#that and she can breath underwater now and her skin feels all funny and her webbed hands + tail make swimming easier

[baylardian-1]

Moody early post-Threshold Kathryn swimming and feeling REALLY WEIRD doing it. :)

[kifkay]

I love when magic has an effect on the body & soul of its caster. like!! you don’t get to be a reality-bending demi-god and walk away with no strings attached. there’s always a price.

Bloom’s dragon fire consumes her from the inside, leaving lightning-like tissues of scars along her limbs - be careful, rumbles the Great Dragon from within, don’t let your emotions consume you. Bloom wails from the pain and clutches whoever is in the vicinity - but cannot fully stop it. just prevent it or treat the aftermath.

Musa gets migraines. Stella becomes ill when she doesn’t get her daily dose of sunshine. Aisha’s senses get muddy sometimes, almost as if she’s submerged underwater. Nabu experiences uncontrollable tremors in his arms, when he creates too many of his phantoms. all of those are - yes, horrible to experience but manageable enough for the school (and the Magic community at large) to tell them to just suck it up and weather through.

once you get your enchantix though, you start developing… unique abilities. almost like, in achieving the final fairy form, you became one with your brand of magic.

Bloom starts producing smoke. Like - she snorts at something funny Riven or Sky say, and literal puffs of smoke emerge from her nose. It’s jarring at first (“Bloom Peters, when did you start smoking? do you know that it kills??”) but quickly becomes endearing once they realise it’s not life-threatening in any way (after speed-running through like fifteen Magix apothecaries). Among her other ‘oddities’: too hot to cuddle with (only Stella can stand the high temperature, since she has a resistance to heat), becomes strangely overprotective and a little possessive, her eyes sometimes become a startling orange hue as if she’s embodied by the great dragon himself (it’s just a party trick).

Stella becomes more ethereal. In certain lights, her skin looks translucent - like a mirage weaved with moonlight. Her hair glints in the sun, almost too bright to like at; her touch feels phantom-like. She becomes even more beautiful, but less - human, earth-bound, Stella-esque. A curse and a blessing, that one.

Musa’s hearing gets really fucking good. She has a steadily growing dossier of blackmail on every student in Alfea - simply because shut doors or longer distances are no longer obstacles for her. It’s annoying too, because she can’t exactly turn it off - and now she gets to hear all the things people say about her, behind her. but here’s a consolation - she can influence other creature’s emotions through the melodies she hums! like how in canon, she pacified the bird Roc and brought mirth to the arguing fairies.

Flora gets much sturdier. Her skin harder than bark; her body able to withstand thirst and hunger for much longer than the rest. It’s honestly so intimidating. Here’s this sweet young woman — known to cry for trampled flowers and cut weeds!! — absolutely bodying a sharp ass ice shard that Icy attacked her with. It just — crumbles upon colliding with Flora’s body. insane and frankly so so hot for others to see.

As per the negatives… I like the idea of Flora being able to connect to the memories of nature around her and literally absorb the pain/fear/anguish of whatever she witnessed.

Aisha and Bloom are similar, in a sense that both of them are vessels to primordial divinities of their universe — Bloom is the holder of the Dragon Flame, and Aisha is the child of the Infinite Ocean. therefore, both experience a more extreme transformation than their girl friends. like, Aisha’s dreams are infiltrated by visions of past and future; memories of those who were lost to the Ocean. she dreams of Politea, of Tritanus, of her mer cousins and ancestors, and even those who were not yet born. if Aisha was not so mentally wilful, she might’ve folded under the weight of those prophesies.

Aisha can also breathe under water and her body gets the musculature it needs to be on par with her mer cousins while swimming, because why the fuck not?

Tecna - I frankly have no ideas for and would love to hear suggestions!

[foster-the-world]

Had a great four day weekend Upstate. I love being in towns that are lovely/beautiful but not so lovely/beautiful that they are big tourist sites. The Catskills def has tourist but its not National Park level. My Mom was also with us. Life is always better when there are three adults. We got to meet friends for lunch and go out to dinner by ourselves. We took the kids to the community pool a few days in a row. Baby boy is at his best in the pool. He's now swimming on his own - underwater. He can put his head up to take a breath and keep going. Which I am excited about. Every morning one of us got up with him and went on an adventure. My husband took him on a boat ride. I took him to the park and the river front. He told me "the park is not a real adventure. A real adventure is tall trees and the deep, dark forest." Funny kid.

The girls got bikes last month so we brought them up. I found the oldest/rustiest bike at a garage sale. An old Russian speaking man tried to charge me $100. The bike was worth maybe $10. I convinced him to let me rent it for two days - which is all I needed. I convinced Rebel to skip the pool to go on a long river road ride with me. It's so beautiful and shady. I was so happy for the first ten minutes. Its the best when your kids learn something new that will open up possibilities for the whole family. Then she hit a rock or something and fell flat on her face. Poor baby. She was luckily fine but understandably hysterical. She's got a chin cut, a big bruise on her cheek and bruises/scraps on her forehead. Of course, she was wearing a helmet but we will make sure its on tight from now on. Thank goodness there was no long lasting damage. Events like this remind you everything can change in a moment. A neighbor saw us and offered a ride home. She cried for a good half hour - which is not like any of my children. Once she passed out she woke up feeling better. Baby boy said "Rebel, why are you hurt everywhere?" He very adamantly wanted to put a PJ mask band aid on her face. As baby boy is our most frequent bandage user her choices were brown skin color Band-Aids or PJ masks. She went brown. We thought it was pretty funny against her little pale face.

Now back to another week without childcare fully figured out. Still no bus. Hopefully in the next few days. Our sitter is scheduled to pick the girls up from camp. He's happy to also watch baby boy but he needs to be picked up at roughly the same time across town. So my husband is missing work to pick him up. Plus, getting to work late because he has to drop the girls the same time baby boy needs to be at school. Starting next week, assuming the bus is sorted, we will have all the childcare sorted for one month. Then baby boy has two weeks without school. We will Hodge podge something together. A mix between paying the good sitter, daycare and my husband driving him to his parents house. Then ten days at Banff and Jasper National Park. Then school starts again.

Want to start eating healthy today. I need to start tracking. Plus, riding my bike at night. Fingers crossed.

[drcyrusbortel]

A Whisper In Polyester

Ship: Starco

Summary:

Sleeping in microgravity is a funny business. Sleeping bags can be used at any angle, anchored to any convenient surface. Air currents blowing across your face soothe and relax, and prevent the accumulation of lethal amounts of carbon dioxide. Some say the dreams are better, more vivid. And so are the nightmares.

Fluff, tie in to Space Unicorn.

=/=

This author does not own the Star vs the Forces of Evil franchise. This story was written for personal amusement.

=/=

“Star! Star! Help!”

Marco flailed his arms in vain as he continued to sink into the pitch-black depths of Europa’s subsurface ocean. His thick, titanium diving suit was dead, his comms were down, and the diving-suit-clad zombie dragging him down refused to let go of his leg. He took a deep breath, and looked down, his helmet lights illuminating his yellow, Michelin-man-like legs.

Instead of a single diving-suit clad zombie, a horde of them now clawed at his suit. Marco looked more closely at the zombies. Some had charred, red skin, broiled by ship-to-ship lasers. Some had been half-spattered into goo by kinetic projectiles. And some, victims of anti-ship particle beams, were in the throes of radiation poisoning, vomiting their guts out, their hair gone, and their skin burnt, moaning in pain…

All were clad in the uniforms of the Japanese Space Defense Force. Enemy combatants, killed on his orders.

His suit sprung a leak, and the overwhelming stench of the alien ocean – window cleaner, compost, and coal tar – wafted into his nostrils. He tried to pinch his nose, and smacked his arm against his visor.

“Marco! Marco!”

“Star? Is that you?”

Star, helmet lights blazing and arms outstretched, grabbed Marco’s hand.

The fetid water filled his suit fast, and Marco took a deep breath. This didn’t make sense. The immense pressures of the deep ocean should have knocked him out instantaneously. And zombies weren’t real.

“Marco! Marco! Wake up!”

=/=

Commander Marco Diaz, Joint Government Space Force, awoke with a jolt, and, writhing in his microgravity sleeping bag, slammed into the figure floating over him before careening into a wall.

“Ow! Marco! Are you up?!”

Marco looked around the habitat. Fireproof Velcro. Sleeping bags. His handheld and laptop, which he had left floating in the center of the room and were now pressed up against an air vent.

And in the middle of it all, Star Butterfly, her long hair spread into a broad fan that seemed to cover the whole room.

“Sorry.” He rubbed his forehead. “Just a bad dream.”

“The uhhh… underwater zombies again?” Star pulled herself against Marco’s sleeping bag.

Marco nodded as they drifted towards the ceiling. “Yeah. Europa… really messed me up.”

“Do you… want to talk about it some more?”

Marco shook his head. “It’s late. You need the rest.”

Star opened her mouth to protest, but fell silent as she examined the pained look on Marco’s face.

Marco closed his eyes, trying his best to think of anything other than water and death.

A sturdy weight clamped over his chest, and he began to feel around. Another sleeping bag had been belted to his. He opened his eyes as Star snuggled into her own bag.

“Star, I don’t think…”

“Shhh. It’s okay.” Star hushed. “More mass means less acceleration for a given force. When we’re together, nobody’s going to be pushing us around.”

“More inertia.” Marco replied.

“Yeah, so things can stay the same.” Star said.

Star began to drift off to sleep. Fans whirred gently as they detected the room’s increased occupancy, and the gentle hiss of a valve echoed through the ventilation system.

“Forever?” A whisper in polyester.     

Star mouthed her reply.

“Forever.”

=/=

[sichore]

(( @inky-da-dinky has a Murmaider Merfolk AU that's thoroughly consumed me the past day or two, so I filled out another prompt using that as the setting.

25. Write about your ship bathing or swimming together. ))

Jimi watches the slow movement of her feet kicking underwater, her soles unnaturally pale in the light, and sighs. “I still think this is all just a ploy for you to see my toes.”

She feels Pickles’ laughter vibrate up through the current to her legs and body, before he breaks the surface and she hears it. Funny, how different it feels through the water, like gentle drumming, compared to the light and jovial snickers he vocalizes.

“I'm not gonna lie, they are cute.” The cecaelian grins as he folds his arms at the water's edge, flashing that golden canine at the painter. “Yer just so adorable, I could eat ya up.”

“Ohhh, so that's it! You're gonna have me for dinner.”

“When ya put it that way…”

The twinkle in those seagrass eyes this time makes Jimi gulp, and she looks away, pulling the towel more tightly around her shoulders.

“How ya feeling?”

“... Pretty good, I guess. Everything's all warm.”

The molly was working as intended, then. Truthfully, Jimi didn't feel all that anxious anymore. The water was no longer cool, she actually didn't feel any kind of chill that necessitated the towel around her. It was just a really nice towel, each little loop of cotton feeling like cloudsilk against her skin. The water didn't feel wet so much as, like, a second, comforting skin from mid-calf down to feet, velvet and natural against her.

And everything's so vibrant. She can almost taste the glow of the lamps off the water, the colors of the paintings in progress across the wall, and Pickles himself. Crimson and salt and iron and something else that feels just right for her to grind beneath her teeth.

Jimi blinks. Okay, yeah. She's definitely high enough for this now.

“Good?” Pickles pushes off the edge, tentacles flowing beneath him like a slow-dancing blossom. He floats in front of Jimi, watching her expectantly. “Ready?”

Taking a deep breath, Jimi sits up straight, letting the towel drop from shoulders. She stops moving her feet, letting them drift, but makes no move otherwise. There's still a tiny bead of anxiety in her, tickling the back of her mind like a long-buried memory, and it's enough to make her chew her lip as she stares into the shallows of Pickles’ tank. “... This is still weird.”

“How come?”

“People like me don't swim, Pickles.”

At the cecaelian's confused quirk of his lips, Jimi gestures at herself. It takes a moment, but his mouth forms a little ‘o’ of understanding.

“Well, that's just sad.” That's putting it lightly, Jimi thinks, but judging by the way Pickles sways from side to side, he means it sincerely. “She really loves ya, you know. S'why I wanna do this for ya.”

“Who's ‘She’?” asks Jimi.

But Pickles doesn't respond, instead drifting closer to her, holding out his hands. “It's better if I show you. I won't let ya go, promise. Just one lap.”

There's just one last, long moment of hesitation. It's too late to back out now. Jimi's already here and in the appropriate swimwear, already braided her hair down for this, and if something goes wrong, hopefully, it'll be quick. At least she'll be too zooted to feel the suffocation.

Taking one last deep breath, she pushes off.

Her stomach drops as she leaves the concrete for the fluid depths, feeling like she's dropping into a warm vat of nothing. A strong tendril wraps around her waist, leaving her suspended and above water from the ribs up. Her flailing hands are grasped firmly with fingers that are damp and only slightly alien. 

As promised, Pickles doesn't let her sink. Wrapped around her like a safety belt, the cecaelian smiles at her as Jimi otherwise floats in the water, her feet slowly, naturally kicking. She's halfway to swimming, for the first time in her life. No thrashing, no silent screams as she's pulled and dragged under. 

There's no panic or dread in her heart, only a calm sense of… belonging.

“Holy shit,” Jimi murmurs, and Pickles laughs again.

“I know, right?” His eyes are nearly black from the ecstasy, but he's still with her, still has a pinprick of focus on the painter that makes her shiver.

Jimi glances down, hardly able to comprehend the grass and rocks below for the mass of crimson around her. All writhing and wonderful and… chewy. “Can I touch ‘em?”

“By all means!”

“Don't sound so eager,” Jimi finally laughs, just a bit. 

Pickles releases one of her hands as another tentacle rises up, the flexible little tip curling and waving in a little ‘hello!’ for her. Jimi reaches out with curious fingers and it – he – wraps around and through them and she's not sure what she expected, but it’s certainly not this. Firm and slippery, velvety with just the slightest give beneath her fingertips as she travels down the length. There's the faintest hint of texture, like goosebumps, and the suction cups feel like strong little kisses against her palm, but otherwise…

“Feels like a dick,” Jimi blurts out, and Pickles throws his head back in raucous laughter.

“Well,” The scarlet-headed cecaelian drawls, once he settles down into a fit of giggles. “If you really wanna, later, we can…”

His words stay suspended in the air, like ripe fruit for the plucking. Jimi raises two dark brows at him and he lifts a pierced pair right back at her.

“How about… we stay focused here?” The painter says carefully, a smirk playing about her lips.

“Eyes on the prize?”

“Eyes on the prize.”

Yet they're only staring at each other. Pickles takes Jimi's hands in his own again and slowly eases up on the grip around her waist. Still holding her, but also allowing Jimi to start feeling the encompassing embrace of the water. And she feels it all, the microscopic brushes of millions of crystals of salt on her skin, the ghost sensation of reeds and weeds against her legs, the faint call of precious daughter, come home.

Pickles pushes off without warning and suddenly they're moving, soaring through the water.

Jimi falls forward and wraps her arms around his torso with a yelp of “Oh shit!” She feels the rumble of laughter in his chest as he wraps strong arms around her, and they swim as one.

Well, Pickles is doing the swimming, really, as Jimi holds on for dear life, but they feel like one. Like there's no difference between his skin and her swimsuit and the water that flows around and through them. Pickles leans back so she's nearly laid atop him, head and shoulders kept up and out of the pool while the rest of her is vertical like she's swimming herself. The tendril around her waist eventually unwinds, instead steadying her from beneath as they slowly swim around the surface of his tank.

It’s absurd that Jimi was ever afraid of this. There is no distinction between herself and the crimson cecaelian and the water and the echoes of the ocean where they all belong. Being held in his many arms, unwinding like an unspooled ribbon, all to sway entwined just as it was meant to be. Here, she’s not small, she’s not insignificant, scared and seclusive. In the waves, she’s grand, she is brilliant, and together they have the universe as their domain. Schools of stars scatter before them, reefs of planet falls tremble as they pass over them. Winding between chaos and cosmos, they roar. A pounding of carmine drums, their many hearts beating in tandem. Light flashes at the edge of creation and lucent bells ring in response – the glow of the eternal one, reborn and rejoined to the crimson beast, at last. – come home, come home, o darling daughter, luminous and lost – The brilliant colors dull as Jimi sputters, turning over to eject more water from her nose and mouth, salt stinging her sinuses and making her eyes water.

“Ope, easy there.”

Pickles lays at her side, blocking a good amount of the light. Her coughs subsiding, Jimi pushes herself up on her forearm. They’re back on ground, and the water feels miles away, even though Jimi could see it if she could peer over Pickles’ form. The pull is there, fading ache, soon replaced by a yearning as deep as it was bewildering.

“What… what?” She sits up, and a cloth is dropped around her, dabbing at face and body until Jimi waves her hands. “Oof, hey – thanks,” she sighs hoarsely, throat stinging, as she takes the towel from the attentive tentacles attempting to dry her. Even in shadow, Pickles’ eyes are radiant, his pupils once again that unidentifiable dark shape surrounded by seagrass irises. He looks at the painter with an unreadable expression, and even his normally restless arms are subdued and steady. “What happened?” Jimi finally manages to ask, once she’s rubbed the droplets from her body and wrapped the towel around herself once more. Pickles’ fingers tap against the concrete, a rapid, uneasy beat. “... You tried to dive,” he says quietly. She should be more startled than she is. Instead, Jimi looks to where the water is, her brown eyes going beyond the pool, beyond Mordhaus Aquarium – to the rivers and seas and Ocean beyond. There’s a song within her, wrapped tightly in a helix shell, and it’s silent. “Can we go back?” Jimi asks in a small voice. The wet slide of tendrils foretell of the twin slaps that sound against the ground. Pickles wraps his arms molded in the shape of man around Jimi, and feels so very human when he breathes deep of the air and exhales against her neck. “I’ll take you anywhere ya want,” he says in a shuddering, world-trembling voice. Jimi nods and holds him in return, feels the swirl of galaxies churning and settling within her. “Okay,” she says, and she swallows down that spark, the newborn sun alight with her after a long cycle of shadow. “Thank you.” 

[Soft OTP Prompts]

[cyberphoenixsstuff]

A Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy(Part 1)

Vicky Jang just got an invitation from Giselle to her private evening fetish party,and she sure to be quite excited about it.

When Giselle come to IVE dorm to pick Vicky up,she was ride on a motorbike,she is wearing a full body tight latex suit,the helmet,the boot heel,make she look wild and sexy as hell

It makes Vicky stares as her for a while,before she could hop in Giselle's bike.

After a long ride,they finally arrive at Giselle's place.Vicky get off the vehicle quickly,she can't wait for the party anymore.

"Wow,Aeri unnie!why do you have to cut your hair that short?"Vicky held her cheeks with both hands and stared wide-eyed as Giselle took off her helmet.

"I got the cut for a while,honey, and i cut it often.The long hair you and everybody saw is because I wear a wig or hair extensions."-Giselle replied with a smile.

She hold one of Vicky's hand then lead her to the basement.It is a big waterpool,and next to the pool is the playroom.

"I am overflow with excitment already!" Vicky's thoughts

"Check this out,Wonyoung.A part of my...fetish collection" Giselle said,waves her hand at the wetsuits,and the loads of gasmasks,scuba tank,fins,snorkeling...

"Those suit made by rubber of PVC,right ?"Vicky replies with a smile,her eyes stare at the suit and gears,now she is feeling a bit awkward.

"Yup.But i prefer calling it latex.You feels interested already?Wanna try it out?"

"Sure,I am curious about it now.Never thought you are into that kind of fetish,Aeri unnie."

"Fine then.Which one do you want to try on,Wonyoung-chan?"

"I don't know...none of them look like it would fit me...you know how tall i am,and the mask is kind of small and hard to breathe..."Vicky said with a hesitates tone.

"Ahh...don't worry about it,honey.Once you try it,you will feel so good that you just want to do it over and over again"Giselle's smile haven't stop.

"Okay.I want that one"Vicky point at the suit.

"Excellent choice,hon!But you have to tie up your hair so it can fit to the hood"

"You don't say,unnie..."

Vicky didn't have any troubles to put on the tight latex suit that not even her size on,with Giselle helps.Now she is cover in shiny rubber from neck to toe and finger,it was so freaking tight,but Vicky feels quite comfortable.How weird is that.

"Well,i still look beautiful.What do you think,Aeri unnie?"

"Your body always look smoking hot,hon.Now it is even more sexy than ever!And you are very cute,too."(I am really turned on right now just by looking at her,I wonder...)

"Oh right,I have to put on the rest of the gears..."Vicky reached out for the air tank,slowly attached it to her back.

"This thing is so heavy,i can't keep my back straight!oh well...anyway,lets put on the flipper..."

"Don't forget about the hood and mask,Wonyoung-chan"

It took a while for them to neatly tied up Vicky's long hair so she can put the scuba hood on.Now she is putting the mask on her face.

"Let's see...I have to pull it up like this..'"

"Let me help you with the tubes...Alright,it connected to the mask,all good to go."

Vicky gropes all over her body,she breathes hard,enjoy this weird feeling of the latex rubbing all over her smooth skin.

"Why i am feeling really horny now?I haven't touch my cunt yet.Oh no, i feel wet already..."

"I know,right.I gonna gear up too,keep enjoy yourself,hon"

Giselle wasn't take to much time to change.The rubbery and zipper noises she make was quite sexy tho.Her suit is also tight and shiny,but the gear look a bit different tho.

"Your are wearing a gasmask,right unnie?"

"Yup.I look hot,do I?"

"I don't know...Your voice sound funny now and your breathe sound is...i don't know how to describe..."

"Your breath is like you just has a long run,Wonyoung-chan" Giselle giggles.

"I feel excited,horny,and maybe sweaty now.Can we start?"

"Of course.But first let's go underwater,hon.Ahh,what the hell,let's groping each other till we got climax"

"Finally!"

Giselle's hands is putting on Vicky's breasts,slowly caress them,then she squeezes them and gropes them more roughly.One of Vicky's hand reach out to Giselle's crotch and rub it.

"You have been a naughty girl,Wonyoung-chan...You are feeling it now,right?Your breath is even harder now...I bet your pussy is super wet already,hehe..."

"Oh yes...this suit...it felt like...a second skin,and the gears and stuff...i feel more and more sensitive...my mouth is dripping..."

"Oh my,how horny can you feel now?

Giselle's hand is touching and rubbing Vicky's crotch,she keep rubbing it harder and faster,make sure she feel it.

"Oh no...I'M CUMMING!"Vicky's body was shaking,her breaths become messy,she can't control her legs for a moment,so she holds on Giselle's shoulders.

"Feel greats,isn't it.I bet you love it already."

"I'm pretty sure...i was cum and piss myself at the same time...how is this thing feel so good?"

"I told you so...Wanna feel something else?"

Giselle go back to the suit and gears rack to pick up a vibrator,then she come to Vicky,now sitting on the floor,try catching her breaths after a nice orgasm,

"Turn it on and rub it on your pussy,hon.The rubbery and this magic ward will make sure you go crazy,hehehe..."

"But I want to take a break,Aeri unnie..."

"Oh Wonyoung,you have to do it non stop,if you rests for too long the heat will gone,then you won't feel so good any more...fine,let me do it for you."

Giselle does not wait for Vicky to reply.The vibrator rubbing on her crotch though the rubber,give Vicky the pleasure like no other.She is leaning to the back,her hand pushing to the floor,her legs is spreading wider,and her mouth can't stop making the sluty moaning sounds.

"Look at you,hon.Did you enjoy it that much?"

"Ahh..Ah...Oh..Ah..."Vicky keep moaning and staring at the ceiling.

Giselle reachs her hand to the van of the air tank behind Vicky and turn it off.

"(Let's see how long it will take for her to realize what is happening)"

It was only few seconds for Vicky to run out of air,and 1 minute for the mask to stick tighter to her face.

"What the...I can't breathe anymore!!!"

"How are you feeling now,Wonyoung-chan?"

"Aeri...I...cum..."

"You are doing it just fine,hon,keep going,i'm not going anywhere."

"Ahhh...ahh...cumming..."

Right in the time Vicky reaches climax,Giselle have turn the van back on.Vicky was breathing really hard like her life depend on it.

"I am pretty sure that was probably the strongest orgasm you ever had.Are you alright,hon?"

"That...was...insane...and...intense"Vicky still try to catches her breathe.And once she was recover,she said"I might get addicted to this"

"Good.Now it my turn to feel it"

Giselle stick the vibrator into her crotch and turn it on.She was rubbing it quite hard,while making a hentai ahegao face behind the mask.Her eyes rolled,her breaths harder and her knees is shaking.She is making weird but lewd moaning sound as if the vibrator were raping her.She was making Vicky confused.

"Turn off the van of my air tank for 30 seconds,hon"

"Okay"Vicky does it immediately.

"YES!CUMMING!".Giselle screams.She was squirting and pissing all over.This is the first time Vicky see some girl other than her reach climax like that.

When the van is turn back on,Giselle was lay down to her right side,breathing hard.

"I am satisfied already.But it you want to play some more..."

"No,it's okay,Aeri unnie.You should rest.Next time i hope we will do something even more kinky"

Vicky can't wait for the next time.

[4lexnilsen]

abilene hoover.   the world has come to an abrupt stop,  but the name continues to ring inside alex’s skull,  the scene playing over and over before his eyes —   the way she anxiously kneads the fabric of her skirt,  how that brief moment of vulnerability has made her look so young and girlish.   too innocent to go through this again.   this time,  all on her own,  without her older brother in sight to protect her.   no,  no,  no…   it feels like a nightmare,  something unimaginable.   they were supposed to be safe.   they were supposed to be okay.   people died so that they could carry on.   and yet here they are,  living,  breathing proof that everything is an illusion and no one is truly safe in panem.

he can barely breathe,  his chest constricted permanently,  his lungs and airways closing in on him as though he was underwater.   drowning.   there’s a slight tremor in his hand as he lifts it to try and keep his unruly sandy curls out of his face,  and he briefly wonders if anyone can see it.   the fleeting moment of weakness and betrayal from his own body.   he can feel his brothers’ eyes on his skin,  knows his father’s lips are moving in a silent prayer,  but his mind’s been made up ever since he heard effie trinket’s seemingly cheerful voice call his girlfriend’s name…   “i volunteer as tribute,”   he offers coolly,  refusing to spare his fellow male victors more than a glance.   

he just wants to protect her,  and nothing else matters in the heat of the moment.   a hushed whisper passes over the crowd,  the peacekeepers tightening their grips on their weapons.   but he feels a strange wave of tranquility spread throughout his body,  his muscles relaxing as the realization that he’s going back to the capitol,  not as a mentor but as one of the tributes again,  dawns upon him.   the exact opposite of what he’d experienced back when his name was called for the 68th games.   this time,  there’s no fear or hope in his heart and that’s what surprisingly makes the whole ordeal easier.   he’s made peace with himself and the idea that he’s not coming out of the arena alive,  his only mission is ensuring that abilene is the one who gets to go back home,  keeping her safe for as long as he can.   after all,  he’s twenty-five now,  been living on borrowed time since he turned eighteen.   seven years.   that’s a lot of time,  he reminds himself.

his father will have to pull himself together and actually take care of david,  his other two brothers (bryce and cameron are almost men grown now),  but they will be okay.   eventually.   president snow has already taken one family member away from him.   he won’t let it happen again.   he wants to explain all this to his family,  tell them why he’s going into the games again,  but there’s no goodbye.   new procedure.   now that stings,  but even as he’s ushered out the back door,  pushed into the backseat of a car and taken straight to the train station,  his thoughts are with abilene…   at least,  he’ll get to see her again soon and hold her in his arms,  and she won’t be alone for much longer.   the heavy wheels begin to turn,  district 12 disappearing before his eyes.

a funny feeling begins to brew in the pit of his stomach —   this is the last time that he’s seeing his home.   he’s never coming back here.

somewhat plotted starter | @4lexnilsen

mama kitty purred as she sat in abilene's lap , licking her white paws before cleaning her ears . abilene ran her hand would the cat's fur , which was always kept impeccably clean by the cat despite how she spent most of her time outside , and smiled as mama kitty rubbed into her palm . her father always used to say that the animals could sense what a person was feeling , and abilene wondered if that was true . she wondered if the cat could sense the pounding of her heart or the dread that sat like a rock deep in her stomach . she wondered if mama kitty knew what day it was by abilene's sleepless nights or quiet mutterings .

❛ as a reminder that even the strongest cannot overcome the power of the capitol , ❜ president snow's voice brought abilene out of her thoughts for a moment and brought her attention back to the projection . mama kitty must have sensed something , because she burrowed herself closer to abilene's body and began to knead on her legs . ❛ on this , the third quarter quell games . . . the male and female tributes are to be reaped from the existing pool of victors in each district . ❜

sometimes , especially the first few years after her games , abilene would lose herself . she imagined she was a bird flying free and high , and that she was watching what happened from some nearby branch . she slipped back in to that fantasy shortly after the words left president snow's blood stained lips . she saw mama kitty jump from her lap and duck beneath a chair . she watched herself wail . she watched as her body fell to the ground , s c r e a m s leaving her parted lips until her voice was raw . she watched as she grabbed for anything , breaking a glass she'd been drinking from and liquid poured onto the floor like blood .

❛ all victors shall present themselves on reaping day regardless of age , state of health , or situation . ❜ that final line echoed through abilene's mind . there were only two female victors from ten . whenever she shut her eyes she heard her father's voice , or those of her brothers . she saw herself looking in the mirror back at home , sixteen and wearing her mama's dress while tanner pressed a candy he'd gotten her before the reaping into her palm . she saw herself pressing her face into colt's shoulder as shots rang out , her mother screaming

when the sun rose , abilene still had not moved . her gaze was unfocused , and she held her knees close to her chest on the floor of her home . she heard the door open , and her eyes flickered over . her aunt , a small woman with dark eyes , knelt beside abilene and brushed some of her hair from her face .

❛ lo siento , mija , ❜ she whispered , and the statement brought abilene's focus back to the present . she rose , she dressed , and she cleaned her face as best as she could . she wore a yellow dress , just as she had during her first reaping , and her aunt carefully braided her hair . . . in a way , it was almost like those nights she would spend getting ready with her family before a performance - she could imagine those fingers belonging to her mother as they braided .

abilene's fingers trembled as she stood on the stage , fellow victors to her right and left . she squeezed her skirt tightly into her fists , but when the cameras turned to the stage she carefully smoothed out the fabric . the district escort stepped towards the microphone , but abilene couldn't understand anything that he said . her mind was swimming , and her heart pounding . she worried she was going to faint , and perhaps others were too as she felt the other female victor place a steadying hand on abilene's shoulder .

abilene looked out to the gathered crowd , everyone in district ten . she saw her mother's family looking up at her , quiet and subdued . . . she wondered if the others in the district , the children and the parents , had breathed a sigh of relief when the quell was announced - she wondered if they held their children and wept of joy . . . why were they all looking at her ? it took another breath before she could recall what name was called .

❛ abilene hoover ! ❜

[mbluee]

Red - Thirteen x Reader

for @whumptober2021​

No. 3 - STICKS AND STONES MAY BREAK MY BONES BUT…

Taunting | Insults | “Who did this to you?”

Word Count: 4,715

Warnings: blood, lots of blood, injury, near-death(ish), abandonment, so much whump, exhaustion, choking, bit of possessiveness...eek

Summary: The Doctor makes the mistake of leaving you alone, and now she must face the consequences - and so must you. Red is an awful color.

A/N: surprise! i’m doing pieces of whumptober and told no one! yes i do have a schedule!! hahahaa. hahaha. ha. you all know i can’t resist a “who did this to you?’ feat. a pretty blonde time lord. on that note, read it and weep. xoxo

✩✩✩✩

The floor below you is red, and what a pretty shade it is. Deep, glistening, red. Wine stained, rose colored. Red.

Wet, warm.

In a puddle of it beneath you, a puddle of red. How funny. A puddle of a color? Hot, fresh, new. Odd. Pretty, out of context.

Your hands are covered in it, like a paintbrush had been brought across your palms, drawn onto each knuckle. You could see the lines and creases in your skin, each dimple covered in that color. Red. Pools of it in your hands, on your clothes. Oh, not your clothes. What an awful day to wear white. Now it was red, red, all of it, red. Overwhelmingly red.

Surrounding you, red.

Beneath you, red.

The people on the floor are red. They were breathing, once, you think. Not people. Bodies.

Bloody bodies, in pools of blood, beside you, now red.

She said she was coming.

You can’t breathe very well, too caught up in the smell. No one told you blood smells.

Did she leave you behind?

Your feet are entirely numb – they only feel wet. You aren’t wearing shoes, you don’t think; Your socks are drenched. Soaked. White turned red – oh, they’re pink. Pink is a pretty color. Better than red.

She forgot about you.

Your fingertips are wrinkly. Blood was thick. It hung heavy, it weighed down your clothes. Weighed down your heart, submerged your mind. You were under the blood like you were underwater.

She left you alone.

You swallow, your mouth feels full of red. No, not red. Blood.

“She left me alone,” You think you say, but it doesn’t sound like your voice. It’s shattered, garbled. Bloody. Was that you?

Did she leave you alone?

In the sea of red comes lilac. A coat, whipping about the destructive battlefield, contrasting so sharply with the darkness of it that you almost have to close your eyes; Something tells you not to. That color, that presence. The vibrancy of it. Familiar. Safe. Home. You don't process ever saying her name, but when that bright figure whips around to face your crumpled body, you realize that you must have. A plea, a calling.

She said she'd protect you.

There was so much blood.

Her fuzzy figure breaks into a jog, boots thudding quickly across the rivers of red below. Red footprints left in their wake. It makes you sick, and your body aches; It burns red.

The Doctor kneels when she’s close enough. You want to move closer to her, to be comforted by her. She looks warm until you look to her eyes.

"What's wrong? Is this your blood?" She's demanding, her voice dark. Not light, not by any means. The color of blood, of destruction, of a deep and brewing storm. Her eyes weren't red, but they might as well have been. She says your name. A hand to your cheek.

"Who did this to you?"

Voice darker, growing bolder. Angrier. Her hand is hard against your skin, and you whimper involuntarily. You need her to be your home, and she was becoming someone you didn't recognize. The rainbows of her personality were replaced by thunder and malice. It scares you.

You startle.

She scares you.

And she stops.

It must be in your eyes, you think, or the way you flinch back at her sharpness and the cut of her touch. Usually so soft, suddenly so tight. You can’t understand it in this state of panic – maybe you would later – but right now it’s unbearable, and you just need her. Not whoever this was. Her.

“I’m sorry,” She says – guilty, regretful. Her hand softens just before it pulls away, and no, no – come back, you need her back, need that softness she just teased you with – and you reach up to grab her only to cry out in pain.

“No, no-“ The Doctor strains, falling to a pile beside you and ruining her clothes. Her knees stained red, palms turned wet. When she swipes the hair from your face, blood is left behind from the floor. You don’t care. You need her.

“I need you,” You say, without thought, automatic. It still isn’t your voice.

“I’m here.”

Her eyes are kind. Not red. Not dark, not hidden with something terrifying like before. Transparent, compassionate, home.

There she was. Your Doctor. Yours.

“Doctor,” You plead, and it is your voice – more than it was before. Bubbly, covered in stress and intensity, but it was yours again. She was yours again. “I can’t move.”

Her hands come to your side only for you to gasp in shock. It burns, sending a jolting snap through you as if her fingers shocked a painful current of electricity through your broken body, and it hurts more than it should because her hands should never cause you such pain. But it burned, and you didn’t want it to, and that fact hurt so bad that you crumble before her. The Doctor’s touch was always safe. She was safe.

But she left you alone.

And just as much as it hurts you, it burns straight through the Time Lord before you. The whirr of her sonic is all you can process through the blinding pain, and she looks at you as though her whole world is falling apart.

There’s a quick and final buzz, the flick of her wrist, and an analysis of results.

“Broken ribs. No open wounds. Oh, sweetheart-“

She catches herself, but still stares at you. Your eyes are weak and blurry when they meet her figure, but she’s so pretty against the backdrop of battle and blood, and she calls you such sweet things. Her clothes are ruined, her shoes red, and you whine without meaning to. Pathetic, maybe, but all it does is light a furious fire inside of her that you can’t quite see.

Behind that worried and gentle gaze was an impending hurricane; Eyes of lightning, steps of thunder. The Doctor pushed back that anger for your sake.

You were crumpled on the bloodied floor, and she had been ready to ravage galaxies to find you.

“I’m okay,” You tell her, trying to reassure the worried edge that covered her face with lines and regret. Your hand lifts, however slow, to touch her cheek. You’re lying to her. She knows. Your fingertips leave behind a bloody smear, and it only makes your tears fall faster – proves your false reassurance. “You’re here.”

She hushes you, leans into your desperate fingertips. You need to feel her, she needs to feel you. It’s unspoken.

You’re alive.

You found me.

“You’re here,” You repeat quietly, broken. “Don’t… Don’t leave me again. I can’t-“

“I won’t. No, never. Couldn’t.”

Each word is punctuated with a touch to your arm, your shoulder, your cheek. She leans forward, kisses your forehead so gently you must see stars. No – galaxies. Not just red. Rainbow.

“We need to move now. I’ll take you home.”

Home. When would she learn?

With her hand to your cheek and her lips to your skin, you were already there.

“Alright, then. Let’s get going. Can you do that for me?”

You could do anything for her, now that she was here. You almost forget about the blood, and so does she.

The Doctor begins pulling you to a stand.

“Slowly, now. That’s good, you’re-“

The words stop in her throat, eyes suddenly flickering down.

The Doctor freezes.

Along your neck are fingerprints. Crescent shaped marks in your skin from filthy nails, purples and blues mixing to ruin your perfect skin. Bruises. Indents. Clashing with your delicacy.

Someone touched you.

Someone who obviously didn’t know who the Doctor was, who didn’t know precisely what she was capable of. Someone who wrapped their fingers around your throat; Someone who left ugly, long-lasting marks. Someone who has just made a very, very bad enemy.

Someone who hurt you.

And her eyes go black.

“Who…” She’s straining, resisting. Body nearly shaking with the rage that suddenly ignites her, softness receding but trying desperately to keep it in place for you. You deserved that. She’d give it to you. “Who did this?”

Her fingers touch your jawline, so carefully trailing to your neck. You flinch back. Why did you do that? It’s her. Yet when The Doctor’s fingertips brush a certain spot on your skin, you cry out and drop your head against her chest before you. It hurts. You know it wasn’t her, but it hurts.

“Tell me,” She says then, tense. Withholding. She speaks through her teeth and forces herself to stay level, though you can feel her heartbeats echo rapidly in her chest. Her fingers are purposely careful against your wounds, yet you can’t help a sob when the memory returns.

His hands had covered your throat, squeezed your windpipe while you tried to scream. It was her name that came from your shrieking lungs, you think, before waking up on a blood covered floor. You needed her. She’d left you alone.

One of her hands is placed on the warmth of your cheek, the other now pressing your face into her chest. Her shirt is wet. No, wait – You were crying. Those were tears, on her shirt, making it wet. Your tears.

“Oh, no,” You say tiredly, mixed with sobs, muffled against her. “I’m sorry.”

You’re slightly delirious; Pained and needy. Her thumb grazes your cheekbone when she pulls you back, sliding across your face gently, keeping you grounded and perhaps doing the same for herself when she looks into your eyes.

“No, not sorry. Never sorry. What are you sorry for?”

You sniff again, louder, and collapse back into her chest. It’s safe there, hidden, and listening to heartbeats was steady in contrast to the terror around you.

“I’m ruining your clothes.”

The darkness in her subsides slightly, looking down at her shirt, looking down at you tucked into her.

“You…” She starts, head tilting almost in confusion before shaking it with a blink. “My clothes?”

“Yeah,” You sigh. Defeated, exhausted. You pull your head back up, straining with how heavy you feel. Your eyes are glued to the mesh of wet drops and splotches on her chest. “Messed it up. I like that shirt.”

“Do you now?” The Doctor responds softly, that sharp edge dissipating, being pushed back for another moment. Simply soft, now. Hard when she needs to be. Never hard with you.

She smiles slightly, just a tiny bit. It’s enough to brighten an entire galaxy.

“Yeah,” You tell her again. “Yeah, nice color.”

“Ah,” She settles on, smile growing. Oh, you liked that. You wanted more of that. “Nothing to worry your pretty little head over. Have got a closet full of them, and it’s certainly bigger on the inside.”

She brings a palm to your cheek, soft as can be. “Besides, you worry about the silliest things.”

You lean into her. She’s still crouched down beside you, knees on the red floor. Red floor. The feeling of dried blood covering your hands returns, and you wished you hadn’t looked down, wished you’d stayed in that moment with her and that beautiful smile. The tears on her shirt were nothing compared to the blood on her boots. You’d clean them, you think. When you got back. And you’d do laundry. Simple, soft, kind, for her. You’d erase this, rid yourself of red.

You hate red.

“Up we go,” The Doctor announces, interrupting your single-colored thoughts and filling them with iridescence. She comes to your side, slides her arm behind your shoulder blades. You lean the rest of your weight into her when she lifts your fragile form, but it still burns, and you still cry out.

The Doctor stays silent, jaw held tight. When she catches a side glance to your crumpled expression, it seems as though she’s going to say something, but she doesn’t.; It’s as though she can’t bear to speak. The hot tears that slide down your freezing face gather at your chin and drop to the red ground. Stop, no. Not red. Bloody. So bloody.

As you move forward, your eyes stay on that blood. It trails across the floor like a devilish painting, like a swift masterpiece made entirely of misery, and you feel suddenly sick. Dizzy. The red room is spinning, and the Doctor tries her best to keep you still. Her tight jaw loosens. If not for anything, just for you.

“Stick with me, alright? Got a ways to go, and I need you present. Let me get you safe.”

But you left me.

It isn’t until she stops, halts both of your moving bodies, that you realize you’d said that aloud. Your one hand is clutching to the fabric on her back. Blue. Such a lovely color.

The Doctor pauses and stares at you, taking the time to think before she speaks. Her face is furrowed, though her eyebrows have slightly risen, eyes scanning over you and looking between yours. Searching you and searching for her words. You’d never known the Doctor to do that.

There’s silence for a moment, a long second of contemplation and pain on both of your parts. Her eyes are reflective as her body stays still. You might’ve mistaken her for a statue, a paragon of grief and yearning, and something else you’re all too afraid to place. She’s as still as the dead that rest on the floor.

“I know,” She murmurs. Simple and with finality. “I know.”

You stare at her, the two of you stuck in red. The blood is tacky beneath your feet. The bodies lay limp, you stand still.

“And I’ll spend the rest of my existence vowing to never do it again.”

Your next breath is shaky. The depth of her words are deeper than the shade of blood staining your world, yet it suddenly feels blue.

“Thank you,” You tell her, because you’ve no idea of what else could suffice. Nothing could, but it’s enough for now.

The Doctor adjusts her hold, bringing her hand down from your shoulder to support your waist instead. She simply looks at you. And that’s enough, too.

Your side is melded into her hold even as you clench through the pain, not caring in the slightest because that pressure reminded you she was here. It was all red, before, but now it was blue, and lilac, and blonde; There was a rainbow on her shirt and the brightest stars in her eyes. When you’d meet her gaze, she’d smile comfortingly, like home, or a window of escape and peace. The blackhole of anger within the Doctor would dissipate slightly.

“Almost back! We’ll turn a corner there, then straight down. TARDIS is hidden in a perfectly-sized closet. Convenient, isn’t it? All spaceships seem to have TARDIS sized closets.”

You trudge forward and focus on her words, calmer than the sea of vicious pain coursing through your poor body. How did it ever get this bad? Tear stained cheeks accompanied only by grief and shock. Had it all hit you, yet? The pain was stark, but the memories were blurry. You remembered them as though it was someone else.

It had been a blast, a bang, a number of rapid shots as bright red beams of light shot through the walls. Silver weapons firing into bodies, causing casualties, missing only you. How had they missed you? Bodies strewn across the floor accompanied by your own, curled up in a ball pathetically and pitifully. What could you do? Could you have saved them, all of them? Could you have been the Doctor?

You tried. Forced yourself up from the floor as it first became bloody, faced the men who burst into the complex and reigned hell upon it’s occupants. You spoke with authority and you spoke like she would. You were the Doctor, you tried to be. And it hadn’t been enough.

“Alright there?” The Doctor asks, and she already knows the answer, but she asks anyway. Maybe a piece of her hopes it’s something it isn’t. When her eyes linger on your neck again, you have to shut your eyes and block the memory. How long did bruises last? Would the divots of fingernails leave scars?

Her hand raises, slowly, you feel it. She places it on your neck and tightens her hold on your waist as best she can without hurting you. It didn’t matter, because everything hurt. She just didn’t want it to be because of her.

“It’s foolish, really,” The Doctor says, suddenly sharp. Your eyes snap open in confusion, but her eyes remain kind as she looks to you. You blink twice and open your mouth to question her, but when she looks back down to your neck, her gaze eclipses into pure, unaltered darkness, and the words stop in your throat. “Did they think they would get away with this?”

You stare at her, her eyes still locked on the damage to your throat, and she doesn’t move an inch. Stopped in this less bloody hallway, the landscape of your pain physically behind you yet still leaving an underlying imprint. You blink, swallow.

“Away with what?”

Her eyes rise slowly, dragging across your injuries, up the span of your open neck with catastrophic analysis. She notes every detail, every prick and every discoloration, and finally reaches your eyes. They’re ruinous. Possessive.

“Laying their hands on you.”

Your lungs constrict suddenly with a tight hitch and the widening of your eyes. You think your heartrate spikes, or maybe it completely stops, or maybe it flies out of your chest. She continues to stare, and you continue to freeze under her glacial expression. There’s a warmth in the hand that wraps protectively around you, so contrasting to her forbidding eyes, so much so that you almost flinch. But you stay still, trying and failing to breathe, and waiting for her next move without knowing what to do with yourself.

She shifts. The hand on your neck comes up, thumb against the front of your chin, fingers beneath your jaw, and she tilts your head to the side in order to scan you further. Her head leans forward slightly in what you assume is a way to find any other points of impact upon your skin, but it only puts her closer to you, warmer against you, breaths on your bruised neck. You freeze entirely, not even taking the time to breathe. What was she doing?

Then she leans in. You can smell her, then, the comfort and warmth and kindness of her entire being overwhelming your senses and replacing the stale stench of blood. Your palms are wet with sweat and that devastatingly red liquid when she moves even closer, and her dark eyes glow. Really, actually, glow.

You feel an exhale against your neck before she presses her lips to that specific spot, and you gasp with a flinch. Her hand on your waist tightens once, a reassurance, and your body feels suddenly light. It’s that feeling when you first wake up after a good night’s sleep, or when you climb into a bath set at the most perfect temperature. It comes from her kiss against your skin. Igniting like a steady fire, a bright glow emitting from where she made contact, and you feel completely light once more just before the feeling dissipates. It’s rejuvenating, or fulfilling. It’s… Regenerative.

You push her away, even with weak arms, and you watch as her glowing yellow eyes recede back to their almost normal hazel. They’re abnormally grave, with an extra feign of confusion. Your hands remain on her upper arms and she keeps her body close to yours.

“Doctor, you shouldn’t have done that,” You almost snap, feeling much more alive what with the very risky regenerative energy that just coursed through you without your permission – without her better judgement. The Doctor shifts, looking between your eyes as if she never even heard you, before something with finality sets into them.

“You’re going back to the TARDIS.”

She steps forward, almost crowding you, hand still supportive on your waist in a now tighter grip. Her head tilts and leans purposely into your space, and when her eyes flicker down to your neck once more, you freeze, and she notices. Her gaze is ruinous when it returns to your own. Protective. No, more than that. Possessive.

“And before that, you’re going to tell me who did this to you.”

You scoff, blinking rapidly in complete shock at her near – no, complete – arrogance, and that twinge of something else you’d very much like to ignore during this inopportune moment. Yet you can’t help but admire her, in some strange way, even through the shock of her slightly pointed words.

You’d be lying if you didn’t admit she was a sight to behold. Emotions that had never been previously directed at you were now in the forefront of her analyzing view, and in the same way that your previous moments were tainted red, her current thoughts seemed to be covered in it. Her words were precise, sharp – not cutting into you, rather – cutting into the idea of anyone ever laying a hand on what was hers. What was hers.

It should scare you.

Up close and personal with the infamous Oncoming Storm, the same hurricane that just pressed a glowing kiss to your damaged skin. So quick to switch between holding the most immense amount of compassion for you, and then lacking any sliver of it for those who even dreamed of harming you.

It should scare you.

But look at her. Rainbow in a stripe across her chest, royal blue fabric clashing with the disgusting and tired red surrounding the two of you. Her boots are perfect for running, her pants held up by bright yellow suspenders, and her smile is like the sweetest sunshine on a particularly rainy day. You’d bask in the sunlight when it came.

For now, you’ll stand in this downpour of her and revel in that instead. Two sides of the same wondrous, unpredictable coin that is the Doctor, these two sides you’ve come to…

Oh. That could be saved for another day. Perhaps it’s simply best to ignore that tug of yearning and let her care for you in the best way she knows how. Defending you, acting as a shield – knowing well that you could stand up for yourself, knowing that you’d probably tried – and dealing her own doses of karma to those who deserved it. No, she didn’t simply interfere with time; The Doctor owned it. She could pretend all she wants about being avoidant, about keeping out of history, but you knew. When something hurt the Doctor – no, when something hurt you – there was no stopping her. It was an inevitable thing. A struck nerve turned vicious.

The nerve was struck, the damage done. So here came the storm.

“I don’t know,” You admit honestly, slightly quietly. Did you wish you knew, or did you wish you’d forget all together? Was the fleeting memory better left blurry? Or would the details help you cope with the truth of it all, and the security of now? “I’m not… I don’t know. He was cruel, and disgusting. His teeth were almost brown when he- he-“

You swallow hard, avoiding the Doctor’s gaze. “When he smiled.”

Your eyes can’t bear to raise and see her reaction, but you feel the grip on your waist tighten until you hitch your breath in pain. Only then does it soften, a thumb running over your side in subtle apology even as fire runs through her veins. Anger so hot that it was palpable. You still didn’t need to look at her to know that she was staring down at you, assessing you, mind running with every possible course of what you’d call vengeance and what she’d call retribution.

The words flow out of you now, unable to stop it when the hazy memory bombards all your previously calming senses. It burns in your throat when you speak. You hope she can’t hear the painful strain, or the clench of your teeth, but you know she does. That’s just something she knows. You.

“I tried to be like… like you,” You stress, body fatigued, worried eyes needing the comfort of the Doctor’s gaze; She was safe, though the current blackhole-like-state of her eyes reflected otherwise. “I tried so hard. So you’d be…” You take a shaky breath with your eyes closed, “So you’d be proud of me.”

You laugh, then, a dangerous thing, an almost angry thing. Pitiful, perhaps, was the better word. Embarrassed, maybe. Your head shakes in frustration. At your own failure.

“But I didn’t do it right, or I’m just not cut out for that certain thing, or they just thought I looked too… pathetic,” You ramble, eyes bouncing about the room now, looking at absolutely anything but her. You don’t know the exact expression that she wears. You worry it may be of pity. “I was alone.”

You feel her inhale take a pause, slightly, barely noticeable. A guilty exhale through frowning lips that follows.

You shift again, not acknowledging the pain of your side, or the pain in your heart. Alone. It left scars a lot deeper than the ones on your skin.

“Doctor, I don’t…“ You take a breath even if you know it won’t help. Your vision becomes fuzzy, like seeing through stained glass, and you realize that it’s the gathering of tears.

You swallow. And you look up at her.

“I don’t know why they didn’t just kill me,” You whisper. The tears brimming at the edge of your eyes simply spill at that sentence, at the assertion that you could be dead. Was it ridiculous, then, to complain about what happened? To complain that you had these bruises, because you had the privilege of being alive while others didn’t?

At least you were away from the bodies, now. But they were left alone instead of you.

The Doctor’s hard eyes soften just slightly. They still hold that impending danger, the oncoming storm you’ve come to know, but it’s gentler. Not pity as you had feared, but compassion. Kindness. Understanding. You revel in it, take that sweetness in while it lasted, appreciate the mercifulness.

But your words hurt her. Your words that told the story of fear and misery, words that told the story of when she couldn’t keep you safe as she always, always promised. You knew it hurt; You saw it in the way she didn’t know whether to step closer to you or back away. Because beneath the tender care was worry, and beneath that worry was pain, and beneath that pain was guilt. Guilt that pooled in the irises of her eyes, that tinted the hazel of them a gloomy blue. Guilt at breaking her promise. Guilt at letting someone do this to you.

“I’ll be okay,” You tell her, because what else could you say? It was true, and it seemed good, and with her by your side it was attainable. Beyond that. It was close. She healed your wounds in ways no one ever could, healed your heart even if she broke it. She fixed her mistakes, she made up for her faults – she cared about you. She cared about you.

And she hadn’t meant to leave you.

You knew that, now. You were reassured of it. The red had blinded you, but with her you could see.

“I’ve been worried about the wrong things,” The Doctor concludes, looking down at you in her arms; Her vengeance pushed away, her vibrance returning to the light. “Been so focused on who hurt you, I wasn’t even considering that you’re hurt.”

You just look at her. You know you don’t have to say anything; She’s chastising herself, replacing her actions to better suit your needs.

“Alright,” She continues, a new sweetness in her eyes, a soothing apology to your pains. “Home, then?”

You nod, and she takes a breath, and you take one too.

She hadn’t meant to leave you.

What had she said before?

I’ll spend the rest of my existence vowing to never do it again.

“Yeah, Doctor,” You say softly, and something about it is rainbow. “Home sounds good.”

[too-gay-for-marvel]

just this once pt.4

a/n: shes LORGE

Word Count: 5,031

Warnings: smut implications, canon typical violence, mentions of blood, non-graphic assassination

Pairing: Natasha x Reader

(pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4 pt.5 pt.6.1 pt.6.2 pt.6.3 pt.7 pt.8)

“You gonna cum for me, Talia?”

“Need another mission?” Nick asked, shaking Natasha out of a memory. Her eyes darted around for a split second and noted that the meeting was over.

She had missed the last half of the briefing.

“No,” Natasha shook her head, immediately getting up and attempting to rush out past Nick.

“Well that’s a shame,” Nick continued, moving to the doorway and completely blocking Natasha’s retreat. “I needed a legendary assassin to accompany a local fish.”

“Not a fish,” Natasha replied, far too quick for her to stop herself.

“Funny, that’s the exact same thing she said,” Nick said with a smile before crossing his arms over his chest.

Natasha knew she had lost; she hadn’t really had any hope that she would win anyway. If Nick wanted her to do something, she was going to end up doing it, and that was that. She motioned her head for him to walk with her, and his smile grew. Asshole.

“I need you to take out a target,” Nick said as if there had never been any lull in the conversation.

“Who?” Natasha asked. They reached the elevator and she pressed the button to go up to the gym. Nick pressed the button for his office.

“Jake Porter.” He handed a manila folder to Natasha. It was heavy.

“Says he’s SHIELD?” Natasha asked as she quickly flipped through page after page.

“He is,” Nick nodded, looking down at Natasha. “He’s also the snitch from your last mission.”

Natasha nodded, trying to ignore some vital parts of that mission. She had managed to avoid you for a few months again, but she should have known better than to think it would have lasted forever. It seemed almost as if the world was conspiring against her.

“If it’s a hit, why is Y/N going?” Natasha asked, slamming the manila folder closed as aggressively as possible. It ended up just folding back over at an embarrassingly slow pace.

“He’s hiding in an underwater safe house.”

Of course he is.

“When do we leave?” Natasha asked as the elevator doors opened to Nick’s floor.

“In two hours,” Nick said as he walked forward, not even caring enough to look back.

Natasha sighed once the elevator doors slid shut again. A knot formed in her throat and stuck, forcing her to focus on each individual breath. Something was trying to claw it’s way out of her chest; she could only keep it at bay for so long. There would be hell to pay if it ever came forward.

“Is that not cannibalism?”

“No, it’s lunch.”

The voices pushed past the elevator doors before they were fully open, and Natasha couldn’t help the small smile that graced her lips. Both you and Yelena were sitting at the bar, trays of sushi and cups of tea in front of you. Your mouth was full and you weren’t even looking at Yelena, yet she continued to raise her brow at you in disbelief.

“You’re a fish, that’s fish. It’s cannibalism,” Yelena continued, but you shook your head and picked up another piece.

“Not a fish,” Natasha replied for you. The corner of your mouth tilted up and there was a slight shift in your gills, but Yelena just rolled her eyes.

“You two are disgusting,” Yelena mumbled to herself. “Shouldn’t you be planning a honeymoon or something?”

The room went cold. Your head tilted down until you were hunched over your sushi, picking the pieces apart with your chopsticks. There was a tenseness to your jaw that had to have been painful, but it didn’t ease up. Yelena shifted in her seat and looked down at the ground.

“It’s on hold,” Natasha shrugged, desperately wanting to get off the topic.

“Oh right,” Yelena nodded, already back to her usual demeanour. “You’ve got cold feet.”

“I don’t- I don’t have cold feet,” Natasha took a slight step back and crossed her arms over her chest. “Life is just busy.”

“Busy as in you don’t want to-”

“Did you down here for a reason?” You asked, throwing Natasha and Yelena off of their argument. You were still meticulously picking the sushi apart, rice grain by rice grain.

“We’ve got a mission,” Natasha said curtly. “We leave in two hours.”

“Okay,” you said as you stood up from the bar, towering over Natasha for only a moment before walking off. “See you then.”

“Why do they always leave me to clean up their mess,” Yelena groaned, and Natasha turned to see the mess of your sushi.

Instead of answering, Natasha just gave Yelena a wink and walked away. She has a mission to get ready for.

———

“Can you please turn the fucking heater on?” You shouted from the back for what had to have been the 12th time in the past 10 minutes. The pilot ignored you.

“If you’re cold, put on a jacket,” Natasha repeated. Your sigh could have been heard all the way back in New York.

But when she glanced up, she felt a knot form in her throat. Your thermal suit was clearly not doing anything for you as you pulled what looked to be a third jacket over your shaking shoulders. Blood was showing under your cheeks, and your gills were pulled in tight.

“There’s a space heater in the safe house,” Natasha said softly. You finally looked up and met her eyes.

As soon as your eyes narrowed in on her, she felt time stop. A heat started in her cheeks and spread to her neck and chest. It was as if you were looking into her, so deep that you could find the parts of her she didn’t even know about. Something about that look, something that dug into her core and left her feeling empty as soon as you looked away.

“I’ll freeze to death before then,” you mumbled before tearing your gaze away; you tore a hole through Natasha’s heart in the process.

For the rest of the flight, the only noise was the sound of your chattering teeth. It echoed through the quinjet and Natasha felt the beginning pangs of a migraine popping up in her head. If you didn’t stop soon, she was going to be driven into a homicidal rage.

“Hovering in five,” the pilot finally yelled out, and Natasha stood up quickly with the hopes that the faster she moved, the faster she could get away from the incessant staccato clacking of your teeth.

You stood up after a moment, standing far enough away from Natasha that she couldn’t feel your warmth. But you were still close enough for her to notice the shakiness spreading down your limbs. The way your harpoon jingled on your belt as your body was wracked with the occasional spasm. And yet you put on a brave face and braced for the mission.

“My mask has an hour of oxygen,” Natasha said, already pulling said mask onto her face. “Think we can finish by then?”

“Sh-shouldn’t t-take that long,” you stuttered, teeth shivering between words. “Short d-dive.”

“Opening the cargo door,” the pilot yelled, and just as he said, the cargo door opened and you both stared out into the dark, icy water.

“Age before beauty,” Natasha teased as she gestured out at the water.

“Very f-funny,” you chattered again, but followed her direction and stepped off the cargo door and into the freezing water below.

Natasha was quick to follow suit, wanting to get the dreadful part over as quickly as possible. The very instant her feet touched the water, a painful shock travelled across her skin, sinking deep into her bones. Her fingers reacted slowly when she tried to clench her fist.

“Let’s go,” you said through your comms, and Natasha managed to see you just in time before you disappeared into the inky darkness.

It was like Natasha was swimming through jello. No matter how much she willed her limbs to move, her body to keep going, it seemed she slowed down with each stroke. The water around her started to close in, each breath drawing the pressure closer. Her lungs were on fire and her heart was pounding too hard and the darkness was closing in and she needed out.

There was the whisper of a touch on her arm before she felt herself being yanked upward, finally soaring through the water like she had wanted. In a heartbeat the water released her, the pressure disappearing far faster than it had appeared. She yanked her mask off and inhaled deeply, ignoring the way her lungs screamed at her to stop.

“Trying to get yourself killed?” You asked, and Natasha finally took notice of your hand wrapped around her bicep.

“It was too dark,” Natasha replied, her tongue feeling heavy and slow.

“You didn’t answer the comms,” you continued, “I thought you had gotten lost.”

There was venom to your words. Natasha looked up and managed to calm her shaking enough to see the fire in your eyes, the clenching of your jaw, the freshly picked spots on your bottom lip. Your hand was gripped tight enough that if Natasha had any circulation left in her arm, it would’ve been cut off.

And she didn’t care.

“Let’s just get this over with,” Natasha said, finally yanking her arm out of your grasp. “You stay here for the getaway.”

You nodded and jumped back into the moon pool, already nothing more than a memory. Natasha wasn’t sure if she liked that or not. She shook her head and took off down the corridor, already on the hunt for her target.

It was easy. Far too easy. He was in his room, door unlocked, music far too loud for him to hear anyone come in. A single shot to the back of the head, and the mission was over. Now all she really needed to do was head back to the moon pool and then you could both get to the safe house and warm up.

Except for the small, itty bitty insignificant fact that the base was set to self destruct once Porter’s vitals stopped.

As soon as the sirens started to echo through the base, Natasha was sprinting down the halls. She didn’t know how much time was left, didn’t care, she just needed the both of you to get as far away as possible before you were stuck in the rubble. Natasha turned the last corner and saw you standing on the edge of the moon pool.

“A little faster, please?” You yelled, grabbing Natasha’s arm and pulling her into the water, giving her barely enough time to pull her oxygen mask back on.

You didn’t let go of her arm as you started cutting through the water. She could feel the blood pulling back from her limbs and pooling back in her core, and she felt like dead weight. Your momentum slowed as you pulled her up and wrapped your arm around her waist.

But then the muffled sirens stopped, and you both turned around just in time to see a flash. Natasha’s body wouldn’t react, just felt like lead as you pulled her closer, curling up around her until she was completely covered in you. The distorted explosion reached Natasha’s ears just as she felt the shock wave propel you both further away.

The spinning seemed to last forever, and Natasha felt like even her brain was spinning along with the rest of her body. She didn’t know when it stopped, couldn’t tell when you were still. It was impossible to tell what was up, down, where the surface was, how deep she was, how close she was to death.

Until you pulled away slightly and looked at her.

Natasha went to take a breath and immediately felt freezing water shoot down her throat. She cut the breath off as quickly as possible, but it was too late. The water was deep in her lungs, freezing each individual cell from the inside out. She didn’t have an oxygen mask anymore.

There was a split second where your eyes met hers, and they almost seemed to turn black before she felt your free hand close her nose. She was about to push you away when she felt your lips on hers, cold and chapped. You pulled her closer and teased her lips open, and she didn’t fight it. If she was about to die, then at least she would die happy.

And then you exhaled, and her lungs inflated and felt just a little lighter, and the darkness inched away.

You pulled your mouth away and started swimming again, presumably heading up though Natasha couldn’t tell anymore. Every few seconds you would exhale more oxygen into her lungs, keeping her alive as you dragged both of your freezing bodies back to safety.

As soon as you broke the surface, Natasha gasped and filled her lungs with fresh air before coughing the water back out. She was freezing, her limbs felt like lead, and her body was aching from the inside out. And yet you continued to pull her along, swimming to shore until you could pull her up with you.

The rocks on the shore poked into her suit, leaving bruises that would grow very quickly once she got back to the safe house. You laid on the shore too, back down, small pebbles sticking to your gills. From the way they twitched, it was clearly uncomfortable, if not painful.

You both stayed there, laying in the freezing tide, rocks and pebbles sticking into your skin to the point where you would both be recovering for weeks. Natasha’s eyes wanted to close; sleep seemed to wonderful and it would have been so easy. You could both just sleep and not hurt anymore.

But death was not in the cards, and Natasha wasn’t going to let a little cold win.

She rolled onto her stomach slowly, as fast as her body would allow, before pushing herself up to her knees and then her feet. It was painful; her body felt heavy and little pinpricks were on every inch of her skin. But she wasn’t going to think about it. Instead, she grabbed your arm and yanked you up, ignoring the gasps and hisses that you let out.

“Two miles left,” Natasha mumbled; her lips felt frozen shut.

The walk was slow; neither of you had the energy nor the warmth to make decent time. You both stumbled, tripping over your own feet, or the rocks, or the uneven terrain. But eventually you made it, right as the sun was at its highest point in the sky and Natasha almost felt the ghost of warmth in her cheeks.

“Sit down,” Natasha demanded as she threw the door open. She didn’t bother looking back before moving to grab the space heater and put it directly in front of the couch.

Your eyes were dead; they didn’t shine the way they were supposed to. Your hands kept a death grip on the blankets pulled tight over your shoulders. The shakiness in your body had disappeared, now completely still. It felt like a hole was punched through Natasha’s chest, grabbing her heart and ripping it out.

She sat on the sofa opposite you and just watched you. Hoping that you would move, that you would blink, that you would start shivering again. She didn’t know how long it normally took you to warm back up, didn’t know how long it would take for you to get back to normal. But she did know the word you had used for this condition before; you were torpid.

It felt like hours later, but Natasha’s eyes shot back to your face once she heard a wheezy gasp come from you. Your eyes looked glassy, but you blinked once, slowly, before a shiver wracked your body. Just one. But that was enough for Natasha to feel the vice grip around her throat release.

The ringing of the safe house phone made you both jump.

“Romanoff,” Natasha answered, her eyes travelling back to you.

“You’re safe?” Maria asked through the phone.

“Y/N’s torpid, but we’re secure,” Natasha said curtly. Her pulse was starting to increase.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Maria asked again.

No. No, Natasha wasn’t sure.

“I’m good,” Natasha replied anyway, “just ready to get out of here.”

“About that…”

“Don’t say it,” Natasha mumbled. She leaned against the wall and let her head fall back.

“A storm is rolling in and we won’t get to you in time,” Maria continued anyway. “You’re stuck there for a few days.”

Natasha looked over to you again, noting the rise and fall of your shoulders as you slowly, painfully pulled another blanket over your body, this time covering your head. The flush hadn��t come back to your cheeks yet, but you were moving. She could work with that.

“Will we keep power?” Natasha asked, although she already knew the answer.

“Questionable,” Maria answered anyway, “but the generator is in the back room.”

“How much can she manage?”

“She can handle one room. Use her wisely.”

One room. Not enjoyable, but manageable.

“Keep the phone plugged in?” Natasha asked.

“Preferably,” Maria answered, the sound of a smile coming through the phone. “I’d like to talk to you every now and then.”

“Then it’ll be ready,” Natasha replied with her own small smile. She missed Maria. She missed her a lot.

“I’ll try to call after the storm hits, test out the line,” Maria continued.

“I’ll be waiting for your call, then,” Natasha continued.

“You two are disgusting,” you called from the sofa, and Natasha was brought back to the current situation.

Right.

“Go check on the fish,” Maria sighed, “and keep yourselves warm.”

“Yes ma’am,” Natasha teased.

She stood up and hung up the phone before turning to check on you. You were shivering steadily, and your eyes were looking around. There was the faintest blush to your cheeks and forehead and your lips were looking slightly less chapped.

“W-what’s the w-word, bird?” You asked, looking up to meet her eyes.

“We’re stuck for a few days,” Natasha sighed as she sat on the sofa opposite you. Unlike you, she could heat up quickly. Now the cold was nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

“So basically,” you started, “they’re leaving me to die.”

“No one is leaving you to die,” Natasha huffed, rolling her eyes.

“Yes they are.”

“You’re so dramatic,” Natasha shook her head. “You have every blanket in the house wrapped around you, how are you not warming up?”

“Because I can’t warm up like that and you know it,” you groaned before falling back against the mountain of blankets.

“I’m not putting up with this right now,” Natasha said, all concern from earlier gone. “Give me a blanket, I’m going to get some sleep.”

“Take the one off the top,” you pouted, “it’s not helping much anyway.”

Natasha walked over and grabbed the blanket you had mentioned, pretending not to notice the ice and pebbles still currently sticking to your gills. You looked absolutely miserable, and she felt a pang in her chest at the sight of your shivering frame.

But she couldn’t bring herself to say anything, instead just turning around and heading off to the one bedroom. She was going to get some sleep if it was the last thing she did.

Or so she thought.

Natasha woke up to darkness and a cold starting to seep through the blanket and her thermals. She planted her feet on the freezing floor and took a deep breath, not really prepared for the fact that the power was out, and she was going to need to watch you at all times to make sure you genuinely didn’t die.

She grabbed her blanket and the two pillows off the bed and made her way to the living room. There was a flickering glow on the walls, and she walked in to see you sitting in front of the space heater and a fire. The generator was more quiet than she had expected, but it still released a constant thrum throughout the safe house.

“When did-” Natasha cut herself off, her eyes having locked onto the bloody gauze and minuscule shrapnel pieces littering the floor.

“About three hours ago,” you replied, either ignoring her hesitation or not caring. “You were out for about seven.”

“Did Maria call?” Natasha asked, trying to walk around you without seeming obvious.

“Yeah,” you nodded. Natasha could see your eyes focused on your abdomen, shaky hands moving deftly. “Said the storm would last for about two day from the time she called.” You looked up with a raised brow. “And that she loves you.”

Natasha finally got a good look at what you had been doing while she was asleep. A jagged piece of metal was sticking out of the left side of your abdomen. There were numerous blood spots on the remainder of your suit, and some bloody tweezers and towels were on the floor in front of you.

“What happened?” Natasha asked, eyes still zeroed in on your side.

“From the blast,” you shrugged before looking back down to continue picking shrapnel out of your skin.

The blast? Natasha hadn’t gotten any kind of injury from the situation, aside from a headache and maybe some oxygen deprivation, but she didn’t recall anything hitting her. Why had it hit-

Oh.

Oh of course.

She was torn. She wanted to help, was desperate to fix you up so you wouldn’t hurt or bleed. But it would have been crossing a line; you never wanted anyone’s help. On top of that, anyone’s hands on your skin made you uncomfortable.

But you were doing such a bad job.

“Give it to me,” Natasha said. She held her hand out as she sat down beside you, already using her other hand to start taking the blankets off of your shoulders.

You huffed and started grumbling to yourself, but handed the tweezers over anyway. She finally made it down to your skin and found the true culprit of the metal sticking out of your side; an entry wound on your back, near your left shoulder.

“You pushed it forward so you could reach it, didn’t you?” Natasha asked as she got to work on the piece, picking smaller pieces out as she found them.

“Does it matter?” You asked. Natasha didn’t answer, instead just pushing the piece out of your skin and ignoring the hiss of pain you sent her way.

“Hand me the first aid kit,” Natasha demanded. You grumbled again but did as you were told.

It was quick work patching you back up; your low blood pressure was very beneficial in the moment, and she wasn’t worried about you bleeding out before you could get back to the tower. You wouldn’t be comfortable, but at least you would be safe.

Once she was sure you weren’t going to ooze through the gauze, Natasha gathered the bloody articles and got up to throw them away. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see you pulling the blankets back over your shoulders, wincing every now and then when you twisted the wrong way.

When Natasha got back and sat down on the sofa, she just watched you. Watched your slowed breathing, the occasional shiver, the inaudible groan when you shifted. You looked miserable, but at least you were breathing and talking.

“I’m bored.”

Maybe she didn’t like that you were talking.

“Then you’re going to have a rough few days,” Natasha answered.

“But I’m bored,” you whined. “Help me not be bored.”

“You’re an adult, find something to do,” Natasha shot back. She got up and walked over to the bookshelf, leafing through things that she knew she wasn’t going to read, but was hoping it would give you the idea to find something.

“If I get too bored then I’ll die,” you sighed. “Do you want me to die?”

Natasha turned her head slowly and raised her brow at you.

“How dare you,” you whispered.

She turned her head back to the bookshelf so you wouldn’t see the smile desperately trying to show on her face. Your sounds of indignation continued to reach her ears, so she hurriedly picked the next book her fingers touched and walked back to the couch.

You both sat in silence for a while, and Natasha actually managed to get some reading done. She had no idea what the story was actually about, but that didn’t matter. All that really mattered was that she was killing time, and if she killed enough time then it would be time for her to go back home and forget any of this had ever happened.

“Nat, I’m bored,” you said again after more silence.

“I already told you to find something to do,” Natasha replied without looking up from her book. “I’m not going to find something for you.”

“Fine,” you grumbled as you pushed yourself up from the floor. “I’ll do it myself.”

Natasha sighed but let you go. She didn’t look up, but she was still hyper aware of where you were in the safe house. Aware of each step you took, of each cabinet you opened. Just knowing where you were gave her a sense of comfort.

“Wanna play a game?” You shouted from the other side of the safe house.

It was going to be a long few days.

———

“Connect four,” Natasha said as she slid her red chip into place. Again.

“Connect four my ass, you fucking cheater,” you said as you tried to find out just where Natasha had cheated.

“How do you cheat at connect four?” Natasha asked, a smile threatening to show through her facade.

“I don’t know, but you did,” you said, pointing your finger at her. In turn, Natasha just chuckled and took another sip of her vodka.

Two empty bottles were on the kitchen counter.

“I demand a rematch,” you said again, giving her a deathly stare.

“You’ve been saying that for the past 37 matches,” Natasha said simply.

“Fine, then we’ll play another game,” you said quickly. “We’ve got… Clue, Monopoly, Parcheesi.”

“We’ve played all of those, Y/N,” Natasha pointed out.

“Doesn’t matter, we’ll play them again and again until I win and you stop cheat-”

The sound of the generator shutting down made the both of you fall silent. Almost instantly, Natasha noticed the cold soak into your bones and your body start shaking. Your teeth clattered and you instinctively pulled the blankets tighter.

“That’s not good,” Natasha whispered. Her voice seemed to echo in the now-silent house.

“It’s cold, Talia,” you shivered. You sounded like a scared little kid.

It broke Natasha’s heart.

She didn’t know if it was the butterflies or the alcohol, but she ignored the feeling in her stomach and moved over until she was sitting directly next to you. Her hand lifted the blankets up so she could get under them, and then found her arms wrapping around your shoulders and pulling you against her.

Your body was tense against her, but it relaxed quickly once you were settled. There was a peace about you that Natasha hadn’t felt in months, since before that mission so long ago. And your body relaxed against hers gave Natasha more peace than she could ever hope to get with anyone else.

“You’re ridiculously warm,” you mumbled from under the blankets.

“It’s a gift,” Natasha teased. You chuckled, but then sat up and switched the positions, pulling Natasha into your lap.

“You’re warmer this way,” you mumbled as you laid your head against her neck. Your breath tickled her skin.

Sitting in your lap was a dangerous place to be.

“We can’t do this,” Natasha said softly.

“We’re still on a mission,” you said, your lips moving against her skin. “It doesn’t count if it’s on a mission.”

“You know that’s not true,” Natasha said. You lifted your head and looked at her.

She could see the flush in your cheeks, going down your neck and tinting your gills. There was a darkness to your eyes, reminiscent of the inky water you two had escaped from. And just like that water, they pulled Natasha in. Pulled her in and held her captive as they engulfed her completely until there was nothing else but her and the water.

“It can be,” you whispered, moving in slowly.

“Don’t kiss me,” Natasha said so softly, her voice more like the ghost of a whisper.

“Say it like you mean it,” you said, now only a fraction of an inch away.

“I can’t,” Natasha whispered around the knot in her throat.

She could feel your breath on her lips, could feel the way your fingers were digging into her thigh and hip. The fire left a warm glow on your face, illuminating the scars, the shaved hair that was starting to grow back in, the sparkle of the inviting water in your eyes.

And Natasha wanted to dive in.

Until the rumble of a quinjet landing nearby shocked her out of her trance. She pushed herself off of your lap, rushing to the door as quickly as possible and throwing it open to see Maria standing on the cargo door.

“Need a lift?” Maria asked over the roar of the quinjet.

“And a medic,” you said, suddenly appearing behind Natasha. You had ditched the blankets and were standing tall, although Natasha could see the slight shake in your hands.

“Lucky for you, we’ve got both,” Maria said with a smile, ushering for the both of you to hop in.

Natasha got in first and looked back to help you in, but you ignored her outstretched hand and crawled in on your own, face scrunched in pain as your wounds pulled. You didn’t look at her when you passed, instead heading straight to the medic and letting him get a look at your injuries.

You ignored Natasha the entire trip home.

Natasha swore everyone on the jet could hear her heart explode the same way the underwater base had.

[malfoysstilinski]

girl in the mirror | DRACO MALFOY

MASTERLIST

PAIRING: Draco Malfoy x Muggle!Reader

WORD COUNT: 2.1k 

SUMMARY: in which draco and y/n are soulmates and can hear each others’ music, and you’ve been blasting sad songs all week, worrying draco. 

WARNINGS: one mean joke about americans sozzles 

A/N: based on the tiktoks where soulmates can hear each others’ music. i dont think ive seen an imagine like that on here so i thought i’d write one :)) also set in 2010s 

In the Wizarding world, on your thirteenth birthday, you are officially bound to your soulmate. This means different things for different wizards and witches, depending on what they valued. For example, when Blaise Zabini turned thirteen, he was able to see his soulmate in mirrors-- fitting considering how self-obsessed he was. 

Draco, however, heard music. You must be obsessed with it, he realised. He found out he was right pretty quickly, waking up to the sound of your playlists muffled in his ears and falling asleep to them too. 

It was always Muggle music too. You must be a half-blood, or even… Merlin forbid, a Muggle-born. Realising that his soulmate wasn’t going to be a pure-blood like his parents had planned, Draco kept the news to himself and worked on his vocabulary. He tried his best to bite his tongue around Granger, ignoring his friends when they made fun of their ‘dirty’ blood.

He didn’t want to hurt you when he got to meet you. 

It took Draco longer than it should have to realise you definitely didn’t go to Hogwarts. How could you when he’d be sat in assemblies, the room so silent you could hear a pin drop, and all he’d hear is the thumping of your music in his ears as if he was underwater?

“She’s probably an American,” Pansy pretends to gag, the others laughing with her. 

“Could be a Beauxbaton,” Blaise suggests. 

Draco doesn’t like to make assumptions, but he thinks you are definitely a Muggle. It’s rare, but not unheard of in the Wizarding world, especially nowadays. For the Malfoys, though, it would be an outrage. 

You play your music the most when he’s eating dinner in the Great Hall or when he’s getting ready for bed. 

At first, he hated it. He hated your music, he hated how his head was rarely ever quiet, and he hated that he didn’t know who you were in order to beg you to take your headphones out for once. 

However, Draco learnt to love your music. Songs and bands he’d never heard of before quickly became his favourites and eventually, he found himself humming your Muggle tunes in the common room or quietly singing along in his dorm when the other boys were out doing whatever. 

He learned to love having your music in his head, especially as the years rolled on and his life became harder and harder. It made him feel like he was never alone, your muffled melodies making a home in his head and pushing out all of his anxiety and depression. 

Draco wanted to dance with you to them. He liked to lay in bed at night and listen to your songs and imagine that you’re lying next to him. He bets you have a nice singing voice. Maybe you can even play an instrument or two. Maybe you could teach him how to play the guitar, and maybe he could show you how to play his favourite pieces on the piano. 

Your music is never too upbeat, but today Draco feels like he hasn’t heard a single song that wasn’t about being sad. As he trudged from class to class, Draco couldn’t help but feel like something was wrong with you. It had been going on for the past few days, and the music stopped altogether on one of the days. 

He went to bed with an empty head for the first time in a few years, staring at his ceiling. He plugged his iPod in and went to the Muggle section, playing a few of your favourite songs. It wasn’t the same. 

“What’s up with you?” Blaise demands as Draco doesn’t touch his meal for the second time that day. 

Draco glances to his friend and looks away, shaking his head. “Mind your own business, Zabini,” he mutters weakly. 

Blaise’s soulmate, a Slytherin in the year below, joins them at sitting on the table and Blaise immediately forgets all about Draco, the two of them giggling as they hug each other. Draco thought he could throw up right there and then, shaking his head in disgust. 

Green was Draco’s colour and Merlin was he jealous. 

Why did you have to be a stupid Muggle?

Draco immediately feels bad for even thinking it. He wants to hug you and kiss the top of your head and mutter apology after apology. The soft feeling makes him feel weak. You did things to him that nobody else did, and he doesn’t even know who you were. The fact that you were most likely going through a rough time right now made it ten times worse. 

“What’s wrong with Draco?” He hears Zabini’s girl whisper. 

“Why don’t you ask me yourself?” Draco snaps, lip curling in disgust. “Instead of talking behind my back like a coward!”

“Draco,” Blaise growls. “I don’t know what’s up with you, mate, but you need to calm down.”

“It’s your soulmate, isn’t it?” Pansy quirks an eyebrow from opposite them. “Are they playing that rubbish song you hate on repeat again?”

“No,” Draco hisses in defence of you. “I like that song, thank you.”

Pansy holds her hands up. “Okay, whatever. Sorry, Malfoy. What has got your knickers in a twist, then?”

He hesitates. He doesn’t like talking about you to anybody else but he’s really worried and he thinks maybe one of them might be able to help. 

“She’s…” Draco’s eyes drift to burn holes in the table in front of him. “She’s been listening to sad songs.”

Goyle snorts, making Draco’s head snap to him in fury. 

“Sorry, Malfoy, sorry… But that does sound ridiculous, mate,” Goyle admits. “She’s probably just into that… genre?”

“No, you don’t understand,” Draco huffs and shakes his head. “You don’t know her like I do. Something’s wrong with her, I can tell.”

“Well, why don’t you visit her?” Blaise asks, grabbing a grape and popping into his mouth. 

“What?” Draco spits. “Is that a joke, Zabini? I don’t find it funny--”

“I’m not joking,” Blaise frowns. “Merlin’s sake, Malfoy. Do you not pay attention in Charms?”

“Of course I do,” Draco hesitates, lying. “But what are you talking about, anyway?”

…

Draco feels ridiculous as he stands in front of the mirror in the bathrooms later that night. It’s silent since it’s the middle of the night, but Draco knows you’re awake because of the glum music playing faintly in his ears. 

He wants to visit you like Blaise told him to do, and as he stands in front of the mirror and casts his incantations, he can’t help but wonder if this is a setup. He doesn’t give his hopes up, doesn’t hold his breath that when he opens his eyes you’ll be on the other side of the mirror. 

But he wants you to be. He wants you to be there so badly. 

Draco does sort of believe it so he put on his black turtleneck and black suit and combed his hair like usual, replacing the uniform and robes he’d been wearing all day. He doesn’t want you to see him and be disappointed. 

He knows he won’t be disappointed no matter what you look like or what you are. 

Draco takes a deep breath as he lowers his wand and closes his eyes. When he counts down and opens his eyes, he’s stunned into silence by the sight in front of him. His heart skips a beat and he nearly chokes on his own spit. 

Staring back at him in the mirror is not his own pale reflection but what looks like a bedroom. The mirror glows orange from the lighting and he can see that it’s decorated with posters and records and other Muggle things. Draco doesn’t even process that you’re a confirmed Muggle at this point, he doesn’t care enough about that. 

On a single bed in the middle of the room, sat up in the very centre with headphones in and a laptop in front of her, is a girl his age. She’s got beautiful y/s/c skin and y/c/h locks that have been thrown up into a messy bun, her y/c/e trained on the screen in front of her as she watches what he assumes is a film or a tv show. 

She’s wearing a school uniform, not quite as posh as Hogwarts’, and it’s slightly crumpled from sitting in her bed with it on. Her polished black shoes are nowhere to be seen, rips in the bottom of her tights no doubt from wearing them thin five days a week. 

Draco can’t believe he’s looking at you right now. He reaches his hand out, eyes widening when his fingers seem to slip past the glass and he’s sucked into another world-- your world. He wasn’t expecting it to happen, a small yelp leaving his lips as he tumbles straight out of the mirror hanging on your wall and onto your carpet. 

You both scream as you make eye contact and you’ve thrown your laptop about in a panic. There’s no music in his ears now that he stands in front of you. Draco breathes heavily, unsure what to say. 

“Um, hello?” He offers. 

“What the hell?” You yell. “What are you doing in my bedroom? Who are you? My laptop!”

You ignore him as you dive off of the bed and pick it up. The screen is smashed making you glare at him harder. 

“I’m sorry!” Draco practically squeaks. “I- I have Galleons--”

“Who are you?” You cut him off roughly. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Draco keeps repeating, hoping you will calm down. “I-I’m Draco Malfoy.”

“Draco Malfoy?” You repeat with a mocking laugh. “Is that a joke?”

“No,” he replies, voice pitched higher than usual with offence. “What’s your name?”

Normally you wouldn’t tell a stranger your name, but this situation is anything but normal. You stare at the boy for a few seconds, wondering why he feels familiar. There’s something about him that has you relaxing under his gaze, which is weird because he literally just appeared out of nowhere. 

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you reply sceptically. 

Draco smiles, “beautiful name.”

“Are you like a nonce or something?”

“Nonce?” Draco crinkles his nose in confusion. 

You narrow your brows at him. “You’re literally British-- how do you not know what that means?”

“I’m not… I don’t really come from your kind of England,” Draco doesn’t know how to explain there is an entire world she’s been hidden from-- this is the first Muggle he’s ever had a conversation with. 

“Are you Welsh?” 

“Do I sound Welsh to you?” Draco cocks his head to the side, already amused. 

“Sometimes I can’t tell the difference, not gonna lie,” you reply. “But no. I’m sure you’re English. You sound like you’re a private school kid or something.”

“I guess I am,” Draco replies quietly, looking around your bedroom and taking in all of the colours that it has. 

You seem to snap out of whatever daze you were in. “Hey! You distracted me. Now tell me what the hell you’re doing in my bedroom before I call the police.”

Draco’s tongue darts out to wet his lips as he contemplates his next words. He hesitates and sits down on your bed next to you. You can smell his cologne-- it smells much more expensive than the Lynx sprays the boys at college seem to be obsessed with. 

“Do you ever hear music in your ears?” He asks, watching your eyes widen in conformation. “You do. That’s… that’s me. My music. I hear your music too. You listen to it all the time. Um… normally a lot of bands and stuff.”

There’s a long silence. “Do you have me on Spotify?”

“What’s Spotify?” Draco’s nose crinkles. 

“You probably just see what I listen to on Spotify!” You claim, standing up as you become weary of the boy on your bed. 

Draco still doesn’t quite understand your Muggle terminology, but he gets the gist of what you’re trying to imply. 

“That doesn’t explain the music you hear in your head from me,” Draco tries. “Or how I just came out of your mirror.”

You look overwhelmed. “What are you?” You whisper. 

“We, Y/N, are soulmates.”

...

yuh

PART TWO HERE

[thesunshinebunny]

When the world falls apart, the only thing we can hold onto is ourselves (Part I)

Series Master list

Pairing: Canon Eren Jaeger x reader

Content: Angst, unstable relationship, breakup, smut/nswf+18, major character death, violence, blood (obviously), war (pretty obvious)

Summary: War and hate. It’s what defined the world at this exact moment. You failed your comrades, and by failing them, you failed yourself. Your relationship is hanging by a thread and your enemies will not only be found on the other side of the sea, but also in the mind of the person you love the most. How will you take the reins in the face of so much destruction?

Chapter Summary: After watching their teammates die in battle, reader begins to question their sanity and of their so-called partner.

AN: let me say goodbye to my favorite girl, who got me the best laughs and relieved my anxiety while reading manga chapters. At the same time, let me succumb to the misery and enlarge the wound with an canon Eren. I won’t be against following this fic if I see that a lot of people like it, but my list of fandoms isn’t going to change, this will be a unique exception.

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The chill in the air from the airship rushed through my veins. Less than two hours ago, I had seen countless comrades die, each one of them struck by bullets in different parts of their bodys or eaten by a Titan. I had seen countless lives fall and had been unable to save any. I knew we were going on a suicide mission, but deep down inside of me, I hoped we would all come home alive.

I was very naïve to think of a happy ending in this rotten and violent world.

Inside the room I was in, my mind wandered looking through one of the few windows this war machine gave us. I wasn't paying attention to what Levi or Eren were saying, I didn't even have the slightest intention of asking why Zeke was with us. Although being a member of the Survey Corps and a direct and in training medic, I was not fully informed of the missions. Eren’s courtesy.

Bored and mentally tired, I left the room where my leaders were having a heated discussion with "humanity's last hope." I didn't have the strength to add more charcoal to the fire, but trust me when I tell you I wasn’t at all happy with Eren's plan, simply and exclusively because I was completely unaware.

I walked down the hall making a mental note to kick the brunette in the face like Levi did when we got back. If my so-called partner, who had the decency to slowly push me away over the last year without explanation, wasn’t confident enough to tell me whatever was going on in his mind, then we would be in front of the doors of a serious conversation back home.

I opened the door where the scouts were when I heard a rifle go off. My eyes went wide and fear washed over me. I instantly scanned my body for wounds, completely ignoring the situation happening in front of me. Finding no sign of impact, I looked up only to find Sasha falling on her back, with a bullet impact on her chest.

The world seemed to have frozen as did my body. No one was able to move. Blood was spreading around Sasha's body, staining the floor, and that's when I reacted. My body moved on its own, pulling the cloak off my shoulders and folding it to make a small pillow. My ears didn’t catch any screams or cries from my teammates, as if I was underwater and the only thing I could hear was my heartbeat accelerating, threatening to come out of my ears.

"I need a syringe with anesthesia, a pair of tweezers, a needle, a lighter, bandages and hot water, NOW !!"

No one was moving, everyone was in shock, including me, but I was layered enough to know that if we didn't do something, Sasha wasn't going to survive.

"Jean, Connie, I need surgical elementes! NOW!!"

The two boys came out of it, running around the room, even going to the continuous, looking for something that might serve, while I tore Sasha's shirt and took her equipment. Mikasa was next to me grabbing the pieces that were in the way.

"Mikasa, I need you to put pressure on the wound and don’t move your hands"

Connie came running back with the anesthesia in hand, trying to give it to me, but me failing. The syringe fell to the floor, but thanks to whatever deity was watching us it didn't break. My hands were shaking with adrenaline, making it impossible for me to inject the needle into the glass vial.

“Sasha… I need you to stay awake, ok? I need you to keep your eyes open at all time"

The dying girl in front of me didn't give me an answer, but I knew she heard me. In the background, I could hear the desperate cries of the others, apart from the fact that someone had hit the culprit in the face. I injected the anesthesia and proceeded to remove the bullet from the lung. Mikasa reapplied pressure with wet cloths.

"Sasha everything will be fine, I assure you, everything will be fine, so don't you dare die on me, okay?"

I couldn't tell who I was addressing those words to, the girl who gave us the best laughs in our training days, or me.

Lighter in hand I proceeded to cauterize the wound, but my eyes fell on Sasha's, noticing how the life had left her eyes. The light that was so bright in her pupils had faded, leaving nothing more than an empty countenance.

"Sasha?...Sasha? hey, this isn’t funny, Sasha wake up…Sasha?? SASHA?!!?!" ...

"SASHA!!!"

Again.

Again I’d been unable to do anything.

Again I’d to see how I was unable to save someone.

Again.

I had seen a mate die. Again.

My chest contracted, the air was impossible to get in or out and my lungs cried out to explode. My stomach wanted to regurgitate, but there was nothing in it, causing me to spasm. My vocal cords were damaged from screaming and my head was about to collapse.

My whole body was about to collapse.

"How dare you!? You son of a bitch, how dare you to shoot the person who forgave your life?"

My anger was now directed at the child they had wanted to bring with us. It was impossible for me to look at her without having the desire to break her face, to make her suffer ... to kill her. To take revenge for Sasha.

“SHE FORGAVE YOUR LIFE BY NOT GIVING YOU A SHOT IN THE HEAD AND IS THAT HOW YOU PAY HER? YOU HATE US SO MUCH? HOW MANY MORE LIVES DO YOU WANT TO TAKE FOR US TO BE SATISFIED?"

My legs got up, leading me towards the girl, but arms held me from behind, preventing me from continue walking, preventing me from taking revenge.

"HOW DARE YOU? HOW DARE YOU? YOU ARE THE REAL DEVILS"

In the end, my body collapsed, completely loosening and causing me to almost slide down Connie's arms. I fell to my knees when he released me, snuggling up and hiding my head in my arms. Tears flowed like waterfalls with no intention of stopping and my screams reverberated across the metal in the room.

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Connie opened the door where our commanders were still arguing. Both with tears in our eyes gave the worst news of the night.

"Sasha died"

Jean and Hange's faces were disfigured and Levi hid his grim outline from us. The room was silent, but all that could be heard were my sobs, spasm after spasm.

"She had a ... a bullet impact ... in ... in the chest ..."

It was difficult, almost impossible, for me to relate the precarious medical report of our friend's death, trying to help me with the movement of my hands ... but even so the spasms won me over. I fell back to the floor, tears invaded my face once more and my ability to articulate words was gone down the drain.

Hange approached with a slow step and placed their hands on my shoulders, giving me the help I needed to give the report. I took several minutes of deep breaths and when my lungs returned to normal, I spoke again.

"Sasha had a bullet impact on the chest, on the left lung ... There was no exit, so the bullet was stuck in there...it pierced two ribs, tearing the skin of the lung and causing internal bleeding... I managd to remove the bullet, but I didn't have time to cauterize and sew the wound ... she bled to death"

Every pause I took to breathe made it so much worse for me to speak back. If it weren't for the fact I was undoubtedly taking deep breaths, I would have passed out from distress and hyperventilation.

"I could have saved her ... I know I could have saved her"

Silence reigned over the room, sobs from Hange and Connie could be heard if we were paying close attention. Jean and Levi glared at Eren, who had not deigned to lift his head at any time.

I got up as best I could, running Hange's hands gently, and left the room once again. I needed to be alone for a while, I needed to let go of these horrible feelings, I needed some air, otherwise I doubted I’d do anything rational in the state I was in.

My legs led me to a room away from all the common ones. It was empty, but it had a couple of windows that chilled the already cold metal walls. Some windows were at my height, allowing me to appreciate the view from the air, but let's face it, it was impossible to appreciate the landscape when your mind and heart were breaking to pieces. The only thing that kept my mind intact from any collapse was the path of smoke and fire that could be seen in the distance... signs that Marley was still on fire.

"Are you ok?"

That familiar voice, all too familiar, echoed in my ears pulling me out of my entrance. Eren had entered the room quietly with the aim of… what? See if it was okay? Because I really wasn't, it showed on my face and that's what made me even more angry than I was.

"Oh, I don't know? Am I ok? Do I FUCKING LOOK OK TO YOU?"

I turned from the window too quickly causing me to stagger and fall to the floor. My head was spinning and starting to ache as was every muscle in my body. I put my hands to my head, hoping the pain would dissipate a bit, but the only thing I managed was to sink further into misery.

"I could have saved her ... if I’d been faster ... I know I could have saved her"

He hadn't moved from where he was, he just stayed there, looking at me. My blood-soaked eyes looked him up and down searching for something, whatever, to speak of, but all I found were non-glare eyes and a neutral gaze, as if he hadn't cared how many lives this mission had claimed.

"Do you want to know how I feel? Fine, I’ll tell you"

I stood up heavily, my muscles begging for a break. I turned my head to see the black smoke rising on the horizon, still clearly noticing an orange and red flare.

“I am tired…I am full of rage and hate. I saw our comrades die and I couldn't do anything, I was unable to save them ... to save Sasha...and all because of not having been informed like everyone else"

My eyes hadn't left the window because I knew, if I looked into those dull turquoise eyes, those same eyes that once shone with all the innocence and life that a young man could have, I would end up punching him.

"Are you happy? Did you accomplished your mission now that you have the power of the warhammer titan? What will be the next step? Go back to Marley in a few months, finish what you started and devour the jaw titan and Reiner? Assassinate the cart titan?”

Again, I got no response. My patience had already reached it’s limit and I looked back at the man who was now standing in the middle of the room.

"You're not going to tell me, are you? No, you never say anything to me, it's like I'm a burden to you" I shuffled on the metal, standing right in front of him "I'm with so much anger in my veins that I want to kill a child, a child Eren! ... A child who had her head washed all her life, a child who doesn’t know the whole truth and who only knows that by killing she can be free"

Unconsciously, my body moved everywhere, as if it wanted to release all the pressure by tiring the muscles. I stood back in front of the window and with all the accumulated anger I gave it a strong blow, slightly scratching the glass and probably breaking some knuckles.

"Sasha died because of my incompetence and the violence of this world...I want to save lives Eren, that's why I'm practicing medicine...I want to dedicate myself to saving souls, not killing them...and we have the culprit stuck in one of our rooms...why?" ...

“WHY DO WE HAVE TWO CHILDS ON OUR AIRPLANE? WHY IS YOUR BROTHER WITH US? WHY DON'T YOU LET ME KNOW WHAT IS GOING THROUGH YOUR HEAD?"

I was sure that my screams could be heard by our entire war machine. I was impatient for answers, but knew I wasn't going to get any, at least not now. My hands didn’t remain calm, they moved everywhere, a sign of my anxiety and my eyes turned around the entire room, looking at each screw, each metal beam... everything except the eyes of my supposed lover.

I was giving up, now I just wanted to rest and have a trip home in peace, even knowing that home was not going to sound the same or feel the same.

"If you have nothing to say Eren, you better leave"

I turned my back on him but didn't proceed to walk away from him. I needed to find an anchor point so as not to give up and throw myself into the arms that one day gave me warmth, the arms that wrapped me in the dark, the arms that reflected their love and affection ... into the arms that now wouldn't hold me from the waist or draw me to his chest. I wasn't going to throw me into some arms that weren't going to contain me.

I heard him take a few small steps towards me and his hand rested lightly on my shoulder. I put it aside abruptly and I distanced myself towards the remote window, seeing how little by little the smoke was getting smaller and I could no longer see the orange flame clearly; now I could only see a thin yellow line fading.

"Leave Eren"

His footsteps rumbled on the metal floor, leaving me alone once and for all.

The trip back was going to be a long one and, to be honest, I wasn't sure if there was anything for me in our home. Nothing was going to be the same anymore. Without Sasha, without Eren and with a war on our feet I doubted to even call “home” a piece of wet land in the middle of an ocean which is still the target of a world full of hate.

[hrodvitnon]

More vines shot out of the water, but they weren’t for Mothra. Godzilla was surrounded by multiple vines, some of which had begun to dig into his back.

But things were different this time..

The vines in Godzilla’s back had began to glow turquoise, and the glow moved from the the vines’ mouths back to Madison.

The vines that didn’t dig into Godzilla began to open their mouths.. and spewed out a green acid from their open maws.

Godzilla screeched in pain when the acid touched him, smoke billowed off of where it had made contact.

The Monarch team watched helplessly from the shore. Nobody was killed, but there were major injuries reported.

Mark: What the hell is she doing?!

Viv: ..acid. ..it must be a variation of Goji’s atomic breath.

Rick: ..well at least it’s not scientifically inaccurate!

Everyone turned to look at Rick.

Mark began to chuckle, but not in a good way.

Mark: ..funny fucking joke.. you sick son of a-

As Mark said ‘bitch’ he gave Rick a massive punch across the face. Then began to continuously beat the shit out of him.

———

This was far worse than landing from a fall from the sky.

Every vine digging into his flesh felt like his entire back was caving in on itself.

The acid almost reached his eyes, which he now had to keep shut in order to keep it out. But the acid burned his scales and skin, he could even feel them dissolving all around him.

The vines around his legs and arms prevented him from getting away. He was trapped, and couldn’t even find the strength to power up another atomic breath.

But he could try one other thing.

Goji: MADISON!

He pleaded, hoping that she would hear his voice. Maybe even recognize it, and stop attacking.

But she didn’t stop.

Goji: MADDIE! PLEASE!

He screeched out in pain and agony. Not only from the despair of not being able to reach her, but also from the vines dug into his back.

Goji: MADISO-

Acid reached the inside of his mouth.

It burned a million times worse than when it hit him on his scales.

Godzilla couldn’t even screech in pain, he let out gurgles of saliva and acid.

He opened his eyes, and was met with Madison’s toothed face. Her maw opened wide, boiling acid hissed from within.

Godzilla braced himself, readying for what it would likely be the loss of an eye…

But the pain stopped.

On his back at least.

And he couldn’t feel acid on his eyelid or acid being spewed onto his skin.

He opened his eyes, Madison’s mouth was still open wide. But no acid came out.

To his shock, Madison began to fall backwards. Bringing her vines down with her. She fell back into the water, with one last pained wail.

———

Mothra could feel the tears fill her blue eyes. She didn’t stop them from running.

She had just stung Madison in her back.

Godzilla looked down at the water, his face covered in shock and despair.

Mothra: ..I.. I had to..

Mothra whispered, she could feel her heart tear itself apart. She knew it had to be done, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt.

Godzilla slowly nodded.

The two began to head to shore.

But we’re quickly dragged underwater.

Mothra flailed around desperately, she couldn’t last long without air!

She looked at what was dragging her down, another vine.

———

Viv: NO!

She watched from the shore of the lake as her kaiju wife and husband were dragged underwater.

Madison never went down without a fight.

Chen: But.. it can’t be! That’s impossible!

Vivienne turned to look at Chen, who’s face was covered in shock and fear.

Chen: Her sting has enough power to bring down Rodan… and yet it couldn’t stop a plant..?

Mark: That plant..

Mark walked up to them.

Mark: Is my daughter. We should all know that she wouldn’t be content to disappear. Not our Madison.

He looked at Vivienne, her aunt figure. She sighed in response.

Rick: So.. what now?

A bruised and nose-bleeding Rick Stanton asked.

Vivienne: The three performed a miracle back in Boston.. let’s hope they can pull off another..

———

Why was she doing this?! Godzilla thought in fear. He looked down at the plant, who had stationed itself at the bottom of the lake. Vines began to rise from the bottom, heading straight towards them.

He looked at Mothra.

She was still trying to escape. But the vine around her abdomen wouldn’t let go. Neither would the one wrapped around his waist.

Godzilla didn’t want to do it..

He could kill her.

But the dangers of having a Titan like this would be devastating.

The others might question him.. even Rodan and Kong.

And what if she were allowed to grow?!

With those thoughts and several more in mind, Godzilla began to charge his atomic breath. He aimed right at the sac hidden between Madison’s vines.

Mothra shrieked at him. Telling him not to do it.

But they were out of options.. Madison was relentless.. and he was beginning to wonder if this thing really was Madison..

Half of him was telling no, but the other half had grown louder.. and telling him yes.

With a heavy heart falling into pieces..

Goji: …forgive me.. Madison..

———

The waves had calmed down.

Everyone on shore felt a shiver run up and down their spines from how quiet it was.

Then, a bright blue light could be seen from the shore.

Followed by a distant and drowned scream.

Nobody spoke a word, leaving only the sounds of crickets chirping in the night.

Bright lights blared into everyone’s eyes, causing them to quickly look away from them.

Once the lighting died down, there was the sound of splashing water heading towards them.

Vivienne ran to the edge of the water, where her husband and wife were dragging themselves out of the water.

Goji stood up, his face covered in shock and horror. His pupils had shrunk, and his face was frozen.

Vivienne then heard sobbing coming from her right. She turned to look at Mothra.

..who was lying down on the ground. Her face buried in the dirt. She was crying, and it grew worse by the second.

Godzilla then slowly trudged up the shore, towards the crew.

Everyone ran to him, asking multiple questions.

But then he fell to his knees, and kept himself up using his arms.

He was shaking, and his breathing was slowly and shaky.

Mark: What happened?! Where’s Madison?!

Godzilla didn’t respond.

But then he rose to his feet, his human skin beginning to turn back into scales..

And let out a piercing and booming cry of pain.

From behind the wounded king, bright yellow particles rose from the lake. And floated up, towards the sky…

Well, I hope somebody picks up that phone, because I FUCKING CALLED IT!

(Also; Jesus, Mark, if you're gonna beat someone's face in, save it for Jonah if he's still alive for whatever reason, this whole we-could-have-avoided-this-murderfest is his idiot fault anyway.)

[thebookreader12345]

Sink or Swim

Pairing: Kelly Severide x reader

Summary: Y/N is the newest member of Squad 3, and when out on a dive rescue, things take a turn for the worse

Requested: No

Warnings: slight swearing and a near death experience

Word Count: 2,064 Words

“Everyone, can I have your attention please” Chief Boden announced to his firefighters, who all turned to look at him, meaning they saw me standing next to him. I had my hands tucked into the pockets of my jacket, and I was rocking back and forth on the balls of my feet. “I want you all to meet Y/N L/N. She’s going to be filling the open spot on Squad 3.”

“Uh, hey,” I say and wave shyly at the group of people sitting in front of me. For a second, the room was quiet, but it wasn’t long before a blonde haired woman stood up and rushed over to me, wrapping me in a big hug.

“I can’t believe we’ve finally got another girl! You’re going to love it here. I promise. I’m Sylvie Brett” the woman stated.

“Nice to meet you. I was the only girl in my old Firehouse, so when I walked up, I was really hoping there’d be a girl here. By the way, whoever owns the mustang parked out front, nice whip” I comment.

“The Mustangs mine” a man with salt and pepper hair spoke and raised his hand. My eyes immediately gravitated over to him, and when I saw who had spoken, my cheeks flushed. The stereotype for a firefighter was a young, handsome, muscular man, and the guy in front of me fit the description perfectly.

“Oh, Y/N, this is Kelly Severide, your lieutenant,” Sylvie told me.

“Nice to meet you, Cap’n” I speak and give him a small smile.

“Where you from, L/N?” Kelly asked me after he heard me use foreign slang for the second time this morning, the first being when I said “whip.”

“The Big Apple. I just moved here a few weeks ago,” I answer.

“NYC, huh? Why’d you move?” a man, who’s jacket read Cruz, questioned.

“Family reasons” I stammer out. “But I’d prefer that we don’t talk about. Lets just say I wanted a change of scenery. Chicago is very different from New York, but good different, you know? I like it here.”

Just then, an alarm blared from everywhere in the building, and everyone shot up out of their seats, heading towards the apparatus floor. Now I knew one similarity between New York City and Chicago; there’s never a boring day at work. 

“Follow me,” Kelly ordered and took my arm, leading me out of the break room. “I’ve got a few rules. One, obey my orders. I don’t like firefighters who exhibit insubordinate behavior, and I absolutely hate doing paperwork for that. Two, if you’ve got a suggestion for how to approach a situation, speak up. I don’t come up with all of the good ideas. And three, never stand around doing nothing. There’s always people who need help, so help them.”

“All right. I think I’ve got it,” I say as we got to the apparatus floor where my gear was already laid out for me.

“Oh, and L/N, welcome to Firehouse 51,” Kelly said.

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

It had been a few weeks since I started on Squad 3, and I was loving every minute of it. Capp and Tony, the other two guys on Squad besides Kelly and I, were very funny and easy to get along with, so I had no problem fitting in. The rest of Firehouse 51 was also inviting, and I really felt at home here. However, there was definitely one thing I enjoyed the most, and that was hanging out with Kelly. Every shift, when things were slow, Kelly and I would sit on the roof together. He would smoke cigars while I chewed on my polar ice gum, and we would have conversations, whether it be about something stupid Otis had done that day, or something in our personal lives outside of work.

“Oh. Did I tell you about the prank I played on Mouch the other day?” I ask Kelly and blow a bubble, popping it with my lips.

“I don’t think so,” Kelly said and took another hit of his cigar. “What’d you do?”

“I stole his secret stash of chocolate” I admit. “And then I blamed it all on Otis.”

Kelly laughed and glanced over at me, meeting my gaze. I could feel myself getting red, so I turned away and looked at the sky. I had a huge confession to make, and it was that I had gained a crush on my lieutenant.

“Um, Kelly, there’s something I have to tell you” I confess.

Kelly put his cigar down on his tray and leaned forward with his elbows resting on his knees, clasping his hands together in front of him. “What is it?” he asked.

Just before I could tell him that I had feelings for him, the alarm went off inside of the firehouse calling for Squad 3, dive rescue. I got out of my chair and made my way over to the ladder, sliding down it expertly like I had done many times before. Getting my gear on took seconds, and as soon as all of us were in the truck, Tony started the engine and drove out of the garage. It didn’t take long before we got to the river, where a young, red haired woman, who was drenched in water, was waiting for us.

“You have to help them. Please,” she begged.

“Ma’am, calm down. Who do we need to help?” I ask.

“Them,” the woman shouted and pointed out into the middle of the river where a boat was submerged halfway underwater. I could make out a few people on the deck, and at the moment, it looked like they were all safe.

“Can none of them swim?” Kelly questioned as we started putting on our gear, which was basically a second skin to us.

“No. I’m the only one who can” the woman responded. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. We just wanted to get one last ride in before summer ended.”

“Hey. Everything is going to be okay........” At the moment, I realized I didn’t know the woman’s name.

“Marissa. My name’s Marissa” the woman said.

“That’s a beautiful name. I’m Y/N. I promise that we’re going to get everyone to safety” I say and grab my oxygen tank from the truck, slinging it on my back.

The rescue itself did not take long. The four of us each took about two trips to the boat, easily getting the people back to land. However, as soon as I began taking off my wet suit, the panic started.

“Where’s Davie? Where’s my son?” a man called out and looked around. I glimpsed over to the boat, and that’s when my eyes caught sight of a boy struggling to stay above water.

“Kelly,” I alert him and point to the water. 

Kelly followed my finger, and when he saw where I was pointing, he cursed. “Our tanks are out of oxygen. We never refilled them after the last dive.”

“That’s cool. I’ll just go in without one” I say and step out of my suit.

“Hell no. Y/N, that water is freezing cold. You’re not going out there. I’ll call in for backup,” Kelly announced.

“What? No. By the time you do that, that kid’ll be dead. On my first day on squad, you told me to never stand around because there are always people that need help. That kid needs help, so I’m going to help with” I share before jumping into the water.

As soon as my skin touched the water, I began to shiver at how cold it was, but I pushed past that and continued swimming. Kelly was calling my name from the shore, but I ignored him and kept going. When I was a few feet from the boy, he sank beneath the waves.

“Shit” I mumble and take a deep breath. Then, I dove deeper into the water, my eyes scanning everywhere for the boy. That’s when I saw Davie struggling to swim to the surface not far from me. He was holding his breath, which was a good sign, and he was still conscious. I swam over to him and got behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist. I kicked my feet in an attempt to propel us up and out of the water, but the current was too strong. I was starting to loose my breath, and I could tell Davie was too, so I did what any firefighter would do; save the victim first. I pushed Davie as hard as I could to the surface, hoping that someone else could get to him, and that’s when I felt the sudden urge to breathe. I couldn’t hold my breath anymore, and when I breathed, all I took in was water. Suddenly, I got lightheaded, my eyes drifted shut, and I lost consciousness deep in the Chicago River.

Kelly’s POV

I waited a few minutes, and Y/N still hadn’t resurfaced with Davie. Where the hell was she? At that moment, Davie appeared back on the surface, but Y/N was nowhere to be found.

“Capp, go out and get the kid. Now!” I demand. “I’m going to look for Y/N.” Capp nodded and jumped into the water with me following close behind. I swam out to where Davie was, and as Capp took the boy, I dove under the water. I looked around, hoping to find Y/N, and thankfully, I did, but she was unconscious. I made my way over to her, grabbed her body, and kicked towards the surface. When I got above the water, I tugged Y/N’s body with me to shore. Tony and Capp helped me lift her out of the water, and when I got back onto land, I pressed my ear against her chest. She wasn’t breathing.

“I’m going to call an ambulance,” Tony informed me and rushed towards the truck.

I took a deep breath, pinched Y/N’s nose, tilted her head back, and then I placed my mouth to hers. I breathed into her mouth a few times, and when I pulled away, I watched to see if she began breathing again, but she wasn’t. “Come on” I cry out and breathe into her mouth some more.

“Ambulance is 5 minutes out,” Tony said to me.

“She doesn’t have 5 minutes. Come on Y/N. Breathe,” I mumble and press my mouth to hers again. No matter how many times I tried, Y/N did not seem to come back. Just as I was about to give up, Y/N turned her head to the side and coughed up water. “Y/N! Thank god you’re okay.”

Y/N’s POV

The feeling of water leaving my lungs did not feel good. As I continued retching, Kelly helped me turn my body so that I wasn’t choking on my own spit and whatever else was coming up my throat. I coughed one more time and sucked in a huge breath before laying back down on the pavement.

“Y/N,” Kelly spoke and cupped my face with his hands.

“Hey, Cap’n,” I mutter and give him a tired smile.

“What did I say about following orders? You know I hate filing insubordination charges,” Kelly said.

“Maybe you can forget about that just this one time,” I whisper as I heard ambulance sirens getting closer.

“Only if you promise to never do that again. I mean it,” Kelly told me.

“Okay. Deal. Look, there’s something I never got to tell you,” I manage to breath out.

Kelly only smiled and pressed his lips to mine, giving me a quick kiss. “I like you too,” he assured me as an ambulance parked a few feet away from us. “Just focus on getting better now, okay? I promise we can talk about all of this as soon as you’re back in business.”

“Sounds good to me. Hey, could you ride with me in the ambo?” I ask. “I may or may not be afraid of hospitals.”

Kelly laughed and kissed my forehead. “Of course. Now, lets get you treated. I want my girl back on Squad as soon as possible.”

“Your girl? I thought we were talking about that later,” I say with a grin.

“Just shut up and accept it,” Kelly said.

“All right. I can’t believe Kelly Severide, the Lieutenant of Squad 3 and the hottest firefighter in Chicago likes me. I can get used to this,” I murmur.

___________________________

Tag List:

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[nypmphetsbastard]

They Both Die in the End (ch.2)

Chatter filled the makeshift cafeteria as everybody had just now began returning from their long hours of hard labor. The port finally completed meaning everyone had to start preparing for the arrival of more enemy and new comrades. Chatter filled the makeshift cafeteria as everybody had just now began returning from their long hours of hard labor. The port finally completed meaning everyone had to start preparing for the arrival of more enemy and new comrades. 

You leaned against the table and munched on some bread as you listened to Sasha talk. Despite your current situation, you couldn’t help but live in the present while everyone else worried of the future. Maybe this is why you preferred Sasha’s company more than anybody else’s.

The young brunette never liked stressing herself out thinking of the future, said it would give her gray hairs early — she lived in the present and made the best out of any situation that was thrown her way. Her presence felt like a breath of fresh air to those around her, it was no surprise Sasha has so many friends. Hell, even Floch likes Sasha and he doesn’t like anybody. 

“And then he tried to take my meat so I-” Sasha was cut off by Armin’s voice called both of your names from afar, he jogged over in a state of stress.

”Have you seen Eren?” He spoke aloud but you knew the question was more directed to you considering the two of you almost never left each other’s side. 

“Um no. The last time I saw him, Hange and the others were taking him back to his cell for the night.” Armin sighed.

”Yeah he was, but Commander Hange said he asked to stop for a second to take a piss and when they looked back he was gone.” Armin explained, running his hand through his hair. You sighed and gave your unfinished reread to Sasha who gladly took it. 

”I’ll help you look.”

It wasn’t uncommon for Eren to run off sometimes. Frankly, it happened whenever he got stressed and didn’t feel like being smothered anymore. He never went far, never went somewhere completely off the grid, but always somewhere he knew you and only you would find him. Today being an example of that. 

Legs burning from all the walking, you finally reached the rocky shore where you saw a distant body swimming in the water. Muttering an annoyed “what the hell?” under your breath, you walked closer to the shore.

Stepping up to the elongated rocks that acted as a deck, you make out your brown haired boyfriend bobbing up and down in the water until he finally noticed you. His eyes lit up as a smile stretched onto his face and he pulled himself out of the water, wasting no time in running towards you with open arms. 

Making a playfully disgusted face, you curled into yourself and Eren threw himself onto you and wrapped his arms around you. You groaned and he squeezed you tightly.

”Gross, you’re all wet.” You playfully complained, he didn’t say anything and instead pulled away, holding you by your shoulders. “Why did you run?” 

He shrugged, “I didn’t run.” You gave him a pointed look, ”I merely got distracted by a butterfly and casually walked away from their line of sight.” 

You rolled your eyes, “Yeah well it’s still considered running, Eren.” You placed your hands on his chest, “What are you doing here, anyways? It’s already dark.” 

“Just wanted to take a little swim.” He grabbed your hand on his chest and lead you towards the edge of the rocks where he let go of your hand and jumped in. 

“Since when do you know how to swim?” You giggled, Eren’s head emerged from the water and placed his head between your thighs with his arms folded on the side of your thighs. 

“Since now, of course.” Smiling cheekily, Eren placed a kiss on each side of your thigh. 

“Haven’t you heard the stories of this place?” 

“What stories?” 

“Apparently, many years ago there were these two Eldians who had escaped the walls, lovers. They left before night fall meaning it was simple enough to get through Titans as they were beginning to slow down without the sunlight. And when they finally reached the ocean, they thought they made it...but then came an abnormal. Adam, the man he was grabbed by the Titan and told Lilith, the woman to run away into the sea and leave him behind. But it was useless and after devouring the love of her life the abnormal came after her in the water. And as the Titan held her in his hand, mouth stained with the blood of her lover, Lilith vowed that any lovers lucky enough to reach the sea and swim in it would be cursed, as her and her lover were.” 

Silence came between you as you finished the tale until Eren finally spoke up

“Oh darling,” he leaned up to your lips, “we’ve always been cursed.” Just as his lips met yours, his arms wrapped around your back and yanked you into the water with him.

Ice cold water prickled your skin sharply as you two fell in, Eren still holding onto you while you flailed around. Letting go of the breath you were holding underwater, you slapped Eren shoulder once you reached the surface.

“You asshole!” He laughed aloud at your anger and threw his head back, “It’s not funny, Eren. I can’t even swim!” You exclaimed.

“Oh I can tell, you’re squeezing me like I’m about to drop you!” Eren laughed, referencing your legs that were tightly wrapped around his waist and your arms that followed. 

“Or will I?” He joked, pretending to let go of your legs to which you screeched and held his shoulders tightly, nearly drowning him yourself.

The boy was still in tears at your reactions, mouth wide open giving you the perfect opportunity to splash water into it. He quickly stopped laughed and coughed harshly at the salty taste in his mouth. 

”Not so funny when it’s happening to you, huh?” You chuckled, after his coughing feat he joined in on your laugher and began pushing himself around in the water, sending you into another state of panic. 

“Ow, stop scratching me.“ Eren complained, your nails digging into his shoulders

”Then stop moving!” 

“How else are you supposed to learn how to swim, my love!” He laughed, “Here, I’ll help you.” Ignoring your refusals, Eren pried your legs off of his waist and let them float in the water. 

“Okay now start kicking.” He instructed, you gave up and listened for once.

“Ah, good girl,” Eren pried your hand off his shoulders next and held your hands at an arms length away.

You let out a breath, trying to freak out and you kicked your legs like Eren instructed and swim together. Eren continued to praise you as you got the hang of it more and more, a genuine smile splayed across his cheeks as he watched you. 

“You see? Told you it’s not that hard.” He encouraged

”Yeah right, the only reason I’m still afloat is because you’re still holding my hands.” You scoffed.

”Oh yeah? What if I was drowning?” You rolled your eyes at his hypothetical

”Pfft, you’re on your own for that one cause I am not saving you.” 

Eren raised an eyebrow, “We’ll see about that.” Were his final words before he let go of your hands and went underwater. 

You gasped and tried to reach out for him which didn’t work as he floated downward. You kicked and splashed around, trying your best to stay afloat and alive.

”Eren? Eren?! Eren, stop it’s not funny anymore!” You splashed around to try to get his attention but after another couple seconds of silence you began to panic. 

“Eren? ....Stop it, the jokes over I get it...” you looked around you, only got find yourself completely and utterly alone. Slowing down your panicked breathing, you sucked in a deep breath and stopped kicking around, letting yourself fall slowly under the water. 

The sharp stinging of the salty water hit your eyes when you opened them, trying your best to find the brunette. After a couple double takes, the sight of a slow falling body caught your eye and you immediately swam towards it. A wave of fear ran through you when you finally caught up to his body, his eyes closed and his lips not their usual pink color—he looked kind of...dead. 

Wrapping your arms around his waist as he once did early on, you pushed his body higher up to the ocean top, knowing you wouldn’t be able to carry him the whole way yourself without you drowning too. You repeated this process until the moonlight was visible under the water and you finally pulled his up, his body weight falling onto you. 

Multiple curses escaped your lips and adrenaline pumped through your veins, not even feeling the burning in your lungs or the tears in your eyes until you finally reached the rocky sand and dropped Eren’s body onto it. You coughed and started chest compressions.

”What the hell, you crazy bastard?! Jean was right, you’re a suicidal fucking maniac!” You cried, switching between pushing your interlocked hands up and down on his chest and blowing your own oxygen into his lungs. 

“I swear to Ymir fucking Fritz, I will kill you if you die on me, Eren Yeager!” 

Your arms stung, your knees bled, and your head was getting lighter and lighter, not even hearing the distant voice of Armin who called out to you. It didn’t matter how much it hurt, it didn’t matter if you had to rip all the air out of your lungs for him, none of it mattered until he was safe. 

You were always that kind of person. The person who’d take all the breath out of their lungs for others. A lover, a friend, an elder, a child, a stranger or a foe, all human life was precious. Violence never solved the problems of today, Marleyans killed Eldians centuries ago until they themselves were slaughtered and the roles were reversed. For even more centuries Eldians tortured Marleyans, constantly reminding them of what their ancestors had done long before them, and now, again the cycle continues. 

Push up

Push down

Replace his breath with yours

Push up

Push down

Replace his breath with yours

Push up

Push down

Replace his breath with yours

Push up

Push down

Replace her breath with yours

Push up

Push down

Replace her breath with yours

Push up

Push down

Replace her breath with yours 

Hers? Her breath. The breath that was slowly fading more and more. Armin’s voice calling out to you in the distance. It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter. You had to save her. You’ve done it before, why isn’t it working now? Why did they all stop?

Why didn’t it work?

Armin called out to once last time, placing his hand on your shoulder, “Hey...that’s enough. She’s gone.” 

You pushed his hand off your shoulder and shook your head, “No...no, she’s not...she-....Sasha...” you whimpered and went limp in Armin’s arms, the blonde carefully holding your head and shoulders against his chest as you both cried together. 

Questions were all that filled your thoughts. Why did this happen? Why was Sasha the target? She was innocent, she was kind and beautiful and everybody loves her, why did this happen? Who did this? 

Well, who did it was already an answered question. Yes, the simple answer would be the child but, it wasn’t her fault. She didn’t pull the trigger unprovoked and she most certainly wouldn’t be here if the scouts never invaded Marley. And the reason the scouts in invaded Marley was because of....

”Eren...” you pulled away from Armin’s hug and stomped over the back of the airship where Connie had just finished breaking the news. 

You maneuvered around him, ignoring everybody else in your way as your hand impulsively raised and lowered, meeting the side of Eren Yeager’s face. A sharp stinging sensation on your palm snapping you out of your adrenaline high, and it all came crashing down. 

“You killed her! She was my best friend and now she’s dead! All because of you! She didn’t want to come here, I didn’t want to come here but we did. Because of you!” You shouted. 

As much as Levi personally loved throwing Eren around himself, he couldn’t stand you being the one to do it, knowing you’d feel the highest of regret later on. He stepped in, trapping your arms under his as you flailed around trying to get out of his grip.

Anyone who knew the two of you was more than a little shocked at the sight. Hell, even Zeke, who had only heard of you through his brother’s adoring words was shocked. The way Eren spoke of you, even he knew that this outburst was one nobody was expecting. 

By that point, you had already given fighting against an Ackerman and fell limp in Levi’s arms. Although awkward, Levi knew he couldn’t leave you in such a vulnerable state at the moment. 

The ride back home felt like years. Years of avoiding the back room in fear of seeing Sasha’s cold and lifeless corpse laying there, unmoving. Mikasa let you lay on her lap and cry your eyes out, not caring who was listening to you and never judging you for it either. She had lost her best friend too, but she knew she wasn’t alone in this.

Sasha was everyone’s best friend.

Even Eren’s. 

And no matter how cold and distant he seemed, he would always make room in his heart for Sasha. She was...odd, a strong soldier and an amazing asset to the scouts, it didn’t help that she was one of the only people who could make him laugh. It was nice, hearing her and Connie crack jokes that were funny because they weren’t, seeing her make Mikasa and Armin smile, and especially seeing how good of a friend she was to you.

He knew after every argument or every interaction you and him had would immediately be brought to the attention of Sasha and Mikasa. Sometimes, through the cracks of the stone in his cell, he would hear the three of you giggling and whispering about boys.

Through the cracks of the stone in his cell Eren stared. He knew what he had to do in order to protect the people he loved, and to do that he had to distance himself as much as possible from them. Starting with Hange.

They cursed under their breath as they left the room, Eren’s chest clenched but he ignored it and sat on the uncomfortable bed given to him. He didn’t hate Hange. He never could. In fact, he held a high respect for them, but he knew if he needed people to turn away from him and his destructive behavior, he had to start with the one in charge. 

Little did he know, you offered Hange some sleepy tea recommended by Levi and slipped into the basement where he was being held. The brown haired boy flinched and became defensive at the sound of keys jingling, getting ready to attack when necessary but relaxed when the warm colored light illuminated your face. 

He sighed and looked away, “What are you doing here?” You gulped and unlocked in cell, closing the door behind you and standing over him. Eren didn’t look up from his seat on the bed, choosing to stare at concrete floor instead of your eyes that were filling with tears.

”I’m sorry.” 

Eren shook his head, “For what?” 

“I hit you. A-and I know I was upset about....but that’s not excuse. I shouldn’t have put my hands on you, no matter what.” Looking up at you, Eren noticed your eyes downcast trying to hide the tears streaming down your face. 

He cursed himself mentally and stood up sharply. You gasped at the sudden movement and looked at him, not expecting him to yank you into a hug, his head in your neck. Immediately, you wrapped your arms around him and let go of the breath you were holding. 

“You were right.” He spoke up

”What?”

”To hit me. You had every right to.” You tried to pull away to look him in the face but couldn’t escape his strong grip. 

Ever since you all went to Marley, Eren had been acting different. Even before Sasha’s death, his eyes seemed duller, darker, he didn’t seem to care about the innocent lives he took. He barley even looked you in the eye despite not seeing each other for months. 

“What? No, why would you say that? You would never put your hands on me so I shouldn’t have either, where is this coming from?” You questioned 

“I saw it. I saw her die.” Eren mumbled, finally letting you pulled away. ”When I got in control of my Titan more, I saw it. I saw the future, I saw Sasha die and I thought I could stop it but...” You didn’t waste any time in sitting Eren down once more and wrapping your arms around him, letting him lean on your chest. 

Millions of thoughts were running through your head but all you cared about was making sure he was okay. And considering everything you had all found out in the past 4 years, it wasn’t as surprising to find out he could see into the future. 

For those little moments of silence, you ran your hands through his, now long brown hair and let him relax. There wasn’t any time for Eren to “relax” recently sand there wasn’t much you could do to help him considering you never knew what was going through his head, but for those few minutes were all he needed. 

All he needed to act selfishly. 

Eren suddenly pulled away from you and held your face in his large hands, “Do you trust me?” 

“Huh?” 

”Do. You. Trust. Me?” He repeated sharply

”Yes? Yes, of course I do.” You reassured him and maybe even yourself.

”After tonight you can hate me forever, or you can follow me forever, it’s your choice. But I won’t stay here.” He said, you shook your head, trying to figure out what he was trying to say.

”W-What? Eren, don’t tell me...” 

Eren took a deep breath and leaned in, pressing his lips into yours as if it’d be the last time he would. 

“I’m sorry...”

”Wha-“ 

With a sharp sting on your neck, your words were paused as Eren punched a thin syringe into your neck. You opened your mouth to speak but the artificial melatonin pumped through your veins quicker than you could think, finally taking a toll and allowing you to fall limos in Eren’s arms. Not catching the single tear that fell from his left eye. 

When you awoke, keys and yelling filled your ears before your sight did. As your eyes fluttered open, you found Commander Hange standing over you in both fear and anger, calling your name.

”Cadet! Where did he go?! Where did Eren go? Did you let him out? Did he escape? How did you get in?” All sorts of questions were thrown your way.

But nothing could shake the stake in your heart at the hands of Eren Yeager. Though...this won’t be the last time you’d be feeling that. 

[alexsfictionaddiction]

12 Lesbian Books Everyone Should Read This Pride Month

I need to point out how wonderful the updated version of the lesbian flag is. It’s inclusive of lesbians of all skin colours and that’s exactly what I’ve tried to do in this post. Pride is a time for acceptance, love and inclusivity and it feels especially poignant with everything that is happening in the world right now. So here are my favourite sapphic books that definitely need picking up, if your life is lacking a little girl power. -Love, Alex x

1. Something To Talk About by Meryl Wilsner.

Rumours flood the media that Hollywood starlet Jo and her assistant Emma’s relationship is something more than it is but could that actually be true? This brand new release is a sweet slow-burning romance set in a believable contemporary Hollywood that will help you escape.

2. Under The Udala Trees by Chinelo Okparanta.

When war breaks out in Nigeria, 11-year-old Ijeoma is sent away to safety where she falls for another girl -an experience that will forever change her. With elements of both Nigerian folklore and Christianity, this is a life story set against an eye-opening backdrop of African history, cultural attitudes towards sexuality and the effects of war.  

3. In At The Deep End by Kate Davies.

Twenty-something Julia hasn’t had sex for three years, when she gets her sexual awakening at a warehouse party and so transpires her new life as a lesbian. It’s a filthy, hilarious British rom-com with a Bridget Jones level of heartwarmth to it that reminds us that you don’t have to have it all figured out before you’re an adult. 

4. Juliet Takes A Breath by Gabby Rivera.

Juliet’s coming out didn’t go down well with her Puerto Rican family but now she’s interning with Harlowe Brisbane, a leading voice on feminism and being a lesbian, so surely she’ll get her life figured out, right? Funny and charming, this is a fierce educational novel that you will eat right up.

5. XX by Angela Chadwick.

When Rosie and Jules become the first lesbian couple to fall pregnant through innovative ovum-to-ovum technology, someone leaks the news and the whole world becomes incredibly interested in their lives. XX is a feminist, speculative critique of misogyny, inequality, homophobia and multiple other ills of the world that will pull you straight in.

6. The Miseducation of Cameron Post by Emily M. Danforth.

In 1989, Cam meets and falls for beautiful cowgirl Coley in their small conservative Montana town but her religious aunt has other, much darker, plans for her niece. Cameron Post is a heady daze of a novel full of angst and heartache that deals with very real issues for many LGBT teens, making it easy to see why its largely considered a seminal work in YA lesbian literature. 

7. Of Fire and Stars by Audrey Coulthurst.

Princess Denna is about to become queen of a land where magic is forbidden, while harboring a secret power of her own, but things get even more complicated when she meets her betrothed’s sister Mare. Intense friendship, conflicting loyalties and saving the world makes this fantasy novel a gorgeous read.

8. The Deep by Rivers Solomon.

Descended from pregnant African slavewomen thrown overboard, Yetu’s people have formed their own underwater society, free from sexual or gender labels, and Yetu remembers everything for them. This beautifully written novella is a very original, captivating and moving experience that is of paramount importance right now.

9. It’s Not Like It’s A Secret by Misa Sugiura.

When Sana moves to California with her family, she meets gorgeous and unique Jamie but both home and friendship dramas rear their ugly heads. As well as being a cute awkward romance, it also tackles racism, damaging stereotypes and celebrates interracial love.

10. Gideon The Ninth by Tamsyn Muir.

Tired of a life and afterlife of drudgery, Gideon plans to escape but her lifelong nemesis, necromancer Harrowhark has one last task for her. Gideon the Ninth is a very unique intricate fantasy with extensive world-building and a snarky, complex relationship at its heart.

11. The Color Purple by Alice Walker.

In the deep American South, Celie is separated from her sister Nettie, when she meets vivacious Shug Avery, who teaches her how to be her true self. The Color Purple is a classic within the black literature canon and explores race, abuse and feminism with wonderfully intriguing sapphic undertones. 

12. Laura Dean Keeps Breaking Up With Me by Mariko Tamaki and Rosemary Valero-O’Connell.

Laura Dean is Frederica’s dream girl but their on/off relationship is starting to ooze toxicity and Freddy realises that she needs to decide what -and who- is really best for her. This stunning graphic novel is a lesson to us all to go after the love we deserve as opposed to settling for the love we can get.

[redgillan]

Under Pastel Skies - 6

Sugar daddy!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Modern!AU Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.

Word Count: 4,327

Warnings: panic attacks, Bucky recalls his accident

A/N: I don’t have much to say, Bucky’s real emotional in this one. I hope you enjoy this chapter :’) 

Wannabe sugar daddies don’t interact, idc if you have money, eat it and leave me be.

Everywhere Bucky looked his eyes and ears were assaulted by a cacophony of sounds and colours. Red and green baubles hung from the ceiling, shimmering like disco balls and sending sparkles around the mall.

The air smelled like pine and cinnamon, something he usually liked, but it was so pungent and unpleasant that it made his stomach churn and bile rise up his throat. He tried to breathe through his mouth, forcing oxygen into his lungs.

Flashes of silver and gold momentarily blinded him, and as someone walked past him, their shopping bag knocked against his leg. It didn’t hurt but it made him seethe with misplaced anger. Beads of sweat broke out on the back of his neck.

Christmas carols played over the mall speakers, more specifically Jingle Bells which they played three times in less than an hour. Enough, enough, enough. He was suffocating, unable to breathe. He felt too big for his own skin, he needed to escape.

Then he felt your hand at the small of his back, guiding him toward what looked like a furniture store. He followed blindly, his vision blurry and unfocused, and sat down when you gently pushed him down onto a sofa.

Bucky shut his eyes and let his head fall back against the cushion. A woman came up and asked if you needed help but you told her that everything was fine. The buzzing in his ears made the voices around him strangely soothing, as if he was underwater. Now that he was sitting down, he felt a lot better.  

You didn’t try to touch him, something he was very grateful for. He could feel your weight shift next to him and knowing you were there was enough. He focused on you –your heat, your voice, the smell of your shampoo- and his breathing slowly returned to normal.

“Sorry,” he breathed out with a small smile, his head lolling to one side to look at you. “I ruined our shopping spree.”

The fear and panic had dissipated, leaving him cold, exhausted and craving skin to skin contact. He took your hand and linked your fingers together. Your hands were freezing cold.

“You didn’t ruin anything.”

He snorted. “Yeah, I did.” A sad smile curved his lips, he needed to change the subject. “Do you celebrate Christmas?”

You sank further into the sofa cushion sitting shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand.

“We celebrated so many different holidays,” you said. “Perks of growing up in a multicultural family. Christmas was wild though. One tree, five kids. That poor thing never stood a chance. Now I don’t really celebrate anything. December used to be so much fun, now it’s just not the same.”

“We should create our own holiday,” Bucky suggested, squeezing your hand.

“Aren’t you going to see your family?”

“Nah,” he replied with a yawn. “My sister is taking her kids somewhere warm, and my parents are traveling the country in their RV. You can invite your siblings if you want.”

“They’re not available.”

Bucky tried to decipher the expression on your face. Every time you talked about your siblings, you had a faraway look in your eyes, as though you were reliving a memory. He couldn’t tell what you were thinking but your face twisted into a painful grimace. Then suddenly it was gone.

“I want a tree.”

He watched you with a lazy smile. “I’ll get you a tree.”

You pulled him up to his feet and decided it was time to go home. Home. It still made Bucky weirdly warm inside when you called his apartment ‘home’. You crossed the mall, your arm looped through his as you walked, and took a cab to Brooklyn.

He almost fell asleep from the gentle rocking of the car moving through the streets of Manhattan. When he glanced at you, you were looking out your window watching the snow fall.

You’d been living together for almost two months now and Bucky couldn’t have picked a better roommate. He liked the way you sang in the shower, loud, cheerful and most definitely off-key. He liked that you had more pyjamas than every day clothes. He liked watching you paint from the living room, and it always made him laugh when you added weird things to his grocery list.

He could go to bed and sleep the whole night without waking up, feeling safer knowing someone else was there. Of course, not everything was perfect but it was close enough.

He woke up on the sofa a few hours later, still dressed and with a fluffy blanket thrown over him. The sun was setting, painting the sky with reds and oranges. He basked in the setting sun, a content smile on his face, before he sat up.

The TV was on, the volume low, and you were sitting cross-legged on the floor between the sofa and the coffee table going through a bunch of old photographs. Bucky looked around the room, taking in the new furniture and decor.

There was a comfortable armchair in front of the gas burning fireplace. Your book was resting on the seat of the armchair. You had also bought a lot of decorative pillows, some were pretty funny like the one that looked like a giant cookie.

“Whatcha doing?” he asked, his voice gruff with sleep.

You looked over your shoulder at him. “Hey, you’re awake! I bought some picture frames. I thought it’d make this place look less like a high end furniture store.”

“I liked it better when you thought this apartment was amazing.”

You laughed. “I still do, but it’s a bit... soulless.” You tilted your head back, looking at him upside down. “Sorry.”

“Gotta call a spade a spade,” he said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “All right, well, while you do that I’m going to start dinner.”

He pushed off the sofa but you caught his wrist before he could leave. “I’m already done. I’ve left some frames for you.”

“I already have lots of pictures upstairs.”

“I know, but no one ever goes upstairs,” you replied, letting go of his wrist. “And you’re not in any of the photos.”

Bucky’s eyes were drawn to the picture you were holding. It must have been taken on the day of your high school graduation, you were dressed in a cap and gown, smiling with your whole face. He’d never seen you smile like that. He recognized Peggy Carter right away, her hair was more silver-white than brown and there were deep wrinkles around her eyes.

Your mom wasn’t looking at the camera, she was scolding the young man who was giving you bunny ears. The man was grinning mischievously at the camera. Bucky couldn’t tell how old he was, he appeared to be either twenty or fifty.

There were two other women wearing sundresses, one had long brown hair, the other had twisted her hair into Bantu knots. A young man with dyed silver hair and dark roots was squatting in front of you, his arms crossed over his chest à la Backstreet Boys.

“You should frame this one,” he said, sitting on the floor next to you.

You shrugged. “I don’t know. It makes me kinda sad.”

Bucky learned not to dwell on the past. It hadn’t been easy but it would have been impossible to heal without the support of his friends and family. Grief manifests itself in a number of ways, it’s raw and complex, and comes from your soul. 

Bucky had a deep love for his childhood, especially his college years, but while he would cherish this time forever, he had accepted that he was a different person. He wasn’t the same naïve, youthful man he used to be, and it wasn’t a bad thing.

But he also knew that some people live in the past. It makes them feel alive.

“Y’know,” he started, meeting your eyes with a smile. “My hair used to be pretty long. I think I still have some photos in a folder somewhere.”

You clasped your hands together in a silent prayer. “Bucky, I’m going to be honest with you,” you deadpanned. “I need to see those pictures. I need them now. It’s a matter of life and death.”

He rolled his eyes while he got to his feet. “You’re so dramatic. I’ll go get ‘em.”

Bucky took the stairs up to his office and came back a few minutes later with a laptop under his arm. He sat on the floor next to you and set the laptop on his lap.

“You promise you won’t make fun of me?”

“Absolutely,” you replied, mimicking a Cheshire cat grin.

He sighed and tried to look stern but it was nearly impossible. You were too lovely, and he couldn’t help but smile. He opened up the laptop and glanced at you from the corner of his eye; you were practically vibrating.

He started going through the photos when he found one of himself at a party. He was in his early twenties, slumped in a chair, his eyes glassy and unfocused. In the next one he had been joined by two equally drunk women, and he was now roaring at the camera.

“Early twenties, two arms, and not a care in the world,” he said with a little sigh.

You leaned forward, your elbow resting on the coffee table. “Looks like you were having fun.”

“College was a lot of fun,” Bucky said, grinning to himself.

“What was your major?”

“English,” he replied. “I was a really good student, I could have chosen anything but there were more girls studying literature so I enrolled as an English major.”

“Wait!” You recoiled as if you had misheard him. “Did you really choose English because there were more girls?”

He made a funny grimace, and his nose scrunched up a bit as he mulled it over. “Yeah... my priorities were a bit mixed up. Hormones and all.”

You lowered your face into your hand and laughed. When you looked up at him, he was sporting his boyish grin and you shook your head at him.

In the next picture, he was clad in a black university graduation gown standing next to a blond man also dressed in a black gown. They were smiling, sunglasses perched on their nose.

“When I graduated, I had no idea what to do with a BA in English,” Bucky said after taking a long look at the photo. “The thing is, I never found my life’s calling. In high school I didn’t know what job I wanted to do, or what really motivated me, and to be honest I never really thought about it. I figured I’d find my passion in college but...” he trailed off with a shrug. “You’re lucky to have found your passion.”

“Is that why you want to help me?” you asked. “Because I found my calling and I wasn’t pursuing it.”

He tilted his head to one side, considering. “Yes, I guess that’s part of the reason why I want to help you.” He took a shuddering breath.

“Turns out I wasn’t the only one struggling to keep my head above water.” He pressed his index finger to the computer screen. “This is Steve, my oldest friend. He had just started working as a professional freelance photographer. I had nothing to do so I decided to help him build his portfolio. You’re an artist, I’m sure you know that a portfolio will make or break you.”

“It shows what you’ve accomplished, the skills you mastered,” you said, nodding. “Your potential employers will want to see your portfolio.”

“Exactly, and you have to show them your best work. In Steve’s case, it meant taking risks. No matter how talented you are, no one’s gonna pay you for a shot of the Brooklyn Bridge. It’s gorgeous but it’s not rare.”

“So what did he do?”

“We decided to climb Mount Everest.” He mechanically rubbed his stump and your eyes followed his movement. “It might’ve been the dumbest idea we’ve ever had but it sort of made sense at the time. Steve needed a challenging project and I was trying to find my purpose. We trained for a year, put money aside and took a loan. We were young, we thought we were invincible.

“The thing is,” he continued, “Mount Everest is the most famous mountain in the world. It’s crowded and only half the climbers reach the summit. A lot of people die.” He took a small pause. “Sometimes they can’t remove their bodies and they become landmarks. Our Sherpa told us about this man, they call him Green Boots. He’s sort of curled up in a fetal position near what they call Green Boots’ cave. When you walk past him, it looks like he’s just sleeping and because it’s so cold out there he’s actually well-preserved.”

“Oh, God.”

“Yeah, it’s awful,” Bucky let out a small, humourless laugh. “When I fell, I dislocated my arm and it pinched my axillary artery completely closed. It cut off circulation. That’s why they had to amputate. I was just lying there, too weak to call for help, watching people walk past me. They thought I was dead. And I remember thinking, ‘I’m going to die here. I’m going to die here and people will refer to me as Blue Jacket.’ Then Steve and the Sherpa found me, and Steve carried me on his back until they found a shelter. When the rescue team arrived, it was too late to save my arm.”

He went through the photos in silence and glared at the screen without really seeing it, his mind far away. On the screen, there was an endless stream of blurry smiles and blue eyes but he couldn’t look away. His thoughts cleared up when he felt the back of your knuckles along his cheek and jaw.

He unclenched his teeth, feeling the pain in his jaw. You brushed your fingers through his hair, pushing it off his forehead. You mindlessly played with the curl on top of his head and raked your fingernails gently over his scalp. When you spoke, your voice was just a soft whisper.

“Come back to me.”

Bucky forced his eyes shut and swallowed past the lump in his throat, tears pooling on his lower lashes. He took a deep breath and released it slowly. After a moment, he felt his body beginning to relax.

“How do you do that?” he asked in a pleading voice, turning his head to look at you. “How do you quiet the noise in my head?”

The question caught you off guard but you recovered quickly. You took his arm and draped it over your shoulders. “I don’t know,” you said, snuggling into his side. “It’s your second panic attack today. Did I push you too hard?”

“No.” His response was immediate. “I don’t like winter. It’s freezing cold and it gets dark at three thirty. Not my favorite time of the year.”

“But this helps, right?” you asked, waving your hand back and forth in the space between you.

He chuckled. “Yeah, it helps a lot.”

“Good.” You snuggled a little closer.

“But since you’re hoarding my arm, you’re gonna have to go through the pictures yourself,” he added, grinning down at you.

“Sorry,” you laughed. You reached out and slid two fingers over the touchpad guiding the cursor over the arrow icon. “So where are those pictures of you with long hair, uh?”

He knew you were trying to distract him but still made him blush. Those photos were in a folder titled: recovery spring 2010. He gave you directions to find it and waited for your reaction, wondering if you would burst into laughter at the sight of him with long hair and a lot more weight on.

“Wow.”

Bucky turned his attention to the screen to see which one had caught your interest. It was a selfie Steve had taken one sunny afternoon after he had forced Bucky to go out with him and Sam. They were sitting outside drinking iced tea.

Steve’s smile was blinding. He was wearing that stupid baseball cap he loved so much. Bucky sat hunched over in his seat behind Steve, his smile small but genuine. It was the kind of smile that said ‘my friends forced me to join them but I’m secretly glad they did’. Sam was leaning sideways against Bucky, his eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses.

“You look like a completely different person,” you said. “So... strong.”

“Hey!” he gasped in mock offense. “How dare you? I’m still strong.” He removed his arm from behind your shoulders and raised it to flex his biceps. “Look at that!”

With a roll of your eyes, you let your hand roam over his muscular arm slightly squeezing his biceps. “Okay, I’m impressed.”

“Ah! Thank you,” he said with a pleased smile. “Now, c’mon, s’ time to eat.”

Bucky got to his feet and extended his hand to help you up. You trailed behind him as you walked toward the kitchen. “I bet Steve could rip a log in half with his bare hands.”

“I’ll ask him.”

“Where is he?”

“Hard to say. He works for National Geographic now. I think he’s supposed to be in Siberia.”

You spent the next few days like tourists. You showed Bucky your favourite museums, stayed way too long in front of several artworks but he never complained. Bucky took you to the movies. You sat together in the dark for several hours watching foreign films, and you only fell asleep once. Then the two of you would walk around Manhattan speaking in a made-up language and pretending to be characters in a movie.

Bucky couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so carefree. A little voice in the back of his head kept repeating ‘enjoy it while it lasts’ but he chose to ignore it.

“Thanks for helping me with this,” Bucky said, gesturing at the tree in the living room. “She went to the store to buy some ornaments.”

He handed Sam a bottle of beer which he took with a smile before tipping it to his lips for a long drink. Bucky hit his beer bottle on the counter to uncap it and followed Sam into the living room.

“She’s excited, uh,” Sam said with a grin. “You guys are spending Christmas together?”

“Liss,” Bucky replied after taking a swig of beer. “We’re celebrating Liss this year.”

“’The hell is that?”

Bucky shrugged. “It’s an old word. It means comfort, happiness.” A respite from pain. “We decided to make our own holiday. We’re going to spend two days in our fanciest loungewear, eating junk food and playing board games.”

“Cute,” Sam drawled out. “When’s the wedding?”

“Don’t say that.” Bucky glared at him. “Why do you always do that? I finally feel at peace with myself. I’m happy, I’m ready to take on new challenges. Why do you always have to make fun of me?”

Sam’s eyes widened at this. “Woah, I’m joking. It’s what we do. You tease me, I tease you. C’mon, I know things have been hard for you. I’m proud of you,” he rushed to say, afraid he might have hurt his friend’s feelings, but then he caught Bucky’s barely concealed smirk behind his beer bottle. “You’re messing with me.”

“Of course, man. Can you say ‘I’m proud of you’ again? Wanna make it my ringtone.”

“Screw you.” They sipped their beer in silence, each deep in thought. “But you like her, right?”

Bucky twirled the neck of the bottle between two fingers. “I do, she’s nice.”

Sam shook his head like he was frustrated with the answer “That’s not what I mean, and you know it. Don’t bullshit me.”

“I’m not in love with her, Sam.”

“I never said anything about being in love.” He was silent for a moment before he added, “Beside there’s an entire world between like and love.”

Bucky caught a glimpse of hurt and fear in the depths of Sam’s eyes. He reminded him of Steve: strong yet vulnerable, generous and righteous. Bucky had a feeling Sam wasn’t talking about you.

“Is this about Natasha?”

Sam hung his head and stared at the beer bottle he rolled between his hands. “Sometimes I feel like it was inevitable. These sugar daddy relationships are complicated; at first it’s fun and easy, we both get what we want.” He took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. “And then it changes, so fast you barely see it coming, and it becomes the only thing you look forward to.” He took another swig of beer.

“These few hours with her mean more to me than anything else in this goddamn world. But it’s not real, none of this is real.”

“How do you know it’s not real?” Bucky asked, swallowing past the lump in his throat.

“I pay her.” Sam gave him a sad smile. “She spends time with me because I pay her. Sex wasn’t part of our deal but it came naturally. It’s going to end, one way or another. And If my time with her is limited, why make things complicated, y’see?”

An uneasy feeling gnawed at Bucky’s stomach, taunting him, trying to make him see something he wasn’t ready to see yet. “What if she feels the same way ‘bout you?”

“I don’t know,” Sam sighed. “To know that I’d have to talk to her, and I’d rather not take my chances. I’m happy with the way things are right now. It hurts, but I’m okay.” He leaned back and made himself comfortable. “You gotta be careful, Bucky. I see the way you look at your angel. You’re skating on thin fucking ice.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Like, love,” Sam said, weighing the two words. “And everything in between.”

They mulled over Sam’s words while they finished their beer. A million thoughts raged through Bucky’s head, circling around like wasps, buzzing and annoying. He was relieved when he heard the front door open.

“Italian leather loafers, mmh is Sam here?” you called out from the kitchen where you set your shopping bag down on the table before you joined them in the living room. “Hey guys! What’s the matter? You both look like someone kicked your puppy-OH MY GOD! LOOK AT THAT TREE!”

While you ran across the living room, Sam cast Bucky a look. The message was clear; be careful. They got to their feet and acted like nothing happened. Sam put on his coat and gave you a quick hug before he left.

Bucky was silent while you were decorating the tree. He let you decide where you wanted to put the tinsel and baubles. He just sat there with a vacant look in his eyes, handing baubles. A smile curled his lips when you cupped his cheek and ran the pad of your thumb along his cheekbone. He looked up at you.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” Bucky said with a small smile. “Just old and moody.”

You laughed. “Come here, help me with this. It’s actually super boring when no one’s fighting for the baubles.”

“Oh, you wanna fight, angel,” he said with a smirk while he played with a tinsel garland. “Ok, let’s fight.”

You took a step back. “I’ve changed my mind.”

“Too late!”

You shrieked when he launched himself at you. He wrapped the tinsel garland around you, loosely pinning your arms to your sides. You laughed so hard your eyes watered and your shoulders shook. He used it to his advantage and looped two baubles over your ears like giant earrings.

Still laughing, you tugged one of your hands free and threw a handful of tinsel all over Bucky before you ran away. He chased you around the living room, using one of the fairy lights as a lasso.  

Soon, the living room was a giant mess. There was more tinsel in Bucky’s hair than on the tree, and you had managed to wrap the fairy lights around his body. You look pretty ridiculous with your giant earrings and dishevelled hair.

You and Bucky collapsed on the floor, out of breath and euphoric. The sun was starting to set behind the skyscrapers casting a warm golden glow over the room. You turned on the fairy lights and burst out laughing when Bucky sparkled like a tree.

He found his phone on the sofa and handed it to you. You opened up the camera app and nestled closer to him. The first photo was blurry because you couldn’t stop laughing. Bucky thought the second photo was nice but you didn’t like it.

“My smile is too wild,” you said.

“You look beautiful,” he argued. “I look like a Christmas tree.”

Bucky felt a pleasant stir in his belly when you placed your head on his shoulder. Be careful. He could practically hear Sam’s voice in his head. His chest was hurting. It wasn’t unpleasant, just peculiar and unexpected. He closed his eyes and rested his cheek on top of your head.

“Bucky! You have to open your eyes,” you scolded him after looking at the picture, unaware of his inner turmoil.

He wasn’t sure he could; tears were welling up in his eyes. He was terrified of his feelings for you, but his body was screaming at him to stop burying his head in the sand. He didn’t want you to see the tears in his eyes, he didn’t want to alarm you, because the truth was, he hadn’t been careful.

“Can’t. I’m comfy,” he replied, masking his true feelings behind a joke.

“Open them or I’ll tickle you.”

He chuckled. “Okay, okay, no need to use force.”

He soldiered on and opened his eyes, smiling at the camera. He liked you, and he promised himself he would never tell you. His feelings didn’t matter, it wasn’t part of your deal.

Part 7