#the arrow guy SHOW YOURSELF

[walpu]

The Duke told all of us to go to the village he had picked out. To tell us to rest up, and he will inform us when our next training session was due.

We stayed there. The residents were sweet and kind, they took us in and gave us warm food and clothes.

But one night, there was a fire in the middle of town. It started from a haybale being set on fire after the barnyard was doused by fuel, the whole village burned in a matter of hours.

We tried to contact the Duke, but he didnt reply.

We turned on each other. Pointing fingers, saying that it was the other who had decided to set fire to an innocent village and trying to place the blame of entire village's surviving population on us.

Soon, the killings started.

The weakest in combat, the crippled ones, and the selfless ones went down first. They had let their strength dwindle, and their hearts open, and they paid dearly for the price.

Next, all the villagers, adult, child, it didnt matter. Devastation rained upon them as we all knew that we couldn't let any survivors reveal what had went down.

The screams, they haunted us for a long time. Leynor was the only ones that were considered the luckier ones to survive. I can understand that. He was shy, and hid for the most part of the death showdown.

It’s a good thing Ranis accompanied him throughout. It would have been an adorable and teasable moment if it wasn’t in the midst of life and death.

Next, it became a hunting competition. Sahim and Ivar were missing throughout, thankfully, they simply just hid, and killed whoever tried to overpower them.

One by one, all of them perished, from being shot, stabbed and mutilated.

I was one of them. I did what I had to. But I hated every moment of it. I grew up with these people, they were my friends and rivals alike, and they were the same people I had to slaughter to ensure my survival.

But I pushed forward. I purged all obstacles, all of my allies and foes alike, and I tore down everything just so I would be the last to win.

And in the end, I lost everything. My friends that accompanied me when I was far from family, my dignity, and the remaining friendships that didn’t last till today.

And I even lost… him. Matthen. Sweet Matthen. Why did you have to be so stupid, so sacrificing, and so fucking loving? If you had just killed me, right then and there, you would be alive. I would have rather hunted down whoever was left if we were not running out of time before sundown.

It was horrible. The blade pierced him with such sickening ease, I felt sick to my stomach for the first time since my childhood. He was still smiling. Still smiling as I held his ever growing colder body, and crying for his forgiveness.

It’s blurry after all that. I remember Haben rushing over and hugging me to his body, I felt so weak, so disgusted with myself. He held me close, and he was the one who had to pry me off of Matthen’s cold body.

I was the one who purged the most of them. It was something to be proud of, but it wasn’t. I had killed so many. So many who had a life, and so many who had opportunities. And yet, I continued to kill even in my adult years

I can’t look at myself in the mirror. I don’t want to see the person who’s still alive, after slaughtering so many innocents like a killing machine.

I can’t look at the person who should have died instead of Matthen. He still smiled. He knew that I had a family to go home to, who didn’t even know what had become of me.

But he did as well. He had a life, and he so willingly gave that up for a pathetic, selfish man like me.

The Duke is dead now, but his children are not.

I will make them suffer the way they made all of us suffer. I will make them taste the wrath of their own flames, and listen to their screams and howls as they wither away.

-a exert of a diary note you found in Verian’s notebook. It’s burned at the edges, likely from fiery rage.

There’s a reason why Verian had so many enemies to this day, the arrow guy is the one who hates him the most, because Verian had killed all of his friends.

There were only 20 survivors left amongst around hundreds, but the worst thing is that if Verian didn’t get another kill before the sun cracked over the horizon, he would have died, and Matthen didn’t want that.

There’s a reason out of everyone, Haben is the one Verian called his friend with benefit, because Haben was the first, besides Matthen and even before Aventurine, to have ever seen him so vulnerable yet never take advantage of him.

You will never stop tormenting Verian, won't you? 😭

[tea-writes19]

ra-ra-rasputin | b.b.

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

summary: your boyfriend discovers some interesting edits of himself

w/c: 598

warnings: fluff, slight angst, mentions of bucky’s past, swearing, comedy?, minor ca:bnw spoilers

a/n: this is based off of this post and written for @allthewordsofafeather. also my first time writing bucky so i’m sorry if anything feels ooc!! never written in second pov before either so…

It started as a joke.

You and Sam had been looking at some tiktoks when an interesting video came up on your fyp. It was an edit of Bucky to the iconic song Rasputin. Some of the videos used were easily identified as being from different news sources from missions he and Sam had gone on in the past.

Other clips were older, grainier, and distinctly showed Bucky's old titanium arm in them. You didn't want to know where this person had acquired such footage.

Fascinated you and Sam had fallen down a rabbit hole of edits of your boyfriend and began to send every single one to each other when they popped up on your fyp’s. Now weeks later it had come back to haunt your ass.

Sam had finally convinced Bucky to download tiktok. Claiming it would be good for his campaign and reach the younger voters. In reality it was so Sam could send all the stupid tiktok’s he found funny to him instead of you or Joaquin.

The problem started with a simple misclick. You had been lying in bed bundled up in the comforter scrolling when another edit of Buck to Rasputin came on. This one had sped the audio up and showed Bucky fighting some random bad guy of the month. Smiling you hit the arrow and sent the video to Sam and went back to your doomscrolling.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*

The ping of a notification coming through woke you from your nap. Groaning you opened your eyes, gaze narrowing on your phone which now lied haphazardly at the edge of the bed.

Freeing yourself from the confines of your makeshift cocoon you had grabbed your phone and squinted at the bright screen. A single message on tiktok showed on your lock screen.

bucky: what the fuck?

Your brows furrowed as you racked your brain for what video could have pertained to such a response from your boyfriend. You didn’t remember sending him any videos as you usually showed him your likes when he was home. And the only tiktok you remember sending that afternoon had been—

“shit.”

Scrambling you sat up, turning on the bedside lamp and unlocking your phone to enter the app. Eyes wide you tapped on messages and Bucky’s icon and saw what you feared.

You hadn’t sent the edit of your boyfriend to Sam. You had sent it to Bucky.

Horror replaced the shock on your face as you realised Bucky had seen the tiktok. You cursed Sam for showing Buck how to use the fucking app instead of just hiring a social media manager.

you: I can explain…

bucky: doll, why is there a video of me fighting a guy to a song?

you: it’s an edit. some people like to take clips of celebrities and fictional characters and put them to a song or audio. there’s a bunch of Sam and even me as well.

bucky: why would anyone do that?

you: because it’s fun? idk people just like to watch videos of their celeb crushes or whatever. really buck it’s not anything bad and that video wasn’t even meant for you!! I thought I sent it to Sam but I must have misclicked.

There was a pause in the messaging and you assumed Bucky had simply given up on trying to understand until—

a new message popped up.

bucky: WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU SEND IT TO SAM?!?

God, you were going to throttle Sam for this…

© tea-writes19 do not repost, translate, or copy

[spxllcxstxr]

Northern Attitude (I) • C.S

(Gif not mine)

Request: hey!! can i request something where you’re a targaryen and you’ve been sent to speak with cregan like jacaerys did on the show, but you’re quite soft spoken and feel lowkey intimidated by all these big burly northmen. and ofc some flirting with cregan and he makes you feel safe :) -- @sarahisslytherin

Summary: In the process of assuring Winterfell’s loyalty to your mother, you get close to Lord Stark

Warnings: fem!reader, you’re the daughter of Rhaenyra but I don’t specify the father so it can be more inclusive (older than jace), alcohol and eating mentions

Word Count: 1.3k

A.N: This wasn't going to be this long and then I got so into it. I'm actually really happy with how this turned out! Not just because it's actually over 1k words, but also because i really really like it! And I hope you guys enjoy it too!!

Part I | Read the last part here!

•

The bitter cold of the North nips at your extremities even when housed inside the walls of Winterfell. This was a cold you felt right down to the bone, despite the furs your host had provided you with only hours prior when you arrived.

Since your arrival, you have occupied yourself in your chambers, flitting between the books on the shelves and the small hearth on the other side of the decent sized room.

It is not until late your host makes an appearance; matters from the Wall taking priority over the Queen's daughter. You held no ill will, knowing how important the Wall was for the Northmen closest to it.

The greeting outside of your chamber door goes smoothly; since birth you had to greet numerous Lords and Ladies, this one being no different. His charming looks, though stoic, catch you off guard. You take his offered arm before he guides you to the welcome feast.

Cregan leads you through the dark stone corridors of Winterfell, your arms intertwined as you hold onto the crook of his elbow. You feel his strong muscle through his many layers of thick fabric. Your footsteps echo along with the metallic rattling of your guards behind the two of you. The absence of conversation is comfortable, however, something you truly have not felt since the death of your Grandsire.

Beside you, Cregan practically radiates warmth which has you almost melting into his side. Despite the chill, his hands are uncovered, the palm of his hand rests on your arm, heating your covered skin beneath.

The sight of the rugged wooden doors causes you to stiffen almost immediately. The reality of your purpose for being at Winterfell cools your blood as it finally washes over you. You were here on behalf of your mother, the rightful heir to the Iron Throne. Swallowing uneasily, you attempt to calm your nerves.

Sensing your distress, Cregan leans closer to your frame. "Do not fret, Princess," He mutters kindly. "You have no one to convince except me—and I am already highly inclined to agree to your terms."

You do not spare your host a glance as your face burns. In front of you, the grand doors open, revealing a large hall and guests already rising for the two of you.

Your gaze glides over the bowing figures, all men, you notice. The only women in the hall were serving girls; stiffly standing at the ends of the room, pitchers full of presumably ale clutched in their hands.

Attempting to muster up a commanding presence was difficult when next to the Lord of Winterfell, for he commands the room with no effort. His men watch you as you continue to the other side. Their intense stares and built bodies making you nervous. Swords were strewn recklessly across their dining tables, bows and arrows litter the floor. In their eyes you were a defenseless babe crawling into a den of wolves.

The men in King’s Landing and Dragonstone were dangerous in a different way. Their sharp wit and web of lies could cut deep and kill. The men of the North, however, used their brute force and self-assured bravery to kill you just as dreadfully. Any one of these men could bloody you as you walk by them. This rattles you just as much as the plotting traitors back in King’s Landing does.

Taking a deep breath, you feel the soothing motions of Cregan's thumb tracing circles against your arm. The reassurance pulls you out of your spiral of thoughts. With your chin held high you continue to the front of the hall, the long wooden table already covered with food and goblets of wine and ale.

After a few words from both you and Cregan the feast begins and the once silent hall becomes almost deafening. There were plenty of jeers and jokes thrown around at your expense. If you had more fire in your blood like the rest of your family, you might have said something to stay their tongues.

You and Cregan make small talk, the two of you paying more attention to the plates on the table. By the time your appetite is sated the Lord of Winterfell had noticed your meek demeanor and timid glances at the drunk Northmen below.

"Pay them no mind, Princess," The warm light of the hall's hearth dance in Cregan's striking grey eyes. "These rowdy bastards lack decency after a drop of ale."

You scan Winterfell's great hall from your position at the high table. Cregan Stark's men were all in various states of disarray, though you suppose it’s only characteristic of Northerners. The room was loud, almost overwhelmingly so, with booming laughter and arguments that spanned across the tables.

"Not like Dragonstone, I presume?" At Cregan's soft yet baritone voice, heat creeps up your neck.

Your gaze turns to the Lord of Winterfell, a smile gracing his usually stoic face. "Not at all, my Lord. Dragonstone is more.."

"Boring?"

"Traditional," You finish, smile mirroring his own.

Cregan snorts. "Aye, you Southerners have quite the stick up the arse."

"Oh really now?" You lightly giggle, tilting your head as if to challenge the Northerner at your side. You drink from your goblet, the red wine sweet on your lips, eyebrows raised.

"Aye, Princess. I think you need a Northerner to invigorate your life down there."

You hum in response, the wine making your skin tingle. With your attention now solely on Cregan Stark, you feel yourself melting into comfort.

Cregan briefly pauses, looking into your eyes. They mirror an oncoming winter storm and you’re unable to look away.

“I have something to attend to, Princess. My men will escort you and your guards to your quarters.” He takes your hand in his, the delicate grip of such a strong man making you bite your bottom lip. “I will try to see you before the night ends.” With that, his lips meet your knuckles in a soft kiss.

Cregan heaves himself out of his seat, throwing you one last smirk before leaving you in the hall with your guards and the remaining feasting men.

With one last sip from your goblet, you allow yourself to be escorted to your chambers, tugging your fur cloak tighter around you.

The crescent moon is shining through your window when you hear three knocks on you door. Assuming that this late night visitor could only be Lord Stark, you rise from the bed, adorning the fur cloak your host had provided you earlier in the day.

The door creaks as you open it tentatively. Cregan stands at the threshold, wearing the same attire from the feast. You take note of the hint of pink on his cheeks and the red hue of the tips of his ears peeking out of his shoulder length brown hair. Whether this was a result of the North's bitter chill or something else, you do not know.

"Princess." He bows his head as he greets you.

"Lord Stark..." You breathe out, smiling at the man in front of you. "Is this visit based on the business of the Crown?"

"No, Princess, I just..." His low tone tapers off as he lifts his hand up in order to stroke you face. His fingertips feel warm against your skin. You wait with bated breath for his next move. Slowly, his fingertips trace down your delicate skin to hold your chin between his index and his thumb. He tilts your head up slightly. His stormy grey eyes never leave your own. "I just wanted to gaze upon your beauty once more before I fall asleep."

The maneuver has you practically trembling under your heavy furs. You wet your lips, his eyes only quickly following the movement before once again settling back on your eyes.

"I am happy to indulge in your desires...my Lord." You whisper, voice almost quivering.

"Sleep well, Princess," With that, Cregan removes his touch, though his warmth still lingers across your face. He bows once more before turning and walking down the stone corridor.

Slowly you close your chamber door, smiling lips pursed.

"Mother will be pleased." You sigh before sitting once more on your bed, thoughts of Cregan Stark dancing through your head.

•

[tvgals]

gojo hates when you’re mean to yourself.

and yet your daughter hates it even more.

you were picking up a few stragglers from the clothes you’d brought upstairs when you noticed a breeze on your back. for some reason, your pants didn’t fit like before.

you walked back into your shared bedroom and stripped of all the clothing besides your bra and panties. you sighed when you saw how wide your hips had gotten, how the cellulite on your legs was so noticeable, and how your face started to look older.

tears welled in your eyes. maybe having another kid was a bad idea if this is how you looked after one. you can’t help but see the way your stomach got pudgier and how your arms got thicker. eventually, the tears started to flow. you sat on the floor, holding your face in your hands. gojo walks in, a cheery smile on his face, that was until he saw the state his wife was in.

“baby, baby…what’s wrong?” gojo asks, pulling you into a hug. it takes you a while to respond, but once you catch your breath you can’t help to look at gojo. “i’ve become so different since we first met. i’ve gotten chubbier, my face looks so different…” you ramble, the tears flowing out like water from a dam. “oh baby…” gojo mumbles, rubbing circles on your back.

gojo lifts your face up and smiles. “you getting chubbier doesn’t bother me at all, in fact it’s kinda cute. seeing how your body has changed from our daughter, seeing how strong you’ve became…” gojo says, smiling. “and your gorgeous face!” he grins, pressing kisses to your cheeks and forehead. “it just shows how much life you’ve lived. i can’t wait to see how it wrinkles up when we’re old.” you sniffle, the tears starting to stop. before gojo can start his rant again, your 5 year old walks into the room.

“why are you guys on the floor?” she asks, her eyes curious. “mommy just needed a hug.” gojo smiles. “oh! i drew this for you and daddy.” she says, holding the paper out to the both of you. you grab it and tears well up once again. it was a poorly drawn yet thought out picture of the three of you. an arrow pointing to you that read: “my very pretty mommy :)” you beam at the drawing bringing her in for a hug. “i love you!” she says, hugging the two of you back.

[wooskirbyplushie]

Our Little Secret ~ K.HJ

✰ idol!hongjoong x fan!reader where the guys catch hongjoong not so secretly slip a paper into your hand at a fanmeet

✰ word count: 3.6k

✰ warnings: some cussing (nothing crazy), pet names (love), female!reader, glasses!hongjoong cuz that’s enough to drive me insane tbh, she/they pronouns used for reader

✰ a/n: hey so i randomly got this idea one day and decided to execute it lol. tbh im not sure if i’ll keep updating this or not just because it was only supposed to be a little drabble but im 87% sure i’ll continue it just so my friends don’t hold me at gunpoint to finish it😭😭

✰ italics are used for inner thoughts, bold italic is just to emphasize words, also don’t pay attention to the timestamps for the texts later on k that’s it

dividers are created by @cafekitsune tysm !

you were late, you were so late, and you couldn’t blame anyone but yourself.

today has been marked in your calendar for almost 2 months, the day that ateez finally had a fanmeet in your city. you had saved up for the event for so long that when they announced it you didn’t hesitate to snatch your card out of your wallet to buy tickets for you and your best friend, kaylani.

but today you completely fucked your schedule up. oversleeping was not in your plans and neither was having to iron your outfit and rush to catch the train, just for it to delay for 15 minutes. in addition to the 5 minute bus ride from the station turning into a 30 minute walk because the bus you and your friend needed to catch didn’t run that day. who knew?

by the time you finally got to the venue, security were already trying to lock up the doors. i mean, it made sense considering they started meeting fans almost two hours ago.

“hey!!” kaylani shouted to try and get the guards attention. one of them looked up, utter confusion on his face as he watched two young girls jogging at them from across the parking lot.

“please we- we have tickets. the train made us late, but we cannot miss this event” you breathed out as fast as possible, trying to catch your breath at the same time. lani shuffled around for her phone to pull up the virtual tickets before the guards shrugged and scanned both tickets to let you in. “you girls either have really incredible or really horrible timing” one of the guys commented and told you to have fun.

you both squealed the second you got inside.

following the arrows and signs, you reached the auditorium that ateez was having their fanmeet in. now usually, fanmeets had a show in the first half and the actual meet in the second. but thankfully this time around it was swapped, meaning you guys didn’t miss any of the actual show. would it possibly be delayed because you were late? ehhh you’d cross that bridge when you got to it.

“we’re really here holy shit that’s ateez 20 feet away from us-“ you started rambling before lani cut through your thoughts with another squeal. she saw her bias, that had to be the only reason

“ITS JONGHOOO AHHHH”

“wow kaylani, it’s almost like he’s in the grou- AHHH LOOK ITS HONGJOONG”

kaylani rolled her eyes and mocked you. “wow y/n it’s almost like he’s in the group.” touché.

it wasn’t long before you realized they had changed quite a bit for this fanmeet. for example, the boys weren’t sitting in age order, or what you and lani called “fanchant order”. jongho was first and hongjoong was last, which didn’t really matter, but you knew your heart would race more and more as you got closer to your bias.

joong was your ult bias and had been for 4 years. you loved all of the members (duh) but the thought of possibly holding that man’s hand sent you over the moon. sure he held other girls hands, but this was gonna be your moment.

“bro. bro we’re next” kaylani whisper shouted while gripping your shoulder.

“unhand me you fein- oh god that’s jongho like he’s real.”

“RIGHT THATS THE CHOI JONGHO. 4TH GEN VOCALIST AHHHH” if you couldn’t tell she was a jongho ult before, it was super evident now. and because of that, you let lani go first.

******

if she could’ve, kaylani would’ve talked jongho’s ear off for 40 minutes. luckily he seemed intrigued by what was being said, laughing and giggling along with your friend. and now you wish you went first instead.

eventually she moved to wooyoung and was out-yapped, while you talked to jongho, really just telling him all of your favorite runs and verses he had. then you moved down again, and again, got to san and almost forgot your morals. he had you giggling for your life and the blush on your face was impossible to hide. he was THE ateez flirt.

but you and kaylani kept moving. to be real, since you were the last people in the room, there was no real rush but you decided to be mindful of the boys time.

yunho and yeosang were adorably nerdy and a hint of shy in real life, seonghwa really knew how to catch you off guard. one second you were talking about his lego collection and the next he was spewing out compliments and grabbing your hand. you tried to turn your face to hide your blush again, but you turned right into hongjoong’s direction and almost screamed. he was staring at you, and hard. what you hadn’t realized was kaylani whispering how much you “loved him” and how he was your “ultimate bias and first choice for a husband.”

yea you were either gonna go back to jongho and tell him how she brought his photocard to prom, or you were going to murder her.

you finished with seonghwa and slowly moved to hongjoong while lani stood off to the side and snuck a few pictures. “so. i’m your ult huh?” hongjoong questioned, arms folded across his chest.

you gulped, “y-yea you’ve always stuck out to me,” your voice came out in a whisper. hongjoong chuckled and leaned forward a bit.

“i’m your ult but you have no problem flirting with san and seonghwa in front of me, yea?”

“i don’t see the difference between that and you holding a bunch of fans hands, flirting with them.”

your mouth worked faster than your brain could, and you regretted it the second you finished the sentence, slapping your hand over your mouth.

hongjoong tilted his head and raised an eyebrow over the rim of his glasses. god he looked good in glasses. “quite the mouth on you…”

“y/n” you finished his sentence.

“y/n..” he trailed off like he was letting your name marinate on his tongue. “really pretty name for a really pretty person”

now you were really blushing. you didn’t care if it was fan service, he was servicing the hell out of you and you were eating it up. “thank you joong..” and he smirked in return.

******

you talked for a while (ok like 5 minutes) praising joong just like you did all the other members. he asked you what your favorite songs were, and san jumped in when he heard you mention desire. “honestly such a hater, desire is a masterpiece!!” you exclaimed as the top desire defender in tinyville. joong and san laughed before san walked off backstage and hongjoong picked up his sharpie, doodling while you talked.

you just kept going, your level of yapping surpassing kaylani while she was talking to jongho. hongjoong was eating it up though, especially when you started listing your favorite rap verse from him, even saying you could tell an ateez song by his signature giggle.

“it’s a bit embarrassing but i’ve listened to the songs so much that i just know? your music saved me, genuinely.” you trailed off before joong grabbed your hand.

“i honestly think it’s adorable.” he replied with a genuine smile. his smile was warm and bright, like lights on a christmas tree in december. you were soon brought back to reality when a guard told joong he had to wrap up with you so they could move on to the show. he nodded while messily writing something on a small piece of paper with his non dominant hand, still holding your hand with his other.

“well i guess this is goodbye, y/n. it was really nice talking to you and your friend” joong said, subtly crumbling a paper up in his hand before going to slip it into your own.

you weren’t dumb, you played like you didn’t even realize, following along with his skit. “it was really nice to meet you joongie,” you replied with a soft smile before you both got up and walked in your respective directions.

******

“you aren’t slick joong, i saw that.” san whispered while the group got dressed for the next part of the show. he was putting on a school boy uniform, adjusting the blue tie that went with it. hongjoong sat next to him, tying the shoes that he swapped into.

“doesn’t matter if you saw it, managers didn’t see it.” he responded with a shrug. joong knew him getting caught would mean having to change his number and most likely block you if you ever reached out to him, but in his head it was worth the risk.

“if i saw it, how do you know they didn’t see it captain?”

“because i waited till they turned around. and to be honest, i don’t care if they saw. i liked her.”

“liked who?” wooyoung asked as he walked over to steal san’s cologne. “because if you mean the last two people that came in, i don’t blame you! the last one was extremely pretty..”

joong just shot wooyoung a side eye before grabbing his phone, letting out a small sigh at the sight of no notification from you. he thought you guys had a little connection, right? then again-

“she probably just thought you were servicing her. ya know, your job.” san said stiffly, fixing a few stray strands of hair. joong clicked his phone off and threw it to his side with a slight head shake. maybe san was right, you probably didn’t look much into it considering it was his job to service his fans. maybe the managers did see him and they took the paper after you were out of joong’s sight. he was getting stressed over a girl he just met and even though his friends were talking to him in logic, hongjoong refused to learn that language.

he let out another small sigh before ruffling his hair and clapping his hands together to gather the group to get on stage. he had to clear his mind so he could perform. “alright guys let’s do this. hana dul set,”

“fightingggg!!” the boys yelled in unison and cheered, hyping each other up for what was to come. one by one, the boys started leaving the dressing room to take their places in the wings of the stage curtains.

seonghwa made sure everyone made it out, before looking back to see hongjoong lagging behind. “you coming bub?” joong looked at hwa, then his phone on the couch, and back to hwa before sending him a quick nod and walking out the door.

he’d be able to make it through the show.. right?

******

“soooo we’re just gonna ignore what happened back there? you know i saw that right love?” kaylani pressed you while fixing her lip gloss, making you jump out of your thoughts.

“what happened?? we just had a normal conversation!”

“normal my ass. you talked for like five minutes and then KIM HONGJOONG SLID YOU HIS-“

you slapped your hand over her mouth. you were in the empty bathroom but there was no reason to take any chances of a manager, or even worse, a fan overhearing and reporting back to one. “kay, i love you. dearly. but please lower your voice love…”

she sighed behind your hand and obliged before complaining about you smudging her lip combo. you rolled your eyes and pulled the crumbled sheet of paper from out of your jacket pocket to show your friend. the numbers were a bit wayward, but joong was writing with his left hand so it was understandable. he somehow still managed to make it legible enough for you to understand though.

“it’s his kakao talk im assuming. i still have the app from when you and i had to use it when i was in seoul.”

“do you know for sure it’s his number ?”

“of course i don’t know for sure kay, im trying not to lose my mind right n-“

“text it.”

that may have seemed like the obvious answer but you were still extremely nervous about getting caught. and the idea of getting caught by a manager was still circling around in your brain. “there’s a chance that he’s waiting for your text ya know. just text it and see.” kaylani finished with a shrug, her lips popping as she finished up her lip combo. you took a deep breath before shakily grabbing your phone and opening your kakao talk.

what were you even going to say ? hi ? that sounded basic but there really wasn’t much else to do. there was no reason to say your full name because, well, what if it wasn’t truly him ? lani must’ve gotten bored of watching you stare at your phone without typing anything because after a few seconds your phone was in her hands as she drafted up and sent a message for you.

“KAYLANI !???”

“it’s fine, i just said hey and that it was the girl from the fanmeet. unless he’s going around giving his number out to every pretty girl like a whore, he’ll know it’s you.”

she handed your phone back to you before throwing her hands on your shoulders and flashing you a slight smile. “it’ll be fine ok? now let’s go watch our boys do the utmost embarrassing shit!”

you nodded in response and stepped out of the bathroom to make your way to your seats.

now what your best friend didn’t know when you bought your tickets was that you saved enough for front row. and the surprise was pretty evident by the screech she let out once you dragged her to the seats in front of the stage.

“no way no way we’re this close HOLY- y/n forget hongjoong will you please marry me???”

you just laughed and playfully pushed lani towards her seat, “get off of me and sit down goofball.”

******

“2 minutes to showtime!!”

the lights were dimming as the members stood in the wings of the stage, mic packs being adjusted and pinned onto the boys. wooyoung was humming some vocal warmups to himself before he walked over to hongjoong. “jeez captain, lighten up. you look like yeosang told you that hwa was his favorite hyung and not you…”

hongjoong jumped, unnoticeable to wooyoung, and scoffed in response to his statement. “please, as if that would ever happen.”

“ah you’re right. you look like your mom told you that bumjoong is the favorite child.”

“is there a point to your escapades or do you just enjoy annoying me?”

a look of fake hurt flashed across wooyo’s face in response, “ouch. you must really be missing your pretty girlfriend to talk to your best friend like that joongie.”

hongjoong spun towards wooyoung and gave him, yet another, death glare. “keep your voice down are you insane ? listen, we have a job to do, get focused on that.” and with that he stormed back to his place on stage. just take a few breaths and it’ll be fine… no reason for you to snap on your members.

“places guys; 10 seconds!”

he didn’t think it was possible, but that 10 seconds was both the longest and shortest time of hongjoong’s career. he knew you were in the crowd, he knew he had to do his best just for you. but what he wasn’t expecting when he scanned the crowd was to make direct eye contact with you and your friend in the front row.

oh he was soooo fucked.

so fucked that hwa had to elongate his intro and improvise an extra end part to get joong to snap out of his daze.

“ah i’m sorry, i got caught up looking at all of our beautiful atiny! hi guys, my name is kim hongjoong, captain of ateez!!”

the crowd seemed to take it well, i mean his job was fan service. but in truth, he was lying, he was only looking at you. and to his surprise, you were looking back; in fact he could feel your eyes on him frequently, and anytime he didn’t it was just because you and your friend were laughing together.

hongjoong kept finding himself on your side of the stage, often sending you flirty glances and winks during his verses; and god you were eating it up. not to mention how obsessed he was with getting you to smile. unfortunately for him though, he had to give that same energy to everyone for his actions to not be so obvious. even more unfortunately for him, san and wooyoung were on his ass the entire time, which caused seonghwa to send suspicious glances joong’s way. fuck.

hwa approached joong halfway through the show, once they were offstage during yunho and mingi’s unit performance. “fess up, why are you clinging to one side of the stage and why do you keep zoning out?? it’s not a good look and it’s making us look unorganized on stage.“

hongjoong just toyed with the hem of his sleeve in silence. to be honest he was trying to focus but he was drunk on the thought of being able to make you smile. there wasn’t anything he could say to get hwa off of his back, so he opted for a shrug.

“are you not feeling ok? you should’ve said something beforehand joong-“

“i’m fine.” please just drop it…

“fine.” hwa started, preparing his mic to get back on stage. the irritation was evident in his actions, but his voice was still soft. “but you’re the leader, just know this shit is on your shoulders if management says something.”

hongjoong just nodded in response, following seonghwa’s actions in fixing his mic. “that’s 50,000 won for calling me leader and not captain by the way.” he retorted with a smirk before running back on stage to meet the audience’s cheers.

******

“okay atiny, you guys enjoying the show?” yeosang asked, receiving a loud roar of approval from the crowd.

“i take that as a yes! but unfortunately…” jongho started his sentence, and atiny realized that the show was coming to an end. “hey hey we don’t want to leave either, but we have one more performance for you guys! are you ready??”

the rest of the guys were set up on a prop couch for the last song, each of them holding a red or white rose, as they waited for jongho to join them. once he did, the speakers started playing the instrumental of seventeen’s “ready to love” and seonghwa started off the cover, the crowd going insane.

eventually the boys got to the ending and handed out (or really threw) their roses to people in the crowd. and to no one’s surprise, hongjoong sat on the edge of the stage and handed his white rose to you, his fingers gliding over yours during the hand off, causing a goofy smile to take over your face with a light pink blush. kaylani teased you after making sure to get the entire interaction on video, you simply rolling your eyes and covering the camera in response. joong winked before getting up to join the members for their final bow and go back to their green room.

“thank you atiny!! we’ll be back soon” san yelled as the curtains closed and yunho and mingi peaked out to wave one last time.

******

hongjoong was the first one back in the room, his mind filled with your smile and whether or not you texted him. he loosened his tie and jogged over to the couch where he left his phone, anxious but also eager. but when he heard the members following close behind, joong grabbed his phone and rushed to the bathroom; mostly to avoid being teased by wooyoung, reprimanded by seonghwa, and shamed by san.

“you ok captain?” mingi asked from the other side of the door. “you left kinda in a hurry..”

“y-yea i’m fine, drank a lot of water earlier.”

mingi just shrugged it off with a low “okay” and went back to the other members, hongjoong letting out a small breath that he didn’t realize he was holding. he clicked his phone on and surprisingly saw a kakao notification from an unsaved contact. hongjoong’s face lit up brighter than his phone screen as he opened the app to reply.

but wait. was it you or a stalker?

did someone else possibly see the paper he gave you?

was he overthinking? yes. but most of it seemed logical.

joong sighed before he reread your message.

?: hey

?: it’s the girl from the fanmeet

still he had to confirm it was you.. and he had a pretty decent idea of how to do it.

joongie: really? then say something i said to you earlier

joong figured you would take a while to write back but you actually replied right away.

?: “really pretty name for a really pretty person”

joongie: i’m glad you texted me y/n :)

he just smiled at his phone, thinking of what to text you next. should he ask to facetime you maybe? should he flirt or was it too early for that? joong’s mind had a million tabs open at once but he really wanted to live in the current moment-

until wooyoung decided to be obnoxious and bang on the bathroom door like the police.

“hey some of us actually have to pee ya know!”

open tab number one million and one, strangle jung wooyoung…

[blushnik]

is younger generation on Tumblr not aware of the difference between “repost” and “reblog”?

Guys, hitting that arrow-arrow thingy button so it’s shared to your dashboard is VERY MUCH APPRECIATED, THIS IS CALLED REBLOG (like retweet)

Something totally different than downloading art and posting (reposting) it as your own sdkjsjada PLEASE REBLOG ART, IT SHOWS LOVE! EDIT: Since this post is somehow picking up, let me clear some confusion! When you REBLOG (hit those two arrows following each other), the post appears on your blog but all the comments and likes and whatever it receives – the AUTHOR RECEIVES TOO. Tumblr doesn’t let you repost someone’s stuff (post as your own) unless you take the effort to download it and post it YOURSELF (you know, like a dick).

EVERY. INTERACTION. IS. TIED. TO. THE. AUTHOR✌️

REBLOGGING means showing off the amazing thing you’ve found while literally sending all the traffic towards whoever made that post. So in short, NOBODY CARES YOU LIKED SOMETHING, WANNA SHOW LOVE?

PS: Fuck “X” for confusing y’all but if you are on the former Twitter and not call it “retweet” anymore just cause the stinkyman said so, then goodbye, we’re done talkin’

[princeguri66]

Leave a mark

MINORS DNI

Monster!John "Soap" Mactavish (with Poly Monster!141 at the end) x Male Reader

Cw: it starts off with Soap but the rest r mentioned and written but not as much as soap, marking with markers, nothing else I believe lmk

Silly thought but like imagine a monster reader who has crazy fast regeneration. Like deep cuts heal in seconds. Maybe you're a ghoul who just has crazy regen, or something like that.

Anyways,

Wouldn't a relationship between Soap, who loves leaving bites and see the aftermath due to his instincts as a werewolf and you who literally heals in seconds be interesting?

He loves getting fucked by you, but everytime he leaves a bit unsatisfied. It's not because you can't make him cum or anything, hell you can pull multiple orgasms from the guy and you have.

It's just that he can't leave satisfied knowing that he left a mark on you. He has bit you so much but the marks just won't stay. With the other members he can clearly see the marks he left on their neck and shoulders, even with Price who due to his dragon blood heals faster but the marks still stay for a day or two.

So everytime you two fuck, even if his ass if filled to the brim and his balls are empty he still whines because he can't leave his mark on you. You're a member of the 141, his pack, so it pains him that he can't put a claim on you like he has with the others.

So one day you get a bit creative.

One night in your room where he's riding on your cock, bouncing up and down while you lay your back on the bed, your hands gripping his hips and slamming him down on you as you cum. He leans down and bites as hard as he can on you as the feeling of you filling him up makes him cum. Pulling away and only being able to whine because he can't even admire his mark before it fades away.

"Aw, is puppy unsatisfied?" You tease and chuckle. And before he could insist that he was, you reached to the bedside table and picked up a red permanent marker, "why don't you mark me with this instead?" You say handing him the marker.

He huffs out a laugh at your little solution, but it's the best you got since you can't really make yourself regenerate slower. So he indulges, testing the marker on the back of your hand, the ink incredibly opaque so it stands out against your skin. Then he draws a bite mark at your neck then adds "Soap's Claim" in big letters, covering the whole left side of your neck.

He leans back, the bright red against your skin and the obvious letters, he finally sighs a sigh of relief.

It doesn't go unnoticed as well (just how he likes it)

The other members of the task force noticing Soap's eyes seem a bit brighter and his tail has been swaying peacefully the whole day. And that's where you enter, neck bare for everyone to see (it's the least you can do) Soap grins, happy to finally be able to show off his claim on you.

And now they want to have their names on your body too.

It's all color coordinated too now, Price who loves to write across your shoulder blades, with words like "Price's hoard" or just a simple "Price" with a heart next to it, it's simple but huge.

Gaz with a bright blue marker who likes to do it on your lower back (because he can also rest his head on your ass) writing something like "Gaz was here" and likes to draw wings on you. (Wing themed tramp stamp with 141 between the wings anyone?)

And Ghost with either white or black who loves to mark your chest, either a simple "ghost" or "Simon Riley" on each pec. Also likes to draw a ghost doodle on top of your heart.

And if you five fuck together, you aren't the only one who ends up having ink on you, but you'd have the most. And when you wake up to find a big arrow pointing to your dick and ass that says "Property of 141" written in multiple colors, you'd wish you could show it off.

[withlovemark]

THE LOVERBOY SERIES

“you can be my lover, i can be your love”

𝜗𝜚 welcome to the dream fraternity! seven dreamy boys, seven absolutely cheesy love stories where you’re the main character! warning: you might hate yourself during the process…but what’s love without a little chaos?

I. STUPID CUPID

pairing: na jaemin x art major! reader

synopsis -> mr. cupid — anonymous radio host. running the #1 most popular radio show on campus. famous for his thoughtful advice and classified as a true hopeless romantic. na jaemin — photography major, the sweet fuck-boy. described to be affectionate and gentle…but don’t fall for his tactics! once he’s done with you, he’s gone with the wind. your best friend unfortunately happened to be on the receiving end of this. what happens when you find out that the anonymous radio host is none other than na jaemin himself? sweet revenge.

II. FLYING KISS

pairing: childhood best friend! lee jeno x nerd! reader

synopsis -> you and lee jeno go way back, as in diapers and all that. before he was known as the chill fuckboy, he was an all time nerd! just like you! tired of being a loser who can’t even get the guy you wanted, you badly needed tips and a makeover. who’s better to ask for help than your childhood best friend, who has proven that a nerd can be sexy?

III. SORRY, HEART [IN PROGRESS]

pairing: friends with benefits! mark lee x tutor! reader

synopsis -> it was a win-win for mark lee when you came to an agreement of being friends with benefits. the favorite fuckboy and the girl who doesn’t believe in love equals the best sex he’s ever had. no expectations of commitment, no need for flowers and sweet talk. it’s the perfect dream team! but uh oh…it seems like mark has been shot by cupid’s arrow. this is not going to end well.

authors note: this is a work of fiction only and should not be taken seriously. the way the dream boys are portrayed in these stories are obviously not a representation of who they are in real life. thank you and have fun reading!

this post will be updated along the way -> likes, reblogs and comments are not required but is very appreciated ⏦ﾟ♡︎

if u would like to be tagged when a story is up please do let me know :3

[ssvnriseya]

THE STRAWBERRY (D.D)

summary: you prepared the newly harvested strawberries for daryl to eat, but he has other plans.

warnings: MDNI 18+ fingering, making out, teasing, clit sucking, using reader's! cum as sauce, lowercase intended.

note: omg! this is my first ever fan-fiction! please support me! i know it's still not as good as others but it's a start, right?! love ya! (＾ｖ＾)

masterlist

you walked into the room where daryl was usually carving his arrows in.

"hi, maggie and the others should be arriving soon. are you done?"

you walked over to where he is and placed your hands on his shoulders.

"nearin' there." he grunted, as usual. you chuckled and massaged his shoulders.

"you can continue that later, let's greet them outside." you said and pulled away from him. you walked over to the door and held out your hand for him.

he didn't say anything and stood up, carefully placing his stuff away.

"yer' lucky i love ya'" he responded as he took your hand, intertwining it with his.

"i hate your hands, they're so big!" you complained and dragged him outside his basement room.

"ye'll love 'em after ye' see what they can do." he smirked at you.

"shut up, dixon." it was your turn to grunt at him. he continued smirking at you as you both stepped out of the house.

"turned out we were righ' in time." he said nudging you, he pulled you softly towards the car that just arrived.

"rosita! i'm glad you guys are safe!" you hugged rosita then maggie, moving to tara and abraham.

"you can't simply kill the rosita espinosa." she said in a serious face as she smiled at you then walked away with abraham.

"me and daryl will help you all get them to the inventory." you said and turned to daryl who had an unreadable face.

"i didn't say anything." he groaned but you looked at him with puppy eyes and he rolled his eyes at you.

"please?" you asked and gestured to the boxes and crates of supplies that you know maggie, tara and a man from alexandria couldn't carry all by themselves.

"fine."

you smiled and carried one of the boxes and walked to the inventory with daryl.

"you're such a show-off." you huffed at him as you shifted the weight off the box in your arms.

"'m just strong. so is my stamina." he wiggled his eyebrows at you suggestively through the three boxes he carry.

"keep on dreaming, dixon." you smirked at him and walked faster.

you placed the box of supplies on the floor of the inventory as olivia told you that she'll take care of them.

"are you sure you can arrange them yourself, olivia?" you asked, unsure.

she nodded as she opened a box just as daryl placed his boxes on the floor.

"is that strawberries?!" you asked and walked closer to where she is.

she held up a piece and inspected it, "yes, and i'm guessing it's fresh. the group must have harvested them by themselves."

"can i take home a few?" you asked her with a smile, she smiled sweetly at you and nodded.

she gave you plastic and you placed a few inside. "you know i can't reject those smiles and eyes." she teased.

you giggled and hugged her, "thank you."

you walked over to where daryl impatiently stood. he grunted in relief when he saw you walking over him.

"took ya' long enough."

you showed him the strawberries with a smile. "i'm preparing you strawberries tonight."

"great." he groaned, making you frown.

"if you don't want it, i'll just make spencer chocolate covered stra—" you spoke, upset at him but he cut you off.

"nah, you can prepare me those strawberries." he said, angry at what you said.

it was clear as day for you that daryl hated spencer, as the said man would always find a way to get near you.

you both arrived at the house. he quickly went down his basement room after giving you a kiss.

you went to the kitchen to prepare daryl's strawberries, you put it in a bowl and washed it, draining the water.

you cut off the leaves and went to a cabinet, opening it to get the chocolate syrup.

you carried the bowl of strawberries and syrup on your way down his room.

"your strawberries... and here's chocolate if you want to put them there." you placed the bowl and syrup on his bed.

he quickly stopped what he was doing and sat on the bed, with you sitting beside him.

"i want another sauce." he spoke and stared at your eyes. you furrowed your eyebrows.

"i don't know if there's any other sauce that goes with strawberries... and it'll be really weird if you dip it in mustard or ketchup." you said in disgust.

"nah, not that." daryl said, shaking his head.

you stared at him in confusion, he leaned in quickly. daryl pulled you in a kiss.

he started gentle and soft but it turned passionate. he placed his hands on your cheeks as you kissed him back.

he pushes your body to lay you on the bed, slowly and softly.

he pulled away as you both caught your breaths, he went on top of you leaning all his weight on his elbows that were on either side of your head, careful not to crush you.

daryl pulled in again to kiss you, his kisses were rough and passionate once again.

"d–daryl..." you moaned when he bit your lip, quickly slipping his tongue inside you when you moaned.

he sipped on your tongue and straddled you, careful not to sit on you.

he roamed his hands on your sides, your waist, hips and legs. he squeezed your waist making you moan once again.

you pulled away and tried to catch your breath as his hands found your shorts button.

once he unbuttoned it he tugged on it, putting the denim shorts out of you. he tossed it somewhere.

he looked up at you and kissed your mid-thigh, going up to the strap of your panties, and to you lower stomach.

"p-please." you moaned as he sucked on your lower stomach.

"please, what?" he asked.

"y-you know what..." you moaned in pleasure as he continued teasing you.

"yer' gettin' wet already, huh?" he pointed out the soaked part in your cotton panty. you nodded desperately.

he placed a kiss on the wet part making you shiver, "oh... god!"

daryl continued kissing there and getting the fabric more wet.

he pulled down your underwear and placed a kiss on your bare pussy.

"f–fuck..." you can't help but cuss out. he looked at you in the eyes with something like disappointment.

"what a dirty mouth ya' got there, huh?" he shook his head and went to your pussy again.

he sucked your clit as you moaned, shouting his name. he didn't stop even if you were a moaning mess.

"i–i think i'm going to... i–i feel fluttery." you moaned and tried to hold it in as his mouth worked on your pussy.

"let it out, come on. let me taste ya'." he went faster than his pace making you arch your back and leaned your hips onto him.

you took the pillow and squeezed it as you moaned again after another.

you let it out as you came down from your high, you whimpered when he quickly drank in all your juices, making contact with your sensitive clit every now and then.

"fuck, yer' so sweet. yer' pussy is amazing." he whispered in your ears.

he entered two of his fingers in your cunt without much say, making you arch your back again.

"daryl!" you grunted in pain as you adjusted to the length and size of his fingers.

"you can take it, baby." he whispered in your ears and slowly started moving his fingers.

it made your breath hitched as you moaned in pain and pleasure.

"daryl... faster!" you moaned and can't seem to know where to lean your head, to the right or left.

he started pumping his fingers in and out as you moaned loudly than you had ever.

"please... please, l–let me release again..." you moaned and moved your hips to meet his fingers.

"'m adding another, sweetheart." he said and you nod in desperation to feel more pleasure.

he slowly added another finger and you hissed in pain, you've felt more stretched than ever and after a few thrust of his fingers it quickly was replaced by pleasure.

you moaned and clenched your walls around his fingers. "i–i'm nearing again..." you said between breaths and moans.

he smirked and sped up his fingers as you came once again, he lifted your hips and placed the bowl of strawberries beneath you.

your cum dripped down to the ball, you closed your eyes in exhaustion as daryl removed the bowl beneath you.

he placed it on the corner of the bed again and went around the room, opening a drawer and pulling out a towel.

he went near you and kneeled in front of you, he gently cleaned your cunt making you whimper as the towel made contact with your sensitive cunt.

"i've got ma' sauce, sweetheart." he smiled and wiped your sweat with the other side of the towel.

"h–huh?" you asked confused. he shook his head and slipped your underwear on you, and went to where your shorts were.

he slipped it on you after walking back to you. you sat up as he sat beside you.

he pulled the bowl to his lap and showed it to you. "here."

"i–is that my?" you asked and looked at him with flustered cheeks.

he nodded and you turned redder. "told ya' i want this sauce. went for it."

he bit into it like it's nothing, and possibly acted like it was much more delicious that way.

you looked away from him in embarrassment. you watched as he grabbed a strawberry and dipped it onto the creamy white sauce you created.

you blushed and watched him eat the strawberries with your cum.

[peacheeeliz]

030. my wife! (wc: 960)

“Okay, Sera, Jake, you'll stay in that little bunker over there,” Heeseung explains, referencing the small bunker built in the middle of the desert. “Roz and I will stay out here to keep Voodoo and Quix away, but if they get at least five blocks away, there's a level for you to pull that'll set off a good amount of TNT I set up.”

“A good amount of TNT?” You question, staring at the sandy bunker. “And we'll be safe from the TNT in there, right?” Heeseung's character stares at you without a word, his lack of answer leaving you on edge. “Your bunker isn't going to kill us, right?”

“Nooooo,” he says, voice pitchy as his character turns away slowly. “It'll be fine, I promise. There's nothing safer.”

“I highly doubt that,” you whisper to yourself as he goes on to continue more of the plan.

As Heeseung yaps away, Sunghoon's character turns to you. “Hey, I wasn't lying earlier. I'm here to protect you,” he says softly.

“Ew, can we keep the flirting to a minimum today?” Jake questions, rolling his eyes behind his camera. “This is a life or death situation. Now is not the time.”

“Oh, shut up,” Sunghoon lets out, huffing. “You're just jealous.”

“Yeah, I'm so jealous,” Jake continues. “So jealous that we're in the middle of a war and our allies are too busy flirting to listen to the plan.”

“The plan that will most likely kill us?” You say, laughing when he doesn't respond. “Yeah, something tells me being inside that bunker will be more dangerous than out here.”

“You guys have no faith in me,” Heeseung huffs, after finally realizing no one was listening to his explanation. “Maybe if you actually listened to me, you'd feel more confident staying in the bunker.”

“I really don't think it will,” you answer, shrugging – despite the fact he can't see it. Before he can retort, an arrow flies straight past your screen. “Oh fuck.”

Just over in the next biome, Sunoo and Taeyoung are standing in the tree line with their bows drawn. Sunghoon immediately turns back to you, “Go. We'll hold them back, alright?” He starts, ushering you towards the bunker. “And remember, if they get too close, pull that lever.”

“But we don't even know if it's safe for us,” you retort, but you still make your way towards the bunker with Jake.

“You'll be okay, baby, I promise,” he tells you. “Now go. Stay safe in there, okay?”

Your smile brightens at his comforting voice, but Jake is quick to pull you out of your trance as he calls you from across the desert. The two of you take your place in the bunker, watching as the chaos unfolds in front of you. Many shots fly across through the air, but the battle takes a while to get close and personal; and eventually, swords are drawn.

“Red Winter is coming!” Taeyoung calls out, targeting Heeseung and slashing his sword towards the older boy.

Jake's character slowly turns toward you, “What the fuck does that mean?” He asks quietly, and you can barely hold back your laugh. “This is a Minecraft series… What does that mean?”

“It means we're at war with theater kids,” you answer, laughing with the man. Your eyes find their way back to the fight outside, landing on Sunghoon as he crosses swords with Sunoo. The two draw closer and closer to the bunker, Sunghoon backtracking when he realizes just how low his health has gotten.

“Wait, wait, wait, Sera, look,” Jake exclaims, trying to show you just how close Sunoo was getting to the bunker. “You gotta pull the lever!”

“Me? Why do I have to pull the lever?” You question, furrowing your eyebrows. “Why can't you?”

“Because I don't wanna,” he says sheepishly, showcasing a nice toothy grin towards his screen. “Come on, if they get too close, they could kill us! You have to pull it.”

“Whatever, whatever,” you say, but you make your way towards the lever anyway. “If we die, I'm blaming you.”

“I can accept that,” he answers, making his character nod quickly. “Now go! He's right there with Roz” He pauses. “Wait, don't pull it. Roz is too close. It might get him, too.”

“I,” you take a deep breath. “Do you want me to pull it or not?”

“Don't pull it,” he says. Just then, an arrow is shot right into the bunker, flying right between your two characters. After a moment of silence, he speaks up again. “Okay, pull it.”

You roll your eyes and move your mouse to hover over the lever. Taking in another deep breath, you click, and everything happens in a flash. TNT explodes all around the bunker, and your hearts drop faster than you can even count, until YOU DIED is written across your screen. Your mouth falls wide open, eyes wide in disbelief as you stare at your screen in silence.

Meanwhile, Jake has a similar reaction, watching your character disappear as sand falls all around him. He lost a few hearts, but not nearly enough to kill him off. He's brought out of his trance when he hears Sunghoon scream, “My wife!”

At Sunghoon's outburst and the crash of thunder that rings through the sky, the four out in the desert to the giant hole in the sand. “No, no, no, no,” the man babbles, eyes wide as he reads the chat over and over again. How could he have let you die? He was standing there with all three lives left, and you were gone. In his state of shock, left unaware of his surroundings, Taeyoung takes his chance to attack.

Within seconds, the same YOU DIED screen shines across Sunghoon's face.

synopsis ⤏ popular youtubers team up on all new minecraft smp, quick to name themselves the "newly weds" after sunghoon gifts y/n a poppy. but will these romantic endeavors between the two just be "for the lore," or will feelings blossom?

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[pullupinarari]

In another life [LH]

author’s note: last fic of the year and it obviously had to be an angst! I loved writing this plot so much, I hope you girls enjoy it! 🩷 mwah

• masterlist

wc: 7447 - English is not my first language! Feedback is always appreciated

A light breeze would erupt through the curtains slowly, the waves of goosebumps dressing your skin as Lewis would embrace your frame with his, diving between the sheets to worship your body, to make up for all the time he had been away.

The love between your figures would sway effortlessly, the warmth and desire emanating from your shadows naturally, like a beautiful memory of what being in love feels like.

The years have taught you that there’s a big difference between falling in love and actually loving someone. Falling in love is like taking an elevator - it’s fast, the cupid hitting its arrow right into your heart in a matter of seconds as soon as you look Lewis in the eye for the first time. On the other hand, loving someone, through their qualities and their flaws, it’s like climbing an endless flight of stairs - ones that you insist on climbing, even if your legs are hurting, just because you know the view from the top will be breathtaking.

Being in a relationship is like watching the water running through an immortalised stone statue, repeating the same cycle, representing the routine shared between two souls, but also staring at the water and seeing your reflexion, like a mirror inside of you, recognising and accepting your chosen half, allowing you the feeling of being free, to be yourself with someone else, like diving deep in the middle of the ocean, with nothing holding you down, knowing that your safety net won’t fail you when you need it the most.

Or at least you thought it would never fail you. When you get caught in the middle of a whirlwind of rumours, lies, the light breeze that would usually gently push your hair out of your features suddenly becomes a violent blast, hitting you right in the face, freezing your senses to the point of drying all the tears appearing in your eyes - forbidding you from crying.

The truth is: you have no one to cry to. Fake news kept spreading online, pictures of you and a group of friends going out for dinner, the media focusing on the fact that you and one of the guys at your table are sitting close to each other, and leaving the restaurant with your figures beside each other.

Lewis knows most of your friends, so you thought those stupid rumours wouldn’t be a problem. Never in your worst dreams would you think that Lewis would doubt your word, when you told him that the ‘mysterious’ guy he didn’t know was cousins with one of your closest girlfriends.

It’s true that the man never showed up at your meetings before, it’s true that you didn’t know him before that dinner either. But nothing bad and nothing good happened. It was just another day for you, another innocent dinner with your friends.

For the whole night, Lewis kept showing up in your conversations - leaving you to say how badly you wish he could have made it to the meeting, like he usually would if he didn’t have such a busy schedule.

The tornado started forming slowly, when the pictures of your group of friends started showing up on social media the next morning. The warm limbs of your boyfriend tightly intertwined around your shape started growing loose, his eyebrows furrowing while you two inspected the pictures online at the same time.

A shrug characterizes your reaction, not paying attention to it. But Lewis couldn’t help but ask you: “Who is this guy? I’ve never seen him”, yes you never saw him either, he’s just cousins with your friend. “But why was he sitting so close to you?” you don’t know, probably because the noise at the restaurant was too loud and he wanted to hear everyone clearly. “He seems to find you really funny”, well he was a bit tipsy so he was really finding everyone and everything hilarious? “Why is he entering your car in this picture?”, because he got drunk out of his mind and you were one of the few that was feeling good to drive, so you decided to give him a ride home.

Lewis starts sighing, distancing his body from yours, and you are the one furrowing your eyebrows right now. You don’t understand his angry facial expression, you don’t like his accusatory tone, you can’t wrap your head around all the questions that insist on leaving his mouth, almost as if he can’t even control them.

- Okay, what’s going on? - you ask, your tone sounding annoyed as well, feeling pressed by his attitude.

- Nothing - he says shortly, and almost even ironically, trying to ignore the topic as he gets up from the bed.

Snorting, you don’t believe him.

- Then what’s up with the sudden mood change? It’s just some innocent pictures of last night, I explained what happened to you - you try to reason with him, only for him to turn his back to you as he walks to the bathroom.

Sighing, your body plops down on the mattress, covering your eyes with your hands as you take a deep breath. You definitely don’t feel like staying home to deal with your boyfriend’s childish attitude, wanting more of your day than to put up with a jealousy crisis. Hearing Lewis turning on the shower, you decide to go out for a run.

Running by the sea, your body tries to wash away all the anger creeping inside of you. Why is Lewis acting like this? He should trust you, he should believe your words, he should know you, who you are, that you’re better than this. Your mind is a mess, you feel hurt, confused - but in the middle of all the bitterness, you remember that, in a week, you and Lewis will be celebrating three years of your relationship.

Three years ago, the man asked you to be his girlfriend, next to the most breathtaking sunset that you have ever seen in Greece. And a year ago, he gave you a promise ring, in a secluded moment where it would be just you and the sea waves crashing at your feet. I want to secure my future with you, my love. You’re the one for me, his words still linger in your brain almost on a daily basis, whenever you get the chance to look at his features, to feel his touch, to kiss his lips. And nothing would make your heart flutter more than his promise of a life together.

And maybe that’s why it all hurts so much more. That’s why Lewis feels his heart clenching in his chest, scrolling through social media after his shower. He can’t contain his fingers from scrolling, he can’t stop his eyes from reading.

The man goes back to the posts where he knows he will find all the pictures from last night. Curiosity takes the best of him as he starts reading through the endless comments, analysing everyone’s theories about what could possibly have happened.

He doesn’t want to doubt you, he really doesn’t. Right now, Lewis just wishes he could feel his heart lighten enough to put this behind his back, but he can’t. Something in his mind keeps switching, like an alarm that doesn’t stop ringing in his ears.

As much as he hates to admit it, this situation brings him flashbacks of a situation that he would rather forget: a guy, one that he thought was his friend - but that your boyfriend ended up realizing he was just another acquaintance, that had a major crush on you when you and Lewis started dating. John was his name, and the man still feels his blood boiling every time he remembers the way John would look at you, how he would compliment you and your body during the times that Lewis brought you along to some of his friends’ meetings. John tried to get inside of his mind, making up lies about you, hoping Lewis would set you free for him to tame you. But that didn’t happen. Lewis trusted you with his life, he believed your words, he believed in the truth, and stayed by your side through it all.

After everything that happened, and after you admitted how uncomfortable he made you feel, Lewis dropped John, from his group, from his life, wishing you would never have to look at him again. But your boyfriend is naturally a possessive man, and he hates to feel threatened and insecure.

The gaze of another man on your skin is enough to make him tighten his hold around your frame, let alone picture some guy having some time alone with you. He hates to act like this, he hates to feel like this, and he wishes he could change it. This time, he wishes he could trust you with all certainty in the world, like he did before. But these past situations keep echoing in his mind, never leaving him to quiet down, relax, enjoy the peaceful time by your side. And now, it’s not different.

Because, at the end of the night, that guy got inside your car, and it was just the two of you for God knows how long. Could there be something that you are not telling him, now?

You come back home, panting as you wipe the sweat off of your forehead. Passing by Lewis’ frame on the corridor, you stay silent, now reaching for a much needed shower yourself. His eyes mirror your silhouette, the words almost leaving his mouth without his permission, but he decides to force them inside - shutting up his mind for a minute, wanting to give you a moment - and wanting to give himself a moment as well, so he can decide what he should do, now.

His leg is bouncing as he sits on the couch, his fingers holding his chin as the man feels anxiety creeping through his figure. Everything the two of you wanted was to spend some time together today, enjoying the few days you have in the other’s presence, before work yanks you from your safe space again. But Lewis can’t. He can’t spend days with doubts growing in every corner of his brain, with this uneasy feeling in his chest, as if he is unsure about you - and he definitely doesn’t want any of that.

Hopping out of the shower, you put on some comfortable clothes, hoping the cotton fabrics will make you feel better, since the shower seems to not have washed away all the discomfort in your skin.

You meet Lewis in the living room, knowing he is waiting for you by the way he keeps peeking through the door, his gaze focusing on the entrance to the room where he patiently waits. Sitting on the opposite end of the sofa, you look him in the eyes.

Your face is closed, an angry, almost disappointed expression reading in between the lines of your features, and Lewis shows you a questioning one, the face of someone whose mind is feeling fragile and doubtful.

He is fidgeting with his fingers, his legs bouncing electrically as a thousand questions erupt in his mind, heavily contrasting with your calm, peaceful form.

- I just want you to be honest with me, Y/N - he starts by saying, looking you straight in the eyes as he moves his body closer to yours, even if your stretched legs across the sofa pillows still secure some distance between you two. - Did something happen between you and that guy? - he questions, his cold tone making it impossible for you to believe that he is being serious, right now.

A surprised gasp leaves your mouth, your eyes widened, your mouth agape as you look at him, trying to find a glimpse of something that can let you know that he is not really being serious with these questions, now.

- Are you really asking me that, Lewis? Why do you keep insisting on this stupid story? You don’t believe my words? - shock fills your tone and mind, feeling insulted by the way he keeps doubting you, insisting on something that makes absolutely no sense.

- Was he an escape from all the nights I wasn’t here? From all the times I had to leave you alone? Have I not been giving you enough attention? - it’s like Lewis can’t even hear your replies to his accusations, words and questions leaving his mouth as if he only needed to vent, to let all the doubts out of his brain, into the air that grows heavier between you two. - Please, Y/N. Just tell me, please. I need to know where I failed you for you to do this to me.

You and Lewis match the sighs that leave both of your figures, even if they sound extremely different. Yours sounds frustrated, irritation running in your veins now, feeling like you are talking to the wall. No matter how hard you try to tell him that none of that it’s true, it’s like he doesn’t want to hear you, way too focused on his own world and mind - hence why he sighs in a defeated, hurt manner.

- Lewis, how many times do I have to repeat myself? Nothing happened last night, nothing ever happened between me and another guy for the almost three years that we have been together! Why is it so hard for you to believe me? - your voice cracks as you raise your tone, tears stinging on the corners of your eyes as you look at him, seeing how his gaze darts away from yours, not having the nerve to find the truth in yourself anymore.

Getting up from his seat on the couch, the man sighs again, his hands on his braids as if he is trying to get a hold of his brain. But still, it seems like he doesn’t even care to think twice about the words that leave his mouth next.

- Well, he got inside your car and you two were left alone for God knows how long! Everyone on social media is positive that something happened and I don’t want to live surrounded by doubts. I don’t want a forever with someone who doesn’t give me enough security and leaves me wondering all the time! - your boyfriend spits out, his tone higher as his words just leave your world to start crumbling down.

It takes you a while to process his words, your vision growing blurry as the tears multiply in your eyes, slowly running down your cheeks - the wet, cold sensation against your warm skin being the only thing your body allows you to feel for a moment. His silhouette almost disappears from your sight as you stay still in your seat, not having the courage to move while Lewis keeps pacing around the living room.

His face it’s in his hands, hiding all the shame and regret that he can feel jumping in his bones immediately after those words left his tongue. There’s a bitter taste in his mouth, some tears escaping his shadow as well, trying to hide from you, not wanting you to see the way he is slowly breaking down as well.

You hear his sniffles, while you are fully crying down now. Slowly getting up, you wipe the thick tears from your face, your shape meeting his, looking him dead in the eyes again.

- So, the ring, all those promises of a future by each other’s side… Meant nothing to you? - you ask him, your voice barely above a whisper now, facing him with the questions that he didn’t want to hear.

Shaking his head quietly, you see his bloodshot eyes, some tears lingering in his cheeks as he tries to take a deep breath.

- Y/N, listen… Don’t get me wrong. Loving you wasn’t a mistake, at all. But I just can’t do this. I can’t have a future with you. I don’t want a forever with someone like you. - he admits. No matter how bad it hurts him, it hurts you twice as much. He sees your figure collapsing in front of him and it doesn’t matter how much he might blame himself for it, he will never be able to bring you back to life.

And, in this moment, your heart just dropped to the floor, frozen in its place as you just nod your head at the words you had just heard. Right now, there’s nothing you can do to reverse this situation, to try and make Lewis believe in you.

You feel betrayed by the person you loved and trusted, wronged in every possible way, and his gaze on you feels way too heavy now, making you feel uncomfortable to stand in the same room as him.

Walking out of the living room, you rush to your shared closet, taking out all of your clothes, packing up as much as you can, trying to be as fast as possible - not wanting to spend a minute longer in this house. There’s a heavy weight on your shoulders, a feeling of hurt, disappointment, a type of pain that keeps growing in your chest the more you try to hold your whimpers and cries, not wanting to give in while you feel trapped inside these four walls - the ones who belong to the person who just ruined your life and future.

Right now, you feel like the mountain that Lewis didn’t want to climb to watch the view from the top, the compromise that didn’t deserve his time and effort, the wave that he didn’t want to surf anymore.

For almost three years, you stayed by Lewis’ side, through the good and the bad, firmly believing that he was going to be your endgame, the piece that was left on your, always unfinished, puzzle - while making you feel a bit more complete somehow. You felt free like the water running loosely on the ocean, the waves crashing as hard as your heartbeat whenever he would touch you.

Now, you feel a tsunami forming, all your love for him getting together to hit you hard, demolishing your inside, everything that you used to be. It’s almost as if your watery side turned into a wind - invisible but strong, and powerful enough to destroy everything around itself without people being able to see it.

Maybe you have been a blow in the wind all along. Maybe Lewis’ feelings have been disguised all this time - making you believe that you were a wave in his ocean, when you were just a light breeze that was there to push his hair off his face lightly, to cool him down when he was feeling way too hot. Maybe you were never more than that to him.

Picking up your suitcase, you leave everything else behind, not even wanting to look back when you close the door behind you. You can’t help but realize that, during all this time, all you did was convince yourself of a lie, a bunch of lies actually - if Lewis really did love you like he said he did, he would never leave you for a bunch of rumours. In a perfect world, if he was honest, he would sit down with you, hear the truth straight from you, and he could finally switch off his overthinking brain and just hold you close to him, forgetting about everything that people might say.

But Lewis was always honest with you. He didn’t lie when he said he loved you, he wasn’t joking when he told you he wanted a future by your side. He saw his life with you, a forever that he never thought he would have to let go of, giving up on your shared dreams for his insecurities and paranoia.

He is left a mess, lying on the sofa with his face hidden in a pillow, sobbing into the fabric so it could muffle the hurtful sounds leaving his body. His mind feels paralyzed by his never-stopping thoughts, never leaving him alone, invading his space, his moment. Everything around him looks terrible enough already, but his brain decides to play with him a little further, as if the man is a puppet in his mind’s slender, calloused fingers - that know what they are doing so well.

It’s all his fault, he knows it. The voices in his head don’t even have to repeat it a million times more, because Lewis knows that he is the main responsible for fucking it all up now.

You were never the problem, but you don’t know that. You don’t know everything that John said to Lewis before he left him behind, you don't know what crosses Lewis’ mind when he can’t sleep at night, you don’t understand his insecurities - because, to you, there was never a reason for him to be so afraid of losing you. You were devoted to him, he had you forever. And if he would still have you now, even after everything that he just said to you, you would come back without even thinking, the most obvious no brainer for you, running back into his arms, just so everything could feel right again.

But maybe you just can’t be held again. Maybe you don’t belong beside someone’s side but your own, maybe you need to learn how to nestle yourself when times get tough, you need to hug yourself to sleep when nights feel lonely. Maybe you were made to be untamed, uncontrolled. And maybe there’s no point in insisting - continuously thinking about Lewis being your other half, the one for you, your forever. You are a breeze of air, wind running free through the atmosphere. And there’s no barbed wire that would be able to hold the wind.

Driving around with tears still lingering in your eyes, you stop by your favorite spot at the pier, sitting down so you can watch the sunset in peace, every moment of your life passing in front of your eyes like a movie, enticed by the way the sound of the waves crashing feels like the soundtrack of all the chaos collapsing around you, misfortune feeling like your middle name, now. You replay the last words you exchanged with Lewis in your mind, wondering what does all this mean, if there’s still anything more for you out there, after everything.

In the middle of the heart wrenching thoughts that your mind keeps producing, you can’t help but observe and appreciate the view in front of you. The light contrast of yellow, orange and pink surrounding the sky as the sun gets ready to bid you farewell for some hours, resting on the horizon where the ocean and the sky meet, the peaceful yet destructive motion of the high waves imposing respect to everyone who threatens to get close to the water. The beauty hidden in every corner of nature takes your breath away, even in the middle of feeling like your life has just fallen apart.

You don’t know who created the world, but you know for sure that that person was in love. Because, at the end of the day, this is how falling in love feels: your skies slowly turning clear and pink, the sun so wide as it sets down, capable of illuminating the smallest corners of your being. The warmth waves of love, washing through you, but commanding some respect so you don’t forget who you are, in the end of it all.

You sigh, shaking your head, reminding yourself of the huge mistake you committed in this relationship: you gave him your all. Everything you were, everything you had, you deposited it in Lewis, feeding your relationship with every emotion you had, forgetting about your own needs at times even.

And who are you now? What are you, besides a breeze that feels light enough to float around and disappear once and for all, at the same time that you feel heavy with all the regret and pain that you are carrying around, making it hard for your feet to lift off the floor so you can even walk?

This has only served to teach you that love isn’t for you. No matter how badly you dreamed it, how badly you wanted it, a life beside Lewis isn’t what you were built for. You weren’t made for love, you weren’t made for the fights, the make ups, the love confessions. What’s the point? In the end, it all comes crashing down. You weren’t made for this.

Driving away when the day slowly turns into night, you feel the shadows creeping inside of your body, the darkness nestling itself in you, pushing your emotions to the side as if to make space for its body, occupying all of you - leaving you to feel empty and numb when you fall asleep on an unknown, cold hotel bed, representing your lonely, newfound reality.

You feel comfortable in the dark now. As weeks went by, you started learning how to find yourself in the void, recognising the gloom that now inhabited inside of you. The emptiness is familiar to you now, but you can’t deny that, sometimes, you wish there was some sort of different sound erupting through you - besides your intrusive thoughts and the destruction taking place in the never-ending construction that you represent now.

Every day of every week, you and Lewis would mirror each other’s attitudes, reactions, expressions, even while being so far away from each other. The impatient, frustrated sighs, the feeling of sadness surrounding your lonely shadows, the silent tears escaping your eyes from time to time. It’s a miss, the type you can’t replace, one that makes your hearts hurt by the way things collapsed between you two.

It’s like missing walking barefoot on the fluffiest carpet in your parents’ room, missing the feeling of security, the arms of the other that would be there for you, no matter what.

It took a while for Lewis to leave his room, let alone his house. Eventually, he allowed himself to see the light of day - which he kept running away from, hating the way the warmth and brightness would be enough to remind him of you.

But when he decided to face the reality in front of him, mourning the loss of you just got harder and harder. Life was way easier when he was hiding in a corner of his room, covered with the sheets, living in the middle of a break in time, pausing his existence, feeding himself off of silence and darkness - just like you.

He wasn’t ready to face the world without you by his side, but he did what had to be done - at least, that’s what his mind tells him. It was particularly painful to find all those friends you two had in common again, feeling forced to tell them everything about what happened, why you are not together anymore.

Lewis’ world nearly collapsed when your friends had your back, opening his eyes to the ridiculous amount of lies that he decided to believe, that he put all his faith in - instead of taking your word as truthful.

In the back of his mind, really really far back there, Lewis knows that you were telling the truth. It just hurts him even more to admit - to the world, but mainly to himself - that his insecurities got the best of him. That all his unsolved problems from the past continue haunting him at night, influencing the way he saw you and your relationship.

The man always knew that you were different, special to his eyes in a way no one else was. You were the one who could mess him up, making him question all about his own life, and he would probably thank you for it. But you never did any of that. You were kind, thoughtful, lovely. You had an easy smile, an uplifting mood that had the ability to make his days so much better in a matter of seconds. You never took advantage of him, of his emotions. You loved him, and all you wanted was for him to love you back - but, unfortunately, that’s something he can’t give you.

He can’t deny that he is still madly in love with you. It doesn’t matter that he hasn’t seen you in months now. He still thinks about your smile, the smell of your shampoo, how your hair always felt so soft in between his fingers when you would lay your head in his chest. And he really meant it when he told you he wanted to secure a future by your side.

There’s nights where he would dream about stealing one of Saturn’s rings, as a proof of his love and devotion to you, and on those nights, he almost died in his sleep, afraid the cosmical jewel would end up not fitting your finger, looking small when compared to how important you were - and still are, to him.

But in this phase of his life, he doesn’t feel safe enough to take the next step. He doesn’t feel ready to make such an important compromise, because he knows that he can’t love you the way you need, the way you deserve. As long as he allows his mind to win over him, to get in the way of his life, and especially of his relationships, he will never feel capable of giving you everything that you deserve: and this isn’t about material things. It’s about feelings, it’s about availability, giving you access to his rawest emotions that he refuses to accept, putting his dark memories behind him, wishing he could allow himself to pursue a future with the woman he loves.

A future that you dreamed together, but one that Lewis only realized to be a vision of both when he caught himself fiddling through the drawers of what once was your side of the bed. You left a lot of things behind, wishing you could just bury that part of your life by now, not wanting to take with you all the things that would make you relive a relationship that ended up hurting you so badly.

His fingers slowly move through the pages of your personal journal. He knows he shouldn’t be reading it, but in the middle of all the tears travelling through his features - missing you like a mad man, he needs something that can feel a bit more like you in the middle of the void that surrounds him and his house.

Each page hurts him more than the other, diving in your deepest thoughts, hopes and dreams of a life beside him. Some tears escape his eyes, landing on some of the pages as he sobs while reading the list of potential baby names that you loved, for when you two would have a kid of your own.

You were so devoted to picturing a life beside the man you loved, that you even printed some pictures of details you would love to include in your baby’s nursery, and he can’t help but chuckle bitterly at the big, red note that read “note to self: DON’T FORGET TO ASK LEWIS ABOUT THIS”, which you ended up forgetting - your head always on the moon, always forgetting most of things, but that’s how Lewis loved you, that’s what made you funnier in his eyes.

The uncontrollable sobs leaving his body are loud and painful, he’s sure that every single one of his neighbours can hear how hurt he is by the way he keeps weeping, his fingers still reading the entire construction of a future that you were carefully planning to have with him - one that he ruined.

In a desperate move, Lewis reaches for his phone, looking for your number, his body moving on its own as he calls you. “Pick up, please, please. Please, pick up” - he thinks to himself as he hears the never-ending ringing, that seems to last an eternity before it reaches your voicemail.

Sighing, he hangs up. He doesn’t want to leave you a message for you to hear and delete right away. He wants to talk to you, he wants to hear your phone. He wants to tell you that he believes you, that he knows that you were being honest all this time, he wants to let you know that he is the problem, not you. He wants to say how sorry he is for ruining the best thing in his entire life, because of past mistakes that are still messing with him to this day. But instead of leaving a message, he decides to let you decide whether you should call him back or not.

You don’t. The way your heart jumped in your chest when you saw his name on your phone again was enough to make a lump form in your throat again, rushing to silence the call, blocking his number as soon as he hung up. You learned your lesson when it came to love, to trusting people, and especially when it came to giving second chances. Lewis didn’t give you one to explain yourself, why would you waste your time listening to him and his words?

He wasn’t ringing you when he dumped you in minutes, like you meant absolutely nothing to him. He wasn’t reaching for you when he let you fall away from his touch, not holding you close when he ripped the air from your lungs, the floor from your feet.

Slowly, you are moving on. In a different city, surrounded by different, new people, while still feeling as alone as you can be. You stopped opening up to people, not letting anyone come closer to you, getting to know who you are on the inside - wishing you could pretend to be a completely different person for everyone outside of your house.

You actually can, but it’s the pain, the bitterness and weight of being yourself again inside of the four walls of your home - being the only person that you can’t escape nor ignore, that hurts every single hour of the day, feeling like a reaper as your mind is constantly reminding you of the unhappy events you carry around with yourself.

The next time Lewis hears some news about you, is through his mother. Carmen and your mother grew closer alongside the time you and him have been together. And even after your relationship ended, the two ladies kept their monthly lunch together tradition.

And it’s on one of those lunches that your mom confesses to Carmen about your new life. The fact that you moved to a city far away from home, how you stopped showing up at family gatherings, only sending letters, gifts, and facetiming them from time to time if you were in a good mood.

As much as you try to replace your absence with material things and short calls, you can’t make up for the void that you left in your parents, siblings, friends that miss you terribly. You’re not dead, but if you went to ask them, they mourned the loss of you for the past months, knowing that you will never be the same - bright, light, funny, kind and colorful girl that they once knew.

Running away from what hurt you so much was your way to find your fresh start, even if you know that you too lost yourself, feeling your old personality, the things that characterised you so well, slipping through your fingers slowly, realizing that you will never find yourself again either.

But maybe it’s a good thing that you can’t be what you were before, anymore. Maybe your new path means erasing every part of what you once were - pretending like you don’t know that girl anymore, like she never even existed. You don’t believe in love anymore, you don’t dream of having a family with anyone else, the future is not something that you plan anymore - living one day at a time, trying your best to embrace yourself, your pain, your old and new self that meet in the mattress every night, with all those hopes and scars that define you.

Lewis’ last words to you still echoe in your brain when you close your eyes to sleep. “I don’t want a future with someone like you” - each syllable thudding in the back of your mind for hours, kicking your restless body even further, making you feel like you are living hell on earth, your brain being your worst enemy. After all this, life is something that you don’t hold yourself onto as hard as before. Closing all doors around you, you come to the conclusion that you were made to be alone, to drag your feet around the streets, your dark bags informing everyone around you that darkness possesses your soul. And maybe he was right. No one will want to have a future with you.

But there’s still life, after all. There’s still love blooming in your family: your brother, Daniel and his long term girlfriend just had a baby. Another chapter of life that you won’t be present to celebrate, to record in your memories book.

Your mom couldn’t help but invite Lewis over to meet the little one. To tell the truth, your family still treats him like he is part of the group. It’s a weird feeling, but most of your family try to keep Lewis around as a reminder of you, of how light your spirit would feel around the room whenever you were next to them, of how widely you would open your arms to hug both your brother and sister at the same time.

Now, your laugh doesn’t fill the space around them, everything seems a bit emptier than before, it’s like colors have vanished. But it’s like Lewis has the power to hold your scent in his clothes, the kindness you would spread through every single person you met.

It should be a compliment, but it’s really something that destroys him. The first time he entered your parents’ house after your break up, your sister didn’t hold back. The words she screamed into Lewis’ features still hit him like an uneasy heartbeat, ready to make him crack anytime now. You took her away from us! - it’s true. He knows it is. And he carries the weight of his actions every single day, with the regret of pushing you far, far away. But the truth is, he lost you too. He still needs to learn how to deal with the biggest mistake he ever made, giving up on the strongest love he ever felt inside of himself.

Your mom always gives him the longest hugs, feeling you through him somehow, accepting your decision and what happened, but sensing your presence through Lewis being there - reminding your mom of the happiest moments you had with him, the thought warming her sore heart a bit more.

And your sister eventually gave in, realizing that blaming Lewis won’t bring you back - and knowing for sure that a war erupting between her and him is definitely not something that you would want. What happened between you and your ex-boyfriend should affect no one else besides you two. And your will shall be respected by your family.

A wave of memories and recollections washes over Lewis when he walks inside your nephew’s nursery. His eyebrows immediately furrow as he inspects each detail in the room - a sense of familiarity, the “I’ve seen this somewhere before” thought itching his skin.

And that’s when he remembers: the pictures in your journal, the descriptions of the nursery you would want your baby to have. The decoration looks the same as you had written down on the papers, and a deep breath leaves his body - suddenly feeling heavier than before.

Looking into the baby’s eyes, Lewis smiles at the child that’s lying in his crib. Chatting lightly with your brother, the man struggles to push the intrusive thoughts out of the front of his mind. And it’s like everything comes crumbling down when his eyes scan the carving that stands at the edge of the baby’s bed. “Our first little one: Luke”.

- Means ‘light’ - Lewis says, more to himself really, his voice sounding as quiet as a whisper, but your brother was close enough to hear.

- Yeah, it does. It was my sister’s idea to give him this name, actually. Me and my girlfriend loved it, and it’s also a way to keep Y/N close. All the room decorations were her plan as well, so it’s a really special place for us - your brother replies with a kind smile on his face.

A smile that Lewis tries his best to give back, but that he finds himself struggling to do so. He knows all about how the baby name was your idea, how the inspiration for the room was all yours as well. He read it all in your journal, and it’s like he is seeing the pages coming to life right in front of his eyes.

Holding your nephew close in his arms, his fingers caress the little boy’s cheek, looking into his eyes and almost seeing yours. It’s with a heavy heart that Lewis faces this moment, this situation. This could have been your moment. You and him, with a baby of your own, living a dream that you carefully planned to the smallest detail. It was supposed to be your moment, if Lewis hadn’t let go of you.

Later that day, Lewis finally allows himself to cry it all out, once the front door of his house closes behind him. Falling on the bed, no amount of pillows can shut the screaming, aching feeling in his chest, screaming into the cushions all the pain, regret and guilt that fill his veins right now.

You gave away all your dreams, all your vision of a future with Lewis, kindly giving your ideas and plans to your brother, only for your ex-boyfriend to end up living what was supposed to be his life through your family.

As much as he wants to work on himself, to try and be better for you, there’s no point in hoping for your return. You blocked him, from your phone, from your life, and you are not coming back - not even to your family, let alone to him.

Cold tears roll down his cheeks as the man silently beats himself up mentally - for fucking everything up, for losing the love of his life, for ruining his future. Lewis destroyed the only thing that he was supposed to save, to hold close, to cherish and protect.

Now, the only thing stringing you along is the darkness erupting through your bodies, the constant feeling of sadness, of emptiness, emotionlessly walking through this world with a disenchantment about life so deep that could make both of your figures disappear into the fog of the night.

It’s useless to continue pretending like both of you are doing okay when, in fact, you were only okay by the other’s side. Now, you try your best to find a shelter from yourself, from the memories of what you and Lewis once were. But you aren’t sure if you will ever be able to find a shelter that can protect you from him. So it’s just better to stay away, ignoring the idea of a sea that makes you believe that you are one walking into it, instead of the waves washing away all your regrets, erupting through your skin, to the most minimal extent of your being.

Now, the breezes don’t feel light anymore, now the winds are stronger and more distracting of your surroundings, as if the background noise of the gusts are the only thing making you feel something in the middle of the void that represents both of your figures.

And it really is when you lose something, that you realize that you can’t live without it. Lewis will never forgive himself for what he has done to you, to your relationship.

He might cry himself to sleep for the rest of his life, now, but at least he still has all your pictures together, all the voice notes you left him to hear your voice, and your journal - with all your plans and dreams with him, that he can read every night - almost feeling you closer to him, in the delusional tired state that lulls him to sleep, in the middle of all the made up scenarios of everything that your life could have been, but won’t be.

Dreaming of holding you close again, of making everything right, there’s still some hope for a future next to you - maybe, in another life.

[axescryinwater]

｡⋆𖦹.✧˚──

the apartment is quiet except for the soft sound of the stove and the distant rhythm of traffic outside. your daughter is at the table, her little legs swinging from the chair, tongue poking out in concentration as she draws. crayon in one hand, juice box in the other. there's a mess of purple scribbles that sort of look like a shield. or maybe a cat. you’re chopping vegetables one handed, phone balanced on your shoulder, listening to a voicemail from your sister you’ve already heard twice today. the mundane feels good. normal. still. the front door doesn’t creak anymore—bucky fixed the hinge last week—but you still hear him before you see him. boots scuffing the hallway floor. the rustle of that jacket he won’t get rid of. you glance up and he’s there, like he always is lately. a little tired around the eyes, jaw set, still half lost in whatever mission they just pulled him from.

he drops his duffel at the door and steps out of his boots before he even says hi. you know what that means. it was a rough one.

“hey,” you say, not turning around yet.

“hey.” his voice is low, rasped at the edges. he moves into the kitchen slowly, like he’s not sure how to belong in the quiet after everything loud.

“daddy!” lily shouts, twisting in her seat. she scrambles down and runs to him.

his face softens the second she touches him. “hey,” he says, crouching low to catch her. “what’d i miss?”

“i drew you!" she announces proudly, pulling him by the hand toward the table.

he gives you a quick glance, something grateful in it, like he’s thanking you just for being here, for holding it all together.

you dry your hands and join them. lily is explaining the drawing: him in a suit, you with a bow and arrow (which you definitely don’t use anymore), and some kind of flying car in the sky. bucky listens like it’s the most important briefing he’s ever received.

“that me?” he asks, pointing at the stick figure with messy scribbles for hair and something that might be a star on his chest.

“yeah,” she grins. “you’re an avenger now.”

bucky huffs a laugh, rubbing a hand over his face. “guess i am, huh.”

he doesn’t sound proud. not exactly. more like he’s still trying to believe it. still doesn’t know what it means to be one of the good guys. still doesn’t feel like he belongs in the lineup. but you see it. in the way he kneels on the kitchen floor to listen to his daughter’s stories. in the way he checks every window and door before bed. in how he wakes up in the middle of the night just to look at the two of you and make sure it’s real. he’s not the winter soldier anymore. he’s something new. something softer. something harder to define.

after dinner, he helps clean up without being asked. washes dishes with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, that vibranium arm gleaming under the kitchen light. you lean against the counter, watching him in the quiet.

“you okay?” you ask.

he nods slowly. “just… tired.”

you reach for him without thinking, resting a hand on his back. “i can’t tell if you mean physically or existentially.”

he gives a small, tired smile. “both.”

there’s a pause. then, quieter: “they’re calling us something new now,” he says. “not 'thunderbolts' anymore. it’s more official. more public.”

“new avengers?”

“something like that.”

you nod. you expected this. since val’s people started cleaning house and putting the new lineup together. since they sent him back into the field with an actual team and something that looked like purpose.

“you good with that?” you ask.

he shrugs. “i don’t know. i keep waiting for someone to realize i’m not supposed to be there.”

“bucky,” you say, serious now. “you’ve earned this.”

“have i?”

“you show up. every day. for us. for them. for yourself. what more do you want?”

he leans in then, forehead to yours, just breathing you in.

later, after lily’s asleep and the apartment is dark except for the low lamp by the bed, he crawls in beside you and wraps an arm around your waist.

“i don’t know how to be the guy she thinks i am,” he murmurs.

you press a kiss to his collarbone. “you don’t have to be. just... be here for her.”

he exhales against your neck. “that, i can do.”

you two couldn't sleep. the blankets in the bed are pulled up to your waists, your legs tangled without thinking. the lamp casts a warm gold over the room. he’s lying on his side, head propped on his hand, his hair’s still damp from the shower, curling just a little at the ends, and his skin smells like your body wash.

“you're pretty.” he praises lowly, voice rough and tired.

you smile, eyes closed. “mm. pretty sure you said that yesterday.”

he leans in, nose brushing your jaw, lips finding the edge of your neck. slow, unhurried. “yeah, well. still true.”

you hum, tilting your chin up for him without even thinking. he kisses the spot just beneath your ear, where your pulse flutters, and you feel him smile against your skin. his hand slides over your hip under the blanket, fingertips tracing the shape of you like he’s grounding himself there. he tugs gently at the edge of his old henley you’d stolen months ago. his hand doesn’t stop moving. just slow passes over the curve of your waist, your thigh, your back. it’s not rushed. not needy.

he mouths at your jaw, your neck, just a press of lips. not quite kisses. you think maybe he’s too tired for anything more. you’re so caught up in the press of his body, the feel of him in your space, that you almost don’t notice when his hand presses into the small of your back and tugs. he pushes you gently until you’re on your back, flat against the bed. he shifts, moving to hover over you like always. he leans in for a proper kiss then, slow and warm. something like coming home. you meet him with a hand in his hair, keeping him there, and feel his answering smile against your lips. it’s not long before it edges deeper, rougher. he bites at your lip, tugging softly, and you arch up against him with a sharp inhale. "lily's right there—" you breathe out.

he doesn’t pull away. just hums against your mouth. he noses at your neck again, the rough edge of his stubble dragging over your skin. "she’s the heaviest sleeper on the planet. we’ll be fine.”

you kiss him, warm breath mingling in the hush between heartbeats. he smiles into the kiss, hand sliding up to cup your jaw, thumb sweeping over your cheek. steadying you as your mouth moves in a quiet rhythm, tasting the moment. it’s soft but deliberate, each kiss deepening just enough to make you both lean in more, wanting, needing, sighing into eachother. the world narrows to skin, and lips. his tongue swipes at your bottom lip. it’s so gentle, so careful.

just as he’s pulled back a fraction, the bedroom door creaks open. he’s off you in a second, dropping to his elbows at your side. you’re both breathing heavy, heart going wild. lily stands in the doorway, looking tiny in her little white nightgown. “can’t sleep?” bucky asks, running a hand through his hair. you notice in the low light that the tips of his ears are flushed pink. your shirt collar is askew, his henley twisted around your waist. she shakes her head and pads over. she’s rubbing one eye with a tiny fist and dragging her blanket on the floor behind her. bucky props himself up, shifting to make room for her on the bed. 

“alright. come here,” he murmurs, lifting her up. she slots herself in between you easily, shoving her face in your shoulder like she always does. she’s warm from sleep, the side of her little body pushing flush against yours. bucky’s hand is splayed across her back, his thumb rubbing idle circles. 

“what are you doing u?” you ask, smoothing her messy hair down. usually, once she’s down for the night, she’s out for the count. 

she looks up at you, blinking sleepily, then at him. his cheek is resting on top of her head. “i had a nightmare,” she mumbles into your shirt. 

his face softens instantly. you can feel his hand on her back pause for a second. “what about?” he asks. 

“you an’ momma were gone,” she mumbles, voice going soft. “for a long time.” her little fist grips your shirt tighter. 

“not going anywhere, kid,” he says, voice low. he presses a kiss to her head, eyes still on you. “promise.” 

[revelboo]

I know Space Crack Peepaw (TFP Megs) stole his human away while the world around them burned, just to goad Optimus out of hiding. But was there anything else (Outside of their lack of survival instincts.) that drew his attention to them in the moment?

It was just a wrong place, wrong time situation. Reader was unlucky enough to be seen by a vehicon talking to one of the kids and assumed to be an ally. Reader was actually fussing at Miko for returning a book after drawing in it (it was doodles of Bulkhead and Wheeljack) 18+

Broken Arrow Pt 16

TFP Megatron x Reader

• It had come down to his own possessiveness to convince him to find you a cover up so everyone doesn’t see “what’s his” and you don’t know where the poor Vehicons found you the silky blush colored robe, but it’s at least covering the important bits as you sit on the arms of his throne while he- mostly snarls and threatens his followers. He’d already seized one hapless Vehicon that had shot you a curious look and slung the poor guy across the room. Apparently getting some hadn’t done anything to improve his temper or people skills

• Optics narrowing as he sits through debriefing after debriefing, he curls his servos around you and pushes the robe off one shoulder to show off your harness, grinning when you pointedly tug it back into place. And he catches your leash to twist about a servo, gently tugging just to annoy you. “Have you ever tried being nice?” You ask, little hands grabbing the leash and pulling. “Instead of just an asshole?” And you’re aware of the nearest Vehicon sidling quickly out of reach at your words in case Megatron takes it out on him.

• “Nice is weakness, pet,” he growls, hooking a claw carefully under your chin to tip your face up toward him. Before dropping the servo between your thighs, splitting the front of your robe. Damn him! Squirming and trying to shove his servo away as he strokes against you. Baring those sharp denta in amusement. Face flushing when another of his commanders walks up with a datapad, the mech frowning slightly as you wiggle trying to close your thighs and push his servo away, and the mech’s wings flick before he begins droning on about a potential energon mine. Startling when you gasp on a moan and hide your face against Megatron’s hand. “Problem, Starscream?” Megatron asks, propping his chin up in his other fist like he’s not doing anything, servo still petting.

• Expression daring Starscream to question him as he plays with you, listening to the Seeker stutter, wings flicking as he tries to look everywhere but at you, while you make a strangled noise and rock yourself against his servo. Giving in. And he’s struggling not to laugh as Starscream all but runs off the bridge. “I like it better when you were threatening them,” you gasp. And he’s taking a savage delight in punishing you for denying him. The fact that it probably just scarred Starscream for life making it even better. Let them see you and know you’re his. Reminding you of it doesn’t hurt either, because it’s driving him crazy that you’d not surrendered fully to him. Can’t stop thinking about it.

• Instead of just making the other giant aliens and you really uncomfortable. And he won’t let up, stroking you lazily as the next poor bastard to traumatize walks up. Clinging to his servo as the giant spots you, his one optic flicking down to you as you can’t help but squirm and his antenna flatten back. At this rate, he might as well just fuck you on his throne and make everyone watch. Because as soon as he’s mass displaced again, you’re going to slap the heck out of him for this.

Previous

Next

[somno-bunny]

A little story I wrote relevant to your last post.

I take you to a warehouse. It looks abandoned but is surprisingly clean on the inside. There are monitors spread around and booth in the middle of the room with a hole in it. I lead you over to the booth and give you the drugs. You know better than to fight it now and take them. Your body starts to feel warm and your head light. I tell you to strip, and you do with no complaint. I make you lay down in the both on your back, with your bottom sticking out. I stap your legs into stirrups on eith side of the hole, leaving you spread-eagle. In the booth are two more monitors and a couple bottles of water, also drugged. You feel pleasantly warm and floaty by this time, except for your pussy. Your pussy is aching with need, you hole feels painfully empty. The monitors in the booth flick on. One showing the outside of the booth the other you inside the booth. You can hear moans and screams coming from the other monitors around the warehouse. They sound familiar. You realize it's your rape videos from when you were first broken. You can see men come in one or two at a time, a dozen in total. You're having a hard time focusing on what's going on anymore you just want to rub your cunt to fill it with something anything. But you can't reach it on the other side of the hole. Your pussy is leaking like a fosset by this time you can feel it dripping down you ass.

I step up and drop my pants and slam my cock into you. It slides in easy at this point. The monitor on the outside of the box shows your reaction, and we can all hear you moans of relief and pleasure. You can watch yourself as you're taken and used, see yourself writhing in pure bless as void inside you is finally filled. You watch me use you thrusting balls deep over and over until I finally grunt and pump my load deep inside you. I take a marker hanging from the box by a string and write cumdump on you just above your pussy with a little arrow pointing down.

Then the next guy steps up, he's even thicker than me, the steering should have been painful, but it feels amazing. Once he's done using you he writes rapeslut on your thing. One by one each of the 12 guys use you, some twice, as you lay there cumming on there cocks over and over. Each one writes on you: fucktoy, fleshlight, breeding whore, sperm bank. Until your bottom half is cover in derogatory and humiliating terms. Not that you care, the drugged water in the box keeps you happy, needy, and wanting more.

Once each one is done with you, they leave. Until it's just you and me again. You hole dripping with a mix of cum, theirs and yours. I unstrap you and let you out. Your too tired and worn out to walk, so I carry you back to the car. You start coming down on the drive home, feeling exhausted and sore. Once we get home I rub tiger balm on your poor abused pussy before giving you a bath. I was you off, the marker coming right off. Then I carry you to bed.

I lay you face down with pillows propping up your hips. I spread you open gently and start licking your pussy, now aching for a wholly different reason. I lick you slowly and gently soothing your soreness, your clit was all but untouched through your abuse so I tease it carefully. I work my tongue deep inside you lapping out the cum as I slowly bring you to orgasum. Unlit the hard violent orgasums you had earlier. This one washes over you, relaxing you. As you cum you push more cum into my mouth and I lap it up. I make you cum twice more, making sure to lick every inch of your pussy and getting as much of the cum out as I can before I finally wrath you in my arms holding you. I rock and pet you gently as you fall asleep.

Oh my god this is so hot 🥴❤️‍🔥🔥💦

And I love the aftercare ending 🥺👉🏼👈🏼🩷💘

This is a NEED ❤️‍🔥😍

[lixies-favorite-cookie]

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭?!・l.f.

—Even after your bodyguard saved your life you insist that you don't need his help, maybe you feel a little different after he drops his weapon in the middle of a fight—and forces you to admit you need him.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠・lee felix x fem!reader // 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞𝐬・action, fluff, crack, enemies to lovers // 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬・cursing, death of bad guys, blood, cursing, guns, knives, felix being a little shit, did i mention cursing?? (its my mother tongue)

𝐚/𝐧・BOO BITCHES!! haha i'm back after being gone for a... month...yeah...sorry. this is just something silly i had originally planned to put into my bodyguard!lix fic, but i ended up changing the plot so i can no longer (maybe) use it, though i loved it so much i just decided to post it :)) alsoooo does anyone want to be tagged in bodyguard!lix fic??

How the fuck did you manage to get yourself into this situation? Is all you can think of as the room swarms with men, all armed with various weapons, effectively backing yourselves into a corner.

Well, shit.

The walls are cold and hard as you fight your way to the door, driving your throwing knives into any vulnerable place your enemy shows. Men are falling all around you both by your hands and Felix's. It's all a blur—arrows wizz by your neck, mallets swinging around your head.

"Watch out!" Felix shouts. He places his hands around your waist. You are in the air before you can even blink. An arrow hits the cracked cobblestone where your forehead would have been.

Holy shit.

"Thank you," you throw over your shoulder, yanking the arrow out of the wall, launching it into the final man's chest fumbling with his bow right before he collapses. "But I didn't need your help."

Felix barks out an incredulous laugh, pressing his tongue into his cheek. Momentarily he is baffled before something else passes over his expression.

"Fine," he rests his back against the wall, dropping his bloody knife onto the floor, much to your horror.

"Felix, what the fuck—" you don't even get to complete the sentence before another man is sprinting towards you, appearing from the entryway red-eyed and vengeful, fueled by the death of all his comrades. You launch a knife at his jugular. He crumples like a rag doll.

"Felix, pick the knife up," you shout frantically, watching as six more men swarm into the hallway charging toward you. They really don't seem to like you. You move to pull more knives out of your seethe only to find you have four left.

"Felix, this isn't funny, pick the fucking knife up," you demand, far too afraid to be ashamed about the slight trembling in your tone. You send him a look over your shoulder, their stomping growing closer, too close, way, way too close.

"Are you going to admit you need my help?" Felix's obnoxiously smug voice sounds from behind you, practically tasting the smirk in his voice. You grit your teeth so hard they feel like they are going to fall off, but the steps grow louder, too loud.

"I need your help." The words taste so foul in your mouth you almost want to throw the "I hate you" that follows right back up. He smiles, back to his happy, cheery, you-want-to-smack-him-in-the-face-so-bad self.

"Atta girl," he purrs. "Now duck."

You obey.

Two guys breach the entrance, announcing their presence with a deafening battle cry. In one swift motion, Felix pulls a gun from thin fucking air and levels it with their heads. Taking in the mountains of dead bodies, they choose to listen to the barrel of his gun, halting instantly.

"Do you mind? The adults are talking," he chastizes, rolling his eyes as though he is talking to a petulant toddler instead of four knife-wielding guards.

"Where the hell did you get that?" you gasp, pointing to the that in question. He tilts his head, a slow, serpentine smile spreading across his lips. "Oh, this thing?" he flashes it in the light. "I got it from the guard at the gate." You're going to kill him. You're going to take this knife and shove it straight through his stupid, stupid head.

"You've had a gun this entire time?" You seethe, your eye twitching. For a moment, you're so pissed you completely forget about the men awkwardly waiting by the door two seconds away from sprinting.

"I thought you said you didn't need any help," Felix smirks.

"And you chose now to hold me up to my word."

In some half-baked plan to escape, the group charges forward, not before Felix pulls the trigger, shooting all four members square in the forehead—all without ever leaving your gaze. He rolls his eyes, shooting you a look like, 'Do these guys ever learn?' Then, as if nothing ever happened, he says,

"You seemed very adamant."

You were going to punch him, really, truly, you were going to put your fist through his annoyingly beautiful face. Instead, you yank the gun from his hands, clicking the safety and sliding it into the belt of your pants. He doesn't complain as you drag him out of the room, stepping over thick puddles of blood and tangled limbs, cringing slightly as red stains the bottom of your shoe. You wipe it on the floor when you step into the hallway, tiptoeing down the corner.

Somewhere in the distance, murmurs of voices catch your attention. Hiding behind a corner, the shadows cloak you, protecting you from unwanted eyes. The voices loom closer, almost close enough—in complete silence, you could make out the words.

"Hey love, your shoe's untied," Felix speaks from behind you, so loud you spin around, pressing a finger onto his lips in a rush, slowly realizing what little distance is left between you. He smiles against your finger, bringing his tongue to lick a fat stripe up the skin. You fight back a disgusted shriek, instead resorting to a harsh glare and a defiant middle finger.

"I really, truly, to the deepest depths of my soul, hate you," you say, wiping the saliva off your skin.

"Yeah, yeah, save it for the bedroom."

Tonight was going to be a long night.

cookie owns this

[unholyhelbig]

“You’re supposed to be dead.” was so strong felt like you hit me with that sentence I even forgot the title can’t wait for next part!!!

Center picture Cred: Jadiakallisti

Title: The Beast You've Made of Me [Part 3/7]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff

Wordcount: 4,695

Summary: When reader wakes up in her own grave, she's suddenly aware of a past that spans lifetimes, but she's not the only one. Two Avengers are tasked with keeping readers past a secret, or at the very least, controlled.

Warnings: Blood, fatal injuries, mentions of death, containment, and horrible grammar because I don't proofread

[a/n: Sorry for the delay on this one. I promise I'll hit you guys with less tragic backstory and more plot soon! ]

[ Part one | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven ]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

The word sounded foreign to you. Asgardian. The first syllable was doable, the start of something and the end of something in one fail swoop. It was the second syllable that threw you off. Guardian. That wasn’t something you had ever been, nor did you want to be. The two women that frequented your holding cell, now they were guardians.

You were never one of those superhero junkies. Not like the rest of the world. They were infatuated with the Avengers and even more so with the media coverage of them. The main six would do their due diligence and go in for interviews, the occasional ribbon cutting on new Children’s Hospitals.

It was the C and D list heroes that gave you the ultimate ‘ick’. There were reality television shows that highlighted their daily lives and social media accounts that reported on their flings and lack thereof. Of course, they’d home in on the Avengers too, but they circled like vultures, and it was the main reason you had seen the phrase ‘Asgardian’ in the first place.

Thors Summer Body.

Jesus Christ, they called it the Asgardian Abdominal Workout and you had scoffed at the stupid title and graphics on Instagram while you wiped the neon orange Cheeto dust from your fingers onto the front of your shirt.

You didn’t know what they meant for you, but you paced the length of your holding cell while you thought about it. It was day three and you were getting stir crazy. So much so, that when Natasha entered with your lunch for the day, you threw yourself against the glass.

Both of her eyebrows went sky high, grip tightening on the plastic tray. “Whoa, okay. Good afternoon to you too, Kitten.”

“Why do you do that?” You asked.

“Do what?”

“Act like you’re not intrigued by me.”

She was the only one who hadn’t resulted to the poking and prodding, and endless tests that had been run on you. Of course, Wanda was more likely to stick around for a conversation. She’d spend hours with you, just talking, staring at you while you slept. Your mind had chosen to be a challenge, and that excited her. It was more of an emotion than you pulled from her wife.

Natasha let out a sigh and clicked her way through the passcode. You had half the mind to shove past her, just to get out of this stale air. But, she was the Black Widow, and you knew your odds were slim. So, you stayed put, backing away to give her enough room.

She usually placed the tray on the table and then retreated with less than five words to you. But this time, she closed the door and turned towards you, arms crossed over her chest. The pure strength of her physic intrigued you, made a rosy color bloom against your cheeks.

“I would be lying if I told you I wasn’t.” She sounded out carefully. “Do you know Hawkeye?”

You nodded. He was the guy with the arrows, the only other person on the Avengers that had molded their skills instead of inheriting them. Jenn spoke fondly of him, had helped with a case a few years back that you couldn’t recall. You had been struck by the stomach flu and remember being particularly miffed that you hadn’t gotten to meet him.

“So did Loki. Briefly. He was the first big threat that we encountered as a team and he wormed his way into Clint’s mind, changed him because Clint was mortal, and Loki was a different kind of God. A trickster, and an Asgardian.”

“You’re… afraid of me?”

Natasha laughed and if you hadn’t been so wounded by the noise, you would have found it pleasurable. She closed the distance between you both. She smelled soft, floral. It was different from Wanda and from the nurse who had been in and out, growing bolder the more she worked on you.

“No, sweetie. But don’t be so offended, little intimidates me. I know that like our world, you come from one of your own. One with good guys and bad guys. I just hope that you know which side of the line you fall on.”

You stifled a groan. You didn’t even know who you were, much less if there was some malice deep down in your core. Right now, all you were was restless. While you were a homebody that usually extended to shitty television and greasy snacks. Neither of which was offered here.

Wanda brought you a novel to read, but it was in old English and hurt your head to squint at the words on the yellowed pages. You’d only gotten a quarter of the way through. The rest of your time was spent getting jammed with needles and staring at the blank ceiling.

“Hungry?” Natasha asked.

“Not particularly.”

“Alright then, come on.”

You blinked dumbly at her, narrowing your eyes. This could be some form of sadistic trap, but really, what did you have to lose? You were cooperative thus far. No matter where she led you, it would be better than here.

The floor was startling and cold against your bare feet, your jaw clenching in response to the change that hit your skin. Natasha watched you carefully, two steps in front of you but still with a keen eye.

The two of you took enough turns that you wouldn’t be able to find your way out of the compound, much less back to your holding cell, without her. The walls all looked the same, steel lock protected doors lining either side of the corridors. There were no discerning stock photos to spruce up the place, not even windows. If you knew any better, you would say that you were underground.

The elevator was warmer. Natasha used the keycard on her waist to operate it. You stared down at your feet. They were bruised from your excursion through the cemetery. Your hand reached out to the side of the elevator when it lurched forward, throwing you off your balance.

Natasha reached over and grasped your elbow, keeping you steady. Her warmth was domineering, running through you like a heated iron rod. You decided to change the subject for your own self-preservation. “What are we doing exactly? Because if you’re leading me to my demise, then you owe me a replacement lunch, first.”

She scoffed “Is food all you think about? From what I remember you were wolfing down week-old takeout when we met.”

“It’s not all I think about,”

At least, it didn’t used to be. Lately, you were starving at all times, thinking of your next meal directly after you’d finished your first. It was almost as if you were burning off more calories than you could consume. At first, you figured it was your body’s way to catch up after being buried alive- buried dead- but it persisted.

“uh-huh, you know my wife reads minds, right? Seems like all you think about is food and sex.”

“That’s not, I don’t-“Your cheeks heated up and you covered your face with both of your hands. God, this elevator ride was too long. You would be perfectly content digging another grave and laying in it.

“Relax. I’m teasing you.” She nudged you with her shoulder. “You and me, though, we’re going to be spending a lot of time together these next few days. Fury wants us to run more tests that don’t involve needles and EKG’s. That okay with you, kitten?”

You nodded, tongue officially tied. Each time she called you that, you felt arousal pool in your stomach that was quickly ebbed away by guilt. There was no way that you would allow yourself to be taken by the Black Widow. It was her job to be alluring.

And then there was her wife, the woman that you were equally infatuated with. She had a warmth that emanated from her, but a coldness that could wash over her in an instant. It scared you. It turned you on.

Not only could she hear your less than pure thoughts about Natasha, but she wasn’t shy about letting you know she could. The corner of her lip would quirk up, almost as if she wanted to tease you about the fact and not reprimand you.

The elevator doors opened directly into an atrium that was complete with lush green grass. You flinched, holding your arm in front of you to block out the sudden burst of sun. You’d been imprisoned for the past couple of days, and before that, you were in a different type of prison.

You took a deep breath of the clean air, letting it coat your lungs. Your skin instantly warmed. Natasha didn’t’ push you, instead she let you take in the square building around you. There were tinted windows that jutted out in a hexagon shape from the structure, long hallways that lead to move testing areas, living quarters, you were sure.

“I know you haven’t worked your muscles in a bit, but I have some obstacles for you, if you’re up to the challenge, that is.”

“You kidding? I aced gym. Bring it on.”

Natasha’s wolfish smile did nothing to aide your confidence. She led you into the center of the green and squared her shoulders. You didn’t see any equipment around: no vaulting bars, or weights. It was just the two of you and the nature that surrounded. It was only when she lifted up her hands, curling them into fists, that you truly understood.

The Black Widow wanted you to fight her.

There wasn’t much time to contemplate. She moved like lightening, and though you knew she was going easy on you, the crack against the center of your nose didn’t feel like it. You let out a groan, moving both your hands to your face as warmth gushed from the center.

“Jesus Christ, what the fuck!”

“You’re supposed to dodge.”

“You’re supposed to warn me.” You pressed your hands harder against the dripping wound “Oh, I’m going to die.”

Natasha scoffed and let her hands drop from their defensive position. She closed the distance between you and gripped your arm. You refused to budge, making a small noise at the back of your throat. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. Move your hand, let me look at it.”

You leveled her with an apprehensive look but eventually conceded. Watery rust was against your palms, wicked into your lifeline that seemed oddly to stretch on for way too long. It had already dried, you were almost hyper-fixated on the blood. On it’s stain.

Natasha was impossibly close, you could feel her exhaling against your collarbone, her hand squeezing your face and pushing your head to the side to get a better look. Her eyebrows creased. You focused on the smattering of freckles against her nose and under her piercing eyes. You hadn’t noticed them in the fluorescents of the facility.

“Mm, well, you can heal on your own. Just like Thor.” She gave your cheek two pats and stepped back. “I didn’t hit you that hard.”

“I beg to differ,”

Natasha resumed her stance and you held your hand up as if taming a wild animal. As if that would stop her from advancing on you. From this view, you could see the blood that had slotted through your fingers and ran in interconnecting lines. It was almost like a system of roads, each leading to your wrist and drying in a strange pattern. Beautiful. Familiar.

Your hand was tingling viciously and the world around you had started to pulse. You steadied yourself, focused on the grass under your toes. The soil was damp and cold. The sun was hot and harsh. You knew exactly where you were, but the rushing sound past your ears seemed to want to change that.

“Y/n,” You heard Natasha softly. She sounded like she was suspended in air, or you in water. “Y/n, are you alright?”

1893, Chicago World’s Fair

“Miss, are you alright?” His voice filtered through your thoughts. It was smooth and amplified compared to the crowd that flitted around you. Bodies were slotted close together, different scents of spices and crushed florals mixed with the sweat of strangers.

“Yes, of course,” You assured him, seeing the worry drain from his stare. He held his prize in one palm, hard enough to morph the copper back into its original shape. “My apologies. I suppose the heat is getting to me. Please continue, Mr. Damm.”

He gave you a crooked grin. You’d stopped at his booth out of a version of pity. In truth, your eyes had locked with his across the crowded exhibition floor and you couldn’t pull yourself away. He looked like a nice enough man, standing next to a small box that was made of wood.

Glass was bordering the top half, giving the viewer a good look at the inside mechanics. There was a crank that jutted out of the side and a small slot that was in the center of the wooden base. In a room filled with ships, locomotives, and a real moving walkaway, not many people took interest in a simple party trick.

“Have you ever put a penny on a train track, miss?”

“Yes, of course.”

He grinned harder “Well, that’s a good way to lose a limb, if I do say so myself. Now, I have all ten fingers and all ten toes but there are plenty out there who are risking their lives for something that you can now get with convenience. Do you have a penny, miss?”

With heat rising to your cheeks, you fished into the damp area between your breasts and pulled out a coin, making sure it was dry. You couldn’t hide it’s warmth, but the dress you’d chosen to wear on your mothers’ recommendation was much too tight fitting to carry anything in a proper place.

Mr. Damm did not seem to mind, he simply placed the penny into a small slot on the side of the machine. “I’ve spent years crafting a rolling mill that presses designs into soft metals. Not only that, but it elongates them as well. A penny had tremendous value, but wouldn’t you sometimes prefer something more?”

“I suppose I’ve never thought about it before.”

“Ah, well, come here. Crank this lever and watch.”

You glanced at him for reassurance before doing as you were told. It put up more resistance than you were expecting, but eventually you watched two metal rollers press the copper into a longer, oblong shape. You had to admit, it was a cool sight, especially with your ability to control the speed.

Eventually, your coin popped out of the slot in the wood and it looked like anything but the penny you had provided. It was stretched and the words ‘Columbian 1893 exhibition’ were impressed into the metal. He placed it into your palm, still warm from the process.

“Very good, Mr. Damm. But, does it still hold it’s value?”

“Of course, Miss! First thing I made sure of. Though, I suggest you keep this. One day, they’ll be worth millions.” He tucked his thumbs proudly into his suspenders “I’m headed to New York City in a few days to patten this machine, here.”

You returned his smile, words caught in your throat when a hand started against one side of your waist and trailed along your back to rest on the other. The rosewater scent that accompanied Helia. She was a few inches taller than you and hugged you close to her pale form.

There were dark circles under her sunken eyes, her hair a jet black. She often captured the eyes of anyone in the room. But in a room with so many wonders it was hard to notice her among them. People often thought of her as sick. But you knew better. Helia simply mirrored a specter. She was filled with a sharp kindness that was preceded by her excitement.

“Sister, what have you got there?” She plucked the coin from your hand and ran her pale finger over it “Very nice! This is fantastic, sir. Really amazing. I hope you don’t mind if I steal y/n away from you.”

“Not at all,” Mr. Damm gently took your hand and placed a dry kiss on the top of your hand. “It was fantastic to meet you, miss. Enjoy the fair.”

Helia had pulled you away by the waist before you could respond. You wiped the top of your hand against the rough fabric of your dress, suppressing a chill. He was nice enough, an average looking guy. Deep down you knew your mother only let you attend to see if you could attract some type of man.

She’d long ago deemed you feral, her wild-child that held the beauty but none of the grace to settle down with an acceptable husband. You wore Helia’s dress because she would have left you to rot in the hot motel room if you hadn’t at least attempted to look presentable.

“Mother is going to be so upset with you,” You tsked, “pulling me away from a possible suitor.”

“Oh, the inhumanity. We have to hurry. Jorell has been holding the same spot in line for the Ferris Wheel. We simply must join him. I don’t have the patience to wait another day.”

“At least you are one to admit your flaws.”

“Hush, walk faster.”

You felt incredibly stiff in the dress but followed her a quicker pace. Your brother had sacrificed his entire day to make sure the three of you could rise high above the fair. You’d long given up on your own ability to stand in a stretching line and you’d had to keep him waiting even longer.

A light drizzle had begun to fall from wispy grey clouds, instantly cool on your skin. Helia hugged you closer, silently pleading for the ride to still be operational. There was no electricity crackling through the sky, nor a worried look on a single patron’s face.

Jorell waved the two of you over, boots splashing against the cobblestone. His hair was damn, inky and falling into his ghostly stare. His shirt was soaked through at this point, the white outlining the curves and dips of his stature. The strong, protective man that had yet to find a suitor either. Though, mother was much less persistent when it came to her only son.

“Where did you find her?” He smirked.

“Playing with coins.”

“I wasn’t playing with anything. If you must know, a very nice man was giving me a demonstration of his invention.”

Helia nudged him in the ribs, “She took pity on him, like she does all helpless creatures.”

You suppressed a groan. Certainly, you were deemed to softest of the three siblings, though you knew when it was necessary to put a thing out of it’s misery. You’d bring home stray cats and then make excuses for the parasites that were attached to it.

“Come on, we’re next!”

Helia grabbed your hand and gave it an excited squeeze. There were two metal steps leading up to the boarding area. A man stood next to a gally of machinery, and unlike Mr. Damm’s penny pressing box, you couldn’t see inside of it. He held a black umbrella up to protect the panel from the weather.

He grunted out “No single riders, only two to a car. One of you will have to sit this out.”

It would be fair to let Jorrell and Helia take the helm. You weren’t much of a fan of heights anyway, and the diming in your sisters’ eyes at the news was enough to break you. “You two go on ahead.”

“You’re sure?” Jorell asked, lifting a dark eyebrow.

“I’m positive, go! I’ll be waiting right here.”

Maybe you did take too much pity on the beasts around you. They certainly stuttered to find kindness, as did you in moments. But at the base of the worlds first Ferris Wheel you would have done any kindness for the strangers that flitted around you. Especially for your own family.

You watched as they boarded the cart closest to the bottom, the last riders until a chain was slipped across the front, blocking the rest of the patrons. Bad weather. You heard the man mutter, but paid no mind. He certainly wouldn’t let them ride if the conditions were too dangerous.

They grew smaller and smaller as the monolithic machine carried them to the very top of the loop. You craned your neck, having to look away as harder rain blurred your view. It was unladylike to wipe at your eyes, but you hadn’t given a care. Unladylike or not, you’d give anything to see Helia and Jorrell in this moment. Joy swelled in your chest.

Then, the Ferris Wheel lurched to a stop. Strangled cries of shock floated down to you. This must be part of the exhibition. It was a naïve thought, but one that carried you for a moment more of bliss before pure terror. The next noise was grinding metal against metal, shaking that jostled many of the riders.

The speck of Jorrell had slid from his seat, the metal much too slippery from the rain. He held on to the edge, the crowd letting out sounds of distress. One woman screamed. You felt damp and useless, hand covering your mouth.

Helia gripped at the fabric of his shirt desperately trying to keep him afloat. And you believed whole-heartedly, that if the machine hadn’t lurched again, she would have been able to maintain her grip.

New inventions were faulty. They malfunctioned in different conditions. The rain had not been anticipated and neither had the harsh winds that made Chicago damp and freezing. Another sound of metal crunching and a scream that was masked within a sea of people already beginning to plan how to cope with tragedy.

You may have screamed to, but you had a feeling the noise got stuck in your throat. Jorrell had tried to grip the bars on the way down. They bit into his fingers, water making it impossible for him to swim.

He was crushed in an instant between the gears that you could see, and this time, you did cry out. You figured your legs unable to work, knees nearly hitting the cobblestone. In that moment, you thought about how it would dirty your dress.

An arm was there to steady you, grasping onto your elbow and pulling your eyes away from the scene. You were pliable in this moment, unable to question who had grabbed you. There was the scent of metal and strong cologne. They emanated comfort, tucking your head into the small of their neck to pry your eyes away from the mechanical mauling.

“Look away,” Mr. Damms voice was muffled against your ear, filling his chest cavity. “This isn’t something a lady should see, miss.”

The scream tore through your chest with a visceral pain. Your nails were digging into the soft soil, heels pushing against what you could only recognize as grass. You’d come to in a state of fight or flight. Adrenaline coursed through your veins, breath refusing to catch.

“Hey, hey, you’re alright.”

It took you a moment to realize who was in front of you. The world was dripping with color, the rushing sensation fading from your ears. Instead, it was replaced by the sound of birds, the scent of nature, the warmth of the sun. You were still outside, lying on the ground and blinking up at the crystal blue sky. No rain. No water.

Natasha was knelt next to you, a look of worry flooding her expression. She had one hand on your chest, and the other was cupping your cheek. She was checking your vitals, you were sure, because you had most certainly lost consciousness.

“Breathe in for six seconds through your nose. Good… now hold it. Only breathe out through your mouth when I tell you to.”

Your chest had started to ache when she finally gave you the nod to release the air you had greedily drawn in. She stayed with you, repeating the process three more times before you finally felt the blades of grass tickle your palms, the slight breeze touch your skin. Natasha brushed a strand of sweat-soaked hair behind your ear before she flopped back into a sitting position.

“Want to tell me where you just went?”

“Chicago,” You grunted out.

Natasha got this adorable crease between her brows, but she didn’t’ push any further. You squinted up at the clouds and stretched your arm out, enjoying the prickly sensation of the grass.  

“Sometimes… I get these nightmares. Most of the time I don’t remember my dreams but when these happen, they feel so real. Almost like I was there myself, which is impossible because they were decades, centuries ago.”

“What are they like? Your dreams?”

“Volatile. They all follow the same formula. A life that I couldn’t have had, an older brother who dies by water and a younger sister who just… dies. One of them meet a violent end before I can wake up, and they’ve never repeated themselves. It’s just new tragedy after new tragedy.”  

You’d always thought the dreams were weird. But, chalked them up to being related to stress. When you were a kid, it was stress about starting a new school, soccer try-outs or midterms. Then as you got older you pinned it on college admissions and failing the bar twice before submitting to be a paralegal instead.

But then, Jonathan died. Drowning just as every other version of him had.

 You’d never told anyone about the dreams and now you were sounding them out with a near-stranger who you were pretty sure used to be a villain. You’d read that on the back of a cereal box once while it tore up the roof of your mouth with its sugary edges. You didn’t’ put much faith in the trivia.

“That must be scary,”

You pulled yourself up, resting your arms on your knees. You were sure you looked disheveled, but she gazed at you with something of admiration and a recognition of pain.  She’d pulled a blade of grass from the earth and was shredding it in a nervous habit.

“Chicago, huh?”

“The Worlds Fair, actually. I got a penny.”

“Oh?” She gave you a small smile “My, well, aren’t you rich.”

The two of you laughed, a small moment that filled you with content. It seemed to fill the crater that had just opened up in your soul. If it even was your soul to fill. It eventually flickered out, silence washing over you.

“Natasha?”

“Yeah, y/n?”

“Are you going to figure out what’s wrong with me?”

Your voice broke and you were tempted to muffle it with a cough. You didn’t’ want to show weakness. It was a golden rule in your family. The embarrassment of your actions in the dream still lingered on your tongue. Falling into the arms of Mr. Damm and his listless invention.

“Why can’t I die if everyone around me dies too easily?”

You all but whispered the words, and a soft, pitying noise came out of Natasha that you weren’t expecting. She clenched her jaw and unclenched it as if she was afraid to mince her words. There was almost anger, no, frustration, with herself behind her stare.

“Nothing is wrong with you, y/n. According to your bloodwork, you’re extraordinary. Growing stronger and stronger every day. You’re an enigma, even by Asgardian standards. But you’re not impossible to solve. We’ll figure you out.” She glanced down at the grass between her fingers, shredded another green strip. “No one deserves to live with that much pain.”

With a nod, you wiped away the tears that escaped with the base of your palms, careful to avoid looking at the blood. You’d never passed out like that, had a vision, a memory, forced upon you with the pull of a trigger. You didn’t want to risk it.

“Let’s get you a shower, yeah?” She stood and reached out her arm before hoisting you to your feet.

“Are you saying I stink?”

“I thought I was being very direct about the fact. Besides, I may have hit you a little hard, kitten.”

“I knew it!”

She grabbed you by the hand and pulled you along, as if she didn’t trust you on your own feet. Her grip was reminiscent of Helias, strong and consistent and filled with nothing but care. You let her lead you, hoping the blood wasn’t the only thing the shower would wash down the drain.

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