But you like it.

You like the feel of his arms around your body, the way he grips you so tightly that his fingers dimple your flesh, the way he tastes--no wine could ever be as intoxicating as the man called Nakahara Chuuya...

When you come up for air at last, you’re both breathless.

”Wow,” Chuuya breathes, sounding just as dazed as you feel, “You’re... You’re a really good kisser...”

“So are you,” is all you manage to gasp before he dives back in for more.

As the moon rises high in the sky above you, you part at last, flushed and giddy and dizzy with joy. Chuuya takes your hand and leads you out of the alleyway, back to the bar you thought was closed.

He raps on the door with one black-gloved hand, the other tightly gripping yours, and turns back to shoot you that signature cocky grin when that same mustachioed bartender opens the door at last.

“I think it’s time we call you that cab,” Chuuya laughs as he pulls you inside the warmth of the empty room. “But I’ll meet you here again tomorrow, okay? Same time as usual.”

You nod. You’re smiling so hard it almost hurts but you’re just so happy...!

“It’s a date,” you say, to which Chuuya’s grin grows only wider. “So don’t go blowing me off this time.”

Laughing, he tugs you back towards him and presses another kiss to your lips, his grin returning as soon as he pulls away. His blue eyes shine like a bright, cloudless sky.

“Don’t worry,” he whispers, holding you close. “I’m not going anywhere.”

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 7

Rating: Explicit.

‼️TW: Reader is EIGHTEEN! Recreational drug use, smoking and alcohol consumption, deeply internalised self-loathing, very questionable moral standards. Daddy kink taken half-seriously. BDSM themes in later chapters - explicit content will come with it's own TWs. FIRST PERSON POV. There is violence in this chapter.

Summary: You're Peter's classmate, a child of rich and famous but uncaring parents. Getting paired up for a lengthy project with the boy was an interesting turn of events and you don't know whether to feel blessed or cursed when you develop, seemingly, a perfectly normal, harmless crush on Tony Stark. Fueled by feelings of inadequacy and boredom, your life spirals out of control - and you're lucky your newfound friends are there to pick up the pieces even if you cannot find it in yourself to believe these amazing human (and not so human) beings voluntarily give you more than a fleeting glance and an offhanded thought. And they brought cake!

A/N: *chants* BRUCE FLUFF BRUCE FLUFF BRUCE FLUFF. *sings* they're ain't no big thing just show them a little swing. Beneficial Cucumber. Author's notes are spoilers without context at this point... Y'all-

My beta, @miscmarvelwritings . We make the best duo. I am her dumb of ass and she is my gay. I love her.

Tony was elbow-deep in a robot when I came out of the elevator, Peter holding up the spare part needed, hovering next to the engineer. Without preamble, I was directed to help and dutifully fulfilled Tony's requests. Nothing indicated that my evening stunt ever happened besides Pete's faint blush; I might as well have written it off to the tank top hugging the upper part of my body in all the right places.

I was disappointed, I won't lie to myself - I expected Tony to tease me at least a little bit, snark something vaguely lewd and move on. But the engineer was quiet today, eerily so, almost to the point where it seemed he was ignoring me on purpose. My pride didn't let me begin any of our usual banter so I frowned in silence, making the appearance of a very focused person. Bolts and screws - most interesting things in the world!

As usual, I clocked out first around eleven thirty, leaving Pete and Tony some time to discuss their secret science stuff. Usually I would be exhausted by this point which left little to no room for jealousy but that night, emotions hit me like a freight train and it took me every ounce of my willpower to head out to Bruce's for the inevitable "I'm disappointed in you/Fuck safely" round of brainwashing.

My brain kept returning to the downwards tilt of Tony's mouth and the somber mood around him. I hated seeing him so...unhappy and tense.

The moment I set step in Bruce's lab, I saw the man's back hunched over a tube, I felt the same energy coming from him. What a fucking day! The sigh that left my mouth was resigned. "Bruce?"

A couple of seconds passed before he turned. He attempted a smile but it didn't reach his eyes at all. "Hi, Princess."

I cocked my head in defeat. "If this is the part where you lecture me, let's get over it. Or even better, you say nothing and we carry on," I pursed my lips, inspecting my nails in favour of actually facing the scientist.

I heard the click-clack of his instruments being placed on the table and the soft taps of his shoes against the tiled floor. His arms reached around my shoulders before I could even attempt to pull away, one of his broad palms tucking my face into the crook of his neck.

"I'm not mad, baby girl," He told me quietly.

I felt some of the tension dissipate, wrapped my arms around him, coming to a realization the man was all but melting into me.

"Just stay safe, alright? I don't want you to get hurt," With the same quiet tone, Bruce gently shushed my worries away. "If something is wrong, you can come to me. You know that, right?" He sounded painfully hopeful as he withdrew just enough to capture my face in his hands, forcing me to look him in the eye.

Something about the look in his eyes made my heart ache. I didn't have the heart to refuse, nor did I want to, so I nodded. Promptly, I was embraced yet again, his lips resting on the crown of my head, both of us swaying gently.

I've never wanted to cry so badly in my entire life.

"I'm a fuckin' mess, Bwucie, you haven't got a clue what you've gotten yourself into," I settled for a round of self-deprication instead. Bitter as it was, it was the barenaked truth.

"Then you're a beautiful mess," I could feel the smile tugging at the corners of his lips. So I smiled, too, obscured by his lab coat.

As much as I didn't want to leave the embrace, like, ever, I had to get home before one o'clock - before mother went to bed, zonked out on Valium and Ambien from the endless supply closet courtesy of my dad. "M'hafta go home," I mumbled.

Bruce sighed deeply. "I'll grab one of Tony's cars and drive you," He went over to remove his lab coat as I gaped. "I'm a forty-five year old man, I can drive." He chuckled humorlessly.

"Tony won't mind?" I asked the first question that popped into my mind to attempt dispelling the awkward moment.

"Trust me, he won't mind at all," Bruce mumbled darkly. I wondered what's up with that but the immediate future for me was already planned out: I was really looking forward to going home, crawling into bed with my clothes on and having a good old fashioned cry.

We made quick work of locating a set of keys and peeling out of the garage in Tony's shiny Audi R8, tires squealing on the wet pavement. It had stopped raining sometime during my robot building but the city was still filled with puddles. I could smell the moist, decaying leaves through the tiny gap of the window, the city was drowning in autumn like I was drowning in my own cluelessness.

The adrenaline rush, the weight of Tony's foul mood, the grief and pleading that radiated off Bruce mixed into a horrendous cocktail of misery and pain. Too much pain for my little, weak, dumb heart to handle. And all these people out in the streets, dressed to the nines despite the disgusting weather - laughing, hugging and drunkenly giggling, it was like salt on my wounds, rubbing it in how much of a good time they were having.

"This your house?" Bruce pointed at the black, high gate of the entrance to my garage.

"Yeah, it's a bit much," I nodded absentmindedly, seeing Bruce's eyes bulge at the sheer size of my estate. My mother wouldn't settle for any less than the best so having a monstrously huge (for NYC) home was what she got. Dad just signed the checks.

Bruce hummed.

I made a face, reaching for his warm hand and giving it a squeeze. "Thanks, Bwucie," Smiling at him, I used up the last of my good mood to show the gratitude he deserved.

He pulled me into a tight hug right over the middle console. It wasn't comfortable by any means with the numerous buttons and switches poking at the soft of my stomach but there was nowhere else I'd rather be than in his arms during that moment. The breaths that left me felt like they were punched out of my chest cavity by steel-toed boots.

"Good night, Princess. Sweet dreams." He kissed my cheek, lingering just a tiny bit.

I did the same, rubbing softly against his stubble and giggling at the ticklish sensation. "Night night, Bwucie."

I waved at him again as I unlocked my front gates and watched him speed off from behind it, obscured by the shadows of the decorative trees growing right behind the fence.

Bruce's face had morphed into something akin to torment or suffering the moment I disappeared from his immediate eyesight and it baffled me to no extent. I ransacked my brain left and right, searching for a reason I might have inadvertently caused him to feel that way but found none. The only logical reason was that he was just lonely. He didn't have many friends from what I gathered and if judging by the proud tone in which he spoke of Will-Mr Davies today, he desperately needed some other company than his teammates. I wish I could have helped.

Mother was nowhere to be seen when I entered the house so a beeline for my bed was successful. The ugly, loud, dry-heaving sobs weren't in any shape or form attractive or acceptable to show to anybody but me so when they forced their way out of me, the pillow keeping me company. I cried as for everything that was happening to me as much as I sobbed because of the self-pity I was indulging in.

It was pathetic, really. My mother would scoff and my father... Well, he'd offer me to 'cheer up, throw a party, do normal teenager stuff'. The bottle of wine I kept in my closet was empty in no time: I justified that as a single lady in a big city, I was entitled to relax once in a while.

Who was I lying to? I downed a bottle in twenty minutes just so I could fall asleep and begone from all this bullshit for a while.

On Monday, I anonymously submitted the documents pertaining to Thompson's behaviour to the school board and to a local newspaper that was known to dabble in socialite gossip. Next day, an investigation was promptly launched and important-looking people started to appear in the hallways, going in and out of the principal's office. Flash was pulled out of class by two police officers: at this point, half the student population was unashamedly filming it on their smartphones, me included. With grim satisfaction, I sent the video directly to the group chat with an added message of "so long, fucker".

Steve didn't even remark on my profanity, just sent a thumbs up.

It really fuckin' blew up the next morning. The news was plastered across every paper, every social media site - "Midtown Principal's son arrested for grand theft auto and assault", "Midtown Principal Being Investigated for obstruction of education" and other ridiculous headlines that had me, Bucky and Natasha in shit-fits.

Flash returned to school on Wednesday accessorized with a pretty ankle monitor and a sullen frown. During lunch, he sat only with two of his closest minions instead of the chatty group he was usually seen with. Everybody avoided him like the bubonic plague, even teachers ignored him.

With the final bell, me and Pete went on to look for Happy outside the school territory.

I was spending nearly every evening at the tower either in Tony's or Bruce's lab or sandwiched between Wanda and Bucky on the couch, gossiping while TV shows mutely played in the background. I had found a second friend in the face of Winter Soldier who, much like me, spent a lot of his days occupied by the internet or in a general state of confusion. Bucky was charming, funny and very flamboyant. I enjoyed the no-nonsense attitude and zero fucks that he gave the world in general.

The moment I stepped on the other side of the gate, I immediately knew something was wrong. Peter squirmed uncomfortably beside me, looking frantically in every direction, trying to spot Happy's car in vain.

"Ay, Parker," The familiar obnoxious voice of Peter's bully reached our ears. "You wanna tell me how you got your grubby little hands on that file?"

Thompson had brought back up with him, the idiot that he was. He was standing off to the side, leaning against the fence while five older boys surrounded us in a tight circle.

"Leave us alone, Flash, you're already in trouble," Peter tried reasoning with the bully meanwhile I... I was searching for a cleaner, dryer spot to dump my $1500 bag onto in preparation for the inevitable. I was no stranger to swinging my arm - as a frequent house party guest, I've had to fend off enough unwelcome advances. I've been told I have a mean, mean right hook.

"Bold of you to assume Peter would actually steal something," I stated in a bored tone once my bag was out of the way and Pete was standing securely behind me. I wasn't afraid of Flash, mostly because I knew he'd step back for the fear of retaliation from my family was usually too much.

"Oh, look at that, the weirdo is talking," Thompson mocked, getting up and standing right in front of my face. "You know, I don't get why the likes of you have to go to school with us, normal people. See, Peter here might be a little wimp but at least he won't shoot up the whole school one day because his daddy didn't love him enough," Thompson decided to test his luck. To finish his epic tirade with a flourish, he spat on the ground next to me.

I snorted. "Wow, that's an awful lot of smart words for someone as dumb as a doorknob," I shook my head in disdain. "Look, either you go now or I'll sue you so far up your ass, you'll be sucking dick in prison just to get something to fill your stomach with." And wow, that comeback was really, really good. I was proud of myself.

I saw pure rage mar Thompson's already ugly face into something demonic and ducked at the last moment, feeling the blunt sting of his knuckles connect with my left cheekbone. Reflectively I swung, too, decking him straight in the nose with all the rage and despair that was burning deeply inside of me at that time.

I heard gasps all around me as the students whispered, shouted and cheered at Thompson's confused form hitting the ground. He held his face and his palms were stained a deep crimson; I felt something warm on my face, copper in my mouth.

"Does anybody want some of that, too?" My tone was icy. I shrugged off the hand that landed on my shoulder, glaring down one of the boys who came with Thompson.

"Shit, cops, RUN!" One of the students suddenly shouted and just like that, both me and Flash were surrounded only by a handful of students who had filmed the entire incident on camera. God bless technology!

"Uh, I think you're bleeding," Pete timidly remarked from behind me, hand still awkwardly outstretched towards me. He cast a guilty look to the side where Happy was running towards us, phone held to his ear, no doubt already on the line with Tony and the rest of the Avengers. Shit, fuck, SHIT. I didn't plan for this!

The police officers called an ambulance for Flash and took my statement while I was holding my bleeding nose up to the sky, much to the officer's dismay. Happy had passed the officer his mobile phone and I briefly heard Tony's voice saying that I will be taken care of in the tower's medical suite - and let's face it, no cop will go against Iron Man's charm and wit.

As an eighteen year old, I could refuse the on-site medical assistance that the city provided and my parents weren't required so I was let go after my statement was taken and my injuries photographed.

Not that the photoshoot really was required. Multiple people had the incident on video, from multiple angles. It was an open and close case. I called my mother in the elevator (she didn't answer) and left her a voice message with the bare facts of the situation and my current whereabouts.

Seeing the whole team assembled in the living room, some nervously twitching, some anxiously pacing, I couldn't help but let out a slightly hysterical giggle. "Oh my god, guys, I'm not in a coma, stop acting like I'm in a coma!"

Bucky was the first to approach me, carefully hugging me and steering me towards Bruce. He looked a bit rough, green-ish? I guess. But the first aid kit was already on the table and Stephen Strange was hovering nearby.

"You decked the sucker real good, doll," Bucky's Brooklyn accent made his speech less intelligible but he definitely got all the cookie points for the heat and the passion.

"Ditto. Should've kicked him in the balls, too," Natasha smirked and Steve mirrored her smirk with a darker twist.

"I'm going to sue him so darn far up his ass," Tony seethed, looking absolutely livid.

"Don't worry, mother's got it handled," I obediently laid down on the couch, staring up at Bruce's wide eyes and Stephen's focused face.

"You are fearless and fierce, dear lady," Thor boomed from somewhere.

All of this was making me... Emotional. I just punched a piece of human garbage, it was not a big deal, okay? He had it coming. I chuckled uncomfortably, wincing when Bruce began dabbing at the dried blood on my face with a piece of gauze soaked in alcohol. "Petey, you alright?" I asked, worried about the sudden onset of silence from the usually chatty boy. He mumbled something. "Speak up, I can't hear shit with all the ringing in my ears."

That earned me a worried look from doctor Strange and a frown from Bruce.

"I should've protected you-I mean-it's not that you can't do it yourself, or because you're a girl, it's just-I," he suddenly stopped.

"Go ahead, kid," Tony urged him with unmistakable kindness in his voice.

"You see, I'm-I'm actually Spider-Man and I'm afraid to accidentally kill someone, 'cause I'm really strong." Pete blurted out.

I had to replay his words several times in my head to get to the gist of what he was actually saying. Shy little Peter? Spider-Man? So that's why he was such a fucking pacifist? I mean, it made perfect sense if he really was strong enough to lift cars and hold together collapsing bridges like I'd seen on YouTube.

"Huh," I stated after a brief pause. "I guess I did double the work today, dumped out some trash and prevented a potential murder. I'm on a roll and I deserve chocolate cake," I rambled to distract myself from the incoming dull headache and the sting of the alcohol against the split skin of my cheek.

Strange chuckled, looking, possibly, the happiest I've ever seen him. Bruce giggled too. A tiny bit.

"Friday, order the biggest, most expensive chocolate cake that can be delivered in... Two hours," Tony immediately spoke up.

"Cake," I mumbled happily, a strange drowsiness overcoming me, making my eyelids droop. "Hey-mmm, doc?" I slurred, seeing Stephen's face fall. "M'think m'concussed, f'king 'ell!" The snort that left his mouth was absolutely hilarious; I started giggling, too, startling Banner into action.

He picked up his phone, saying something I didn't understand at all.

"Y'kno," I had this totally bright idea I absolutely NEEDED to share with everyone. "Y'kinda look like the guy... Wha's'is name... Bendy-snap Crum-ble-sticks? No, wait," Snorts and giggles began to resonate through the room as the amount of Doctor Stranges suddenly multiplied by two. He was a WIZARD, that was so cool! "I think... Mmm, yes... Benadryl-Claritin? No-no-no, 'das meds," Woah, a lot of people were there and they were suddenly all laughing. I wondered what was so funny. It was hard to think with so many people laughing; my temples were pulsating uncomfortably. "Wait, I know, I know!" There were wheezing noises now, noises that distinctively reminded me of Tony and Wanda and Bucky. "Bubble-butt Coitus-snack!" I triumphantly exclaimed, finally happy to have gotten it right.

The laughter turned into truly demonic cackling, surrounding me, they were so loud I almost managed to get fully afraid. And then, I passed the fuck out.

TAGLIST IS OPEN Y'ALL.

@another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem

[usagi-mitsu]

Werlyt & Gaius - a bunch of thoughts.

I am a little late to the party. I know. But I just finished the Emerald weapon and before I go to try out the „not Zenos“ weapon as in „Diamond“, I need to get my thoughts on the story straight.

Perhaps I have been spoiled by 5.0s brilliant MSQ and cannot appreciate the inherent beauty of at least decent writing any longer. But this felt so wrong and out of tune with the rest of the game. I started writing this 2 hours ago! I wanted to one in bed by now! XD But I had to get it out of my system… so….

Spoilers for the MSQ and Werlyt incoming??? And no I did not re-read this so not just spoilers but also writing errors incoming. -.-

The good

These fights are epic! I have only ever cleared the normal versions, but I loved those. They are amazing. The callbacks to Eula (her being a woman here! When did they discover that???), Regula (may he rest in peace) and Gaius himself in his prime were delightful. But I could do with a little less rotating, ok? A dragoon has positional, you know? And being allowed to pilot my very own mecha was like *chefs kiss*. On that front? Well done Square Enix!

I am also glad they were able to get another use out of Porta Praetora! That place looks amazing with the wide open field and the lake – and Ala Mhigo across it. It was one of my favourite Stormblood areas and I am always glad to return there. And of course… being able to visit the allied camp again… And Werlyt itself. It’s simply a beautiful place. It reminds me very much of southern Greece. If you’ve watched the movie Mamma Mia you know what I mean.

The music too was really nice. But I don’t think I’ll… you know… listen to it on repeat as I am doing with other parts of the soundtrack.

I’ve also loved how much amazing lore we got about Garlemald and especially the garlean military. And the military abroad. The way soldiers not from the mainland get treated. I love learning about these things.

Gaius

The man. The legend. The guy yelling in Prae.

He’s so very boring here. He has so much potential as a character and maybe I’m missing something, but all throughout this story he has been nothing but passive. He’s a reactive character in this storyline. You know. The guy who made deals with Lahabread (the d is intended), tried to take over Eorzea, lead a whole army, stood idly by as the moon dropped, almost died but then decided just not to die and then though „hm… I’ve got so much freetime now. How about I go and hunt some ascians?“ That guy is NOT a reactive character. He is active. He goes out of his way to make shit he wants happen. And in here? He seems too starstruck and devastated by his adopted kids actions to actually have one clear thought.

The only explanation I have is that he might have gotten hit in the head by something on his way to the ruby weapon. I get why he would rely on Cid for help, but the WoL??? The alliance? If you wish to be an ally and help or something, fucking act like it. You were a former legatus and I expect you to live up to your name – even after retiring.

And yeah.. I guess it’s hard having to watch your kids willingly, knowingly dying. But you fucking raised them. You are a big part of the reason to why they are in that predicament. So like… Aside from that I don’t even get why you are in this story at all.

And for the record: I’m not sorry for him. I’m just flabbergasted by all the bullshit we’ve been learning about him.

To be quite honest, I think this story could have worked just as well or maybe even better, if we got another man as the „hero“ of the story. I am talking about none other than our engineering, hammer-swinging, ex-enemy - of course talking about Nero!

The MSQ has long established that his research into the Ultimate Weapon had been taken, twisted and turned – Estinien had to experience this first-hand. I’m not saying that Nero was in need of a redemption arc and I cannot remember if these weapons were of his creation or even stem from anything he did, but it would make so much more sense for me, to have him confront his past in the garlean military like this and be responsible for the death of his former colleagues. Soldiers that he served with, whom he faught with. Give me Nero and them working together to get the weapons going and him bonding with them as his pilots to a degree. Comrades. Not that strange familiar bond that Gaius appareantly has with them. … Scratch that: Let Gaius be the father figure. Him being that wouldn’t change Nero’s relationship with them, but maybe his with Gaius as his superior.

The story wouldn’t even need to try and redeem Nero: He has already gone through major character development with the MSQ and the Omega raid tier. It would simply be Nero, confronted with the things he created, hopefully instilling more morals and a sense of responsibility for his creations. Heck: Let Cid yell at the guy! Seriously! Cid sticking around to help out would make so much more sense if it was Nero instead of freaking Gaius! Cid hated the guy! He might be a professional, but he is not one to torture himself by staying around a guy he (as far as I know) detests.

Make Nero the central figure and give Cid and Gaius the roles of „angel and demon“: One desperately trying to reach out to his old friend, reminding him why they became engineers and trying to make him realise that he can’t just run around designing weapons and leaving the scematics for everyone to read; while the other has trouble letting go of his imperial past and is struggling to see the errors of his ways – if Nero was wrong, than he (Gaius) was wrong too -and of course they did all of this for their home, to further their cause, and to bring peace to the savage lands of Eorzea, who had been fighting amongst themselves for so long… You get the point.

And you could still have these gundam themed fights. But I think everything would make so much more sense in general.

But speaking of which-

The children

I do not truly care for any of them. And that is a shame: I do think there are great characters and dynamics hidden behind these very few cutscenes. When they were first introduced I was wondering why I was suddenly watching „heartwarming“ cutscenes of my foes as children – until I realised that I was supposed to care and that they were supposed to make me feel pity for Gaius. I was supposed to feel bad for him, because they died and he blames himself. But while their fates so far have been gruesome, I cannot say that I am sad they died. They chose to die as they did. There were a myriad more options. And they chose that.

Actually. Their whole story makes me feel like they were huge masochist from the very beginning. They could have just run away and gotten help from someone more competent than them, but they stayed in an abusive military arrangement just so nobody else got hurt?? Please. Use your brains next time. And for the Berserk-like torture scene? I mean. I get what was implied here. But was it necessary? As a writer myself I follow the rule that torture and sexual violence should never be used in a story, unless it must be in there for the story to work or to bring across a vital point important to the story or it’s moral (or if you are writing porn and you are into it – but we are talking official in-game content here). But the violence towards these „children“ seems unnecessary for the plot and the violence of their deaths by piloting the weapons is already gruesome enough. Sometimes it’s better to leave things like this out – the emotional torture of feeling stuck and having a martyrs complex would have been enough here, I think. If the rest of the story had been well written at least.

(I believe my utter lack of sympathy shows how little character developement they had. I love tragic characters, who choose to suffer for the good of other people – even better if those people don’t even like them. It’s just my thing. And those kids are just… well.)

Their reasons and especially why they were making Allie out as the one who would need to survive was also just… weird. Like. I feel like 75% of what happened would not have happened, if they actually talked to each other, used their brains and had done something about their problems. But no…

These characters are also so exchangeable with basic anime/j-RPG character tropes… I only remember Alfonse, Rex and Allie – because I just did the Emerald weapon. And right afterwards I thought, „huh. So… Fullmetal Alchemist?“ Which brings me to my third point …

…the story at large.

„Pacing is a virtue“ or was it patience..? Anyhow: The author of this story should have had more patience with his story and characters and taken a bloody break! And I am not talking about the obvious blunder of „How is Allie feeling?“, „she is in shock and you cannot talk to her“ turning to „oh yeah if you are careful you can talk to her now“. I mean. WTF. That was MAYBE 10-20 in-game minutes of dialogue.

But everything was moving so very fast – and not even in a good way. There are few things better than a fast paced, action rich story about a group of young people trying to safe (their) world. But if you try to cram in two expansions worth of character development and story telling into about two hours of content each patch.. Well, then you get whatever the hell this is.

Gaius is a very interesting character and while I did not understand why they needed to bring him back in 4.4 (?), I do see how he could be a good asset for endwalker. And his involvement in 5.0 with Estinien was just a dear delight. So I am not opposed to learning more about him, to watching his character grow and changed with time. But I am not ready for badly written content of which 50% get told by suddenly induced echo-sequences. I mean – weren’t there rules for the echo at some point???

I’m not sure which one of the devs said it, but the feature that let’s you play an NPC is super convenient for them to tell the story, because before they could only show what happened where the WoL was.

And that’s just it. Rule number 1 in writing anything is „Show don’t tell“. It feels like they literally turned this one around for these cutscenes. While Valens torture and diet-Fandaniel-routine were very much „show“, the rest of the story was one long cutscene of exposition: We get exposition by Cid, by Gaius, by echo, by Gaius and his crew again, then by Allie. Before having to watch scenes we are not there for.

BTW. Dear square Enix: Your writers are capable of writing amazing villains, antagonist and despicable assholes. You don’t have to write „asshole, must die“ on Valens name card. And I also think the „WoL, strike here“ sign above his head was a tad bit too much. Nuance, dear writers. Nuance. Or perhaps I just got spoiled by these last few foes in the MSQ.

When I said I wanted to just be able to punch a bad guy for once and not feel bad about it, I did not mean this! I meant that I just wanted to play training dummy with Danny-Boy.

(Oh! And as far as I’m concerned you can just… sideline Gaius … „would be killer“ and the lady? Make them targetable NPCs with Dialoge to read. Let them stand somewhere accessible and comment on the latest developement. But ffs don’t give me hour long speeches about how you are going to kill Gaius if he does something you don’t like. The guy could and would wipe the floor with you if he felt like it. -.- So. Please. Shut up.)

Conclusion

Basically. I have to finish the Diamond weapon. But I doubt it will change my perception of this story line even in the slightest.

To be perfectly honest though … bringing Gaius back, having this story with and about him, forcing a sort of redemption ark here. It feels like they are really „grooming“ him to be a morally grey ally in Endwalker, with perhaps a big part to play in the endgame. At this point I wouldn’t even be surprised if they pulled a GoT and made him „King in the North“. Or if they had him die a heroic death to save the world, but especially his country. And to do so they need us to think his sacrifice means something. Or that he is the right person to lead Garlemald into a new future (I don’t think he is). But: For one, neither we (the players) nor the characters need to find him worthy of throne or death by heroism for his sacrifice/ascension to work. To be a useful tool for the story, only the other garleans who might oppose the alliance and scions need to deem him or his sacrifice „worthy“. And only they. And Ishikawa-san has all of 6.0 to accomplish whatever the hell she needs him for. He did not need to be the center of his own botched redemption ark. If that’s what they wanted to do. Or maybe I’m looking at this all wrong and all they wanted was to give the writes in training some literal training grounds to test their abilities.

But! On a positive note: I have yet to be told that raids and other side content are canon to any degree. So when playing the next story quests I’ll blissfully ignore all that happened in Werlyt and if it get’s mentioned (because they do that sometimes when you’ve done certain content) I’ll just ignore it.

Happy ignoring! Also: GIVE ME MORE NERO CONTENT!

[fuchsiagrasshopper]

Endless Love

Author’s Note: This is my piece I wrote for #SalDeLysFirstYear challenge. I poured a lot more into this than I realized I had in me, so hopefully it’s actually good lol. Thanks to @saldelys for allowing me to take part!

Prompt #3 Time has brought your heart to me, I have loved you for a thousand years, I’ll love you for a thousand more… Pairing: Ivar x Reader Words: 5796 Warnings: Angst, Swearing Ivar was back again. He had promised himself last time would be the final visit to the outdoor Cafe. The coffee was subpar, and he was fairly certain he could make a better lemon bar on a first attempt then the sour tart they were serving. It had been by mistake that he had happened to visit it at all. He had been outdoors enjoying the last days of summer, a day off from work, and the chance to get away from his brothers. Crossing the street, his intended destination had been to the train station, but he never got there.

On that day you had stood in his way. Not literally, but it was the look of you that had him all twisted. You were sitting alone at a table with your coffee, reading from a book like he had seen so many others had done before. The novel in question was ‘The Devil in the White City’, not exactly light reading, and not a story Ivar would have bothered himself to read. On the surface you were ordinary, but beneath his chest, his heart was sure you were anything but. Something had brought him to you, and there was a feeling of knowing you when he had yet to hear you speak.

He chose not to approach you. Growing up tethered to mother’s apron strings, and being labeled clever but strange, had made him a target by the other children. It’s difficult to grow out of that mindset, and as a result, he had turned into a bitter and lonely young man. No Ivar did not approach you. With none of the charisma or confidence of his brothers, he instead had swiveled to a spare table and had watched you behind a one-page menu.

Coming back to today, that’s what he was doing once again. Not every escapade was successful, and often he made the trip in vain when you didn’t show. You weren’t preoccupied with a book today, so he had to be careful as to not be caught gawking. Ivar had a penchant for photography, but it would have been a little presumptuous to you and everyone around if he started snapping in your direction. Instead, he had chosen the discreet, and shameful, way of turning the flash off on his phone camera snapshot. It wasn’t a quality photo, and he would delete it once this phase passed, but for the time being, it was a pleasant secret for his eyes only.

…  

Ivar watched you as if you were the only one on the boat. Bjorn had returned from a raid, and you had gone with him and Hvitserk, your first raid as a shieldmaiden. He hated the idea that you were off in different lands, fulfilling your dreams as being Viking while he was left alone in Kattegat. Of course, he had never voiced this grievance to you. Your smile when you had told him the news had been so bright,  and he wouldn’t be the reason for it to dim. The days without your company had been long and stagnant, and a chill had settled over Kattegat as if you had taken the warmth of the sun with you.

But you had returned, and things would be as they had always been. You were his friend, and he quietly admired you, longing for your love but accepting your friendship if it meant having you close.

You came to the Great Hall with Hvitserk, both sea-worn from your travels, but with smiles that spoke of the success of your adventures. Hvitserk was starved for food, and you began down the line with Ubbe, greeting each Ragnarsson with an embrace. Once you broke away from Sigurd, you made your way towards Ivar, and he almost shouted how glad he was to see you safe. Instead, he came off as aloof, summoning a small smirk as you knelt down before him. You always did. Unbothered by his typical greeting, you pulled him into a hug. Ivar squeezed back. If he could keep you beside him always, he would.

You began to pull away, and that’s when it happened. It was a gesture you only reserved specially for him, something that Ivar clung to in the hopes that it meant you loved him more than his brothers. You gave his left earlobe a small tug between two fingers, and you gazed into his eyes with a smile that made his heartache.

“Hello, Ivar.”

…

“I knew there was a reason you kept coming back here, and I knew it couldn’t be the coffee,” A voice sounded from behind him.

Ivar panicked. It was Hvitserk, and he had Ubbe with him. How had they found out about his little excursions? Yes, the three of them were roommates, but he was always careful to leave when they couldn’t notice. You were far enough away that you didn’t pick up on the commotion happening, and Ivar was quick to indicate to his brothers to sit. He threw them both a harsh glare, and he had this feeling of shame as if he had been caught doing something inappropriate. 

“What do you want?” He hissed.

“We wanted to hang out with you today, but you were already gone when we got up,” Ubbe said.

“Good choice brother,” Hvitserk interrupted as he nodded in your direction. “Have you talked with her yet, or are you waiting until you’re the last two people on Earth?”

“Leave,” He ground out. They were ruining everything…even though he didn’t know what that meant. He hadn’t even approached you yet, and maybe he was embarrassed because Hvitserk had been able to guess that.

Ubbe craned his neck towards your table with a frown. “Who’s the old man with her?”

“What old man?” Ivar spun in his seat and saw that you had stood to embrace the older gentleman who had joined you. “I don’t know, a grandfather maybe?”

“Or maybe he’s her meal ticket,” Hvitserk said with a snicker. “She could be a gold digger, or maybe she’s got a thing for older men. Bad news for you Ivar, guess you aren’t her type.”

“Shut up, she’s not like that.” Okay, so maybe he didn’t know you enough (or at all) to say such a thing, but he was confident there was nothing sinister about you.

“How would you know, have you talked to her?” Ubbe asked, but more with concern than goading. 

Ivar didn’t answer but mumbled something scathing under his breath. Why couldn’t they leave well enough alone? He was content in his routine to watch you. Eventually, he would move on and stop coming to the Cafe, but he had wanted to do that on his own terms. 

“Time to find out. I’ll just ask the old guy,” Hvitserk said, rising from his seat. You had left the table for a moment, leaving your companion alone.

“No, don’t,” Ivar pleaded, but his brother was already out of reach. “Fuck.”

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Ubbe asked when they were alone.

Ivar kept his eyes glued on Hvitserk as he chatted with the old man. What’s the worst that could happen? You could be what his brother had accused you of, or you could find out about his hobby of watching you and be disgusted. Any scenario that played in his head went from bad to worse, and Ivar was certain this would be his last time seeing you.

“You both have ruined everything.”

Ubbe rolled his eyes and sighed with exhaustion. “Ruined what? Was she supposed to pick up your interest by osmosis?”

“My interest was to take her photograph and maybe ask her to be a model for some shoots. I didn’t want to date her or anything,” Ivar defended. It was a lie, and a poor one at that judging by Ubbe’s doubtful frown.

“If you say so.”

Ivar turned his gaze back to Hvitserk, who was still engaged in conversation. You hadn’t returned to the table yet, but he didn’t want you to come back to find his brother chatting with your friend (hopefully grandfather). When Hvitserk finally stood, he shook the older fellow’s hand in parting and made his way back over to their table. Ivar didn’t like the impassive look on his face, he much preferred the goofy grin. Serious Hvitserk made his stomach clench with anxiety.

“Took you long enough,” Ivar said, gauging his reaction. “What happened?”

“Yeah, who’s the old guy,” said Ubbe.

Hvitserk leaned on his chair but did not take a seat. “I tried to put in a good word for you, brother, but the old man said she’s married to his grandson.”

“Shit,” Ubbe cursed.

Ivar sunk back into the stiff plastic of the chair, blinking with comprehension. So that was it. You were married. It seemed a cruel joke, or a curse, that someone else had met you first. He didn’t even know your name.

“Ivar,” Hvitserk called, waving his hand in front of his face. “Did you hear me?”

“I think I’m finished with my coffee,” He replied, ignoring the question. “Do you want to go do something?”

Ubbe frowned. “Do you?”

“Yes, something…anything. Let’s just go." 

Ivar was grabbing his crutches and propelling himself out of his seat before either of them could get another word in. You had made it back to your table, and it was burning his eyes to look in your direction. He needed to get far away, even as his heart leaped to his throat. It was like losing a friend or someone who had been lost to him before. Ivar didn’t understand what he was feeling, all he knew was he wanted to run.

…

Ivar couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Down by the river, Ubbe and a handful of warriors were preparing to set sail back to Kattegat from York, and you were among them. The betrayal and the audacity of you had him seeing red. He could not let you leave.

Perhaps you thought you could escape unnoticed, but you did not keep your head down as Ubbe did. Ivar always noticed you, everywhere you went, and you would have never slipped away unseen.

”(Y/N),“ He demanded, reaching for you even as you had your arms full with supplies. "Where are you going?”

This time your eyes did not reach his, and you passed your armful of provisions to another warrior loading up the boat.

“I’m going home Ivar. I do not want to live in England anymore.”

“Neither do I, and I do plan on returning once we’ve taken our share. Stay, you cannot leave me.”

You crossed your arms, a frown contorting your face. “Yes I can, and I will. Your hatred and misery are leading down a path I refuse to be a part of. Claim your glory and your legacy if you must, but I won’t be a part of it.”

Ivar lashed out at you before he could stop himself, latching onto your arm with a bruising grip that made you draw a sharp breath. “If you leave me now, I will hate you forever.”

You struggled in his grasp, and Ivar let go once he realized he had harmed you. The indentations of his fingers on your flesh were red and ugly. “Then hate me if you must. Know that I will mourn the loss of our friendship, but if you can renounce me so easily, I wonder if I was mistaken for thinking it was real.”

“(Y/N), please,” He pleaded, voice wavering as childish tears began to fall. “I’m sorry.”

You started to back away, back into the company of Ubbe and the other deserters. “So am I.”

On that day Ivar watched you disappear into the horizon, parting as enemies. He wondered if you ever knew that he was in love with you, but he realized the answer didn’t matter. Either way, it would only bring him pain. You had left him, and you deserved his resentment.

…

It had been weeks since Ivar had last visited the Cafe. He made good on his promise to himself to not return, going out of his way to avoid it even if it meant pushing his legs to have to go to a further train station. His thoughts would sometimes drift and dwell on you, and he had yet to delete the blurred image of you from his phone. Baby steps. 

His brothers had encouraged him to put himself out there in the world of dating. They mistook his poor reaction that day for loneliness, and after growing tired of their hassling, he had agreed to try. The handful that he went on were not all awful, though there was the matter of working around his legs. Some girls tried to overcompensate by complimenting everything else about him, while others couldn’t disguise the fact that they were looking at his crutches. He tried not to hold it against them. It was his hang-ups, not theirs.

He had taken the night off from his life of dating to go to the store. Hvitserk had Thora over, and Ubbe was out on a date, so he hadn’t exactly felt like third-wheeling. Mumbling some excuse about needing milk, he had slunk out the door and hit the streets just as the sun was setting. 

Perusing the aisles, Ivar wandered aimlessly as he picked up items, only to put them back again. He already had the milk, his whole purpose for being there, but he didn’t want to go back to the apartment. There was a chance he’d walk in on a compromising moment between Hvitserk and Thora, and he wanted to save them all the embarrassment.

“Excuse me, can I get by?”

Ivar tilted his head towards the voice and was startled to find you standing there with him in the aisle. Gods were you a lovely sight. You were bundled in autumn gear, and you clung to a basket with the few groceries you had picked up. Ivar couldn’t help but notice the look of weariness on your face, your shoulders sagged with depletion as if you were carrying the weight of the world.

“Sorry, go ahead,” He mumbled as he shifted on his crutches so you could get through. 

You didn’t immediately take the chance to go, instead, you stood with a puzzled expression that had him avoiding your eyes. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

“No,” He remarked too quickly, and it came off as defensive. 

“Wait, I remember now,” You continued, a small smile lifting the corners of your lips. “You go to the same Cafe as me.”

Ivar sputtered as he tried to answer. You had noticed him. Did you catch him when he took your photo? Most likely not, or you probably would have avoided him; the weird guy with the lame legs from the Cafe. 

“Oh, right.” 'Smooth, Ivar’, he could hear Hvitserk say in his head.

“I haven’t seen you there in a while.”

“I’ve been busy.” It came off as terse, and he regretted using such a tone with you.

“Sorry, that was me being rude,” You replied, bouncing from one foot to another. “It’s none of my business. I should let you finish your shopping.”

You were quick to jostle past, nearly losing the contents of your basket as you went. Ivar didn’t like how skittish you had become, and if that was the last conversation he was to have with you, he didn’t want it to end that way.

“What’s your name?”

You spun back around on the heel of your brown suede boot. “I’m (Y/N),” You said as if anticipating the question.

“Ivar,” He returned in kind.

“It’s nice to meet you Ivar. Maybe I’ll see you around again. We can talk over crappy coffee or something.”

“Maybe.” Ivar smiled, and the warm-hearted feeling stayed with him long after he had returned home with the milk.

…

When Ivar saw you again, you were on opposing sides. You and Ubbe had sided with the treacherous Lagertha. Seeing you standing there with his mother’s murderer had him abandoning any kind feelings he had towards you, but seeing the man standing by your side made his heartbeat with rage. You were round in the middle from pregnancy, and the warrior who held you close must have been your husband.

You were no longer his, and you never had been. Seeing you now made that clear. He hated the power you still unknowingly had over him. If you came back to him now, even in your condition, he would let you. But he couldn’t keep on pretending that everything was alright. He would see Lagertha’s fate sealed by his hands, and you would not get in his way.

Hvitserk had remained loyal at his side, but Ivar could see his mask of resolve slipping the moment he spotted you and Ubbe.

“Having second thoughts?” He provoked.

Hvitserk straightened his back, and shot him a scowl, “No, but this feels wrong. We have family and friends on that side. What are we doing with Harald?”

“The usurper stands there as well. I’d align with Loki himself if it brought me my revenge.”

“And what about (Y/N)? She’s pregnant, don’t you care what happens to her?”

Ivar felt as if a shadow had passed over him, and when he looked at you across the field, you were staring back in despair. “(Y/N) doesn’t need me anymore. She has chosen the failing side, and it will cost her everything.”

Hvitserk let out a harsh laugh. “This is why she left you. You have a stone heart brother, and only Mother could love you.”

“I don’t need love, I need vengeance, and I will have it on Lagertha, Bjorn, Ubbe, (Y/N), and anyone else who stands in my way. Don’t make the same mistake, brother,” Ivar flared back, digging his crutches into the earth as he started back to his chariot.

Angry tears threatened to run down his face, and he wiped them away with a stubborn brush of his hand. It was difficult to hear anything above the whipping wind, but he could make out his heart beating at a furious pace. The pain he felt would recede, it always did. He had piled up all of the rejection and losses that life had brought him, but he never thought you would be among them. Today he looked his last upon you, for tomorrow would bring war and legacy. 

…

Ivar couldn’t believe he had fallen back into the same rut. Any of the blind dates he had been set up on had come to a dead stop, and he was back to frequenting the Cafe. The worst part was he had been there enough times that he was starting to enjoy the taste of the weak coffee. He considered it progress that if you weren’t there when he arrived, he wouldn’t wait around for you to show.

On the day that you had been there, you had displayed genuine excitement to see him, and Ivar didn’t know how to handle such a reaction. He had to keep reminding himself that you were married, but every minute he spent in your presence continued to chip away at his resolve. You smelt like patchouli and lemon, and the way you spoke with your hands had him laughing. He couldn’t remember being around someone who was so unabashedly themselves, and he knew if he continued to see you, he wouldn’t stop. You gave him all sorts of bad ideas.

“It looks like rain,” You said, glancing up at the grey sky that was lousy with clouds. 

“We could go somewhere else,” Ivar suggested out of the need to keep the afternoon going. He didn’t want to part from you yet. “Somewhere warm, and dry.”

“My apartment is close, we could go there.”

You said it with such innocence as if you had just been discussing the daily news. The proper respect to the implication behind such an invite had not been given. What kind of woman are you? His heart sank in disappointment.

“What about your husband,” He said, taking a terse step back to judge you.

You had the decency to look surprised, and you gave him a hard stare right back. “How do you know about Ben?”

Ivar flushed pink. In his quick anger, he forgot he’d have to explain that he had been watching you from afar for some time. “I…well…”

You interrupted his stammering, realization coming to you. “It wasn’t your brother asking after me that day, he was doing it for you.”

“You knew about that?”

“Wally told me when I got back to the table, but you guys were already clearing out. I didn’t see you again after that day until the market.”

“Yeah, well, you’re married, so I didn’t see the point,” He mumbled, looking away from you.

“I’m a widow, Ivar,” You said, and that quickly grabbed his attention. “I think you and I need to have a talk because you were looking at me just now as if I was the worst type of person, and I don’t like that.”

Ivar felt a flurry of emotions, but at the brunt of it all was guilt. He had practically called you a harlot in so many words, only to discover your husband was dead. He was lucky you didn’t kick his crutch out from under him and leave him on the cold ground. 

The first drop of rain hit Ivar between the eyes, and you put a gentle gloved hand on his arm to get him moving again. You didn’t get far before the sky let go, and you were both trudging through puddles. The rain was making his grip on his crutches slick, and he struggled to keep up with your pace while also trying to avoid falling. He felt you slow down beside him, and he felt bad that you were getting soaked just because of him.

“Sorry,” He spoke in a soft manner.

“Don’t be. I’ve been going for walks in the rain for a while now. It’s the only way I can cry in public without people noticing.”

Ivar paused to study you, and that’s when he recognized the same look of sadness that you had worn that day in the market.

“Your husband passed away recently, didn’t he?”

“Just a few months, yeah,” You said while ducking into an alcove of a building. “This is me. Let’s head upstairs.”

Ivar nodded. He was relieved to be getting out of the rain, but a nervous sweat had him hot at the collar. You were about to reveal something personal to him, even when you didn’t owe him an explanation. He hadn’t meant to insert himself into your life in such a short time in a manner such as this, but he would listen to your story. In the end, he hoped he would be one step closer to being a part of your life.

…

On the shores of Kattegat laid the fallen. Bjorn had not been able to surmount Oleg’s forces, and Ivar had come out the victorious son of Ragnar. While the Rus celebrated in the Great Hall, Ivar had escaped outside to the familiar sites of his home. It had been in a different life when he had crawled through the sand. Now he stood tall on his crutches, weaving slowly through the dead. He was searching for his enemies, Bjorn and Harald, to see if their defeat had been decided.

The sun was sinking low, and without the light, it would be difficult to determine the identities of the dead. He pushed on overturned bodies with his crutch, sometimes remembering the faces from his past, while others were strangers. It was an empty victory. He was still under the thumb of Oleg, and he could not restore glory to his home until they were gone. That battle was yet to come.

“…Ivar?”

A weak voice called to him, carried by the wind. Ivar’s eyes flitted back and forth as he tried to find the source. 

“Where are you,” He called, possibly to no one.

“I’m here.”

The voice was not as far away as he thought. He caught the motion of a limp hand waving through the stillness. Ivar made his way through the remnants of the battlefield until he came to the body perched up against a boulder. It was you. He had not recognized your call, most of it lost and weakened, much like your body. You were battered and bleeding, and with the mark of death soon upon you. 

Ivar dropped to his knees and crawled to you. The moment he touched you, you fell into his arms. Your breathing was a series of harsh wheezes, and your eyelids fluttered. 

“You found me,” You croaked out, holding your hand to the ax wound at your gut. A slow way to die.

“(Y/N),” Ivar whispered, brushing your hair from your forehead. You were sweating and cold to the touch. “Why were you here?”

“Kattegat is my home. I would never abandon it.”

“Where is your family? I need to get you to them,” He said, recalling that you would have a small child waiting for you.

“My family is dead, Ivar. I will go to them now, and be reunited in Valhalla.”

“Stupid woman. If you had just stayed with me, I could have protected you.” He didn’t just mean from this battle, but since you had left him in York. “I loved you.”

“I loved you as well, but I did not want your path to be mine,” You said and you reached for his ear, giving the lobe a small tug that caused his heart to burn in agony. “Perhaps the Gods will find a way for us to start again. When Thor cracks his hammer, and the storm fades, we will find each other again, Ivar the Boneless.”

“Don’t go, not yet.” Angry tears ran lines through the blood and mud on his face. There was no point in his pleading. You belonged to the Gods now.

“Odin is calling me,” You said, and your arm fell down at your side. “Please, Ivar, I do not want to die this way. My breath is leaving me too slowly, and every beat of my heart is as long as a life age. I want to go, but I am afraid.”

Your ramblings were turning incoherent, and he wondered if you could still see his face. Many of his tears had fallen onto your cheeks, but you had not flinched. Ivar knew what he had to do, but he did not know if he had the strength to ease your passing. 

“Please.”

You were staring up at the sky, and Ivar felt invisible. His hand moved with precision, and he brought his knife down to the hilt through to your heart. A gasp escaped you, and then an endless stillness. You had a vacant expression of peace, and Ivar closed your eyes to rest.

When night came, he had managed without aid in loading your body onto a boat. It was just something he had to see done alone. Being away from you for so long, he had no mementos to send with you, save one. He had set upon you his hammer of Thor while remembering your words with the hope that it would see you to the halls of Valhalla. With one arrow your vessel was set ablaze in the twilight, and Ivar was up 'til dawn as you drifted passed the horizon, and beyond his sight. But you would never be beyond his heart, and time would bring you back to him. He would find you again, even if it took a thousand years.

…

Ivar followed you into your apartment, both dripping wet from the rain. He stood on your doormat, hair clinging to his neck as he balanced on his crutches. You kicked off your shoes before shrugging out of your coat.

“Let me grab you a towel,” You said, shooting him a quick smile before you ventured down the hallway. 

Ivar stood unmoving while he tried to absorb everything around him. Was this your apartment, or had your husband lived here before what he assumed was an untimely death? There was a hint of eucalyptus and mint in the air, and other than the wet shoes and your abandoned coat, everything appeared to be in order.

He was saved from drowning in his own thoughts when you returned with a purple towel. Grateful to finally be dry, he took it from your outstretched hand, trading you for one of his crutches. He swayed only for a moment before finding his balance as he toweled off his damp hair.

“Need a hand?” Your timid voice broke through even as he had his head turned.

“I’m fine, thanks.” He managed to keep from being curt, knowing you weren’t asking out of pity.

“Well, at least come inside. I feel strange making you stand in my doorway.”

You started ahead, and Ivar followed. He noticed you had already dried your own hair, the ends frizzy and curling. Now in the comfort of your own home, you were without the bundled garments he always met you in, and beneath was a blue dress with black nylons. Stockings on a woman were enough to drive any man crazy, and he tried to keep his eyes trained forward. He was here to listen to your story, not ogle you like a schoolboy. 

The rain outside had picked up strength and was pelting your window in swells. You switched on a table lamp, a dim warmth glowing in the room. Ivar felt some shame that his first instinct was to check for any framed photographs of your husband. He needed to confirm his existence, and maybe compare himself to the man you had loved and lost.

“Did you want anything to drink?” You interrupted his investigating, bringing his eyes back to you. You were lovely, standing there against the backdrop of the raging storm. 

“I’m alright,” Ivar replied, anxious to get to the truth of the matter. 

You took the towel that hung in his grasp at his side and brought it back to the side of his face that was still wet. Once you were satisfied, you gave his earlobe a small tug, and it sent his heart into a frenzy. Where did that come from?

“Good as new,” You said, a mesmerizing look glazing over your eyes.

“Thanks,” Ivar murmured, touching his ear.

You sighed as you parked yourself on the sofa, breaking the spell. “Sorry, I’m stalling. It’s just…it’s difficult to rehash a chapter I only just finished closing.”

“I don’t want to force you,” He explained, taking the other side of the sofa. “Maybe I should go.”

“No, I’m not letting you go back out in the rain. Besides, I owe you an explanation,” You paused a moment, gathering your strength before continuing. “Ben died from stage four pancreatic cancer this past spring. He wasn’t sick when we first got together, but he got his diagnosis only two months into our relationship. By the time he was diagnosed it had already metastasized, and the chemo was ineffective. When the doctor gave him a year to live, that’s when he proposed to me.”

Ivar felt his face sink into a frown as you told the story. Your husband had been dealt a bad hand, unjust and cruel. He suddenly felt ridiculous for even being jealous of a dead man. A great evil had been done to Ben, the work of forces unknown, and Ivar was a mix of elation and regret. He was strangely fortunate that the man was no longer in your life, and it was an awful thing to say, let alone think.

“How long into your relationship was that?”

“About five months. When I think back on it, I’m not even sure if our dating would have progressed to marriage naturally. Our dates went from restaurants to hospital appointments, but I never considered walking away even when Ben and his family all suggested it was a lot for a new relationship,” You said, bringing your legs up onto the couch, and you jumped when a thrash of thunder boomed outside. “I never thought of it that way though. When Ben proposed, he said it was because he wanted to experience being married before cancer took him. I’m not sure if either of us were in love, but we cared about one another, and at the time that was enough. The only thing I had to lose was Ben, which eventually I did. He didn’t even last the full year that the doctor had estimated.”

Ivar didn’t know what to say. 'I’m sorry’ was trite and cliche, and he was certain you had been told so enough. Though your voice wavered, you did not cry. He wanted to hold you close, but he didn’t have the courage to cross the invisible barrier that seemed to keep you trapped away from him.

“Thank you for telling me. I’m terrible for accusing you of wanting to be unfaithful. I guess I got so caught up in my own feelings, I didn’t consider yours,” He said, looking down at his lap.

He felt the sofa shift with your weight as you shuffled closer to him. “These feelings you have Ivar, I don’t understand. You don’t know me very well.”

“But I feel like I do,” He was quick to say, eyes flashing to you. It sounded absurd, and he flinched, preparing for your bad reaction.

“I know,” You said, blinking in surprise. “It’s strange, but you are so familiar to me. It’s like we’ve been here before.”

You reached out your hand, and Ivar snatched it up, not letting anything take away the moment in front of him. All of the doubts and the unfair restrictions that had kept you from him went away, and he pulled you close until you were in his arms. The apartment fell to silence, and the storm began to relent. Your head was nestled into his neck, warm little puffs of air tickling his skin. Ivar kept his nose pressed into your hair, breathing in your scent. He was reminded of fire, and of a ship sailing into the setting sun. Maybe it was all just a coincidence, but as you held each other through the fading thunder, Ivar was sure he had loved you once. Time had brought you back, and now that he had found you, he would never let go.

@peachyboneless @didiintheblog @saldelys @soleil-dor @zuxiezendler @pieces-by-me @xbellaxcarolinax @heavenly1927 @everyartistwas-firstanamateur @youbloodymadgenius @xceafh @shannygoatgruff @tgrrose @1950schick @castielsangelsx

[sweetestlamb]

Still, I Rise

Summary: Damn teenagers and their angst. 

Author's Note: Back with another chapter, if you didn’t already know it I will be revealing our mystery character from the last chapter LOL please put down the bats and weapons (jk take them out it’s hilarious!) With this chapter we are getting closer to the “climax” and I am so excited to write the fun chapters I have planned ahead, one scene that I am really looking forward to writing is the camping trip, I had so much plans and events that I wanted to see that didn’t because TVN woke up and chose basic, we hate to see it. I can’t wait to rewrite history honestly also can’t wait to just move to onto regular schmegular teen problems, I swearrrrrrr. 

"Don't you dare embarrass me this time. You aren't ugly why can't you get these damn little rich brats to like you? Are you truly this useless? Don't come home if you can't make this one fall for you!"

Those had been his father's final words right before his hand split his lower lip open with a razor sharp blow that made his head whip in recoil. His father's footsteps faded as he walked away leaving him crumpled on the ground, anger and embarrassment raging in his blood. He hadn't chosen this life at all, never wanted to be a bargaining chip for that despicable man. First with Eun Dan Oh and now this new girl, Kang Sujin.

She'd initially stood him up and he had felt foolish sitting in the lavish restaurant by himself, checking his phone but no calls or messages arrived.

His father had been livid that night, more vicious than usual his stepmother's weak screams served as the soundtrack for his brutal beating. Why couldn’t she just be quiet? Did it make her feel better when she acted as if she actually gave a shit about him? His brother coming into his room after with those pathetic weeping eyes and a bandage had only made him angrier, he shoved him away slamming the door in his face, refusing his help. He didn't need anyone, nobody could save him from his horrible fate. 

It hadn't taken much research to find out her school and on impulse he'd gone there without her knowledge, watching from afar at first. A tiny girl with short hair framing her face had ran giggling into a taller girl with long dark hair and a classically beautiful face, they walked side by side smiling and laughing and that's when he'd heard her call out , "Sujin we should get something to eat!"

It wasn't love at first sight or anything ridiculous and disgustingly romantic like that, but he felt a connection to the girl for some inconceivable reason as if they were kindred spirits or something, maybe it was the remnant of a bruise he saw on her wrist hidden beneath her sweater. 

It seemed they had more in common then he had initially believed, it was a grim similarity. 

He'd gone home feeling less burdened than before, and his father's smile had been terrifying when he'd told him that he would work hard to win the girl over, only because he knew how quickly that smile could evaporate and his father could become the monster he was accustomed to. He tried not to flinch as the older man clapped him on the shoulder, his body already in fight or flight mode.

His father had merely smirked at his apparent fear.

Bastard.

So he'd taken to following the other girl around, she was going to be his fiancé anyway so he saw nothing wrong with it. And that was how he learned about the other boy, a tall slender boy who looked like someone that would grace an idol magazine cover. They were together more often than he liked, and it seemed more than platonic if the glances and subtle touches were a sign.

He wasn't jealous per se, but this would be a roadblock in his plan that he couldn't afford. He was getting used to not being beaten. 

The day he'd followed them to the hospital presented another challenge for him, he hated hospitals and what they represented with every fiber of his being. He'd spent too much time in them growing up and then again for a girl who couldn't care less about him, she was another reminder that he wasn't worthy of love. He had thought he loved her but still hurt her whenever she disobeyed him, he knew he was no better than his father.

Unexpectedly Sujin had burst through the hospital doors, surprising him and forcing him to hide lest she spot him, peeking out from his hiding place behind a tree he saw her distraught and near tears running the opposite direction. He stood in shock merely watching and waiting to see if the unknown boy would follow her, but thankfully he never came.

Pushing down his own wariness and discomfort he walked into the hospital immediately feeling a cold chill on his skin, he refused to call it trauma that made it sound like something was wrong with him. He was fine and he could do this.

Thankfully the nurses were too busy and nobody noticed him walking by and he froze when he spotted another man who was capable of making him flinch. Doctor Kang, he looked anything but approachable in his gleaming white lab coat and he remembered watching the man laugh with his father as they both sold their children without remorse. Instinctively he hid watching the man glare into a hospital room, he almost feared for whomever was the recipient of the ice cold gaze.

Minutes melted by before the doctor finally walked away, his steps clipped and echoing on the linoleum floors and he finally let out a sigh of relief when the other man disappeared around the corner.

Stealthily he rounded the corner and took the doctor's abandoned spot, peeking into the room through the small window in the door. It was that boy again, the idol wannabe but this time he wasn't alone there was a young girl with a bouquet in her arms and a older woman lovingly patting him on his cheeks.

His mother.

A loving one, at that. 

His blood seared watching the domestic scene, jealousy ripping through him like a tornado. There was no way he was letting this asshole have Sujin too, he already had too much. More than he, Baekyung would ever have.

                                                                The motorcycle roars under her thighs as they whip down the road. It only serves to remind her of the first time she was on a bike with another boy, his cologne and the scent of leather infiltrating her senses and making her heart jump through hoops. This time she feels nothing but annoyance and extreme frustration, barely holding onto the stranger in front of her as she leans forward to yell above the engine, "Pullover!"

She knows he heard her based on the immediate tension in his body but he continues to ride ignoring her request demand. With a grunt she grabs onto his waist only to bodily drag them to the side not caring if they both crash at this point she cannot stand another second on this bike with him, instantly he straightens them before skidding to the side and finally pulling the brakes bringing the motorcycle to a halt, the moment the bike stops she hops off in a frenzy.

Thrusting the bottom piece of his helmet up he screams at her, "Are you insane? You could have hurt us!"

She bares her teeth at him, ready to unleash her full anger on him now without an audience. 

"Who the fuck are you? And why did you come to my school?" She bellows glaring poisonously at the strange idiot who had single handedly upended her day.

Moving calmer than she's feeling, he dismounts finally pulling his helmet off and then squeezing it under his arm looking down at her. 

With a condescending look he stares at her, "You know exactly who I am, don't play dumb it's beneath you."

He's right. She does know who he is although she had never seen him or known his name, she had truly thought she could ignore him and he would disappear. Just like with her father that was proving to be an erroneous dream that would never come true. 

"But I'll formally introduce myself since we are going to be engaged soon after all, Baekyung. You can call me oppa though."

Engaged soon.

Her head spins from his words, she feels terror shift over her like a thick suffocating blanket.

"You don't even know me. Why would you even agree to this?" She stares at him in disbelief, at a loss to his acquiesce to their tragic fate.

The look in his eyes haunt her, it's like staring in a mirror and gazing back at the person she was months ago. Somehow without her knowledge or consent she'd changed, grown even and therefore started believing that her life was just that, hers.

"You act like we have a choice. Don't be stupid, we have to just do as we're told. It's easier this way for everyone." He repeats those words that she herself had uttered to Seojun not so long ago, a sense of deja vu washes over her. 

"How is letting ourselves be used easier? Don't you have your own dreams or aspirations? Isn't there someone you actually like?" She knows the error of her argument immediately as she says it, his eyes narrow into thin enraged slits and she can practically feel the anger vibrating off him.

"Don't pretend to care about me. This is about you and your little boyfriend," he spits the word like acid and immediately she remembers those chilling words he had whispered in her eyes earlier, "Do you think he'll be safe?" That was all it had taken for her to go with him, he couldn't get hurt she wouldn't allow that to happen ever. She had no idea what those ominous words meant and how this boy could pose a threat to Seojun but she knew she had to hear him out and protect Seojun anyway she possibly could. 

"He's not the only one you should be worried about." The smug bastard continues with a humorless grin on his face and suddenly the dots connect, her father outside of Ms. Han's hospital room and that calculating look on his face. Her stomach drops.

"Leave them out of it!" She screams embarrassed at the urgent plea in her voice but she can't help it, she's so scared more than she's ever been for herself.

"Well that all depends on you doesn't it? Your dear father will have no reason to do anything to them if you listen like a good daughter and date me as expected."

She stands frozen once again feeling helpless, it kills her inside all her growth slipping down the drain in a matter of seconds.

"Why are you doing this?"

He stills at her question, his cold mask dropping and leaving something numb and unreadable in its place. It feels familiar to her, she awaits his answer with bated breath.

"I want to live, even if I have no control over it. I'd rather be alive."

Thunder clashes above them, the previously sunny day shifting into a gray dark distortion, heavy storm clouds ominously loom above them and the first raindrops land perfectly on her cheeks, crying the tears that she refuses to let fall. She has no more left to cry.

Confusion is an understatement to express Su-ah's true feelings following the mysterious boy on the motorcycle, when she finally gets Sujin on the phone the other girl is quiet and mumbling, evading all her questions and as soon as she mentions Seojun, Sujin shuts down hastily ending their conversation with some nonsensical excuse. 

That was not going to be the end, Sujin might want to play dumb about the true nature of their relationship but she wasn't part of the circus. She was no clown, she had eyes and it was clear that they liked each other and it was only growing the more time they spent together. She wouldn't let her best friend sabotage something that could be great for her, she deserved happiness and Seojun made her happy. So it was truly that simple. 

Stomping up the slight incline to school, she huffs and puffs determined. She was going to talk some sense into the other girl.

Those thoughts come crashing all around her when she sees Sujin coming out of a car, a car that she has never seen before and her questions are answered when the boy from yesterday steps out after her. Every eye in a ten mile radius is watching them, captivated by this new school scandal. Girls already squealing and giggling, envious of Sujin and doing very little to hide their true feelings. 

“Why is he with her? She isn’t even that pretty. He should be with me.” 

The lies people told themselves to sleep at nights, sad. 

Accidentally knocking the gossiping girl to the side with a rough shoulder check, ignoring her dramatic cry she sprints the rest of the way, once again pushing through the crowd to get to Sujin.

Immediately their eyes lock and she begs Sujin for a answers, What happened? Why are you doing this? What’s going?,  she flinches at the cold emotionless stare she gets in response. She watches in dismay as the tall boy bends down as if to hug Sujin and that's when a loud grumble fills the air, she turns around to the all too familiar sight of Seojun on his motorcycle. He revs the handle bar causing the crowd to part like the Red Sea, then he rides slowly until he's right next to Sujin bike inches away from touching her.

With a practiced motion he tugs off his helmet, those sloping feline eyes already on Sujin in a hard stare.

The tension is insurmountable and cloying and Su-ah watches transfixed before Sujin breaks the impasse, tugging her bookbag over her shoulder she stomps into the school without a word to either boys. But then the interloping boy calls out, “Have a good day. Princess,” and Sujin stops immediately at the word, turning around with a ferocious look in her eyes, “Don’t call me that. My name is Kang Sujin to you. That’s all.” Su-ah sees the way that Sujin’s eyes almost subconsciously seek out a certain cat eyed boy and feels like she misses an entire conversation between the two before Sujin finally walks away. 

The mysterious boy glares at her retreating back before shooting a cold glare at Seojun and then promptly hopping back into his car, the backseat as he's chauffeured away.

"Oh my god! That was so hot! Princess?” 

"Who is that? Does Kang Sujin have a boyfriend? Wow, she’s mean to her boyfriend too. What a bitch.” 

Why do you think Seojun looked so angry?"

"Maybe he's worried about losing his bad boy title!"

The crowd erupts around them in loud voices, all curious about what they've witnessed and already creating rumors to appease their curiosity. Suddenly a loud motorcycle screech causes them all to jump silence falling over the crowd before Seojun rides away, the tight clench in his jaw visible even from her distance.

Lunch is a step above awkward, bordering into painful. The easy conversation that used to be a staple of the table is all but decimated, instead everyone eats quietly chilled by the cold air permeating from both Seojun and Sujin. They only speak when spoken to and avoid all eye contact, especially each others. It's painful to be a witness to and she notes regretfully that neither are eating home made lunch today, opting for the school lunch instead.

Sujin had never officially told her but she knew that they were making food for each other, their smiles watching the other eat made it too obvious.

This was serious. Looking at them now they looked like complete strangers, everyone was too nervous to question the elephant in the room. Everyone except poor Chorong.

"Why is everyone was so awkward today? What did you two fight or something? Why do we all have to suffer because of your lover's quarrel? Just kiss and make up already."

The table all looked on with opened mouths except Suho and herself who both looked worried instead.

And people thought she was slow, how had they all not realized what was happening? It was clear as day.

She flinches at his well-meaning words that are evidently not well received by either teen, watching them both glare at the table unmoving and the silence drags out painfully before Seojun breaks the stalemate. Standing without preamble he glares at Chorong before placing the stare on Sujin, it does nothing to change her unaffected stare. With a loud sigh he stomps away, despite his friends dismayed shouts of his name.

She continues to eat her lunch, watching Sujin in her peripheral.

She looks like she has the weight of the world on her shoulder and Su-ah for the first time in their friendship has no idea what to do.

But when they all start to funnel out of the cafeteria she follows the other girl anyway, tugging her into an enclave where they are hidden from the rest of their classmates Sujin cries out at the sudden jerk but loses her defensive stance when she realizes it’s just her. 

“What?”

“What’s going on? Why are you letting that punk bring you to school and why are you and Han Seojun acting like you broke up before you even started officially dating? Sujin-ah, please tell me what’s going on.” She pleads latching onto the other girl’s arm peering up at her with puppy dog eyes, they have never failed her before. 

“I can’t tell you yet, I’m sorry.”

There’s a first time for everything and she frowns at Sujin feeling like there is a mountain between them. She can’t help the hurt that she feels knowing the other girl doesn’t trust her enough to tell her what’s going on. She thought they had moved past all the secrets and hiding but obviously she was wrong. 

“I really am sorry. But I will tell you everything soon enough.”

She releases Sujin’s arm, ready to walk away. She hates being in the dark. But before she can walk away, she feels Sujin hand on the bottom of her sweater tugging her backwards, she looks back with a perplexed glare. 

“Do you trust me?” 

She stares at Sujin and the soft tilt of her head as she asks the question, and her answer is easy, although she has no idea what’s going on and none of this makes any sense to her she doesn’t have to think about that answer. 

"You shouldn't do this to him. It's too cruel." Suho expects a biting retort or even a call for him to mind this damn business, so he's shocked breathless when instead the other girl smiles at him, a tiny almost indecipherable thing that makes her lips thinner. 

"You two have come a long way." Sujin responds unexpectedly shaking her head and walking over to the couch, before beckoning him over too.

He stares feeling suspicious but ultimately he follows, curiosity winning.

"I think I'm ready." Sujin expels a deep breath, twisting her hands nervously in her lap. Before he can ask her what exactly she's ready for she continues, "I want to tell your father what happened if you really think he'll help me."

He's too late to swallow the strangled gasp that escapes from his lungs and he leans back in surprise. He wants to continue his conversation about Seojun but he’s scared to do anything to make the other girl retreat or change her mind now. That conversation will have to wait for another day.  

Sorry Seojun. 

"Are you sure? You're really ready to do this?"

There's a long pause and he watches a myriad of emotions run across Sujin's usually expressionless face until something that looks suspiciously like hope blossoms making her glow brighter than the sun.

"Yes. I want to try living just for me."

Blinking away the moisture in his eyes, he pulls out his cellphone sending his father a message.

Please come over.

It only takes seconds but it feels like an eternity before his father replies, he smiles at the message.

On my way.

He stands up to put the kettle on the fire, he knows that tonight will be a long night and he needs something to keep his hands occupied.

When his doorbell rings he's shocked when Sujin stands up looking at him with a serene gaze, "I'll get it." He only nods at her in reply, watching as she greets his father and man recovers quickly at the unexpected visitor, smiling warmly at Sujin before pulling her into a warm embrace.

Even more surprisingly Sujin doesn't flinch, allowing herself to be wrapped up.

His father embraces him as well, patting him on the back and again on the head when they break apart. He can feel Sujin's eyes on them and he moves away guiltily. Now isn’t the time to rub his burgeoning relationship with his father in her face. 

"Have a seat Dad, thank you for coming so quickly."

His father lifts an eyebrow at the sudden serious tone of his voice but he follows his directions nonetheless folding his hands on his lap and looking inquisitively between the two teenagers.

"Is there something you both want to tell me? Perhaps you two are....." His father motions vaguely between them and he stares back not comprehending until his father smiles slyly and Sujin beats him to it, protesting ardently.

"No! No, it's nothing like that. There's someone else...I mean no. That's what what we wanted to talk about."

He raises an eyebrow at Sujin's slip and his father chuckles at her stuttering and the red blaze across her cheeks.

His father waves his arms in appeal, apologetic grin on his face. "Sorry I didn't mean to embarrass you both. I just always hoped you two might one day. A father can dream."

He scoffs at his father, "Give up on that dream she's like family to me. We would never see each other that day."

Sujin nods passionately in agreement and his father shrugs easily, now looking even more curious than before.

"So what did you want to talk about?"

Sujin stills on her spot on the couch, the determination in her bones seeming to melt away with every passing minute. He fears this won't go as planned and he has no idea how to motivate her.

Then a loud vibration rumbles from the couch and it takes Sujin a moment to realize it's her phone, he watches curiously as she looks at the message and then a single tear runs down her round cheek. The determination curls back around her like armor, he watches in amazement as she sits taller turning to look at his father with newfound courage or maybe it wasn’t newfound but suddenly uncovered by whatever she had seen on her phone. 

“Suho asked you for help for me. I’m really the one who needs your help.” He can hear the slight quiver and hitches in her words but she gets them all out and instantly she has his father’s undivided attention, he even turns his body to fully face the girl. Pride swells in his chest at the sight, he was worried his father would only be adamant about helping him directly as a way to get closer to him but now he can see that he was wrong about the other man. Genuine concern fills every line and wrinkle of time on his face. 

“What is wrong? What do you need help with and why can’t you tell your parents?” It’s a innocent question, and logical too but he fears Sujin’s reaction, when she feels like she is backed into a corner in the past that has led to her lashing out with dagger sharp remarks, he watches with his heart lodged in his throat.

“Because they are the ones hurting me.” 

His lungs deflate releasing all the air that was trapped in the sacs, she said the truth without hesitation and he turns to glance at his father watching him process the bomb that she has just dropped on him. His father opens and closes his mouth several times, before finding his voice it is but a whisper when he responds to Sujin. 

“That time you needed a doctor.” The statement is directed to Suho and with a sober nod he confirms what his father already knows, with a loud sigh his father sinks into the couch quiet rage on his face. “I should have known, you always seemed so scared of him but I thought it was just his parenting style I never thought...never expected that he would....I should have done something!” 

Sujin laughs, it is pained and small but he hears it and immediately turns to look at her, “He sounds just like you like father like son I guess,” Sujin directs that at him and he blushes in memory, he can’t deny the claims. Then she turns back to his father with surprisingly soft eyes, “Don’t blame yourself, just help me now if you can.” 

“I will use all of my resources to make sure he spends his life in jail.” 

Suho jumps in his seat looking over at Sujin, that is way more than they had ever discussed that was what he truly wanted for the monstrous man but it always seemed like too much to ask for but here was his father saying it as if it was completely plausible. 

“Jail? Do you really think he can go to jail? It would be his word against mine, I never took any pictures. I was stupid.” Sujin berates herself, and before he can dismiss the self inflicted insult his father is already moving closer and putting a large hand on her trembling shoulder, only then does he realize how the girl is shaking like a new leaf. 

“No, it will be my word against his. I will also get that report from Doctor Kim, that could be used as evidence. You’re just a kid and a victim, I’ll handle this you don’t need to do anything else. You’ve handled enough on your own, we got you now.” His father looks over at him as if waiting for his approval and he moves onto the couch with them both, after a moment’s pause putting his hand on Sujin’s other shoulder. 

“We got you.” 

Jukyeong glances over nervously at Seojun the aroma of coffee thick in the air as she sweeps up the beans she had clumsily spilled on the ground, she waited for Seojun to playfully scold her as he often did when she messed up at work but the reprimand never came and when she glanced over at him he had been staring longing at his cellphone. 

Su-ah had been the first to notice how weird him and Sujin acted around each other and despite not having a lot of experience with relationships, especially those of the romantic kind she could see that they didn’t hate each other as much as Sujin tried to drive the deceptive point home. They were always teasing each other and Seojun found any excuse to be near Sujin and soon he wasn’t the only one, they just seemed to naturally gravitate to each other at times bickering so much it was like they were the only two people in the room. 

But all that had come to an abrupt end with the sudden appearance of the boy on the motorcycle, the entire school was in a uproar over him, Baek Kyung, she had heard the other girls whispering his name. On paper he seemed very similar to Han Seojun, same bad boy persona and affinity for motorcycles and glares. But the biggest difference she noticed was Sujin's reaction to them both, she had heard from some gossiping girls how vehemently Sujin had declared that Baek Kyung not call her “princess”, a moniker she had commonly heard Seojun use to refer to the girl.  Sujin never stopped him these days, instead rolling her eyes and speeding up to escape from him, he would chase after all calling her the sweet nickname all the way. 

When Seojun would use it to refer to her in passing such as, “Are you gonna eat that princess?” Those were times that Sujin didn’t react at all, simply handing him whatever food in her container had caught his eye that she had ignored. 

They were casually domestic in a way that they never seemed to realize and she couldn’t help but categorize. Seojun liked Sujin that was becoming clearer and it seemed like the feeling was mutual, even if the girl wasn’t yet ready to admit it. 

Which was why this new development came as a complete shock to her, why was Sujin suddenly giving her attention to someone else? 

“Did you guys have a fight? Just tell her you’re sorry.” She offers out of the blue, and Seojun turns to her with a puzzled look drying a mug with a cloth, “What are you talking about now clumsy?” 

Thankfully the shop is empty, she quirks at eyebrow at him folding her arm when he continues to play dumb. 

“Sujin. You guys clearly had a fight, you’re both so hot tempered. Her temper is probably worst than yours though so just apologize okay? It’s better than fighting.” 

He stares at her with a blank face before turning away, rubbing firmer at the mug in his hands and she worries for its safety. 

“Why should I apologize when she’s the one who’s with another guy? Don’t worry about me, I will be fine. Clearly this was one-sided. She doesn’t like me.” 

She openly laughs at him now, looking at him like he has two heads. “What are you talking about? If she didn’t like you then why did she follow you to your mom’s hospital? She tried to be all sneaky but Chorong told us everything. Plus she always gets jealous when other girls give you food at school and don’t think we don’t all know that you guys make food for each other!” 

He whips around looking at her with huge eyes, “Wait you all knew? So when I said that someone special made it for me? You knew?” 

She smiles brightly, “Yep. It wasn’t subtle at all.” 

He sighs in annoyance, turning away to hide the pink on his face. 

“I’m not apologizing. I didn’t do anything wrong.” 

She sighs at the boy’s words, knowing that this fight might go on longer than it needs to and she wishes she could just shake some sense into both of them, why were they choosing to suffer like this? 

Damn teenagers and their angst. 

Grumbling she goes to take a customer’s order, glancing over at Seojun with a final sad smile. 

Hopefully they can figure this out without falling apart. 

Time seems to move slower than usual today and he almost pumps a fist in  triumph when he sees that it’s finally eight and they are free to leave. 

“Do you want to me to walk you to the bus stop?” He offers Jukyeong out of politeness but she shakes her head no, telling him that she is going to meet with her older sister for dinner running out before him and hailing a cab, he smiles at the sight that’s one girl who loves to eat. 

Turning off the lights in the shop, he turns over the “open” sign and locks the door behind him. The cool spring night air brushes against his cheeks and he makes his way to his motorcycle, mounting in one motion and sighing as it purrs to life before he speeds off his destination already in mind. He bobs and weaves through traffic, smirking at idiot drivers who blare their horns at him when he inches too close to their precious car but even they are not enough to rain on his parade. 

When he finally arrives, he bounces off the bike throwing the helmet onto the handlebar carelessly before bounding over to the figure he sees waiting. 

He can’t help the smile that tugs against his lips, ultimately setting it free as the figure turns around at the sound of his boot stomping on the ground. 

“Did you wait long?” He asks moving closer until he can feel the heat wafting off the body in front of him. 

“No, I only just got here too. Why are you smiling like that? You look deranged.” 

He smiles wider, feeling mischievous after what a certain klutz had revealed to him with a smirk he leans closer to her, grinning harder when she leans back looking at him with a confused glare. 

“I heard from a certain birdie that you followed me to the hospital and that you get jealous when other girls give me food. Is that true princess?” 

Sujin growls at him, shoving his shoulder hard before stomping away to the park bench. He eagerly follows after her, throwing his arm over her shoulder smiling at her wearing yet another one of his sweaters, this time a black one that reaches the bottom of her knees and completely hides whatever she is wearing underneath. She looks equally sexy as adorable and it makes his blood boil in a way he has been trying harder and harder to suppress around her. 

“I knew you would try to milk the situation. This isn’t why I told you everything.” 

He smiles recalling what Sujin is referring to. 

Just a day go.....

He stares angrily at his phone in utter disbelief that she would have the gall to call him after what had just happened. She had left on another boy’s motorcycle even though he had asked her not to, he didn’t know what was going on but seeing her leave like that, he wished he knew how to turn off all his feelings for her. No other human should have this kind of power or control over him but here he was ready to burst because she had picked someone else over him. 

“What do you want?” He barks out answering the call with a hard press of his finger and immediately he starts to lose some of his fire when he hears her soft staggered breaths on the other line. 

“Seojun, can you meet me somewhere?” 

He wants to say no, to bitterly hang up on her and tell her that he has someone new too but that would be a lie and he desperately wants to see her and hold her and find out why she decided to rip his heart out and stomp on it.  

Feeling pathethic he answers her with a sigh, “Where are you?”  

Songnisan park. It’s not too far from their school and he hangs up without answering hopping on his bike and riding to her. Maybe it’s stupid but he can’t turn his back on her just yet, he still wants to hear her out even if she’s going to break his heart. 

By the time he reaches the park it’s raining, pouring down in sheets despite the warm weather and he immediately sees Sujin sitting under the downpour while other park goers are running and using picnic blankets as makeshift umbrellas. 

The scenes feels all too familiar and he wonders if this will be their end? Would life be that poetic to have them end the same way they became? 

Sighing he tugs his sweater off, walking quickly to close the gap between them before sitting beside her and thrusting his sweater above both their heads, protecting them from the rain. 

She turns to him with a gasp and he realizes how closely they are sitting beside each other, he can feel her breath when she exhales and it washes over in an intoxicating breeze. He has to forcibly put some distance between them before he does something that he knows he shouldn’t, especially not now. 

“My father knows about us. He saw me at the hospital and I’m scared he saw your mother and sister too. I don’t think I should visit anymore.” 

He pauses to process her words and he feels his chest tighten with anger at the mention of that sub-human, if he ever tried to harm a hair on his family’s head that would be the last thing he ever did. But once the rage passes by he thinks of the rest of Sujin’s sentence, my father knows about us. 

They were an us. 

There was an us for people to know about? 

“Us?” He replies stupidly, unable to stop his heart from fluttering. 

With a sound of exasperation she looks over at him, “How is that the most important thing that I said?” The pretty blush on her face does not go unnoticed but he responds to her statement staying focused, “My mom was discharged today. They said it was just a scare and nothing serious. He can’t do anything to us, if he tries I’ll kill him.” 

He means it, every single word falling from his lips. 

He’s not prepared for Sujin to sob and drop her head onto his shoulder, he drops their sweater umbrella at the sudden pleasant weight feeling the rain drench his hair and shirt instantly. 

“I’m so happy to hear that. I was so worried about all of you.” 

A bubble of happiness explodes in his chest and he’s so close to just letting go of all his anger and holding her, seeing her so worried about his family is almost enough to undo him. 

But, he can’t forget the image of her riding off with someone else. His heart will never forget that ache, that indescribable pain.

“So you care about me now? Is that why you left me like that today? Because you care so much?”

He is being petty, he knows that but he can’t stop the jealousy that is fueling him right now. His green eyed monster is raring its ugly head. 

“That’s the guy you told me to stand up, remember? That’s the guy my father is trying to sell me to. He’s been following us and he knew about you, he threatened you. I did what I had to, I have to do this until I speak to Suho’s father. I think.....No. I’m ready now. I’m going to tell him everything and ask for his help.” 

His heart is pounding erratically in his chest, he can barely hear the rain over the loud thumping of the organ and he can’t believe he ever doubted her, feels guilt twist around him but he pushes that aside to take in everything she has confessed to him, without saying the words she has all but confirmed everything Jukyeong carelessly exposed to him in the coffee shop, she cares about him too enough to want to protect him at any cost. But most importantly she was starting to care about herself, she no longer saw her life as expendable and was willing to ask for help even at the expense of revealing her darkest secret and getting her hopes up. 

Fuck she was the bravest person he knew. 

Without thinking he tugs her into his arms, wrapping her in a tight hug before he realizes what he’s doing but by the time he starts to move back she’s already hugging him back, her arms tight around his shoulder and her head in the dip of his neck and it’s too perfect to stop now. Absently he strokes her wet silky smooth hair and when they finally draw apart, the barest amount of space between them he takes another risk, glancing at her eyes pleading and then smiling when she nods, giving him permission even without knowing what he plans to do, simply trusting him, he leans forward and plants a soft butterfly kiss on her forehead, she hisses in response but instead of moving away she latches on to him tighter. 

“I’m so proud of you baby.” He kisses her again, firmer this time putting all the love and pride he feels for her in that gentle kiss to her brow. 

He expects a lot of things in response to his bold move and the new nickname, a punch, a kick, her loud denial and rejection, he is emotionally prepared for any and all of those reactions, but instead she steals his breath away when she smiles up at him, looking into his eyes and he realizes that she’s looking for permission too and he nods, nervous and anxious to see what she will do. 

With a moment’s hesitation she tugs him down and he goes easily, his heart in his chest and he closes his eyes as her face draws closer to him, his heart is pattering now a crazy thundering mess filled to the brim with anticipation. 

He feels her plush lips against his cheek, the rain making the skin slick and he hums in encouragement as the kiss lingers before he opens his eyes and immediately they are lost in each other’s eyes and he can feel their faces moving closer as if opposite ends of a magnet and he waits for her to stop them, to push him away and run off but she is just as lost as him, moving closer too and when only centimeters separate their lips, a loud crash of thunder booms high above their heads making them jump apart, both flying to opposite ends of the bench. 

“We should...um get out of this rain before we catch a cold.” 

The ride home is awkward and he can barely breathe with how tightly she’s holding his waist but he smiles through the rain, taking care to move carefully on the wet streets not wanting to hurt Sujin and then they are in front of Suho’s apartment, much too fast to his disappointment. 

They both sit unmoving for a few seconds before Sujin releases his waist from her death grip and gets off the bike. 

“Let’s talk over there for a minute.” He states dismounting too and walking over to the scaffold so they can escape the torrential rain for a moment at least. 

They stand awkwardly shivering from the cold in their wet clothes, it’s obvious that Sujin is embarrassed about what happened- their kisses-but he can barely contain his joy, if he were alone right now he would be doing backflips. 

This day as made a complete 180 turn for the better. 

“I have to pretend to date him. We already agreed to come to school tomorrow. He agreed to stop following me if I let him take me to school and go on dates. He has to put on a show for his father too.” She says talking so fast that the words slur together and he wonders absently if she’s nervous? And if so, why? Was she nervous about his reaction? 

He nods in understanding, “Okay. I forgot to say it earlier, but thank you for telling me and not leaving me in the dark. I appreciate it.” 

That’s the logical part of his response, he knows what it took for Sujin to involve him in her plan and how huge it is that she hadn’t wanted him to misunderstand her feelings and motives. But she’s still the girl that he likes and he can’t help the illogical things that flood his mind too. 

“Not on his motorcycle though.”

She looks at him with a deep searching stare and he simply stares back, nonplussed. He knows what he sounds like, a bargaining jealous boyfriend. That’s exactly what he wants to be so he sees no reason to attempt to explain himself, whatever she’s thinking is true and he isn’t the least bit ashamed to admit it. At his unabashed stare she crumples looking away with a barely hidden smile, “Okay. Not on his bike. Even though I never told you that you were allowed to have conditions, this isn’t a negotiation.” She complains but the sting is gone because she has already agreed to his request, he flashes a smile at her. 

“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow. I will have to act jealous, that shouldn’t be too hard.” He winks at her and this time she does try to punch him, he barely dodges her fist. 

Such a violent little thing. 

“I never said you had to do anything.”

He shrugs, “It makes sense. I like you so it would only make sense that I would be jealous if I thought you were dating someone else, plus he will probably want to see that too.” 

She’s as red as a strawberry as she sprints away from him without another word, waving at him over her shoulder. 

He smiles all the way home, before falling into bed after a much needed warm shower, his toes and fingers were like ice chips when he finally got home. 

Remembering one more thing, he grabs his phone shooting a quick text message. 

Don’t let him call you nicknames. Only Sujin. 

Reading it back he determines that the message is a bit too...commanding and if he wants to keep a certain boot out of his ass he better fix it so he swiftly adds:

Please. 

Present time....

“I didn't do anything. She just suddenly started telling me how much you adore me and how you can’t live without me and that I should just forgive you and take you back.” He sniffles dramatically watching amused as Sujin rolls her eyes, before angrily pulling out her phone, he laughs suddenly worried for Jukyeong so he snatches the object from her hands, much to her chagrin. 

“I might have exaggerated about what she said, a teeny tiny bit.” He demonstrates the small amount with his fingers and she glares at him biting out, “Liar,” before snatching back her phone and stuffing it in her pockets with a grumble. 

Getting serious he turns to look at her with anticipation, “How did it go? Were you able to tell him everything?” She is staring out at the horizon, despite him boring a hole in the side of her head begging for eye contact. 

“I hesitated. I lost my confidence.”

He can hear the defeat in her voice and without a pause he opens his mouth to comfort her and tell her how strong she is and explain why this is just a minor setback but next time they can go together and if she needs him to he will hold her hand the entire time and give her every last drop of his support and--

“But then I got a message and it gave me courage. So I told him everything and he agreed to help me. He wants to send my dad to jail, not just emancipate me.” 

She did it. 

She really did it. 

He smiles at her wider than the ocean. 

“You did it, Sujin.”

She stares at him in palpable shock, he immediately knows why it’s not often he uses her name and he expects her to be happy that he isn’t calling her the nickname she is always dismissing, she’s always so adamant that she is not a princess much less his princess.  

“Don’t call me that.” She says finally turning to meet his eyes and he stares back confused because he had only said her name, why was that a problem? Wasn’t that what she had been trying to get him to call her since the first time he dubbed her princess? 

“What do you want me to call you then?” 

He is truly asking but the look she gives him makes him feel like the dunce in the corner of the room and realization unfurls in his body like a slow moving tsunami and he smiles unbridled at the epiphany. 

He hasn’t wanted to get his hopes up by making assumptions about what this is but maybe it’s time that he have some confidence now, he was someone important to her. She had already proved that in so many ways these past days. 

Taking her hand in his, he smiles brightly at her. 

It’s the first time that he has held her hand, and he can feel the damaged skin in his own smoother hand. His heart aches for only a moment, her hands are just like her they might look bruised and pitiful at first glance but beneath the broken surface lurked unimaginable strength and power and just like the rest of her, they were imperfectly perfect. He never wanted to hold another hand, this was the only one he needed. 

“Good job, you did it Princess.” 

She smiles up at him, looking gorgeous-heart stoppingly so-and he can’t help the way his chest constricts as if he didn’t know it already he knows it now unequivocally . 

He, Han Seojun belongs to Kang Sujin. 

[lover-of-trash-and-people]

netflix shadow and bone s1 e5 pt3: peak darklina

the first kiss scene Alina is so beautiful Her little smile as she picks up his kefta after he hears him call out for Ivan to get it like ooh I'm gonna play a little trick on Alek Her making him smile with a joke that's not even funny The tentativeness of it all, them tiptoeing around each other, testing the boundaries Him being taken aback by her offering to help him put on his kefta but still wanting her to and immediately resorting to business voice asking questions about official sun summoner stuff And putting on his serious business face him trying to explain away the gloves by calling them a safeguard, not a sign of him not trusting her abilities the face he makes after saying spectacle either depicting his distaste for the showiness of the event or depicting his embarrassment at how he phrased the sentence, like what the fuck did I just say (more likely the first one) Her quickly turning around and walking away after the eye contact makes her realise how close they are and him pulling a puzzled look as she does so Just. Just how adorable the energy is. Both of them making jokes to diffuse the tension, her gripping the table to maybe steady or calm herself, the looks they give to each other as if engaged in a delicate dance; god-like Him straight up just blinking and looking down and gulping as she says 'we can offer Grisha and Ravkans hope' (could be multiple things he's thinking at this point, and all of them interest me) 'That means a lot to me, Alina.' *her turning to look at his face* 'You mean a lot...' *her immediately lowering her gaze and tracing where her mal scar used to be lmao* 'to everyone' *her raising her gaze to him again* The music swelling as she walks up to him, her barely grazing her fingers against his collar, his eyes looking across hers as if in disbelief, her looking at his lips, and then her closing the gap between them. Him being a little stiff, indubitably from being shocked, and yet giving into it almost instinctively as if he can't help it. The violin coming in powerfully yet softly to emphasize the tenderness of it all. This thing has been made with so much love and I can't contain myself about it. Him opening his eyes half a second after Alina, almost as if waking up from a dream and then, following a relaxing of his facial muscles as he clearly regains his composure, immediately looking inscrutable. Her doubting herself, not losing eye contact as he stands up from the desk, but her sudden fear, regret, and embarrassment clear on her face. Her sides of her lips slowly rising giving way his own self mirroring her and breaking into smile and composing himself and breaking into smile again before saying 'Not many people surprise me, Miss Starkov'. Her now fully breaking out into a smile, her face a picture of unguarded joy, she looks down only to have his gaze follow her face. Both of them giddy in the other's presence and the audience can feel it. It feels like he is leaning in for another one when the sound of the door opening makes them spring apart, regaining their composures and standing at a respectable distance from each other. Her poorly suppressing a smile, him looking at her visibly, her mimicking him with a glance out of her periphery, causing her to give in to her smile completely. Him looking visibly distracted as he attempts to pay attention to whoever came into the room. the Jesper of it all Jesper the mega idiot not being able to control his face from doing a thing as he realises the person who caught him where he wasn't supposed to be is the same person he was making sexy eyes at before and yet regaining his composure in record time The poor stable hand actually being interested in Jesper and being adorable with Jesper just being like charm itself Can you believe looking at Jesper Llewellyn Fahey in the flesh and having him make sexy eyes at you and then forgetting about it? Because I simply cannot. The line about light role play? Felt a little not right. GO OFF STABLE HAND WHO PUSHED JESPER AGAINST A WALL AND KISSED HIM, HE LITERALLY SAID IM POPPING OFF AND

THEN HE DID Zoya Zoya saying fuck off to the random racist comment made by one of the guests, but she was racist to Alina herself? (I mean South Asian-East Asian hate is not uncommon so idk) David omg the cutie pie adjusting his hair at the fete HEARTRENDER FUCKING HUSBANDS Fedyor insisting on Ivan eating the sweet and Ivan's solemn head shake like no babe im on a diet and Fedyor being like heart eyes please eat the sweet my love and then Fedyor holding Ivan's face to make him nibble off a corner and Ivan's face splitting into a reluctant grin Kaz the actor Seeing Kaz the actor instead of Kaz the master of trickery and plans is an interesting thing Kanej being Kanej cute banter interaction, would recommend, 10/10 hints at Arken being sus The look Kaz gives Arken when Arken leaves, I really should have known, I was simply being a clown Darkling and the dumb royalty We love the Darkling suppressing his anger at these otkazat'sya rulers dissing the grisha and the little palace Alina's entrance The soft hum that we hear when Alina enters but we don't see her face Alina's adorable peeking The Darkling's expression changing despite being done af with these mfers and instantaneously on catching a glimpse of Alina, she really has that power huh He really made it look like his pupils dilated and who knows maybe they did Him trying to call her out for not following protocol but him melting and saying 'you look lovely, by the way' Her saying 'you look like you needed saving' I can't breathe you're so cool ballroom at the little palace I must confess I expected the ballroom of the winter fete to be bigger

GENYADAVID looking at each other and pretending not to look at each other, my fucking heart Kanej being Kanej Kaz implying they're gonna try to trick the people into thinking that the fake sun summoner is real and Inej being done with his shit Alina's demonstration HER NAME IS ALINA STARKOV yes mfer The way people back away as he steps, god the power of this man Inej looking at Kaz omfg Okay him clapping the darkness into the room was cool af I love the shadow summoning effects so fucking much The first bit of light that Alina summons lighting up the gold parts of her black kefta, absolute perfection Alina just enjoying her power and then looking to Alek, his lips parting when she does Aw Fedyor looking at Ivan in a I told you she could do it way Genya and Fedyor exchanging glances as Alina besties THE CROWD SAYING SANKTA ALINA INEJ SAYING SANKTA ALINA WITH HALF A TEAR IN HER EYE DAMN THIS IS POWERFUL Jesper and Dima IMMEDIATELY TRANSITIONING TO JESPER SAYING 'SAINTS' AS A NAKED STABLE BOY GETS OFF OF HIM AGAHSJSJSJKS I CAN'T IM CACKLING AT THE AUDACITY OF THIS SHOW HOW ARE THEY SO PERFECT (his name's dima btw) Poor fucking Dima getting frightening orders from his superior as his hookup sneaks out with horses that are definitely not his Arken the little shit Ah Arken why'd you have to go and do this I was actually amused by you before the malyen factor omg Mal's here and someone saw him getting here apparat and faith? The apparat literally jumping out of the palace walls at Alina lol man I do love the religion angle of this universe and it would have been so fucking cool if it were explored a bit better ew apparat that grab was very violent mal/darkling interaction the darkling's reaction at his recognition of mal was so funny ah yes my arch nemesis, the other angle of this teen immortal love triangle how utterly delightful someone explain the darkling's 'are you alright' to mal, is it because Alina was worried sick, is it mind games, is it curiosity, what is it Im still don't know how to feel with them attaching a literal symbol to the sun summoner, to Alina's dreams and to the stag itself 'not until I see Alina' THE LOYAL HIMBO ENERGY IN THIS ONE ISTFG I have never known nose acting until I saw Ben Barnes, he uses his nose in his acting and it is absolutely wonderful; case in point, the 'i beg your pardon' to mal with the rage making his voice shake okay but why is every mal darkling interaction like, everything the prompt answer our baby mal gives and the satisfaction it brings to his face, fucking amazing the darkling being literally struck by this, his mouth literally agape, king this is a 20 year old lmao Baghra! OMG WE GOT A GLIMPSE OF BAGHRA'S FIRE YES Genya supremacy Genya beating Arken up let's fucking go Marie's plot influence and Racism? Yellowface? again? hmm bardugo (then again, I have no authority over this, I'm south asian) Ive already talked about how I'm interested in knowing if and how changing Marie's time and place of death going to influence the plot much because in the books it caused a chain reaction doing a lot of stuff Alina, my love Alina just, laughing with other Grisha, feeling at home, ah be still my treacherous heart Mal's confrontation scene with Alina that was in the books being retconned to Mal calling out to her body double, hmm, probably to make Mal more likeable, I don't have any feelings about this particularly Nadia and Fedyor Okay the both of them, smiling and walking, hand in hand, cute mlm wlw solidarity moment that I missed during the first watch Kanej interacting with Alina Why is Alina literally so adorable The music picking up as the Inferni catches sight of the 'limping man' (what? it was funny when he said it) Blue Irises Alina's face showing a certain sense of calm when Alek shows up Alina's face after the Darkling says 'for you' and presents her with blue irises is something like gasp okay you've got game sexy shadow man mal fite time omg I thought she was taking mal to talk to Baghra or smth not to kill him 🤡 aren't oprichnikis like

otkazat'sya or am I missing smth? Because Baghra's spy is obvs a fabrikator THE DESK SCENE omg the scene hath arriveth the fact that Alina can't stop smiling gods, the flirting 'I don't recall this, being part of the schedule' him turning back and saying 'it isn't' her hiding her face through the cover of smelling the flowers and just how coy she acts, like the literal eyelid batting Ma'am how embarrassing for you to have feelings rn these two are my absolute favs of all time the camera moving as they move from their spots on which they had to stand on to get the shot of their shadows almost kissing her nodding and smiling at him saying 'she'll probably be alright' like okay I'm ready for smooches kiss me already and him going 'don't you think' trying to savour this moment IM SORRY BUT THE FUCKING SCORE AT THE MOMENT THEIR LIPS MEET YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND I CANNOT COPE the way his hand is so big that he can almost hold her entire face in it the way she grips the back of his head I'm sorry I feel so disrespectful saying this but the sounds they make+I think that's a um titty grab or maybe it's just a holding someone and the placement was um unintended but I doubt it because everything in this fucking show is so intentional+ the lift up onto the desk+ the faces they make+ um god I'm going to hell for this but when they sort of grind into each other (I understand this is acting and they're just good at their job) but god does all of this make my heart race and also makes me happy I guess LITERAL GIGGLES I can't I'm soft 🥺🥺🥺 his little head shake at the knock on the door when he goes in for one last kiss before she gets off the desk and her eyes going all oy you, go get the door, I'm not going anywhere don't make whoever it is wait is so adorable and domestic her just standing there mouth agape to herself when he walks away HIM STILL FLUSHED AND BLUSHING AND HIS HAPPINESS CLEAR AS DAY ON HIS FACE WHEN HE OPENS THE DOOR his gaze flits to her when Ivan says Alina was the target 'I'll be waiting' love, I physically can't anymore Little cheek hold and walk away Her little smile to herself nearly fading before he jumps back in again to her surprise and to ours to hold her face with both his hands and kiss her one last time, and yes, he does kiss like he's being drafted for the war in the morning Her little mouth open and close and then her little smile to herself after he leaves I refuse to watch the rest of the episode right now because no let me steep in the darklina bliss

[orwocolor]

Love Thy Neighbour - Chapter Seven

Pairing: Gwilym Lee x Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Cursing

Summary: Gwilym shows up in your bookstore to apologise but there still might be more obstacles on your way to happiness.

Author’s Note: And another sprinkle of angst so that chapter six doesn’t feel so lonely. Only one more chapter and an epilogue remain, so keep an eye out for those! Comments and reblogs are always very appreciated :) Check my masterlist to read the previous chapters. Dedicated to my sweetie @justgwilym​.

Dragging your feet, you crash on your sofa, a floral pattern of one of the walls spinning around you. You squeeze your eyes shut, but as you lose the point of focus, you sense a rise of, so far, the most powerful wave of nausea. You fight the feeling and instead fix your gaze on one of the paintings decorating the living room.

Breathe in.

And breathe out.

You should not have drunk that much. But Jane and Charlotte were unstoppable and admittedly, you needed it. After a couple of drinks, you actually started having fun. Daniel turned out to be a very pleasant companion with a taste for slightly dry humour that, partially due to your inebriated state, made you burst in laughter multiple times during the party.

Oh god, you are going to hate yourself so much tomorrow.

Once it seems the whole world will not tilt again and toss you on your side, you brave a few steps into the kitchen and pour yourself a glass of water. Gulping it down, you can already feel its beneficial effects, which are further enhanced when you press the cold glass against your forehead. You serve yourself another drink and with each sip, you begin to trust your legs again.

You release a content sigh as a soft breeze and smell of rain touch your cheeks when you open the windows; it truly does a world of good. Grabbing yourself two slices of toast bread, you settle onto the sofa, open your laptop and click on a random video for you to watch while you wait to get better before you go to bed. If you lay down right now, you’re sure you would throw up.

With an occasional chuckle leaving your lips as you listen rather than watch a stand-up show, you almost miss a soft, hesitant knock on your door. Almost. Your fingers hover above the keyboard as you contemplate pausing the video. If you press the space key right now, there will be no doubt you’ve heard the knocking.

Slowly retracting your hand back to your side, you let the comedian continue in her sketch and you just wait. It probably takes only a minute, but for you, it’s an eternity before you can hear Gwil shut the door to his flat behind him.

You release a breath you have not realised you were holding and hide your face in your palms.

You are not in a state to face him right now. You need some time. And most importantly, you need to put some space between you, otherwise you’re going to care way too much, and you are not in the position of allowing yourself feelings of that sort.

~

“I’m sorry, sir, I’ll be back in a minute, just let me attend to this young lady,” you throw behind your shoulder as you rush to the cash desk and leave a customer in the historical section.

“Maybe I can be of service,” Mr Dean appears next to the customer’s shoulder, who jumps a bit, not expecting someone else, and you send a grateful glance to your friend. You knew you could count on him. Whenever he’s in a good mood, he loves to entertain people in the bookshop and no matter the topic or genre they’re looking for, he turns into an expert, gladly offering recommendations.

You hide a smile when you notice Mr Dean’s eyes sparkling as the man mentions the French revolution and he starts guiding him to the needed section.

“Here you go,” you hand the young woman her bag and say your goodbyes, a shrilling sound of chimes hanging at the entrance door announcing her departure.

While you bend down and disappear behind the till to throw away the receipt the woman didn’t want, the chimes sound again, and you emerge from behind the cash desk.

No.

He’s there, right in front of you, the surprise written in his face matching yours.

“Hello,” Gwil says softly and for a split of a second, you forget to breathe.

You’ve managed to avoid him the whole weekend by some miracle, although, admittedly, on one occasion, when you were forced out of your flat to do grocery shopping, you spotted him at the entrance door when you made a turn to your street. At that moment, you remembered you wanted to check something on your phone, and after fiddling with it long enough for Gwil to get home, you plucked up the courage to do the same.

You assured yourself you just needed some time and space and by the time you would meet him, you would have known what to tell him.

Well, your past self can go screw herself because here you are with your tongue tied.

“Hi, Y/N!” Ben is on Gwil’s tail and greets you cheerfully, his hand raised in a wave.

“Hi,” you manage to blurt out, quite happy with yourself for not butchering the single syllable. It’s all about little victories, right?

“So, uh, I’ll go check some books I guess,” Ben breaks the silence when neither you nor Gwil seems to do so, and scurries farther into the store.

“I am so, so sorry, Y/N,” Gwil eventually breathes out and raises his lowered eyes. “I wish I could have a good reason for not showing up the other day and for copping out on you like that, but I just don’t. I…”

He looks around and bites his lips, looking for a way of how to finish his sentence in books-filled shelves.

You wait patiently because you have the feeling that there is something he needs to say, and it would be ill-advised to interrupt his thoughts.

“Okay, I’m probably already not in your good books, so why not make even a bigger twat of myself, eh.”

“Ha, in the good books. Get it? You’re in a bookshop,” you chuckle, your voice not as strong as you would like it to be.

“Yeah,” he replies, and the corners of his lips rise up slightly. Soon, his voice turns serious again. “Well, I went to that stupid audition and I just fucked it up. Yeah, there’s no better word for that. I fucked it up, big time. I tried to persuade them to give me another chance, I said I would do anything, and the production assistant surprised me. She promised me another audition if I went for a drink with her afterwards, and I… didn’t refuse.” He takes a deep, shaky breath, presumably the first one since he started explaining what had happened. “I wasn’t thinking, and when I realised I was supposed to be with you, it was too late.”

“You could have called me,” you say slowly, daring to meet his gaze.

“My phone was dead. I was fiddling with it so much while I was waiting for the audition. Was driving Ben absolutely crazy.”

“Can confirm!” Ben’s head peeps out from behind a shelf and quickly hides again when he spots both your and Gwil’s not so amused expressions.

“Still,” you start and shake away the trembling feeling that is creeping to your voice, “You could have come by later and explain all of that to me that night.”

By some miracle, it’s as if he senses the direction of your thoughts, and rushes to set the record straight, offering the absolution you haven’t, until now, realised you desperately craved.

“The moment it dawned on me what a jerk I was, I said my goodbyes and left. But it was too late, and I felt like such a prick, so I actually dropped in another pub and drank some more. Was so shit-faced I stayed at my brother’s ‘cause he lives in that area.”

A great weight is lifted from your shoulders and you can finally take a deep and long breath. You feel a smile tugging at the corners of your lips but Gwilym does not see it; he is avoiding your eyes, as mortification keeps surrounding his whole person.

“I am so, so sorry,” he repeats once again and the moment the words leave his lips, you forgive him.

Actually, you already have.

You are just about to tell him so when he finally finds the courage to look into your eyes as he reaches out and gently grasps your hands that have been resting on the counter.

“Please, can you forgive me?”

His thumbs are lightly stroking your skin and you cannot tear away your gaze from his beautiful blue eyes.

“Sir, I must ask you to leave right now!”

Wait, what?

It takes you a moment to become aware of where you are and what is happening. The bookshop, right. And as for what is going on…

“Sir, I won’t repeat myself, leave this building immediately!” Peter’s voice reaches such volume that every customer stops in their tracks, their curiosity taking the better of themselves.  

“I was only showing this young lad the historic section. I don’t reckon it’s a crime,” Mr Dean responds in his defence, which only infuriates Peter some more.

“You’re always just helping other customers, or browsing, or, God forbid, reading our books without paying a single penny for them. I want you gone. This is not a library!”

“Peter,” you say weakly, not capable of wrapping your head around it. He isn’t supposed to be here, otherwise you would have warned Mr Dean beforehand.

“Is that the Mr Dean you told me about?” Gwil whispers and it is only then when you notice your hands are still placed in his and his face is much closer to yours than you remember.

“Yes, I’m–” you start but Gwilym won’t let you finish the sentence.

“Trust me, darling. I’ll stop by at your place at around seven, okay?” he hastily says and places a soft kiss to your cheek before leaving you at the till dumbfounded.

“Grandpa!” he greets joyfully and rushes to Mr Dean to give him a proper hug. “Have you found the book you told me about?”

Mr Dean shoots a glance your way before he replies. “Ah, I… Yes. Yes, yes, I did, give me a second.” You’re taken aback by his quick reaction because you have not moved from your spot, your jaw down, and you are pretty sure your arms are still stretched in front of you although Gwilym’s warm palms are no longer holding them. You fix your posture in an instant and clear your throat, at least trying to give the impression of having everything under control.

Although you are not particularly proud of yourself, you’re still doing better than Peter. He is just standing there, opening his mouth like fish as no words are leaving his lips.

Gwilym pretends he has only just noticed him and raises his eyebrows in make-believe innocence. “Is there any problem here?”

It takes a couple of moments before Peter gathers his bearings.

“I’m sorry, but this is your grandfather?” he finally finds his voice and points an accusatory finger at your dear friend.

“Yeah! He’s been wearing my ear off about this wonderful book he discovered here, so I’m here to get it for him. For his birthday, you know? Which is coming soon, isn’t that right, grandpa?”

“In a couple of days, actually,” Mr Dean confirms and nods his head seriously as if contemplating the fleetingness of time and existence.

“Urgh, I’m the worst grandson ever, really, looking for gifts this late, I should be ashamed of myself.” You are fascinated by Gwil’s acting; he doesn’t miss a beat and comes up with lies so quickly, all you can do is stare in astonishment. It’s not like anyone needs you right now because all customers are watching the scene unfold.

“Ah, got it!” The victorious announcement of Mr Dean makes Gwil turn on his heel and leave Peter behind.

“Wow, that’s really pretty! You weren’t lying about the photographs.” Gwil expertly inspects the pictures of various relics and nods, approvement and appreciation readable from his pursed lips. “Excellent! We’ll take it.” He closes the book in one swift motion and heads to your cash desk.

By this time, you have composed yourself enough to remember all the common niceties, and you are quite proud of your performance as you easily scan the book that you’ve seen cradled in Mr Dean’s palms many afternoons and punch the price into the card reader so that Gwil can pay.

“Would you like it gift-wrapped?” you do not forget to ask and when your gaze meets Gwil, your heart starts beating so fast you almost can’t hear the answer.

“Oh yes, please, that is if we’re not bothering you.” Gwil’s smile lights up his whole face.

“No bother at all,” the corners of your lips rise in a matching smile and you procced to neatly wrap the book in a piece of brown paper, taking extra care to tie a dark blue ribbon around the package.

“Thank you so much, have a lovely day!” Gwilym places the book under his arm and leaves the shop, Mr Dean on his tail offers a wave and a wink that, hopefully, Peter cannot see.

Through the display window, you almost miss Gwil turning around and mouthing ‘see you tonight’ before he and Mr Dean disappear behind the corner. You almost burst into laughter when Ben suddenly emerges from behind the bookshelves and dashes after them.

You have got the feeling that Peter is mumbling something, but all you can think about is your lovely neighbour and the kiss he ever so gently placed on your cheek.

You resist the temptation to touch your face, wondering whether the imprint of Gwil’s lips can be found there, or whether the gesture is forever inscribed into your mind only.

But then, you finally register Peter’s words...

“I can’t believe it! And of all days he’s got to pick today and embarrass me in front of the buyers. God damn it!”

… and your smile freezes.

~

Buyers.

The sequence of syllables still sounds foreign and dangerous to your ears.

Buyers.

No matter how many times it rolls off your tongue, the word remains the same.

So that’s it. Peter’s made up his mind and he is going to sell the bookshop. And that leaves so many questions unanswered. The new owners, are they going to keep the staff, or do they plan to hire a new bunch of people? Is there even some certainty that they will not rebrand and establish a branch of a fast-food chain? It’s not like the city is flooded with them, right.

You feel the dizziness creeping up your neck as those thoughts swirl in your head, not permitting you a moment of peace. You almost crash into a passer-by, but thankfully you manage to keep yourself upright and the take-out bag with your late lunch intact in your hold.

Once you finally arrive home, you heat up the food you have brought with you and open your favourite book in a desperate attempt to diverge the direction of your thoughts.

You are torn between biting your nails from the uncertainty of your future career and halting in the story and daydreaming about Gwilym’s visit tonight. And with that mindset, you go about your day while you clean up, water plants, and dust your flat; you have been putting it off for ages.

Emerged in thoughts, you almost mishear the buzzing sound of the bell. You are wearing baggy trousers and an old t-shirt with stains God-knows from what. You have reckoned you’ve still got time to change before Gwil’s visit. Oh well, he has seen you at your worse.

However, your brows furrow as you step into the hall and catch a glimpse of the digital clock.

5.40 p.m.

Swinging the door open, you are met with no one. Another sound of the bell and the line on your forehead deepens.

“Hello,” you mutter when you press the intercom, and the static comes through.

“Y/N! Hi! Ready to go out and grab coffee with me?”

It takes a moment before the dots connect.

“Oh, Daniel, hi! I… erm… can you give me ten minutes?”

“Sure thing!”

The dash across your flat, from the door to the dresser, then to the bathroom and back to the hall could be considered a match to any Olympian’s winning sprint race, but it is too early after your accident and your ankle makes itself known. You grit your teeth and grab a purse, leaving your flat and hoping no appliances have stayed turned on.

How could you have forgotten?! Stupid, stupid, stupid!

“Hi!” you greet breathlessly when you fly from the entrance door, and Daniel gives you a lopsided smile.

“You forgot, didn’t you?” No matter how hard you try not to give anything away, the blush on your cheeks betrays you. “Oh my God, you did!” Barking out a laugh, he lets you take a couple of deep breaths before you start walking down the street. “Maybe it should be you who’s gonna buy the coffee today.”

“Gladly,” you smile and spot a cosy café. For a split second, you consider taking him to Hazel’s, but then you imagine the soft hues of brown and gold against black and white background of your most beloved café. Your mind goes straight to the day you bumped into Gwil and Ben in there and you do not wish to stain that memory. Besides, this café is right behind the corner of your block of flats, which means you shouldn’t get stuck at some far-off place. “Actually, I owe you ‘cos I’ve got some plans at seven and I need to get home by then.”

“Oh, okay,” he replies hesitantly, and you bite your lips, feeling like an arse. Well, you can make it up for him by paying for the coffee, right?

~

You are trying. You are really, truly trying. Daniel is nice. Funny, smart, and knows all the iconic movie lines off pat, however, the moment you look into his eyes, you feel nothing, there is no bated breath, no heart beating fast. Nothing. And honestly, it seems you are not making a particularly good impression either. He takes notice of your constant checking the time on your phone, and when you catch yourself doing it for an umpteenth time, you roll your eyes at yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter after a moment of silence, which you wish were a companionable one, but you are too fidgety.

“It’s fine, I get it,” Dan offers a sheepish smile, which you return. “Let’s get you back home, okay?”

The wind is chilling and light drizzle lands on your hair. As you walk down the street, you notice that Daniel is trying to gently hold your hand. It starts with your fingers brushing and you would dismiss it as an accidental touch but when his fingertips graze the back of your palm, you sense the intention in the gesture. You bring your hand up, brushing off a damp strand of hair and scratching the back of your neck so as not to give him another opportunity for touch.

Hoping this debacle is behind you now, you say your goodbyes and grab the door handle to your building. Oh, how foolish!

“I know you’re lost in thought today but it was a nice date and honestly, I’m not ready for it to end.” He gives you a smile and his eyes sparkle when you stop in your tracks and turn your head to face him.

His gaze drops down to your lips and you are (literally) taken aback by the movement to such extent that your body shoots away. In the process, you press your back to the doorbell panel and jump a bit, not expecting that kind of contact.

“Careful.” Daniel’s fingers find your waist to keep you upright. “I realise I might not be the man of your dreams, but I hope we can go for dinner next time.”

“I…” you start, unable to find the words that would not hurt him.

“No, don’t say anything,” he whispers, and it is only then when you realise his face has inched closer to yours. And then he presses his lips to yours, and you freeze at the spot.

Your eyelids do not tremble with emotion, neither do you melt into his touch. You just stand there, barely moving your lips and thinking that this guy just cannot take a hint. You might have been waving the ‘I am not interested’ flag right in front of his face and he still would be none the wiser.

When he finally lets go, your gaze is still fixed forward and you suck in your lips in a subconscious effort to prevent him from another attempt of a kiss. However, you catch a flicker of light in the corner of your eyes and without giving it a second thought you twist your neck, and your gaze falls into the entrance hall. The windowpane which reflected two figures kissing a moment ago turns transparent and reveals a figure standing inside.

He’s there, at the top of the staircase, taking you by surprise for a second time this day.

But this time, his eyes are hurt behind his glasses, a deep line is forming on his forehead, and it seems as if he’s rooted to the cold stone floor. Your heart is breaking at the sight of him and you know you must do anything within your power to atone for this moment because you never ever want to see such pain written in his face.

“Gwil,” you breathe out softly and bend down to escape Daniel’s embrace. Pushing the main door, you rush to your neighbour, your friend, your… “Gwil, this means nothing, I’m not –”

“My doorbell rang, and I was foolish enough to think you couldn’t wait until seven. I…” He is avoiding your gaze, his eyes roving round the hall. He brings his hands to his sides, but quickly finds out there are no pockets in his soft camel pleated trousers and so he clasps them together. When he bites his trembling lips, it is almost unbearable to keep your eyes on him, but you cannot look away either.

Then, his features harden, and it is probably worse than before as your stomach tightens.

“Goodbye.”

You almost miss the sound, his voice barely above a whisper. Tears threaten to fall down your cheeks, but Gwilym is already gone, his moccasins tapping against the cold tiles of the stairs. You fight the urge to wrap your arms around yourself and have a breakdown right here and now. All you do is simply turn around, every movement calculated so as not to make an unnecessary one. Daniel is still standing at the entrance, his eyebrows raised in the piqued curiosity of what has just occurred.

“I can’t go for another date with you. I’m sorry.”

But you don’t feel sorry at all, well, not sorry for him at least. Your thoughts have turned into a tangled ball of turmoil and indescribable emotions, which are hard to make sense of.

When you reach your floor, you stop in your tracks to your flat. You have thought you lost all the courage, but you muster some from deep inside and cross the hall to knock on his door with determination.

God knows how long you are standing there, you knock again, and again.

Nothing.

Not even a sign of hope.

Your heart skips a beat when you finally hear the creak of a door being open, but a lump forms in your throat instead when it dawns on you that it is not Gwil’s door but Mrs Thompson’s.

“Hello Mrs Thompson,” you greet meekly the slightly open door of the 3A flat and drag your feet to your home.

You do not bother taking off your shoes or clothes. Crushing straight into your bed, you finally give yourself the permission to let your emotions flow and cry yourself to sleep.

~

Taglist: @lv7867​, @spacedustmazzello​, @queenwouldyourathers​, @im-an-adult-ish​, @fairestkillerqueenofall​, @supernaturalee​, @queenlover05​, @geek-and-proud​, @chlobo6​, @mrsmazzello​, @timeandpixiedust​, @kerouacsroad​, @gwilsmainhoe​​

[decayandfanfics]

The great book of sayings

PAIRINGS: Tomura Shigaraki x FemReader

SUMMARY: He looks at you, his scarlet eyes fixed on yours, burning a hole through your head, every bit the predator he is, but you are as tough as it gets, so, against your better judgment and any well-founded logic, you answer his silent threat, the animalistic look he gives you with nothing less than a fearless smirk, irises burrowing into his pupils.A clever girl. He thinks, finally labeling you inside his head, cursing himself in the very moment he allows his brain to think of you as more than an asset. He is sure (he knows himself enough to know) he’ll think of this moment many times from now on.A clever pretty girl.

Reader is a typical college student until she gets herself tangled with the league of villains.

WARNINGS: Unhealthy/complicated relationships, violence, Tomura being Tomura, mentions of murder, heroes’ abuse of power, smut later.

A/N: I’m trying so hard to write crusty boy here really in character. At least after AfO is taken. Any misspelled words, english is not my native language so i’m trying Helen.

___________________________________________________________

Chapter 8 / Chapter 9

You show me the man and I’ll show you the rule.

Tomura thinks he knows nothing about beauty, but then she proves him wrong.

(He thought her pretty before already, but after seen it…he concludes she’s the most beautiful, terrific thing he’s ever seen. Not that he would tell her that.)

A feral dangerous creature living inside of her with no other match.

No other but him.

Oh...you have no idea...She told him.

It happens so fast. One moment she’s there, sitting in front of her laptop, pretty and quiet and serene. All harmony and light, resting softly under the sunlight, between her dumb succulents and the spices that fill her home. Then he can hear Dabi’s caustic laugh and the wrong words. He’s disrespectful, an instigator, skilled in the art of making others lose their composure like is his favorite game.

He hears the foul words, the berating, and the mocking aimed to him, while she sits wide eyed and impossible flustered by the kitchen table.

Dabi smirks triumphant, like he always does after giving everyone a piece of his drama and Tomura watches him, wincing, reminding himself again that Dabi is supposedly oldest than him and Toga, and yet he does his best to being an annoying brat.

Tomura knows better to just let him bark, his remarks mean nothing to him, he knows what he is, and he knows what he isn’t. He’s a freak, yeah. That too, but he isn’t a child anymore, so he let it slide, keeping his eyes glued to his phone arching an inquisitive brow, ready to just let it die there.

He just forgot about the stupid little stunts of bravery she has this tendency to commit. (An annoying dangerous trait that makes him chuckle with something akin to fondness.)

She’s having none of the bullshit, Dabi’s little remarks had fed her up after a whole week of spiteful teasing, her precious patience has run thin.

“blue eyes are a mutation too, so you are no one to talk about it.”

The moment she opens her mouth, Tomura feels something warm filling the hollow place where his dead heart should go and it’s so foreign to him that for a moment he panics and thinks (very stupidly) that maybe his energy drink-based diet is finally going to kill him, and he (barely in his sweet twenty’s) is having a stupid heart attack.

But the pain never comes, it’s just her, voicing a clever answer, defending him.

“A quirkless little bitch? Seriously, Dabi? Where you raised in a fucking barn that you know nothing but fuck this and bitch that?

He wants to make her shut it, but he can’t find the words. Not when her remarks are sharp and funny to hear. (Besides, her voice sounds so sweet when she’s throwing smart ass angry comments just to back him up.)

It warms him and enrages him equally. How dare she to defend him? He can speak for himself on his own and doesn’t need her to make any back up about an insult he doesn’t care for. Stupid pretty woman. Trying to shut Dabi, putting herself in danger for the likes of him...Is she insane? (later that day, he’ll conclude that she must be pretty fucking nuts to have them all in her home after all, but somehow the thought only makes him like her more.)

“yeah. I know stupid cunt too.”

Dabi likes to cause havoc and now he’s pissed, so he throws a vulgarity aimed at her. Tomura feels the hot pang of anger at the other man, because the offense is not only an insult, but also a lie.  She’s not stupid nor a cunt. She's sharp as a knife and kind enough to share with them. 

“Dabi, cut it out.” He warns with a grimace, and now the fight has everyone tense in the room.

“I’m sure you do. Pretty useful to describe yourself I bet.” She snarls showing her teeth, an angry frown darkening her features and Tomura swears her eyes begin changing color.

“you sure like to bet, like how you are betting I don’t burn you alive for being an annoying bitch.”

This time Tomura gets fucking furious, something animal revolving inside of him at the idea of Dabi threatening her. But the fight is escalating so fast, he can’t say anything before she answers back.  

“Fuck off, Dabi. This might be shocking for you, but you don’t scare me.”

He wants to laugh at this, truly. Feisty little thing she is when angered, all her soft ways and nerd knowledge thrown out the window in a fit of cocky bickering and a part of him is living for the chaos of it.

“now, that’s pretty fucking stupid of you.”

“Dabi, shut up!” Tomura growls irked with the way her hair has begun to float over her shoulders, now completely convinced that she’s not quirkless at all.

“I’m not the one insulting everyone just because I cannot deal with some fucking daddy issues.”

God fucking dammit woman, just shut up. He thinks frustrated, giving her a look worth a stab.

“YOU DON’T KNOW SHIT” Dabi snarls before kicking the little table in the living room, breaking one of its legs with a loud crack.

“CUT IT OUT!” she screams this time, standing from her chair “I don’t have to know when it’s plainly obvious you have problems with authority.”

“you really think you are so clever, don’t you?” Dabi states, crossing the living room, aiming to her, so Tomura leaves his place in the corner to stand at her side without even thinking why.

“I know I am, asshole!”

Dabi stops his tracks, looming over her like a monster. His eyes scanning her face before looking at Tomura, who stands by her with his hands open in front of him in clear warning.

The black-haired man looks at her before moving to Tomura, his brows raised in surprise as he chuckles darkly.

Shigaraki hates the way he looks at him, like he knows his thoughts. Like he knows he’s been creeping into her room to watch her sleep and the sinister lustful visions that sometimes plague his dreams after some playful back and forth every time she defies him with some smart-ass comment.

“stupid woman. You should know better.”

And then…he just slaps the laptop out of the table; the computer smashing open against the cemented ground.

Tomura remembers this moment like one would remember the witness of a car crush or a catastrophe. A simple second enough to amaze him for a lifetime.

The way her eyes just ignite into scorching red lights shining like burning embers under her frown brow. Her hair floats free from gravity over her shoulders like a terrible chaotic crown as her mouth flash pearly teeth in a feral snarl.

He watches how she claws her right hand, fingers curling, knuckles tensing and Dabi is suddenly choking under the pressure of some raw power. His limbs twisting painfully in horrific motion and unnatural angles in complete agony.

A second later and before anyone could grasp what’s happening, her other hand pointing pinky, index and thumb to Compress, Toga and himself, keeping them frozen in their place, a strange rigid pressure making him feel like he’s full of cement and any movement will shatter his bones and snap his spine.

He can’t move, he can barely breathe. Feeling like if every fiber of his being, every muscle, every cord is solid hard under his skin, unavailing him to get away.

But he can watch, so he watches her terrified and amazed.

Her quirk is rare, and powerful and dangerous. But she keeps it locked away, sleeping soundly, safely caged inside her ribs, like the best hidden weapon, perfect for torturing bodies and bending wills. Buried deeply under her layers of kindness and humor.

One twitch of a finger, and Dabi’s neck would snap in two and they can do nothing but just watch when little blood vessels begin to burst in the white of his eyes as he pants desperate for air, his veins contorting furiously under the marred skin of his neck and the flames scatter in some random parts of his body without any control.

Tomura swears he can hear Dabi’s bones crackle under the invisible force as his spine bends backwards in a sickening angle.

And, as sudden as it begins, ends.

Her hair falls and her eyes are no longer red. Dabi breathes again falling to his knees and for a moment Tomura thinks he will cry out of pure fright.

For a moment he wonders if Toga and Compress want to cry too because that felt like certain death, but is sweet, somehow. Something within him squirms joyfully with the notion of her own violence. She is as dangerous as him, no damsel in distress, no little girl in need of care, no simple quirkless girl, but a horrifying woman. A dangerous and powerful creature with a quirk made for torment, just like-

He looks at her, just to find a sad disappointed face. A thick trail of blood began sliding silently from her nose, tainting the perfect bow of her lip. Only then he notices the bloodshot eyes and how the color has run from her face.

She stands quiet and bitter watching between her hands and Dabi trying to catch his breath. Her face giving away guilt and self-loathing (two feelings he’s very familiar with.) but unlike him, she is no tormentor, she grasps no joy in watching Dabi suffer, nor do she wish of making them quiver to the sight of her.

She is kind, and brave, and witty. Humorous girl, quick at wordplay and puns; buying vitamins and oranges for them and something about no one getting scurvy under her watch.

He wants to laugh hysterically at her sight because she is magnificent, and for a moment he thinks that the boy with the destructive touch and the girl with the tormenting gaze sounds like a hell of a name for rulers and his heart shivers in excitement, but she is crying and clutches her guilty hands against her chest and ask them to forgive her for using her quirk on them.

She didn’t mean to; she didn’t want to. She likes them all very much, so she promises she’ll never hurt them again, and somehow it reminds him of something, but he cannot place a finger on what exactly.

He feels the sorrow drowning him. A grudge so horrid it makes him want to vomit and scratch his neck raw because something in her resembles something in him, but he cannot really grasp the motive of such connection, only knowing it has something to do with the hands he carries around like a symbol of his own distress and a little black-haired boy crying in some familiar backyard.

The sound of the bathroom door startles him and she’s no longer in the living room, but he can hear the quiet sobbing coming from behind the door.

Finally, Dabi decides to just fall backwards against the cold floor, still panting, an arm over his eyes.

Only then Spinner breaks the dreadful silence and ask the question they all want to make.

“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT.”

Chapter 10

[isabilightwood]

The Problem With Authority - Chapter 7

Or, Sacrifice Summon! Jiang Yanli is here to make things right, be the ultimate big sister (step 1: bring back her dead brother), and maybe steal the Peacock throne in the process

[AO3][1][2][3][4][5][6]

Awareness rushed in with a crack like lightning. With it came pain, but not as much as Wei Wuxian would have expected from exploding into a pulp of blood and guts.

The ground beneath him felt solid. Cool and rough like poorly sanded wood, nothing like the smooth, burning volcanic stone that should have bordered the river of lava, should he have been unlucky enough to neither fall in nor die on impact.

Wei Wuxian was still, it seemed, in possession of arms. Because those were what hurt — and only those. That, and a bit of a crick in his neck from lying face down on a hard surface, and a possible splinter in his cheek.

He inhaled the scent of dried blood with every breath, and still, only his forearms burned.

Dust from the floor made his nose itch.

Fuck. He was alive. And definitely not at the bottom of a cliff.

He could only conclude that he had been resurrected. A few feet away he would find the names of whoever someone had decided to give up their very soul to destroy.

What if he just… didn’t? Wei Wuxian hadn’t agreed to this. He hadn’t wanted to be brought back. He’d only wanted the two people left in the world he cared about to live, without him around to get in the way.

He lay there longer than necessary, contemplating it. But in his heart, he always knew he would get up. Besides, he felt… not great, honestly. But more alive than he’d felt in a while. Like his soul had taken a nice sabbatical.

Like he’d come out of an extended, impossibly peaceful meditation. Similar to that used to cultivate to immortality, but for the dead. And landed in a body only slightly less full of resentful energy than the one he’d vacated.

Wei Wuxian pushed against the floor, raising his head. Someone gasped.

As he raised himself into a seating position, he swept the curtain of hair away from his eyes, and laid eyes on a stranger. A short young woman, draped in Jin gold and muted pink, both hands pressed over her mouth. A sword lay on the ground next to her, almost like she’d dropped it.

But cultivators never dropped their swords.

“A-Xian!” The woman breathed.

That couldn’t be good. Only Shijie had ever called him that. Did the Yiling Patriarch still have obsessive followers even after he so publicly self-destructed? Or worse, had the Jin decided to use him for their own purposes.

Wei Wuxian had only just been resurrected, and he was already in trouble.

Unfortunately, wherever he’d been must have been peaceful, because Wei Wuxian was feeling a lot less self-destructive, compared to the last thing he remembered:

Lan Zhan, still trying to save him, though he was already dead long before destroying the Stygian Tiger Amulet sealed the deal. Jiang Cheng, finally done with him, but missing his swing, and nearly killing Lan Zhan as well. Wei Wuxian had been happy to fall.

Yet now he felt more alive than he had in years.

Which meant that whatever this was, he had to deal with it. Ugh.  “Who are you?”

“Oh, right. You won’t recognize me like this.” She hurried to the wall behind her, and picked up a tureen. Wei Wuxian maneuvered himself into a sitting position as she did so, readying himself to run, once his legs felt strong enough.

And once he figured out who this woman and who the poor sap had killed himself for revenge expected the great and terrible Yiling Patriarch to kill.

She set it down on the edge of the array, and lifted the lid.

Only one thing in the world smelled like that. Just the smell was enough to bring tears to his eyes. His world shifted on its axis. “Shijie?”

She nodded, blinking rapidly.

He launched himself forward out of the array, and into her arms. “I’m sorry.” He sobbed. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Xianxian, no. I’m here.” She said, but she was crying too.

They fell to the ground together, and, because neither Wei Wuxian nor Jiang Yanli had ever been ashamed of crying, stayed that way for a long time. He stroked her hair and clung like he was nine years old again, and she was the first person he could remember tucking him in at night. The one he ran to when he didn’t understand why Madame Yu hated him so much. But now, she clung back just as fiercely.

He couldn’t believe she was here. Who would ever have summoned sweet, caring Jiang Yanli to take revenge? Few people knew how strong she was in spirit. And the body she was wearing remained entirely unfamiliar. Smaller, but more solid in his arms than Shijie had ever been.

Eventually, she pulled away, just far enough to ladle out a bowl of soup and press it into his hands. She watched him like a hawk until he’d eaten half the bowl, though he was still more than a little choked up.

When she was satisfied he wasn’t going to wither and starve to death in the next five minutes, she said, “There’s something else you should know. Your Lan Wangji —”

“He’s not mine.” No matter how much he wished it. Wei Wuxian had only ever cast his shadow on Lan Zhan’s light. He couldn’t let himself do that to him again.

“You should let him decide that for himself, but that wasn’t the point.” Shijie rolled her eyes as she patted his hand. She even took away his bowl and set it on the ground, which went to show that this was serious. Shijie would never take away soup without good reason. “He saved your A-Yuan. Lan Yuan, courtesy Sizhui now. ”

“Sizhui? Lan Zhan — me?” Lan Zhan couldn’t really have named his A-Yuan Sizhui, could he? That was — Wei Wuxian had been the one yearning, longing for someone out of reach. After Wei Wuxian’s first stint in the Burial Mounds, he never could have been worthy of Lan Zhan, of what they could have meant to each other. Lan Zhan, well meaning, had persisted in trying to help him. But he hadn’t thought Lan Zhan would still — not after all he’d done.

“A-Xian.” Shijie wiped her thumbs under his eyes, and he realized he’d begun crying again. “Those of us who know you for who you are, and not the masks you show the world, cannot help but love you.”

Lan Zhan was — Lan Zhan —

Wei Wuxian could not drag him into this, whatever revenge he was expected take. But maybe, someday —

“Anything else I should know while I’m out of tears?” He asked, when his eyes were swollen and puffy and finally dry.

She told him about the Wen siblings, and he wasn’t out of tears after all. At least Shijie had always been a sympathetic crier, so at least he wasn’t alone in his weeping.

After their tears finally died away, and Shijie had plucked a pair of his drying talismans from her sleeve, she refilled his soup. Wei Wuxian really was out of tears this time, or he might have started off again.

Only then did he remember to clarify what, exactly, was going on. Now that Shijie had told him all the important things. That he hadn’t gotten everyone he ever loved killed or condemned to a life of misery, after all.

“How did you manage this?” He asked around a mouthful off heavenly pork. “Whose body is this, I mean? And yours?”

Wei Wuxian listened with increasing horror as Jiang Yanli told the story of waking up in the body of the new Madame Jin, all the way through to the array he’d woken up in. His curiosity was sparked by the implications of what Qin Su had done — closer to what he’d been trying to accomplish with the arrays than anything he’d been able to achieve.

And she’d done it entirely by accident, with consequences they had yet to fully understand. All of which seemed to rest on Qin Su’s shoulders, with no signs that Shijie was anything but firmly anchored in her body. It bore further investigation anyways.

Though for the moment, another concern was more pressing.

“Xue Yang?” Shijie had gone near Xue Yang to bring him back? That twisted, murdering bastard without even a sense of scale to temper his depravity. And she’d done it for him. He wasn’t worth the risk. He should have killed Xue Yang years ago, when he had the chance — There was a wrenching feeling in his gut as his fear and anger spiked, irrationally, over a matter already settled. “Oh, ow. What the fuck.”

No, not his gut. His lower dantian.  That sure was a tainted golden core, so it really must have been Xue Yang. The state of his golden core would certainly explain why Wei Wuxian felt so off.

Xue Yang’s golden core, which was now his. A golden core, something he’d long believed lost to him forever, resting inside him, an unwilling gift from his enemy.

Wei Wuxian was simultaneously disgusted and euphoric.

He’d never had to deal with the risk of qi deviation before, because the resentful energy hadn’t interacted nearly so badly with the sluggish flow in his meridians after its driving force was removed.

“What’s wrong?” Jiang Yanli put one hand over his forehead, and held his wrist in the other. He felt her, prodding around for what was wrong with spiritual energy. Something she never could have managed before.

Only Wen Qing knew how to treat this, though.

“Well, when a cultivator with a golden core uses demonic cultivation, it taints it with resentful energy. A little is fine and gets burned off, but a lot like Xue Yang — I’m surprised at how well he was holding off from a qi deviation, honestly.” “That’s why when I —” He broke off in a laugh.

Shit.

It was too much to hope that Shijie hadn’t caught his slip. “A-Xian. What happened to your golden core?”

“Um.” He really should have said Wen Zhuliu, but he couldn’t lie directly to Shijie. Not when she was staring at him, wide-eyed and concerned. Even if those eyes weren’t the ones he knew.

Wei Wuxian dared anyone to resist that.

When his confession was complete, she said nothing. Only sniffled.

Finally, she hugged him tight again, and ladled out more soup, though Wei Wuxian had yet to finish the second bowl. He dug in, shoveling each bite in, but chewing slowly, savoring the flavor like he’d never known he should before.

Tainted or not, the golden core inside him was fully formed and strong. An impossibility and a blessing.

“Are you all finished with the emotional reunion?” Nie Huaisang of all people swanned through the door. “Great! Hi, Wei-xiong!”

Gaping, he looked from Nie Huaisang to Shijie.

Shijie’s expression said oh right, him.

Ok, then. This was happening. “Hi, Nie-xiong. How have you been.”

Nie Huaisang plopped down in a heap across the soup tureen from him. “I’ve been better! Jin Guangyao killed my Dage, so we’re getting revenge.”

“Right, Shijie told me. Is he the only one I have to kill?”

Shijie shook her head, confirming his suspicions. “Him, another sect leader, and a few of Jin Guangyao’s guards. I’ll write the names down for you.”

Wei Wuxian really wanted to be done killing people. He wanted to — well, he wanted an impossibility. Traveling with Lan Zhan and A-Yuan, visiting Shijie and Jiang Cheng often in Lotus Pier, helping Wen Ning grow new varieties of vegetables in his garden, and arguing cultivation theory with Wen Qing. Even if Lan Zhan still wanted him, if they saved both the Wens, Jiang Cheng would never want to see him.

Shijie turned to Nie Huaisang. “We need to get him in to see Wen Qing.”

“Well, I can certainly provide a distraction, but he can’t just walk into Koi Tower like that.” Nie Huaisang hummed, tapping his closed fan against his lips. “You need a disguise.”

“A mask?” That would be the easiest thing to get a hold of.

But Nie Huaisang was shaking his head. “No, no, that won’t work. That’s just suspicious. You need something no one will see through.”

“I’ll think about it.” He wasn’t entirely sure that a mask wasn’t the solution — just not the sort of mask anyone else had ever come up with.

“You do that. In the meantime,” Nie Huaisang clapped his hands together. “Questions.”

“How did you get Xue Yang to give up his body to me?” Shijie hadn’t mentioned the details, but Wei Wuxian assumed the trickery had been at Nie Huaisang’s hands.

But Nie Huaisang tsked and shook his head. “I didn’t do it. Your sister did.”

“Shijie?”

“I lied.” She said, a slight flush rising to her cheeks. By the time she finished explaining what she’d done, he was looking at her in an entirely new light. “I wanted you back. I could save you, so I did.”

“Shijie. I — but. Your husband.” Wei Wuxian had been so caught up in having her back, that he hadn’t even apologized yet. What kind of useless brother was he?

Nie Huaisang got to his feet and practically ran for the door at the first sign of emotion.

“It wasn’t on purpose.” Shijie tried to put her hand on his shoulder, but Wei Wuxian flinched away.

“How did you know?” After all the time he’d spent antagonizing Jin Zixuan, calling him the Peacock and even attacking him in public, no one should have been willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Shijie did not deign to answer, simply looked at him as though the question was ridiculous. As though she still trusted him, after everything.

“Well, you’re right. I didn’t mean to, but it was my fault.” No matter how he thought of it, if it were not for Wei Wuxian — if he’d taken a less obvious route, if he’d taken Wen Qing with him instead or gone alone, if he’d imposed on Lan Zhan enough to ask for an escort, if he’d simply remembered how easily the power given by the Yin Iron could be stolen away — . “I stole Wen Ruohan’s control, and I forgot someone could do the same to me.”

“It is not your fault. You were ambushed, and scared, and trying to defend yourself.” Shijie hugged him, and again, he melted into her arms.

“It is, though. It is.” Wei Wuxian choked down a sob. He really couldn’t start that back up again. “I just wanted to meet your son.”

“You will.” She assured him, petting his hair soothingly, the way she had as long as he’d known her. Wei Wuxian couldn’t believe his luck.

When they emerged from the warehouse, Nie Huaisang was waiting.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Shijie asked Nie Huaisang.

“If it’s here, Xue Yang hid it well.” He sighed heavily, and didn’t even flourish his fan. So clearly whatever he’d been searching for was important.

Something in this little town full of coffins and burial goods, complete with paper mannequins peering out the windows. It was scarcely dusk, but the streets were already empty. He could feel — but not see, not like the mysterious resident of Shijie’s head — the mostly inert resentful energy everywhere. He could see what would have attracted Xue Yang to the town, but not why he wouldn’t have simply made it more of a living hell, and moved along.

The slippery little bastard had done nothing but complain of boredom on the way to what should have been his execution, after all. “What was he doing here anyway? It’s an eerie little town, but you said he’d been here a while?”

“Well, he was kicked out by Jin Guangyao, and it seems he set up a domestic little arrangement with Xiao Xingchen.” Nie Huaisang made an effort to sound flighty but his mind was clearly still elsewhere.

How the — no, actually, he didn’t want to know. Everything Wei Wuxian learned of the events following his death was stranger and more unsettling. “And my shishu won’t wonder what happened when he never comes back?”

Peering into the darkness of an alley, Nie Huaisang flapped a hand dismissively. “I’m having Song Lan tracked down. He’ll forget all about him soon enough.”

Good for his shishu. He deserved his second chance at love. Wei Wuxian hadn’t had time to be devastated over their separation, the failure of what he’d wanted his life to be because he’d been too busy throwing it away.

But maybe, just maybe. If he completed Xue Yang’s revenge and was here to stay, if Shijie and A-Ling and the Wen siblings were all safe and secure. Maybe he could earn a second chance with Lan Zhan someday.

It would take years to make up for his mistakes, Wei Wuxian imagined, a slow courting of hundreds of handmade gifts and tracking down the most challenging hauntings across the cultivation world. He’d remind Lan Zhan that he was good with children, and be there to help him raise A-Yuan the rest of the way. Show him he would never miss another moment.

There went his imagination, wanting things that were distant possibilities as best. Who was to say Lan Zhan hadn’t moved on? All Shijie had to go on was guesses, gossip, and a glimpse.

They passed a row of coffins, just waiting to be filled with some unlucky sap. Wei Wuxian drew up short. “Why do I sense some really strong resentful energy?”

“Xue Yang was turning people into puppets for fun.” Nie Huaisang said, causing both him and Shijie to glare at him. It seemed he’d failed to mention that to both of them.

Though, honestly, Wei Wuxian should have guessed. He pinpointed the coffin that felt like a mass grave, and whistled with no force behind it. Even so, a shifting spiderweb of resentful energy briefly became visible. That was a ward. One that would take him about an hour to unravel, using demonic cultivation.

Or, conveniently, application of Xue Yang’s own spiritual energy.

“No, this is more static. Almost like — “ He shoved hard at the lid of the coffin, and it slid forward a few inches, letting out a cloud of black smoke. “Shit, Xue Yang’s piece of Yin Iron.”

“Excellent! Exactly what I was looking for.” Nie Huaisang perked up, his usual good humor restored. “Do you think you can —” Shijie, uncharacteristically, pinched his arm sharply. “Jiang-guniang, why? I was going to say destroy it.”

“Sure,” He said absently. “Same way I did the Tiger Seal.”

“Can you destroy it without hurting yourself?” Shijie asked gently, reminding him exactly how that had gone.

“I can’t, but didn’t Lan Xichen manage it somehow?” He kept shoving at the lid, to no avail. Right, Xue Yang must have a sword somewhere. He reached into his sleeve and found a hilt, as well as a pair of qiankun bags.

“He said that, but Dage told me in confidence that the pair of them sealed them away again in secret. I don’t know if Erge told him where. I certainly don’t know.” Nie Huaisang paused. “And yes, I do mean that.”

The sword felt worse than the core, like it was used to Xue Yang’s cultivation. Jiangzai, it was called. That felt suiting. But though it resisted him, when Wei Wuxian sent a bolt of energy through it, the lid went flying into a wall thirty feet away.

Oh, so it was either nothing or too much with Jiangzai. He saw how it was.

Wei Wuxian stared down at the contents nestled inside. The Yin Iron was there, shaped into what looked like another Tiger Seal, but less powerful by far. Stacked right on top of two items that were undoubtedly just soaking in that resentful energy. Fuck. “Um. Nie-xiong? I think Xue Yang has your brother’s body. Also Baxia.”

It was agreed that Nie Mingjue’s body would have to be retrieved the next day, as Wei Wuxian had only just been resurrected and neither Nie Huaisang nor Shijie could fly. Shijie didn’t say, but he assumed she either hadn’t had time to learn, or temperamental swords were a side effect of resurrection.

In case it was the latter, he should probably bring that up at some point.

Shijie handed him some talisman paper, so he could construct a ward over the coffin, and they went down the foothills to an inn where Jin Ling was waiting.

His baby nephew had already been put to bed by the time they arrived. Which was all for the better because that meant Wei Wuxian actually got to see him.

Jin Ling was so big already, grown bigger than A-Yuan had been in what seemed to him the blink of an eye. Six years old, when he should have been all of a hundred days. Wei Wuxian reached out and hesitated, looking up at his shijie.

She nodded, watching them both with her heart in her eyes.

He hesitated several more times on the way to touching A-Ling’s hair, afraid that touch would shatter the illusion. But A-Ling didn’t disappear when Wei Wuxian touched him. A-Ling’s skin had the downy texture of childhood and his hair was silky under his fingertips, a sign of how healthy and loved he was. Jiang Cheng had taken such good care of him, though that never should have been his job, if not for Wei Wuxian.

A-Ling stirred under his touch, and he snatched his hand back, but the boy only shifted onto his side, and stuck his thumb into his mouth.

Wei Wuxian loved him so much, just as he’d known he would.

Because Wei Wuxian couldn’t bear to give up his scant moments with his darling nephew, he, Shijie, and Nie Huaisang sat on the floor to discuss how they would break Wei Wuxian into Koi Tower unnoticed.

Not something he ever expected to want. But he did want to see Wen Qing for himself — they needed to yell at each other for self-sacrifice, without her paralyzing him again. And Shijie would worry if she didn’t know he was alright. So Wei Wuxian supposed he would let Wen Qing poke around in Xue Yang’s core.

As Shije and Nie Huaisang heatedly (for them) debated their methods, Wei Wuxian occupied himself by unpacking Xue Yang’s bags item by item.

The current Nie First Disciple, a woman he’d fought alongside on occasion during the Sunshot Campaign, stood guard outside the door. Neither she, nor the younger disciples accompanying her, had seen remotely surprised to see him. So Wei Wuxian assumed resurrecting notorious traitors was just par for the course in things their sect leader did.

He reached in and grabbed something with an odd, elastic texture. Pulling it out, he flinched. And flung it on the floor.

It was a mask of someone’s face. He’d seen them before, when a possessed woman in Yunmeng had started carving the faces off her neighbors and wearing them as masks. This, though, was melded together to form a face disturbingly similar to Song Lan’s. And according to Nie Huaisang, Song Lan was still alive.

Had he written about that night hunt? Xue Yang could easily have modified the method. He would bet Jin Guangyao had focused on the profitable ideas among his inventions, and let Xue Yang make the most grotesque techniques of his demonic cultivation worse. The techniques that could do good had almost certainly been left to languish.

Even if Jin Guangyao wanted to leave reform as his legacy, he couldn’t openly use techniques that showed demonic cultivation was not all sacrificing virgins and creating puppets from amalgamated rotting meat. Better for him that the Yiling Laozu remained a monster under the bed, even if it meant leaving people to starve, their fields and forests tainted with resentful energy.

Well, if Xue Yang could twist his techniques, Wei Wuxian could twist them back.

“You, Wei-xiong, look like you’re having an idea.” Nie Huaisang fluttered his fan. Wei Wuxian’s eyes narrowed as he looked back and forth between it, and the creepy skin mask on the ground.

He thought back to the brightest period of his childhood, flashes of a masked figured twirling and kicking on a stage, flourishing a fan in sharp movements, creating an illusion of transformation. “Nie-xiong. You’re a cultural connoisseur.”

“I make an effort.”

“That dance where the performer changes masks behind a fan — do you know how it works?” The dance, from Meishan, involved face changes, using greasepaint or changing the color of a beard. Or, more importantly, masks. Madame Yu had enjoyed it, often hiring troops from her natal sect’s territory to perform for guests and during festivals. Wei Wuxian didn’t know the trick to it, but Nie Huaisang might.

“The Bian Lian? That is a particular favorite of mine.”

“No, really? I would never have guessed.” He never would have expected Nie Huaisang of all people to enjoy a dance that involved fans! Or masks!

Nie Huaisang rapped him on the shin with his fan, and “Ow, fuck, is that thing made of steel?”

“I wouldn’t know.” Nie Huaisang said primly, which Wei Wuxian took as a yes.

“Huaisang.” Shijie gave him a disappointed look.

It wasn’t quite as stern as in her own face, Qin Su’s heart shaped face rendering it somehow even more gently chiding, but it was just as effective. Nie Huaisang sighed. “Yes, I know how it works. Would you like me to sketch a diagram?”

“Please.”

Wei Wuxian interpreted Nie Huaisang’s caving to Shijie as his having been officially taken under her wing. He wondered if that meant they were brothers now.

It was a little-known secret that Wei Wuxian was not the only child raised by Jiang Fengmian to collect family wherever he went. He had, in fact, picked up that trait from his sister. Around the time she’d decided he was her didi, no matter that Wei Wuxian was never officially adopted into the clan.

“What are you thinking, A-Xian?” Shijie asked, while Nie Huaisang was busy being unnecessarily artistic with his diagram. Wei Wuxian would have so many extraneous swirls to work around.

“Well, I’m not wearing that thing. I’m pretty sure it is human skin, just not the person’s face it’s copying.” Wei Wuxian might control corpses on occasion, but he wasn’t wearing one on his face. That was just gross, in a uniquely Xue Yang fashion. Just remembering the moment he’d touched it made him want to spend the next week becoming a prune in an excessively soapy bath. “But I can’t just run around like this.”

Neither Wei Wuxian’s own face nor Xue Yang’s was exactly ideal. But Xue Yang had committed each and every crime he was accused of, with more undoubtedly yet to come. Wei Wuxian had only committed some of crimes he was given credit for. He was grateful Shijie had ensured he was given his own back.

Besides, Wei Wuxian was clearly better looking than Xue Yang, whether they were being judged on a scale of handsomeness or prettiness.

That didn’t stop either face from being a problem. “So I thought, why not make a mask where I can pretend to be Xue Yang? But where I can also quickly change to a harmless face, and avoid any future angry mobs.”

Wei Wuxian would strongly prefer not to be the target of future angry mobs. The once had been more than enough.

“Impersonate Xue Yang? But A-Xian —” Shijie frowned, an expression he never wanted to put on her face. “Don’t get more involved in this than you need to be for my sake. I brought you back for selfish reasons, and I can ensure those marks disappear and leave you free.”

Obviously, Wei Wuxian would never do that. “Shijie, you brought me back because you care. And I love you too, so don’t tell me not to help you.”

She reached out to pet his hair, and he leaned into it. “You’ve sacrificed enough.”

Shijie might think so, but he would never agree. Wei Wuxian would always want to help. Not because he owed her for what he’d done — which he did — but because he loved her. On top of that, she was trying to overthrow a child murderer, and improve the lives of ordinary people in an unprecedented way. Of course he would do anything he could to help.

And he didn't want her to have to learn how to kill.

He pulled away, and grasped her too-slim shoulders instead to meet those bizarre, smaller eyes that still, somehow, felt like her. “It’s not about sacrifice. I can be a distraction for you. If Jin Guangyao’s as clever as you say — and I remember that was  my impression of him — he won’t stay ignorant of what you’re doing forever.”

“A-Xian—”

Wei Wuxian cut off her protest. This was the best way for him to help. Any protest she had could only be an attempt to protect him. “But if Xue Yang’s a ghost he can’t catch? Maybe you can pull it off.”

[fanaticfangirl001]

Like Real People Do Ch 6: The Stain

Taglist: @p3nny4urth0ught5, @kissofvenom922,

Author’s note: Considering Sam’s TT, it’s very common in the South to give relatives nicknames, especially in the African American community(Just in case anyone was confused during the episode)

Winnie flops down on the couch and sighs.

“Penny for your thoughts.”

“Sam, this whole thing is fucked up.” Winnie rubs her temples.

“Well once this is all over, I’ll leave you and Buck alone.”

“No reason to. He hates me.”

“Huh?”

“ At Sharon’s place. I confronted him and he brushed me off. I mean it was stupid to think that.”

“Wait, you think Buck hates you because he wouldn’t open up to you.”

“Exactly, we’ve talked about stuff before.”

“Stuff like feelings?”

“No. I’m pretty sure we’re just going to stuff those down and then one day, we die.”

“That’s not healthy.”

“Did you imagine us to have a healthy way of coping with our shit?”

“No, but once everything is over, try therapy.”

“I’d screw it up.”

“There’s nothing to screw up.”

“I’d screw up the therapist. There’s a lot, Sam, none of it is great.”

Zemo walks out of the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist and Bucky walks through the front door.

“Well the Wakandans are here. They want Zemo. Bought us some more time.”

“Were you followed?”

“No.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Winnie sits up from the couch.

“Because I know when I’m being followed.”

“It was sweet of you to defend me at least.”

“Hey, you shut it. No one’s defending you.You killed Nagel”

“Don’t put too much stock in it.” Winnie warns. “You mean to an end.”

“You’d be bored without me.” Zemo says to Winnie then adds “ Do we really have to litigate what may or may not have happened.”

“There’s nothing to litigate. You straight shot a man.”

“Point blank.” Winnie adds.

“Sam.”

“What?”

“Karli bombed a GRC supply depot.”

“What? What’s the damage?”

“Eleven injured, three dead. They have a list of demands and are promising more attacks if those demands aren’t met.”

“She’s getting worse.”

“Take it from the man that bombed the UN to know what worse is.” Winnie muses.

“I accept the assistance but I can handle these two.” Zemo pours himself a cup of tea. “I have the will to complete this mission. Do the three of you?”

“She’s just a kid.”

“You’re seeing something in her that isn’t there. You’re clouded by it.”

“Sam, she is a kid, but she’s making some adult moves.” Winnie adds. “But she has done more for the displaced than the GRC ever did.”

“She’s a supremacist. The very concept of a Super Soldier will always trouble people. It’s that warped association that led to Nazis, to Ultron, to the Avengers.”

“You’re talking about our friends.”

“The avengers, not the nazis.”

“So, Karli is radicalized, but there has to be a peaceful way to stop her.”

“It would have to be in some neutral location. I don’t want any surprise attacks. Sam, you’d be the best choice.”

“The desire to become a superhuman cannot be separated from supremacist ideals. Anyone with that serum is inherently on that path. She will not stop. She will escalate until you kill her.Or she kills you.”

“Maybe you’re wrong Zemo. The serum never corrupted Steve.”

“Touche. But there has never been another Steve Rogers, has there?”

“One of a kind, a good man trained to be a soldier.”

“Well, maybe we should give him to the Wakandans right now.”

“And you’ll give up your tour guide.”

“Yes.”

“From my understanding Donya is like a pillar of the community, right? So when I was a kid my TT passed away.”

“Your TT?”

“Yeah, my TT, yeah.”

“Who is your TT?”

“Fine, when I was a kid,my aunt passed away, and the entire neighborhood got together for a ceremony. It was like a week long. Maybe they’re doing the same thing for Donya.”

“We’re not crashing a memorial.”

“Worth a shot.”

“Your TT would be proud of you.” Zemo tosses a piece of candy towards Sam “ Turkish Delight.”

He gestures towards Winnie.

“No thank you. I’ve read The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe, too many times to be taken in by perfume candy.”

“Shame what’s become of this place. When I was young, we used to come here for fabulous dinners and parties.I know nothing of the politics of the time, of course.But I remember it being beautiful.”

“I’ll play you a song from the smallest violin, later, what we need is information.” Winnie says from behind him.

“I’m gonna take a look upstairs.See what you can find down here. Keep an eye on him.”Sam says leaving the group.

“I’ll stay out of your way.”

Winnie looks around seeing small groups of children playing. She softly smiles.

“You like children?” Zemo asks softly.

“Yeah so.”

“Follow my lead.”

Winnie rolls her eyes but takes Zemo’s outstretched hand.

“Baa baa black sheep have you any wool.”

Winnie sings with him.

“Yes sir, yes,sir, three bags full. One for my master, One for the dame.” Zemo pulls out a bag of the same candy he had offered them, Turkish Delight.

“One for the little girl who lives down the lane.” He sets up a table and pours out the candy.

“Turkish Delight. It was always my son’s favorite.”

Winnie kneels down so she’s at the kids level.

“My old friend Donya passed away. Did you know her?”

“Yes.”

“I would like to pay my last respects. Do you know where her funeral will be?”

Zemo motions for the child to whisper to him the location. She whispers then turns towards him again.

“Is there something else?” He asks.

“Your wife is pretty.” She points towards Winnie.

Winnie smiles, keeping up the appearance.

Sam comes down and stands by Bucky.

“It’s starting to feel like a dead end.”

“The hell are they doing?”

“Do you see these men there?” Zemo asks the child softly.

“Zemo, darling.” Winnie adds putting a hand on his shoulder.

“They are very bad, not to be trusted.” Zemo adds to the children. “Donya is our little secret, okay.”

Zemo and Winnie walk back to the two.

“Cute kids.”

“Ass.”

“Darling, there’s children present.”

“I don’t like them, together.” Bucky breaks the silence.

“I know Buck. I know.”

“Well I got nothing. No one is talking about Donya.”

“Yeah, it’s because Karli is the only one fighting for them.”

Winnie turns to Zemo.

“And she’s not wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“For five years,people have been welcomed into countries that have kept them out using barbed wire. There were houses and jobs. Folks were happy to have people around to help them rebuild. It wasn’t just one community coming together. It was the entire world coming together. And then boom. Just like that, it goes right back to the way it used to be. To them at least Karli is doing something.”

“You really think her ends justify her means. Then she’s no different than him, or anybody else we’ve fought.

“She’s different. She’s not motivated by the same things.”

Zemo is making cherry blossom tea and brings it over.

“That little girl. What’d she tell you?”

“The funeral is this afternoon.”

“You know the Dora’s coming for you any minute.In fact they are probably lurking outside right now.Keep talking.”

“Leaving you to turn on me, once we get to Karli. I prefer to keep my leverage.”

Bucky stands up and walks over to him. He grabs the tea pot and throws it against the wall.

“You wanna see what someone can do with leverage.”

“Take it easy, don’t engage him. He’s just going to extort you and do that stupid little head tilt thing.”

Zemo straightens.

“Let me make a call.”

“Do you want some cherry blossom tea?

“No you go ahead.”

Zemo turns towards Winnie.

“Uh sure, I’d love some.”

Once Bucky leaves the room Winnie looks at Zemo.

“It’s rude to stare.”

“Infuriating Bucky isn’t going to help you in the long run.”

“You care a lot for him. Pity.”

“Why?”

“Because he will always throw himself into the fight. He will never settle down, or help himself, because not so deep down, he knows he’ll never lose the Winter Soldier side. You saw how easily he went back into it.He believes that he’s not worth the effort.What is that they say about old habits. Ah, they die hard.”

“Pissing me off isn’t helpful to you, either.”

“Why does the truth anger you so?”

“Because I believe that Buck is stronger than everything he’s been through.”

“You have great expectations for James.”

“I do.”

“You think he is worth the effort.”

“Yes.”

“So tell him.”

“Why would I trust you? Two seconds ago you were being a dick. Now I’m supposed to take your relationship advice.”

“So you do want a relationship with him.”

“I’m not talking to you, anymore.”

“How sweet the silence will be.” Zemo gives her a cup of tea.

“Fuck you.”

“Karli Morgenthau is too dangerous for you guys to be pulling this shit.” John and Lemar jog up to where the four are.

“What happened to tracking John?” Sam asks Winnie.

“Someone must have disabled it, it was working before.”

“Ah! How’d you find us now?”

“Come on. You really think two Avengers can walk around Latvia without drawing attention?”

“No more keeping us in the dark.”

“It was nice while it lasted.” Winnie adds to Sam.

“And you..” John walks up to Winnie,” Stop messing with my suit and my shield.”

“Doesn’t feel too good to get tracked by your own stuff, huh.”

“You are interfering with the United States Government.”

“What are you gonna do, kill me.”

“Don’t.” Bucky grabs Winnie’s arm and pulls her back.

“You could start by telling us why you broke him out of prison.”

“He did that himself, technically.”

“This better be an unbelievable explanation.”

“Take it easy before it gets weird.”

“Too late.”

“I know where Karli is.”

“Well, where?” John stops Zemo with a hand on his chest.

“All we know is, it’s a memorial. So we’re going to intercept her there.”

“I still don’t like the idea that we’re crashing a memorial.” Winnie adds.

“That means civilians. High risk of casualties.” Lemar adds.

“Which means we need discretion, you two aren’t exactly subtle.” Winnie gestures between John and Lemar.

“All right, we’ll move in fast. Take her by surprise.” John says.

“Did he not hear me?” Winnie asks outloud.

“I want to talk to her alone.” Sam nods at Winnie.

“I’m not losing her again.”

“You won’t, if you let Sam talk to her. This is his bread and butter.”

“Look the person closest to her died, she’s vulnerable. Now is the best time to reason with her.”

“No wait stop! Hold on! I think we’re way past reasoning with her,unless you forgot that she blew up a building with people still in it.”

“So did Zemo, and he’s here.”

“Winifred, if you really lov…” Zemo starts and is muffled by Winnie’s hand.

“Sam if you walk in there cold, she could kill you.” Lemar reasons with Sam.

“If I go in hot and the op goes wrong, more people will die.”

“You’ll let him do this. You’re gonna let your partner walk into a room with a Super Soldier alone.”

“He’s dealt with worse, and he’s not my partner.”

“I used to counsel soldiers dealing with trauma, okay. This is in my wheelhouse, like Winnie said.”

“I know. And I know those soldiers, which is why I know this a bad idea.”

“Wait John, if he can talk her down, it might be worth a try.” Lemar reasons with John.

“We’ll deal with you later.” John says to Zemo.

“I’m sure it will come to an agreeable conclusion. My associate is just up ahead.”

Zemo leads the way to the small girl he was talking to earlier.

“Hello my friend.” Zemo gives her money,” This is for your family. Can you show us the way?”

The child motions for Zemo and the group to follow her.

“What the hell?”

“Language.” Winnie warns. “ Come on John, there’s a kid.”

The child leads them to the building.

“Karli is in there.”

“All right.” Sam goes in alone.

Zemo is handcuffed to a pipe.

“Hey, you got ten minutes.

“Really?”

“Then we’re doing things my way.”

“Aggressive.” Zemo comments. “ But I get it.”

“John, you okay?” Winnie asks as she watches him begin to pace.

“No, I’m not okay. I wasn’t expecting to see Sam and Bucky, two avengers, an ex member of Shield, and a terrorist that bombed the UN.”

“Okay, and neither did I when Bucky and I came out here. But we’ve done a pretty good job so far.”

“A pretty good job? Really?”

“Yeah, actually with less resources than you have.”

John waits and readjusts his cowl across his nose.

“John.”

“Whatever it is Winnie, I’m not in the mood.”

“I’m not trying to antagonize you, but you really don’t seem okay. Take a few breaths. Sam’s a good man and he knows how these things go.”

Bucky looks up watching Winnie.

“I also know that you want to be a good man. You want to be the best Captain America, you can. And to do that you need a clear head, and some good people around, and a big ass heart.”

“A big ass heart isn’t going to help.”

“I think it helped Steve.”

“Well I’m not Steve.”

“I know. No one is asking you to be Steve, John.”

“She’s right.” Zemo adds.

“Good call, the terrorist agrees with you, Winnie.”

“I’m trying to genuinely help you. Don’t be a dick.”

“You could have helped more by joining us. That tracker you put on my shield is still being dissected. Your modifications on old shield tech is incredible.”

“Governments have agendas and blind spots. I’m not getting back in just to be told it’s happening again.”

“So what’s next then, for you?” John asks.

“I don’t know, but I’m sticking with Sam and Buck until the end of the line.”

“Don’t ever say that again!” Bucky snaps.

Winnie recoils hurt from his words and the silence grows.

She looks over when John begins pacing and talking to himself.

“Nope No, this is a bad plan.”

“It hasn’t been ten minutes. Just sit tight.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t patronize me.”

“He knows what he’s doing.”

“I’m going in.” John walks up to Bucky. He stops John.

“This is all real easy for you, isn’t it? All that serum runnin through your veins. Barnes, your partner needs backup in there.”

“Lemar.” Winnie nudges him and gestures to John,” Has he always been this intense?”

“He’s got a lot on his plate.”

“Lemar no bullshitting me, is John okay?”

“Yeah, he’ll be okay.”

“Care to make a wager?”

“Sure. what’s the bet?”

“If John snaps,you owe me, Bucky and Sam:Juicy Lucys, fries and malts once we’re stateside.”

“If he doesn’t, you owe us a steak dinner. The works.”

“Deal.” Winnie puts out her hand for Lemar.

“Deal.” Lemar shakes her hand.

“What about me?” Zemo asks.

“Malts aren’t for terrorists.” Winnie answers.

“Neither are steak dinners.”

“Karli Morgenthau, you’re under arrest.” John calls out.

“This is what that was.”

“No, wait.”

“Tricking me until help came.”

“We had enough time to talk.”

“Nazi”

“Why don’t you.”

Karli shoves John and the shield against the table.

Winnie helps John back up, he shoves off of her.

Bucky goes after Karli as does Lamar.

Sam helps Winnie up and the two run through trying to find Karli.

“Shit.”

“I lost her.”

“So did we, and John’s a dick.”

“This place is a maze.”

“Pretty smart move though. We need to find Karli before John or Zemo do.”

Zemo finds Karli and shoots at her following her through the pipe room. He shoots twice more. To avoid him, Karli vaults over a table, her pouch of the serum vials falling to the floor with her. The blue vials litter the floor. Karli starts to crawl towards it but Zemo shoots once more. She finds cover behind the table.

“Is this what I think it is.” Zemo asks. He picks one up.

“No no no.” Karli starts.

He throws it to the ground, the glass vial shattering. Zemo stomps on them. Karli runs out seeing that Zemo is busy. The shield flies out of the air and knocks him out.

Sam, Bucky and Winnie run in to see John.

“You found Zemo, good.” Winnie says.

“What did we miss?”

Back in Zemo’s home he rests on the couch with a wash cloth on his head.

“Anything new from Sharon.”

“No, just keep an eye on John.”

“Were you ever offered it?” Zemo asks Sam.

“What?”

“The serum.”

“No.”

“If you had been, hypothetically, that is, would you have taken it?”

“No.”

“No hesitation. That’s impressive.”

“Sam, you can’t hold out hope for Karli. No matter what you saw in her, she’s gone. And we cannot allow that she and her acolytes become yet another faction of gods amongst real people. Super soldiers cannot be allowed to exist.”

“Isn’t that how gods talk?”

“And if that’s how you feel, what about Bucky.”

“He never chose anything.” Winnie asks.

Sam takes Zemo’s silence for a chance to continue.

“Blood isn’t always the solution.”

Bucky comes back in.

“Somethings not right about Walker.”

“Clocked that a mile away. I made a bet with Lemar.”

“ What kind of bet?”

“I think John is unstable. He’s gonna snap at someone. And when he does we get cheeseburgers and malts.”

“You can’t make a bet like that. It’s wrong.”

“Lemar knows John better than I do. And he has faith in John. That should make us feel a little better.”

“What does he get if John doesn’t crack?”

“Him and John get a steak dinner.”

“Steak dinner vs cheese burgers, the classic American battle.” Zemo adds.

“Well get ready to eat a burger, Sam, I know a crazy when I see one. Because I am crazy.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

“Shouldn’t have given him the shield.”

“I didn’t give it.”

“Well Steve definitely didn't.”

“All right. That’s it. Let’s go. I’m now ordering you to turn him over.”

“Hey, slow your roll.”

“Shield or no shield, the only thing here you’re running is your mouth. Now I have Katli and you overstepped. He’s actually proven himself useful today. We’re going to need all hands on deck for whatever’s comin’ next.”

“How do you want the rest of this conversation to go, huh. Should I put down the shield, make it fair?”

“Malts here we come.” Winnie adds sending a smirk over to Lemar.

John puts down the shield and a woman dressed in crimson, and gold armor throws a spear.

“Woah.” Winnie looks from the woman, to Sam, to Bucky as if to ask if they saw that too.

More women in armor with spears come into the room.

“Are they the Dora Milaje?” Winnie asks Bucky.

He nods.

The lead woman speaks to Bucky in a language Winnie has never heard before. Even she knew that whatever they were here for wouldn’t end well for Zemo.

“Release him to us now.” The woman says.

“Hi, John Walker, Captain America.” John introduces himself. “Well let’s put down the pointy sticks and we can talk this though huh. “

“Now he wants peace.” Winnie mocks.

“Not the time.” Sam says shaking his head. “John, take it easy, You might want to fight Bucky before you tangle with the Dora Milaje.”

“They don’t have jurisdiction here.”

“The Dora Milaje have jurisdiction wherever the Dora Milaje find themselves to be.”

“Okay. Look I think we got off on the wrong foot.” John claps her on the shoulder.

The woman looks at John’s arm and then him. She hits him with a spear multiple times then kicks him away, hitting the spear in the wall and back to the ground. He uses the shield to deflect a spear aiming for him and continues fighting the women.

Zemo continues drinking his cocktail.

“We should do something.”

“Yeah.” Winnie pulls out a bag of popcorn from her backpack. She offers some to Sam. He takes a handful.

“Looking strong, John.”

“Bucky.” Sam warns.

“So the Dora Milaje is the Wakandan army?” Winnie asks the two guys as they watch the fight.

Bucky nods.

“The spears look beautifully made.”

“Ayo.” Bucky grabs the spear in the hands of one woman. “ Let’s talk about this.”

Sam and Bucky enter the struggle.

“ Guys!” Winnie yells.

“We’re a little busy!” Sam yells back to Winnie.

Winnie chases Zemo, but he gets the door and locks it.

“You’re a rat! You know that!” Winnie is banging on the door trying to break it.

Ayo taps Bucky’s arm in a few places and it falls off. She walks off towards where Zemo locked the door.

“He’s gone. Leave it.” She tells another warrior holding the shield.

“Did you know they could do that?” Sam asks.

“No.” Bucky puts back on his arm and rotates it. The vibranium shifts and hums as it moves back to place.

“You all right, man.” Lemar asks helping John up.

“They weren’t even super soldiers.” John gets up.

“I can’t believe he pulled an El Chapo.”

“I can, come on.”

“She said what? Hold on Hold on, I know. Listen pack an overnight bag and take the boys.”

“What happened?”

“Karli called Sarah. She threatened my nephews.” Sam turns back to his phone,”Okay. Go somewhere safe. Only pay in cash. All right? Let me know when you get there.”

“Damn.” Winnie’s expression grows serious. “ She can’t keep this up.”

“I know. I love you. I’ll never let anything happen to these boys.Okay, bye.”

“Karli wants to meet. She left a contact number. She said just me and Winnie.”

“Me?” Winnie asks. “ Why?”

“I didn’t ask.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“Karli!” Sam yells out.

Winnie walks with him, rocket boots and other weapons up her sleeves ready.

Bucky follows.

“You called my sister.That’s how we’re gonna play this.”

“I would never hurt her. I wanted to understand you better. I see you two didn’t come alone.”

“You have to end this now.”

“Karli there’s nothing good that can come from this. Just stop this from escalating. Just stop.” Winnie says.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You don’t have to hurt anyone.”

“Sam, you’re just a tool in the regimes. I want to destroy. You’re not hiding behind a shield. If I were to kill you it’d be meaningless. I was going to ask you to join me.And you, Winnie, you’re not a tool, you’re a free agent. You could join us. I saw the gadgets the first time we fought. Also you were the closest to downloading all of our mugshots before we started erasing our trail. We could use you.”

“I can’t do that Karli.” Winnie shakes her head.

“Hey Sam,” Sharon’s voice says through Sam’s gear. “ Looks like new Cap is moving. Looks like he found them or maybe they found him.”

“It’s Walker.”

Sam and Bucky jump down colliding with Karli.

“ I’ll send you the location. Go!”

Bucky runs off in search of John.

Winnie kicks on her rocket boots and takes a running leap off the building following Sam.

Sam comes in through the ceiling, Winnie follows through the large hole.

He and Winnie watch as John bends a metal pipe.

“What’d you do?

“They’ve got Lemar.”

Sam and Winnie follow John.

Two super soldiers drop down from the ceiling. One takes on Sam, the other John.

John tosses the shield and hits one in the back and Sam lets his wings take the action.

“What’s with all the knives?”

“Guns are hard to get in Europe. Knives are stylish.” Winnie shoots one in the leg.

Bucky runs in and catches a knife.

Sam now has two super soldiers on him.

Bucky punches one

“You’re welcome.”

An electrified whip hits the other one and knocks them out.

“Sup.” Winnie nods.

Karli, armed with a knife, sees her moment to kill John. She takes it and then is grappled by Lemar dropping her to the ground. They get up and Karli punches him into a pillar in the middle of the room.

John goes over to Lemar.

“Hey. Hey. Hey.” John pats his face. “Lemar. Lemar. Lemar.”

“Shit.” Winnie says softly.

The Flag smashers and Karli flee.

Sam, Bucky, Winnie run after Karlie.

John jumps out of a window and slams onto the street below.

“Where is she?!?” John yells running after the one of the flag smashers.

John knocks the man down beside cement stairs and hits him with the shield. People begin to watch.

“It wasn’t me.” The man pleads. “It wasn’t me!”

John lifts his shield and brings it down several times. Onlookers take videos and scream.

Winnie leans her head on Bucky’s shoulder closing her eyes, away from what just took place in broad daylight, in front of people.

“He snapped.” Winnie whispers with tears in her eyes.