#truly the greatest thing that ever happened to my fics was realizing that this is Not Cannon and it doesnt have to be Canon Compliant

[mossterunderthebed]

yknow, sometimes i see posts about jjk and it's themes and thematic elements, the passing torch, the generational cycles being broken, Yuuji being a type of the bright future where Gojo was representative of his own 'kind' of sorcerer- brute force, weaponization, kids who weren't really treated like people but instead made into tools- and at the end, there's no true definitive change, but there's definitely an air of 'things are going to be different' but like...

im the one with the pen right now, so im just gonna ignore All of That

[wwinterwitch]

right person, all the wrong times - anthony bridgerton

summary: you and anthony have been in love with one another from the moment you met, but it seems as though nothing will ever happen between you. after you catch the attention of another gentleman, he realizes perhaps it's time to finally do something about his feelings pairing: anthony bridgerton x fem!reader word count: 7.3K tags: mutual pining, best friends to lovers, angst and fluff, period-typical topics (marriage is everything, gender roles, all that stuff), daphne being match maker as always, kissing, it gets briefly suggestive like once, if i skipped anything please let me know. note: i started this show two days ago and i'm already halfway through season 2. i couldn't hold myself from writing whatever this is and i thought i'll share since it's the longest fic i've ever written. english is not my first language so writing in a way that resembles the show was a whole challenge for me!

a reblog and/or comment really helps me out as a content creator so thank you in advance if you take the time to do either!

all masterlists | buy me a coffee

You and Anthony have been best friends for years now. Even when he's a few years older than you, the two of you became inseparable shortly after knowing one another. No one seems to know or understand you quite like he does, and you've become the person he always turns to when he needs someone.

It happened just a few months after you were introduced into society. You were lucky to bump into him that night in Ms. Danbury's ballroom, and after repeated apologies and quick introductions, you stayed with him for the rest of the event.

Your families were excited to see the two of you talking, already picturing the moment when he shows up to your house and asks for your hand in marriage. However, as time passed, it was evident for everyone that nothing was ever going to happen.

And as embarrassing as it is to admit, you were just as disappointed to realize Anthony considered you to be just a friend. From day one, you were absolutely captivated by him, and you truly thought he was as interested as you were. Unfortunately, it seems as though your feelings have never been –and never will be– reciprocated.

Of course, you never let that stop you from trying to find in others what you so effortlessly found in Anthony from the moment you laid eyes on him. It hasn't been easy, but you continue to look for that special someone.

Despite everyone knowing about your proximity to the Viscount, a fair share of suitors were always there available for you. Some move past the mere privilege of dancing with you if they prove to be interesting enough, but none of them have made it far enough.

Perhaps the search would be easier if you weren't deeply in love with your best friend, but there's no way you'll ever be able to control how you feel. You can't control the butterflies in your stomach when you notice him approaching you, or how it seems as though everyone around disappears when you two are together.

Anthony doesn't contribute to making your situation any easier. His friendship is one of the greatest gifts you've ever received, but it has caused you a great deal of pain and confusion. Even when he's nothing but your friend– even when he has confided in you many times that marriage is the last thing on his mind, you can't help but notice certain things. Certain gestures, certain stares...he has surely given you reasons to believe your feelings might be reciprocated.

One of the many things he does that inevitably lifts your hopes up is the fact that he absolutely despises every possible suitor you've ever had. Whether he claims to know them and they're the worst person imaginable, or he starts speculating based on his own prejudices, it seems as though no man is worthy of you in Anthony's eyes. You've always wondered why he's so adamant about that claim.

"There you are!" Daphne excitedly greeted you one evening at yet another social gathering. "I was afraid I'd miss the chance to spend even a moment with you tonight, considering how busy you seem to be with all your suitors," she smiles, quickly glancing across the room.

"Well, I could say the same thing. I've seen you dance for most of the night," you remark. "I bet your brother is furious."

"Oh, believe me, he is! But I'm not the only one he's concerned about," her smile only grows after her insinuation. It's no secret that Daphne has always hoped for you to officially join their family, as she's convinced her brother is ridiculously in love with you. "I was only able to escape from him because he couldn't stop telling Benedict just how awful the men you were dancing or talking to are."

"He does have that habit, yes. Poor Benedict," you joke, turning around to spot the two brothers still talking.

Before Daphne could say a thing, a man approached the two of you. As you laid eyes on him, you recognized him as the first gentleman you had a dance with tonight. Both of you smiled at him as he extended his hand your way. "May I have another dance with you, my lady?"

You look at Daphne, who quickly takes a step back to let you know you can go. He gently grabs your hand once you've accepted his invitation, guiding you to the dance floor.

Mr. Demrick is a fine gentleman. He's been nothing but kind, charming and attentive, not to mention he's ridiculously handsome. This isn't the first evening you two have crossed paths, having the honor of dancing a few times before. He seems to have a strong interest in you. Your Mama has expressed many times that it's a matter of time before he's asking for your hand.

You do, however, notice a big flaw in this seemingly perfect man. He's no Anthony Bridgerton.

And speaking of, as you're dancing with Mr. Demrick's hand on your back and the other gently holding one of your own, you can't help but notice Anthony exactly where he once was. He's already looking your way and even from a distance you notice he's as stiff as ever, arms crossed, muttering things to Benedict.

It leaves you to wonder once again if he's being protective over his friend or if there's a deeper meaning to his apparent disgust for all the men that have ever shown interest in you.

After that night, Mr. Demrick's interest in you was more evident than ever. All Daphne could talk about with Lady Bridgerton and your Mama during supper the next day was the different bouquet of flowers he sent you and how breathtakingly beautiful they were.

"Needless to say, I'm very happy for you," Daphne seems to be finished with her talk about the flowers, turning to look at you from across the table. "You two make a very lovely match."

"No doubt you'll be very happy with such a nice and handsome gentleman for a husband," Lady Bridgerton agrees.

Everyone quickly turns to look at Anthony when he lets out a quick chuckle, looking down at his food and pretending he was barely listening.

"Something wrong, Anthony?" Lady Bridgerton asks shortly after with a rather serious tone.

He finally looks up, smiling at his mother. "Not at all. Please, continue with your...delightful chat."

You glared at him and despite you trying to ignore it, something deep within you made it impossible not to say something else regarding Mr. Demrick just to upset Anthony further. "He has invited my family to a picnic to meet his own," you say, noticing the way your best friend immediately turns to look at you with a horrified expression.

"We're really looking forward to that," your mother chimes in, trying to keep the conversation going after Anthony's interruption.

"Cheers to that!" Eloise exclaimed ironically, and you noticed she was looking directly at her eldest brother. "A man brave enough to pursue the heart of a lady is always a reason to celebrate, right?"

Now it was Colin and Benedict the ones who couldn't hold back their laughter after noticing their brother's reaction to that comment.

"What's so funny?" Hyacinth asks, looking impossibly confused.

Eloise's comment evidently made everything a lot worse. Little Gregory joins his sister in their inquiry to know what was going on, until Lady Bridgerton ordered them to stay quiet.

You didn't like El's insinuation one bit, as it does nothing to help with your delusions, but at least you were appreciative of the fact that she was willing to be with you on this one despite her disgust towards the whole idea of marriage and the position a woman is put in because of it. Perhaps she's willing to overlook that detail for the sake of upsetting one of her siblings.

As soon as dinner was over, Anthony offered to accompany you and your mother outside to your carriage. You didn't protest, and quickly calmed Daphne and Lady Bridgertons worries after they started apologizing fervently for his behavior during the evening.

Anthony immediately knew you were upset. It was evident in the way you walked in complete silence without acknowledging he was there next to you.

"Can I have a word with you before you leave?" Anthony asks as soon as the three of you are outside the Bridgerton home.

"Is it okay? If you're too tired we can leave right away."

"It's perfectly fine, dear. I'll wait in the carriage," your Mama replies. "Thank you, Lord Bridgerton, but there's no need," she quickly added when Anthony offered his arm to help her walk down the steps of the entrance. "Please reiterate my gratitude to my dear Violet for having us today."

"Of course," he nodded, returning your Mama's smile. Even when he behaves rather poorly, your mother absolutely adores him. It warms your heart to see how good they get along.

Your Mama walks to the carriage, leaving you and Anthony alone. "I apologize for my behavior tonight."

"I don't think your apologies are sincere."

"I don't know what else do you expect, if I'm being honest," he replies, and immediately knows he has to say something because of your reaction to that comment. "That man is not a good match for you. He's not on your level, and I'm quite certain that he won't be able to make you happy."

"How could you possibly know that?"

"Because I know you. And I know when someone is not right for you."

You scoffed. "No one ever seems to be good enough for me."

Anthony nodded. "Yes, exactly."

"Can't you just be happy for me? Or at least pretend that you are?" you ask, exasperated. It's one thing that he doesn't reciprocate your feelings, but to stand here and claim to be your best friend when he acts like this is something entirely different. Something you can't and won't stand for. "I don't understand why you have to try to ruin every chance I get to find someone."

"Because," he says sternly, as if it was obvious. But is it really that obvious? Is it obvious to you, or even to him?

A dim light of hope shines through in the depths of your heart, knowing very well how dangerous that has been in the past. "Because what?"

He stood there in front of you, looking rather troubled. You notice the way he hesitates and for a moment you almost could've sworn he wanted to take a step closer to you.

But that never happened, and instead all you got was a "because you're my best friend, and I care about you," from him. The same thing you've heard over and over. That godforsaken phrase that has shattered your heart into million pieces over the years.

You try to hide your disappointment, looking up at him with a stern glance. "If I'm truly your best friend, you'd support my decisions instead of brutally questioning them like you always do."

With that said, you didn't wait for any sort of answer as you quickly walked towards your carriage, barely acknowledging your driver and your mother as you headed back home.

Anthony watches as you walk away, once again feeling like a complete fool for not saying something else. For not daring to take that extra step and reveal the real reason why he won't accept anyone else as your husband. It's quite simple, really. The real reason is that he wants to be the one you marry.

But he didn't say anything yet again, and all that's left for him to do is go back inside his house to listen to Eloise and Daphne calling him a fool while the rest agree with them. He doesn't say much about their claims, as they couldn't possibly be more true.

This is exactly what he deserves for acting so cowardly. He gets shamed by his siblings for not doing something about his feelings while you go home, probably thinking about that absurd picnic with Mr. Demrick until you go to sleep.

Next day, you try to forget all about Anthony Bridgerton and focus on your date with Mr. Demrick. Your families were sitting around all together while he asked if you would like to take a walk with him.

He's lovely. Offering his arm for you, complimenting you every chance he gets, making you laugh with his endless anecdotes and quick remarks. He's everything you should need, yet your mind wanders back to your best friend. You can't help it. All you want is for him to be the one kissing your hand and telling you you're the most captivating sight of all.

Your Mama could barely hold her excitement when she read what Lady Whistledown had to say about you and Mr. Demrick after the families were seen spending time together. "The union of the season", she called it. And it shouldn't come as a surprise, as both of you come from wealthy and respected families. It's evident everyone takes a great interest in the possible union.

Still, you were very much intimidated by it, as all eyes will be on you until there's news about an engagement.

And just as you predicted, every lady turned to look at you as you went to visit the modist for a new dress for the next ball. You must look absolutely perfect to earn the approval of everyone and capture Mr. Demrick's heart for good.

At that point, the realization finally started to settle. You're soon becoming a wife, moving to your own home and starting a family. And all of that with a man that you respect and care for, but are incapable of loving.

But perhaps this arrangement will make your feelings for Anthony become nothing but a memory. A memory you won't even care to think about when you have such a wonderful husband by your side.

Days passed and Mr. Demrick continued to send all sorts of gifts to your house. You made the choice of inviting him over so the two of you could spend more time together before the next ball. He was sitting on a couch with your mother while you played the piano for them.

"That was certainly a very beautiful performance," he says once you're done playing. "And you said you composed that yourself?"

"Indeed. I like spending my days playing the piano," you smile brightly.

The entire reunion was quickly ruined when someone burst inside the room. You turn around in your seat to find Anthony standing there, barging in completely unannounced and unexpectedly. It was unclear to you why you felt the need to stand up from your seat to greet him but you did, feeling your heart rapidly beating in your chest at the sight of him.

Oh, how badly you've missed him.

"What are you doing here, Anthony?" you ask, immediately remembering your soon-to-be fiancée and your mother are also in the room. "I'm afraid I'm with a guest right now. Whatever it is, it'll have to wait, my lord."

You never call him that, ever. It was evident by his reaction that he absolutely hated the fact that you refer to him as such.

"My apologies. I didn't mean to disrupt, but I believe it's an urgent matter."

"My lord, I–"

"I must insist," he quickly cuts you off, looking rather desperate.

You try to come up with something to say, knowing you should stand your ground and make him leave, but you were so happy to be in his presence again that the feelings completely clouded your judgment.

"No worries, my lady," you hear Mr. Demrick say, standing up from his seat and sending you a reassuring smile. "I'm sure whatever Lord Bridgerton is here for requires your immediate attention, given his insistence," he added shortly after, giving Anthony a not so friendly look. "I'm sure we can visit the gardens while we wait?"

Your mother nodded after his question. "Of course. That should be more than enough time for Lord Bridgerton to communicate his urgent matter."

Neither Mr. Demrick nor your mother were pleased by Anthony's presence, but you couldn't thank them enough from sparing you this one time. You know this man like no one else does, and you're certain that he wouldn't take a no for an answer and that would've made the situation a lot worse.

"Perfect," Mr. Demrick says before gesturing for your mother to lead the way. Before he leaves the room, he gives Anthony one last look before turning his attention back to you. "Perhaps we should discuss where you'd like your new piano to be in our future home once I'm back. I'd love for my wife to continue doing what she enjoys, especially when she's so extraordinary at it."

You smile after his comment, trying your best not to look at Anthony until Mr. Demrick is officially gone because you can imagine his features are clearly expressing his thoughts regarding that last comment. Once both of them are out of sight, you finally look at him.

"What is wrong with you?" you snapped almost immediately. "I'm glad Mr. Demrick is a patient and understanding man! He could've easily decided to leave the very instant you walked through that door demanding to have a word with me."

"I think he's captivated enough, my dear. I doubt you'll ever get rid of him," he replies, evidently disgusted by the thought of him.

"I don't intend to get rid of him. And do not call me that again."

"Why not? I've always called you that."

"That was before I met Mr. Demrick. Now, it is completely inappropriate."

"Oh, please. It's not like you're already his wife."

"But I will be soon," you point out. He's quiet after that, which gives you room to continue talking. "You must understand that a married woman cannot have other men calling her such things."

"So am I supposed to start addressing you like you're nothing but a stranger? Or perhaps you'd like me to already start calling you Mrs. Demrick? Is that how things will go? You marry this insufferable man and I have to just accept the fact that I no longer have my best friend?"

"I don't know what else you want me to say," you mutter, feeling like you could cry any minute now. "This was going to happen sooner or later."

"It was never supposed to be this way," he sighs, and your soul aches for him when you notice the way he's looking at you. Defeated, exhausted, disappointed, frustrated. You've never seen this particular mixture of emotions reflected in his eyes before.

"And how exactly it was supposed to be?"

Anthony was quiet, too quiet for your liking. You see his hesitation once again and you brace yourself to hear yet another confirmation of the fact that you're nothing but a friend. It doesn't matter that he glances at you from across the room like he can't help himself. It doesn't matter that all the Bridgerton siblings have made insinuations about you and Anthony's relationship. It's all in your head, because you're nothing but a friend.

In a surprising turn of events, you watch as he takes a few steps closer to you. He's cautious of every move, not wanting to scare you– or himself. The beat of your heart speeds up and your hands shake slightly when he's finally in front of you.

You look up at him like a deer coming face to face with a hunter, but in this case you're unable to run away for your life. He's dangerously close to you, gently moving his hand up to touch your face.

The second his fingers brush against your cheek, a shiver travels down your spine and you can't help but close your eyes because his touch is absolutely heavenly. Your breath hitches in the back of your throat when his digits trace down your neck until his hand settles there, holding you with his fingers behind your ear and his thumb still caressing the skin of your face.

"It should go like this," he whispers, and you finally open your eyes to see him looking at you with such adoration, you were certain your legs could betray you any second now and completely give in, causing you to fall straight to the ground.

He leans slightly closer after seconds of just contemplating you, and even though you closed your eyes again, feeling his nose brushing against yours, you're able to snap out of your trance before he could actually kiss you.

"It's not right..." you're able to say, pulling back from him but not nearly enough. He's still very much holding you.

"It is, my dear. I can tell you wish for this as badly as I do."

"Please, Anthony..." you try, but your body betrays you when your hand is resting on his bicep.

"I've always adored the way my name sounds when it's you the one calling me," he confesses, and your stomach fills with butterflies.

You realize he's leaning closer again, but before he can do so you manage to gather all traces of self-control that were almost stripped from you to move back, setting free of his touch.

Anthony stands there, absolutely confused and heartbroken, and is right then when you can't keep your tears in any longer.

"I'm afraid it is too late," you mutter. This has got to be the most painful thing you'll ever have to do. "I'm getting engaged soon."

"But you're not anyone's yet. There's still time if you haven't accepted any proposals."

"Please, don't make this any harder than it should be," you sob, wiping your tears away.

"Darling–"

"Believe me, no one would want this more than me," you interrupted. "You have no idea how many times I've found myself fantasizing about this very moment. For you to say all of this, to be yours forever..." Tears continue to roll down your cheeks and the sight is too much for Anthony to endure, as his own eyes are starting to fill with tears as well. "But it is not possible anymore. I'm sorry, I really am. I won't ask you to understand or accept my decision, but I'd appreciate that you can at least respect it."

"I won't. I refuse to let you marry someone else when we both know we belong together."

"Anthony, Mr. Demrick–"

"You still can't even call your future husband by his own name?"

You sigh, frustrated. "Charlie will become my husband. I don't doubt that he'll be an excellent companion, and that you'll find someone else in time. Soon enough, we'll be nothing but a memory."

"Is that really what you want?" he asks, and your heart sinks when you notice his voice breaking slightly.

You take a few seconds to answer. Of course that's not what you want. You want Anthony to be your husband. You'll always want him and him only. But it's already too late for any of that.

Feeling more heartbroken than ever before, you have to look back at Anthony and fight the urge to run to his arms. "Yes. And I also want you to leave."

Anthony was barely keeping it together, not wanting to cry in front of you. He's once again taking a few steps closer to you, but stops at a reasonable distance to grab your hand to kiss it. "Very well, my lady," he says with a quick bow of his head. "I apologize for wasting so much of your time. Let me assure you, I'll never bother you again."

He let your hand go and immediately turned to the door to leave. As soon as you no longer hear his footsteps, you fall to your knees and allow yourself to cry, feeling like the sorrows from this conversation will haunt you for the rest of your days.

Knowing Mr. Demrick and your mother could be here any minute, you decided to stand up from the ground as soon as you could to lock yourself in your room, where you could be away from everyone for a while until you feel ready to go downstairs and pretend you're content with this life that you've chosen for yourself today.

You really know you shouldn't, as you've played a part just as big as his in the downfall of everything you could've had together, but you can't help it as you curse Anthony for taking so long. You curse him for deciding to do something about his affection for you when it's far too late. And most importantly, you curse him because despite knowing it's over, you are certain that there's nothing you can do to ever get over your feelings for him.

As soon as you realize you're being unfair by putting all the blame on him, you also curse yourself for being as blind and coward as he was. And you curse life itself while you're at it, because you feel like making everyone and everything responsible for not being able to live the life that you wanted.

―

It's been a few days after the last time you and Anthony spoke. Just days, but it has felt like years and years without him. He hasn't reached out to you, and you couldn't deny that not having him around was absolute torture. There was no greater pain than this.

But you were hopeful that you could see him again at tonight's ball. It was all you could think about as you were getting ready.

"You look lovely, sister," the youngest of your family says, watching as one of the maids is finishing with your hair. "I can't wait to join all of you next season!"

"Thank you, my dearest," you smile at her. "I cannot wait for that either. Perhaps I can help you choose your dress and do your hair for your first ball."

"Yes, please!"

Your youngest sister stayed in your room with you until it was time for everyone to leave. Your father waited by the door while your mother put all of your siblings in line to check their appearance and make sure everyone was looking flawless.

Like the Bridgertons, your family was also quite large. Your older sister is already married so she no longer lives with you, but your parents still have a handful of children to take care of. Your two older brothers haven't married yet and neither have you. There's also your little sister, who's debuting next season, and your baby brother who's barely ten years old.

To this day, you have no idea how they were able to handle the chaos that six children can bring. For that, you admire them deeply.

Once your mother made sure everything was in order, you and your brothers followed her and your father to the carriage. They start a conversation, but you're barely paying any attention, as Anthony is keeping your head occupied again.

Eventually, you reach the residence where the ball's taking place and the five of you make your way inside. As all of you are standing outside the doors of the hall where the event is taking place, you feel a hand reaching out to grab yours. You turn around to look at your mother staring at you with a sympathetic smile.

"I'm so sorry, Mama," you say out of nowhere, though it's practically the only thing you've been able to say to her lately.

"You made the right choice, dear," she reassures you. "Are you ready?"

You nod, inhaling deeply before your mother lets go of you, standing with your father as they wait for you to take the first step. As soon as all of you are entering the room, you notice everyone staring your way, their eyes still filled with expectancy and excitement.

They still believe you're going to marry Mr. Demrick.

You quickly scan the room as you walk down the stairs, the familiar feeling in your stomach appearing when you spot Anthony along with his siblings, his eyes never once leaving you. Despite everything that has happened, he still looks at you like you're the only person in that room.

Your parents go off one way to mingle with other parents attending the event while your siblings scatter around the ballroom to greet their friends and find possible matches.

Having a chance to talk to Anthony was the only reason you decided to attend. Still, you didn't know how and when it'd be okay for you to approach him. Things didn't end on the best of terms, so it's normal for you to have your doubts.

Instead of immediately approaching him, you walk around the room, never losing sight of him. You couldn't help but smile to yourself the first time you catch him looking around the room, unsuccessful to locate you.

"I was hoping to see you tonight," you hear Daphne's voice next to you, sending you back to reality. "You look as beautiful as ever."

"Thank you, so do you."

Your friend smiles at you, briefly looking to where you previously were. "Are you looking for someone?"

"No, not at all," you immediately shake your head, imitating her smile.

"I apologize for what I'm about to say. I don't believe it is the time nor place, but I cannot hold myself back," she says with obvious concern as her smile is replaced with a frown. "My brother told me everything that happened the other day. I don't think I'll ever be able to express how sorry I am."

"Oh, Daphne, that's really not necessary..."

"But I think it is. As ashamed as this makes me, I'm afraid I was the one responsible for his actions."

"What do you mean?"

"I couldn't help but notice the way you two look at each other, or the way you smile when you're together. Believe me, I've never seen my dear brother so infatuated with anyone else before. To see you slip away from him and him doing nothing about it was not only painful, but it angered me enough to intervene," she explains. "After much convincing to do, I finally made him realize he needed to do something about his feelings. Evidently, I stood out of line and got myself involved in something I never should have, and for that I'm terribly sorry."

"You didn't do anything wrong. I know you had good intentions. There's absolutely nothing to forgive."

Daphne reaches out for your hands, relief evident in her features. "I was afraid you wouldn't want to talk to me again. You had all the right to do so, but I'm happy to see I was mistaken."

"I would never do such a thing."

She nodded, glad to know you two are still friends. "Well, with that situation out of the way, allow me to say I'm still very happy about you and Mr. Demrick. My love for my brother won't change the fact that I support your decision entirely."

You debated whether or not to say something, but the hesitation quickly slipped your mind when you looked at Daphne. She's been a great friend, you know there's nothing wrong with confessing this news to her.

She looks a bit confused when you grab her arm to guide her to a corner of the room, as far away from other people as possible. "I appreciate your words, but I'm afraid Mr. Demrick and I are no longer courting."

"Really? Did my imprudence make him change his mind?" she asks, worried she was to blame for this.

"Not at all. He actually proposed to me that very same evening."

"And...you said no?"

"I couldn't marry him, Daphne," you sighed. You'll never forgive yourself from breaking a good man's heart in the way you did with him, but deep down you knew it was the right thing to do. "I couldn't doom him to spend the rest of his life with a woman that doesn't love him the way he deserves."

"I don't judge you for it. My Mama has always taught us that marriage should be formed out of love. It's the only way a union like this can work," you friend offers, immediately wanting to show her support.

"If anything, my dear friend, I should be thanking you for your intervention," you quickly add. "If you never had that chat with your brother, I would've been engaged to a different man by now."

"I...Oh my, are you–?"

"I was as much of a fool as him. I could've said something a long time ago and yet I remained silent. And when he went to my house to give us a chance, I was once again deciding not to do a thing about my feelings. It was only when he left that I realized I made a terrible mistake."

Daphne is once again reaching for your hands, looking more excited than ever after your words. "You have no idea how pleased I am to hear you say all of this."

"You don't think it's too late, do you? I came here to talk to him, after all."

"No, no, not at all! He was devastated when he came back, I've never seen him like that in my life. We got to talk a little– and it's probably best if he's the one who confesses his true feelings in detail to you personally, but there's no doubt in my mind that from everything he said to me, he's deeply, madly and truly in love with you."

"I assure you I love him just as much."

"I don't doubt it either. And I think I speak for all my family when I say there's no one else we would like to be Anthony's wife but you."

"That makes me so happy to hear," you say with obvious excitement. Even Daphne looked like she could start crying any second. "Should I go talk to him now?"

"Please, I'm sure you can't wait any longer! He's over there, with Benedict and Colin."

"I shall tell you how it goes then."

"It'll go wonderful," she assures you, giving you one last smile before she allows you to leave.

Every second of that walk towards Anthony felt like centuries. Your mind spins with all the possible scenarios and everything you're going to say to him, but by the time you're in front of the three siblings your mind is completely blank.

"Gentlemen," was all you could say. The three of them immediately greet you with a quick bow. You notice Benedict and Colin exchanging looks, while Anthony's eyes are fixated on you. "I'd like to have a word with you– alone, if that's okay."

"Of course, my lady," was all he said.

"Oh my, you could cut the tension with a knife," Colin says suddenly. Anthony is so focused on you he barely acknowledges his comment.

"Shush, brother!" Benedict quickly warns, lightly pushing his little brother so he would start walking. "Excuse us," he smiled your way, starting to follow Colin.

You and Anthony are finally alone, but the people around you are still bothering you. "Is it okay if we go outside for a walk?"

"If it's okay with you," he says, a bit confused at first since you two had apparently agreed that you must keep your distance.

Anthony follows you to the gardens in complete silence. The music and chatter could still be heard. You were glad to realize it was only the two of you outside.

"What is it that you wanted to say to me?" he immediately asks, starting to walk next to you.

"I wanted to apologize for everything that happened."

"No need. Like you said, you made your choice and I'll have to respect it."

"It was the wrong choice. I see that now."

He was a bit surprised to hear that, but agreed with you nonetheless. "I'm afraid I can't say otherwise. At least I hope you find comfort in the fact that Mr. Demrick will be a fine husband, as you so fervently claim."

The two of you have reached a part of the garden that surrounds the two of you with large hedges decorated with beautiful flowers. It was then that you stopped walking and turned to look at him, knowing no one would be able to see or interrupt you here.

"I wanted to let you know that Mr. Demrick proposed and I said no," you blurted out simply, not wanting to keep it from him any longer.

"Why?" was all he could say.

"Because," you say, and this time it was painfully obvious.

Anthony couldn't believe your revelation at first, which would explain why he didn't move from his spot at first. As the realization of it all starts to sink in, he immediately walks closer to you and grabs your face with his hands. This time, you let him touch you as your hands move up to place them above his own.

"You're not marrying him?" he asks, barely above a whisper, still not entirely believing it. He really thought he had lost you forever.

You shake your head, unable to hold back your smile any longer. "There's only one man I'd like to marry."

Anthony smiles wider than ever after your comment and he's not able to control himself any longer, immediately closing the space between the two of you as he kisses you.

His kiss is everything you expected and more. So gentle, yet so passionate. It makes you feel like you're the most delicate thing in the entire world, but he must take a taste, so he does eagerly, yet carefully.

The moment doesn't last as much as you expected as he's abruptly pulling away. "Forgive me, I shouldn't have done that."

He takes a step back but he's gladly surprised when you wrap your arms around his neck to stop him. "Don't," you immediately say, "I want you close."

"I really shouldn't, my dear," he insisted, but you can tell it takes everything in him not to kiss you again at that very same moment.

"Is that so?" you tease him, inching just enough. "So you won't continue to kiss me? Not even if I'm so clearly desperate for you to do so?"

He's really trying to remind himself to be a gentleman. "I don't...it's not appropriate."

"Alright, them. It's perfectly fine, Mr. Bridgerton," you promptly agree, moving back from him entirely as you start walking away from him. "Perhaps we should go back then, before anyone notices our absence."

You're barely able to turn around to face him before he's one again in front of you, grabbing the back of your neck to pull you in for another kiss.

This time, the kiss is anything but gentle. His tongue explores your mouth with a hunger completely unknown to you as his hands explore your body. The hand previously holding the back of your neck trails your collarbone before it explores further down, cupping one of your breasts while the other holds you close to his body, resting dangerously close to your ass.

His lips move down to your jaw until they settle on the skin of your neck. You close your eyes as you enjoy the way he explores you, a few moans escaping past your lips that only seem to encourage him further.

"Anthony," you whisper into the darkness of the night, holding onto his shoulders for dear life while he kisses all over your neck.

"You're such a delight, my love," he mutters against your skin. "You drive me absolutely mad."

He moves back to your lips now, your mind clouded with desire for him and making it impossible for you to think of anything else other than how badly you need him to continue to touch you and kiss you. You could never get tired of this.

But much to your disappointment, he's pulling away from you again shortly after. His forehead rests against yours as both of you are gasping for air. You open your eyes when he's no longer leaning against you, just to catch him looking down at you with a smile.

"You're so beautiful," he comments, one of his fingers tracing your lower lip. "I could kiss these lips all day if I could."

"And I'd have no complaints about that."

He chuckles after your comment before taking a second to contemplate your beauty under the moonlight. "I deeply regret wasting so much time we could've spent as husband and wife."

"We have many years to make amends for that."

"Is that so?" he asks with a smile, his arms wrapped around your waist to keep you close.

"Well, that is if you ask for my hand."

"We'll go back to the ball and I'll talk to your father right away."

You fake to be offended by his comment. "Without asking for my opinion on the matter, Lord Bridgerton?"

"Forgive me, how rude of me," he follows along with your theatrics, but you immediately notice the shift in his eyes before he continues. They look softer than ever and shine as bright as all the stars in the sky combined. And you feel warm, at peace, so loved by the man standing before you. "My dearest, from the moment I met you, I knew we were destined to be together. You not only captivated me with your beauty, but with everything that you are. And as I started to know you, you kept proving me right. I saw it in the way you'd stay practicing your music for hours with such intent and passion. I saw it in the way you care so deeply about the ones fortunate enough to have you in their lives. I saw it in the way my mother instantly adored you, and how Hyacinth wouldn't stop asking me to invite you over so she could play with you. There's no doubt in my mind that you are the one for me."

You were completely speechless, absolutely mesmerized by his words. He takes a moment to gently wipe a few tears falling down your cheeks. He has always said to you how he's terrible at things like this, yet here he is proving himself wrong.

"If all previous words hold any room for confusion, allow me to clear it all right away. I've been yours from the moment we met and I couldn't possibly be more in love with you. And there's nothing that would make me happier than spending the rest of my life with you," he continues, finally taking a step back to grab both of your hands as he kneels in front of you. "Would you make me the honor of accepting me as your husband?"

You couldn't stop smiling at that point, immediately nodding after his question. "Yes. Now and forever, it'll always be yes."

Anthony kisses both of your hands before standing up to pull you in for a hug. "It pleases me to hear you accept. For a moment, I feared the tears were a bad sign."

You laugh at his little joke before breaking the hug. "Perhaps we should get back. I'm afraid we've been gone for quite a while now."

"That shouldn't be much of a problem now that we're engaged. I shall ask to have a word with your father as soon as we get back– and ask my mother for her ring."

"Is it okay if I inform Daphne?"

"I have absolutely no objections if you decide to announce the news to every person inside that ballroom, my love. Let everyone know you'll be the next Viscountess. Nothing would make me happier."

He offers his arm and you immediately accept it, starting to walk back to the ball with him– your future husband. At that very moment, you've sworn you've never been happier.

[t-lostinworlds]

Treasure Be Damned | Nathan Drake

》 PAIRING: movie!nathan drake x female!reader

》 TROPE/GENRE: childhood best friends to lovers; angst; fluff

》 SUMMARY: Nathan wished it didn't take something drastic to happen for him to finally realize what he felt for you. And no matter how much that gold was worth, you will always be his greatest treasure.

》 WARNINGS: both are orphans (mentioned), tech genius!reader, protective!nathan, switch pov halfway thru, kinda canon divergent (a.k.a. i made slight changes to some scenes from the movie), pining, jealousy jealousy, idiots in love, some angst, kidnapping, canon level violence, injuries, love confessions and a cute fluffy ending.

》 WORD COUNT: 5.4k+

A/N: hello! me again with another fic. this may seem super random but this was commissioned by the lovely @theslayerofthevampires ! thank u so so much hun <3 my first ever commission btw. trying to stick to a certain word count was actually quite interesting to me alskalsk but this was fun to write and i hope i did it justice!

+ also i couldn't think of a better title and the summary is kinda cheesy but we love cheese in this house so alksalkslaks

📍 BLOG NAVIGATION ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.

You and Nathan had been best friends for as long as you could remember.

When he punched a guy twice his size all because they made you cry on your first day at the orphanage, he quickly gained your trust and loyalty. It was reciprocated when you dumped all your lunch on a kid when they poked fun about why his brother left him.

You two had been inseparable ever since.

Nathan was protective of you, and you were protective of him.

As years passed, that protectiveness only grew tenfold. With it came the care and affection that went from strictly platonic to something warmer, sweeter.

For you, at least.

You couldn't pinpoint when it started, all you knew was that everything Nathan did for you suddenly felt special—like it was solely for you.

The change wasn't outright. It was a slow realization, when the little things he did made your heart grow warmer and beat faster all the same.

At first, you thought it was a simple crush—a silly phase, that with time, it would fade.

But no.

As months moved to years, it went from something that lingered to something you couldn't escape from.

The moment you truly figured that what you felt about him wasn't as simple as an adoration for your best friend was on your eighteenth birthday.

Nathan had spent all the money he saved from working odd—and honest, he made sure to make that known—jobs on a silver necklace.

Maybe you watched way too many romcoms, maybe it was all in your rose-tinted head, but there was an underlying romance in the way he stood behind you, so close and warm, as he put the necklace on for you.

With bated breath, you let him, trying your best not to melt over his simple touch. His fingertips brushed against your skin so delicately but felt electric in all the right ways.

You only regained your breathing when he finally stepped back. Yet he took it away a moment later when he gently tapped the charm—shaped like a compass—sitting between your collarbone, a fond smile on his lips when he said,

"So you'll always find your way back to me."

How could you not fall in love?

What a cliché.

Falling in love with your childhood best friend.

It would've been cute if it was reciprocated.

But whatever he saw you as was strictly platonic.

You were constantly reminded of how unrequited your love was with the hook-ups he brought back to the apartment.

You had agreed to be his roommate to help lessen the expenses. Even though you had only recently moved in together, you were starting to doubt if it was a good idea—for your heart's sake, anyway.

It didn't even stop there.

Because here you were once again, sporting an ache in your chest as you watched him flirt with a blonde girl at the bar.

As much as you enjoyed visiting him at work, seeing him flirt with the pretty customers regularly will always leave a bad taste in your mouth.

Jealousy.

A feeling you shouldn't be entertaining in the first place. You were just a best friend. You had no right to go all green-eyed whenever you saw him with another girl.

Nathan Drake wasn't yours.

You didn't even realize that you were too deep into your thoughts until a familiar voice brought you out of it.

"You okay?"

You blinked, looking up to see Nathan regarding you with brows furrowed in concern.

"Huh?"

"You've been glaring at that thing for a good minute now," he explained, nodding at the personalized cocktail he made for you.

He always did that whenever you stopped by, experimenting with new mixes he thought you'd enjoy solely based on how well he knew you. You give him your honest feedback in return. It was your own little game.

"Is it bad?"

"No, no, no," you said, taking a sip before smiling. "I liked it."

"Just 'like', damn. I need to step up my game," he sighed in feigned disappointment. When you didn't react as much, he added, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

Nathan looked at you for a moment, lips pursed as he shook his head.

"You're such a bad liar."

"I'm not," you scoffed, playfully rolling your eyes. "You just know me so well."

"I do," he hummed, grin turning proud. "I also know when something's bothering you so, what's up?"

"Girl things." You shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. You could tell it confused him, because he was never uncomfortable to talk about those topics with you. But before he could even question it, you quickly added, "I think I'm going to head home first. You didn't forget your keys, right?"

"That was one time," he grumbled, eyeing you for a moment because he obviously didn't buy your excuse. A second later, he sighed, "Yeah, I got my keys."

"Okay, See you later," you said, gathering up your things before walking towards the door.

"Let me know if you get home safe," he called out.

You only threw him a salute in response.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

It was the harsh light from the huge window in the living room that woke you up.

You must have fallen asleep on the couch in the middle of watching your comfort movie—a poor attempt at trying to distract yourself from your lovelorn predicament.

Who knew dealing with feelings could be so exhausting?

It was the smell of bacon that coaxed you out of your cocoon, though. 

"Good morning, sleepyhead," Nathan greeted as soon as you stepped into the kitchen. He threw you a warm smile over his shoulder before he continued making breakfast—shirtless, might you add. "There are painkillers beside your water in case your neck is killing you. I would've carried you back to your bed but you kick in your sleep and I've learned my lesson so…"

It did happen once.

He was trying to coax you off the couch and back into the comfort of your bed. But as he got closer, your leg having a mind of its own when you were deeply asleep, you kicked him straight in his jewels—his words, not yours.

The loud thud of him falling on the floor didn't even shake you awake, not even when he was groaning in pain. 

You couldn't even remember any of it.

"How many times do I have to apologize for you to let that go?" you chuckled, settling at your usual seat at the small dining table you had.

"Not enough," he snorted. "I still feel the phantom of the kick, you know."

"You're so dramatic." You rolled your eyes, glancing around only to catch a glimpse of that old yet familiar green trunk. It was then you noticed some of his old stuff littered around, trinkets and memorabilia he hadn't looked at in a while. Just as you were about to question him about it, you saw the excited look on his face. You narrowed your eyes, asking, "Did I miss something?"

"Quite a lot, actually," he chuckled, sauntering over to you with your breakfast for the day. Putting the full plate in front of you, Nathan leaned down and quickly kissed your forehead. "Eat. I'll tell you all about it."

You ignored the phantom of his lips on your skin.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

A treasure hunt.

Nathan dragged you into a treasure hunt.

You didn't trust this Victor Sullivan guy, but Nate seemed to be adamant about finding this gold in hopes of finding Sam too. And you trust your best friend's judgment so that made Sully a friend of your best friend, much to your dismay.

"Do I look okay?" you asked, straightening out your long, black evening gown as you emerged out of the makeshift changing room.

When you didn't hear an answer, you looked up to see Nathan staring at you with a certain look in his eyes.

Your face warmed. "What?"

"Okay?" he scoffed, shaking his head as if he was offended by the word you used. With a gentle smile, he gestured at you with both hands. "You look beautiful."

"Thanks. You don't look bad yourself," you responded with a shy smile, unable to hold his gaze for much longer. You fixed your entangled necklace, instead.

"Here, let me," he said, quickly walking over to you to straighten it out, his touch featherlight against your skin. "It's a gorgeous necklace. The guy who gave this to you has good taste."

"If good taste means licking his own ass, then, it's a bit questionable."

"Okay, gross," he playfully grimaced. "All I'm saying is that I picked the right one for you."

"You did." You smiled fondly. 

"Perfect," he hummed with a smile, his gaze slowly trailing from your necklace up to your eyes, his next words barely even a whisper. "You're perfect."

You didn't know if it was even meant for your ears but you could only stand there, staring into his brown eyes that seemed to shift from one emotion to another.

Nathan was about to say something when Sully came out of nowhere with that grumpy look on his face.

"Why are we bringing her again?" he asked as if you weren't standing in front of him.

"She's a genius with computers," Nathan said, a bite in his tone. "She's going to help us get through any security tech easy breezy."

Sully narrowed his eyes between you two before shrugging.

"Fine," he grumbled, looking you up and down before walking away. "We leave in ten minutes."

"I don't think he likes me very much," you sighed once the door shut.

"I don't think he likes anyone," Nathan said, smiling at you reassuringly. "Don't take it personally."

And you didn't. Truly.

But when you got to the auction house, it definitely felt more personal when the old man wouldn't tell you anything.

No communication. No updates. No information. Nothing.

Only when you ask Nathan directly were you able to get a grasp of what was going on or when to proceed to the next step—if he wasn't distracted.

With the countless pretty ladies dressed to the nines, you best believe he wasn't anywhere near focused.

You were angry because this was a dire situation. One wrong move could get you guys caught. You were too goddamn young for prison.

You definitely weren't bitter over something else.

"Do you always feel the need to flirt with anything that walks?" you spat when he finally reached the door you'd been trying so hard to keep open without getting caught. It took him three minutes more since he was busy chatting up some random trust fund girl.

"I wasn't—Jesus," he grunted, the door hitting him on the way as you walked past it.

You couldn't be bothered to wait anymore. You didn't look back and simply sped walk towards the power switch.

"You're upset," Nathan said once he caught up with you.

"I'm not upset," you grumbled. "I'm annoyed."

"It's the same thing."

"It's fucking not."

"Okay, geez," he conceded, pouting, "What'd I do?"

"What aren't you doing?" you asked sarcastically, harshly tapping on your phone as you tried to decode the security lock on the main switch. "Oh right, focusing on your job!"

"Christ, do you two always bicker like an old married couple?"

"Shut up!" you and Nathan barked synchronously.

Shaking your head, you calmed yourself, punching in the security code.

"Look, I'm sorry, alright? I was just trying to scope potential—"

You glared at him.

"I'm shutting up."

"Just do your thing. I want this over and done with," you grumbled, stepping aside once the circuit box finally opened.

"You're a genius," he praised with a smile, placing a quick kiss on your forehead. "Thank you."

"Whatever."

You wished you could say everything went smooth sailing from there, but when did it ever?

Everything happened so fast.

One minute you two were walking out of the control room, the next you were being chased down but huge men.

Running in heels was not fun.

And then it was a blur, someone grabbing your arm in a way that made you scream in pain to Nathan tackling the guy to the ground, landing blow after blow to his face until blood started to splatter on the suit he was wearing.

"Touch her again and I'll kill you."

You'd never seen him so angry before.

But that anger quickly disappeared when he fussed over you, hands soft against your cheeks yet the panic and worry were evident in his eyes.

It took several 'I'm fine's and a couple more reassurances that you weren't badly hurt to get him to fully calm down and help you up so you could get out of this place.

Unbeknownst to you, there were curious eyes watching everything closely with a knowing yet wicked smile on her lips.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

You thought the feeling of being outcasted was only a small blip at the auction house.

But you were so wrong.

"What happened to you?" you asked when he finally met up with you at the church in Barcelona, soaking wet from head to toe.

"Long story."

"So you brought your girlfriend with you" A girl—Chloe, you later learned—suddenly appeared.

"She's not my girlfriend," Nathan quickly corrected.

Yes, it was true.

But the way he shut it down so quickly as if the thought made him hurl made the sting harsher.

It didn't take long for you to notice how Nathan seemed to be following Chloe around a lot.

So much so that you were becoming more of an afterthought.

They were always conspiring amongst themselves. It was in their line of expertise, you supposed, and you were just the tech girl. But it wasn't like you were clueless about it. Nate has told you enough stories for you to get the gist of what was going on.

It was getting pathetic, trailing behind them like some puppy, wanting to feel included.

When Nathan argued with Sully that you were not leaving his side when it was time to split up, you could only laugh at it now.

What was the point when you were immediately alone when you got into the tunnels?

Even more as you stood by yourself at the club, watching him dance with Chloe, so close, in the guise of blending in.

Maybe if you weren't distracted you would've noticed the man sneaking up behind you. You would've been able to run before he could grab you from behind, hand over your mouth as he started dragging you backward. And maybe you were quite good at kicking someone's jewels when you hit the jackpot the first time, enabling you to escape and scream for help.

You were yelling Nathan's name, but it was the loud gunshot that caught his attention.

It was heartbreaking to think that it took you getting shot in the leg for him to fully acknowledge you.

You were overwhelmed with too many emotions that you became numb, simply letting them take you back to the safe house in silence.

"I'm sorry," he whispered as he sat by your temporary bed, carefully wrapping the bandage on your thigh after he cleaned it. Thankfully, the bullet was only meant to slow you down, not kill. "I'm supposed to be looking out for you."

"It's fine," you sighed. You knew he was being sincere. He looked thoroughly distraught when he saw you drop to the ground. You knew it wasn't his fault, and you knew he was already blaming himself enough. But with the pain and bitterness—both physically and emotionally—you couldn't stop it. "You were busy. I get it."

He frowned. "What's with that tone?" 

"There's no tone," you grumbled, avoiding his gaze.

"You're annoyed."

You shook your head. "I'm not annoyed.'

"So…you're upset," he hummed, reaching for your hands. You pulled away, carefully getting comfortable on the bed.

"I'm going to sleep," you sighed, pulling the covers over you.

Nathan got the hint, standing from his seat with a sigh, "Okay, goodnight, just…call me if you need anything."

So when you woke up in the middle of the night when a sudden sting went up your leg, you quickly yet carefully got out of bed to look for him.

You wish you hadn't bothered.

The last thing you wanted to see was him and Chloe getting cozy on the balcony, a bottle of wine between them.

You figured you weren't important enough to interrupt their moment. Besides, the ache in your leg couldn't compare to the absolute pain in your heart. It only intensified when they started leaning toward each other.

So you quickly went back to bed, tainting the pillowcase with salted tears.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

"Here." Nathan kneeled in front of the foot of the bed, tying your shoelaces for you. "So, I've been thinking…"

"Uh oh," you joked.

"Maybe you should sit this one out."

Your smile quickly got wiped off your face.

"What?"

Nathan glanced at the door. You followed his gaze, catching a glimpse of Chloe before she hurriedly walked away.

You pressed your lips, nodding in understanding.

"It's not what you think it is," Nathan placated.

"Sure it's not," you scoffed.

"Look, you're injured and—"

You stood up, abruptly cutting him off. You grabbed your bag, limping around the room as you gathered your stuff.

"Woah careful, your wound is still fresh," Nathan followed you around, arms out in case you stumbled. "What are you doing?"

"Leaving. That's what you wanted, right?"

"What? No!" he rushed, hands on your shoulder, stopping you. "What I meant was, you need to recover first."

"Right," you scoffed, shrugging him off before you continued packing. "Because  it's going to be dangerous and you're looking out for me, trying to protect me and all that bullshit."

"It's not bullshit!"

"You know, after all we've been through, I thought I could count on you to at least be honest with me," you said bitterly.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," you pressed, harshly zipping up your bag. "If you wanted me out of the picture, you could've just said so."

Shaking his head, he argued, "That's not it."

"Maybe," you said, looking him straight in the eyes. "But fewer people, more gold to go around, right?"

That rendered him silent.

"You've known me your whole life," he started, hurt flickering in his irises. "You really think I'd do that to you?"

"I don't know anymore, Nate." You threw your hands up exasperatedly. "Because ever since you met them, I barely recognize you anymore. You've been wanting their approval so bad you're getting desperate for it. 

"And I always thought that when we get the chance to find this treasure, we'll do it together, side by side like we always do. But all I've done this whole time is be a third wheel to whatever this is." You gestured at him and the door, laughing sarcastically. "Fourth, if you include Sully."

"That's not true," he argued weakly, realization dawning on his face.

"You whisper among yourselves, nobody tells me a fucking thing, you don't even tell me anything anymore! I'm always left chasing after you because you couldn't be bothered waiting for me to catch up. Fine, I might not know everything about this treasure but it'd be nice to get filled in every once in a while instead of leaving me clueless! Hell, you're starting to forget you brought your best friend with you—"

"I didn't forget about you—"

"You didn't even notice I was getting dragged away until I was shot!"

Nathan looked away.

"All of you are always excluding me and it sucks," your voice cracked, blinking away unshed tears. "And don't think I didn't see you conspiring with Chloe last night."

He looked confused. "Last night?"

"When I came looking for my best friend for help because my leg was hurting like a bitch but I didn't want to be a cockblock so, you're welcome."

"You're not—" Nathan cleared his throat, shoulders slumping, looking at you apologetically. "Y/N…"

You shook your head, harshly wiping at your eyes, putting your jacket on. "The more it goes on, the more I think that you just brought me along because it was convenient for you. Now that I'm considered a liability, gotta leave the extra baggage right?"

"That's not fucking true!" he gritted, pulling his hair frustratedly. "You're part of this as much as I am!"

"Right. Where are we going next?"

Nathan blubbered like a fish out of water.

"That's what I thought," you scoffed, slipping your backpack on.

"Wait, dammit," he cursed when you walked past him, chasing after you into the living room. Frustrated, he called out, "All I'm asking is for you to sit this part out because you're hurt."

You stopped, slowly facing him.

"I never thought that the loneliest I'd ever feel is when I'm supporting you to chase this dream you'd been wanting ever since you were a kid," you admitted, chest tightening as you stared into his troubled brown eyes. "So, I'm not sitting this one out, Nate, I'm done." 

You shoved the cross right on his chest.

"Have fun on your honeymoon," you said, bumping his shoulder as you walked out the door.

"Y/N!"

You never looked back.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Nathan was smart in a lot of different aspects. But emotions and feelings?

Oh he was stupid as fuck.

He wished it didn't take something drastic to happen for him to accept what he truly felt for you.

Part of him was relieved because at least you weren't there when the plane fiasco happened, especially with your injury. He was appeasing his guilt by telling himself that you were safer this way.

Nathan wouldn't know what to do with himself if something worse happened to you.

But as he was decoding the postcards Sam sent—a difficult task to focus on when he couldn't stop worrying about you so much—Chloe suddenly came in with a package.

"It has your name on it."

He opened it confused, but nothing could prepare him for what was inside.

The dread and fear started to creep up his spine when he held the silver necklace he gave you.

You never took this off.

As he emptied the box in a rush, photos upon photos of you tied up and gagged, beaten and bruised with blood tainting your delicate skin, Nathan felt like his entire heart was taken from him.

'The map or her. Choose wisely.'

It came in flashes, moments where you'd been there for each other, the joy and heartbreak, success and failures—you were always there, his one constant.

Then came the moments where he dreamed about you and him, doing things best friends shouldn't be doing.

He always knew what he felt about you but he shoved it down in fear of ruining the friendship you'd built over the years. But now? Denying it seemed insignificant. Now there was a chance he wouldn't be able to tell you at all.

Nathan was losing the love of his life.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

"That didn't take long," Braddock laughed sardonically, standing up from a large rock nestled on the beach somewhere in the Philippines.

"Where is she," Nathan growled, the tube map holder slung on his back.

Braddock nodded at one of her men, Nathan's heart sinking to his stomach when they dragged you in, your yelp piercing his chest when they shoved you on the sand.

Nathan instinctively tried to run for you.

"Not so fast," Braddock hummed, clicking her gun before pressing it on the back of your head. "How do I know this isn't a trick?"

"I think you already figured out I don't play games when it comes to her."

"Well, let's see," she challenged. "On your knees, Drake."

"N-Nate," you whimpered, adamantly shaking your head. Even in your state, you were still trying to protect him.

"It's okay," he reassured with a smile, hands up as he did as told.

Braddock grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled you closer to where he was.

He stifled his anger. But best believe he'd already plotted so many ways to make Braddock suffer for what she did to you.

But one wrong move could cost your life.

"Hand it over."

"Untie her."

Braddock rolled her eyes but did so anyway.

"Hey, hey, look at me," Nathan whispered, your tear-filled eyes meeting his. He lifted his chin once, gaze flickering behind you. "I got you, okay? You're going to be okay."

"Enough with this sappy bullshit. Hand over the map or she dies."

Nathan slowly grabbed the map, only to throw it away as far as possible.

On cue, a huge explosion distracted Braddock enough for you to abruptly stand on your feet, hitting her under the chin with your head.

"You bitch!" she yelled, dropping the gun.

Nathan quickly pulled you aside and grabbed the weapon. With no remorse, he shot Braddock on both thighs, once more on the arm to be petty.

He'd do much worse if you weren't on borrowed time.

Nathan grabbed your hand and made a run for it.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

The silence was tense.

But Nathan was focused on taking care of you first.

He was busy enough trying not to cry whenever he'd discover a new cut and bruise on you that he couldn't even dwell on the fact that you were showering together. You were both in your underwear, but still.

It was when he had you sitting on the counter as he patched you up when you spoke.

"You didn't have to do all that for me."

"You know, it hurts me so much that you think I wouldn't take a bullet for you," he sighed, finishing up a bandage before meeting your glossy eyes. "You're more important to me than you think you are."

"No, I know it's just—" You bit your bruised lip. Nathan quickly pulled it away with his thumb, not wanting you to worsen your injury. You leaned into his touch as you continued, "You've been dreaming of this since you were a kid and I feel like I've ruined it for you."

"You didn't ruin anything."

"But you should be out there looking for the gold," you said. "Instead you're stuck here with me."

"Listen to me, if I had to choose between that gold and—" He took a breath, holding your face in both hands as he stared at you longingly. "The woman I'm hopelessly in love with then…"

Nathan breathed out with a smile, "Fuck that gold."

You stared at him in a way that made him believe that he'd done it.

He'd finally ruined your friendship to a point of no return.

That until you broke out into the sweetest, brightest smile that made his heart grow and his knees weak all the same.

"It's not as hopeless as you think it is."

Nathan felt like his heart was about to burst.

"Yeah?" He grinned, giddy and warm, gently parting your legs and stepping a little closer.

You let him into your space. But suddenly your brows furrowed, frowning. "What about you and Chloe?"

"So you were jealous."

"Nate."

"There's no me and Chloe," he reassured, gently taking your hands, kissing the insides of your wrists before placing them on his shoulders. "Maybe I got the incredibly stupid idea to make you jealous—I know, baby, I'm an idiot—but she shot that down real quick."

"But—"

"Those times you've seen me with her, all I kept talking about was you," he admitted, blushing. "I'm sure she'd grown sick of me being lovesick."

Nathan probably talked her ear out about how hopelessly in love he was with you, seeking advice on what to do because it was the one thing he couldn't go to you about.

She had been really helpful, pushing him to confess because it was better you know before it's too late, and that in this line of work, you'd never know when that would be.

If only he hadn't let his cowardness win.

"She argued with me that leaving you behind was a bad idea, and if I listened to her I—" He pressed his forehead against yours with a shaky breath. "I'm sorry."

"I know you like to take all the blame but this isn't your fault," you hummed, fingers combing the straggles of hair on the nape of his neck.

"It kind of is," he pressed, eyes watering as he thought about what he dragged you into.

He couldn't stop thinking about the pain you'd gone through all because he was being reckless. For as long as he could remember, he made a vow to himself to always keep you safe no matter what. Yet here he was, failing at that—failing you.

"I'm sorry for being such a shitty best friend this past week," he said, caressing the apples of your cheeks.

"You were pretty shitty," you teased, though he could see the way your body relaxed a little. He could tell that you appreciated hearing his apology. It must've been weighing on you since you left.

It made his heart ache.

"I was and I'm sorry," he said regretfully. "I guess I just got so caught up in this whole treasure-hunting thing that I lost sight of what's truly important to me. But still, it's no excuse. I was the one who dragged you into this, I should've been attentive enough."

You turned your head and kissed his palm, a silent way of saying it was okay. He felt like he was about to melt.

"And I'm sorry for taking so goddamn long to tell you how I feel," Nathan admitted.

"Yeah well," you hummed, smiling at him sweetly. "We're both at fault on that one,"

"Still, I'm sorry," he whispered, brushing the tip of his nose against yours. "For everything."

You nodded, a smile on your lips. "I can't say I forgive yet—"

"Understandable."

"But hey," you hummed, leaning closer. "You have plenty of time to grovel and make up for it."

Nathan chuckled, brushing his lips against yours with a whisper, "Can I start with a kiss?"

You nodded with that cute giggle of yours, one that still echoed as he finally closed the distance.

So many things filled him up at once—soft, sweet, warm. So many emotions rattling his heart as your lips molded into one—relief, passion, love.

It was gratifying, a kiss he'd been dreaming of for as long as he could remember. But, with your fingers in his hair and his hands on your waist, your warm body flushed to his with no space in between, nothing could ever compare to the real thing.

And yes, it was going to take some time to repair the cracks that were made in your relationship. But he was willing to wait and do whatever it takes to gain your full trust back.

Nathan didn't care how long or how much work it would take, as long as at the end of every day, you came back home to him—it was more than worth it.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

"Kid, are you even listening to me?"

"Sorry, Sully," Nathan said unapologetically. "But whatever the wife says, goes and her plan is usually better than yours."

"I'm technically not your wife yet," you giggled, your engagement ring glinting as you continued bypassing the security cameras using your phone.

"Technically, yes," he agreed, shrugging. "But in my head, you've been my wife ever since you put that ring on."

"Always thinking ahead, huh?" You finished up the job, slipping your phone into your pocket before turning to him with a raised brow.

"Oh yeah," he hummed, pulling you closer by the waist. "And once we get married, in my head, we already have three kids."

"Three?" you choked out a laugh.

"Five?"

"Let's start with one and see where that goes."

"We should definitely practice later."

"Do I always have to remind you two that this is an open line?"

"Oh we know," Nathan hummed, kissing you with a loud smack which earned an annoyed groan. He then gestured at the door with a bow. "After you, Mrs. Drake."

"Still up for debate."

"I'd take your last name any day."

"I was thinking hyphenated."

"Not a bad shout."

"Get moving you two!"

"Sully, you're getting so close to getting your wedding invite revoked."

You laughed at that.

Nathan couldn't resist kissing you once more.

"Let's go," you giggled against his lips. "We still have treasure to find."

"I'm in no rush," he shrugged, brushing his nose against yours. He was sure his eyes were glowing with pure adoration. "Already got the best one right here."

You groaned and called him cheesy but you still kissed him anyway.

Treasure be damned, with you by his side, Nathan was the richest man alive.

✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ♛ *.

↬ thank you for reading lovely! reblog & leave a comment if you enjoyed! feedback is always appreciated! ++ consider supporting me on ko-fi if you can ❤️

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[a-romantics-guide-to-life]

⋆ ₊☽˚𝓵𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓭 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓵𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓼˚☾₊ ⋆ 

𝓼𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂 : you and coryo had gone through hell and back, you've been together and far apart yet you could never find the courage to say how you truly feel for him. so, you wrote them into letter form, but you never sent them. and so what happens when one mr. snow finds each and every letter only to realize that it's too late?

𝓽𝓻𝓲𝓰𝓰𝓮𝓻 𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 : written in letter form from the readers perspective, talks of jealousy and sad feelings, r is definitely from the capitol, self blame, kinda sorta depression, angst, deceit, suicide, coryo finally responds

𝓪/𝓷 : so here’s the grand finale! thank you all for all the support and love on this fic, i turly am so grateful for every single note, kudos, reblog, and comment (even if its just you telling me how i made you cry ; ) ) here we are! hope you enjoy!

𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓿𝓲𝓸𝓾𝓼 𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽

⋆ ₊ ☽ ·˚𓍲⋆ 𝓮𝓹𝓲𝓵𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓮⋆𓍲˚· ☾ ₊ ⋆

To my Dearest Darling,

My love, my darling, words cannot describe the pain in my chest.

You can’t truly be gone. This must be some kind of hoax. I find that my eyes that you once called the most precious gems are filled with tears as I read the letter I received promptly after returning back from 12. 

I have many regrets my dearest, but my most haunting is you.

I can’t believe what a fool I have been, to have tossed you to the side when you have been there for me in a way that no one else can. 

Your family has invited me to your funeral, the audacity of those ingrates. They plundered your room, taking anything and everything. Which is how they happened upon your delicate box filled with tear stained letters.

All addressed to me.

The shock that overcame me as I heard straight from your bastard of a father had nearly killed me alone.

He had told me that you had thrown yourself off a bridge. Called you an ungrateful whore who didn’t do anything but take his money and take advantage of your family's good name.

I nearly jumped up from my seat and beat your father to death. How dare he call you names when every single dollar he ever gave you to keep you quiet lay in my drawer. How dare he call you an ungrateful whore for turning down an arranged marriage. And how dare he belittle you behind your cold back when I know I have hurt you like no other.

I have turned my back on you when you have been my greatest supporter, even greater than my own cousin. I have chosen another girl over you who has loved me since the very beginning, since we were young. I have cut you so deeply that you could not bear living anymore.

How could I?

Please my darling, you must know that I, there is no way I can atone for my sins, not that you are no longer here.

Please my darling, you must forgive me.

Please, please, please. 

Please forgive me for not writing to you all those years ago when we were young and caught in the middle of a war we had no part in. Please forgive me for not seeing you as the Angel you truly are.

Please forgive me for not noticing how you hurt for me, a man who is so undeserving of your compassion and empathy. 

Please forgive me for turning my back on you, even when I knew that you understood me like no other. Please forgive me for not hearing your pleas for me to wake up, for not thanking you for weeping over my sickly frame.

Please forgive me for not turning to you first, my loudest cheer when Lucy Gray was finally out of that arena. Please forgive me for not noticing how you were hurting, how you were aching, as I held you when I kissed you cheek tenderly. Please forgive me for not seeing your inner turmoil.

Please forgive me for not seeing how you loved me.

Please forgive me for becoming the very thing I hated. Please forgive me for giving into the temptation that was Lucy Gray. Please forgive me for not telling you, the one who’d never even breath about my deepest secrets to another, that I had been exiled.

Please forgive me for leaving you all by yourself in the large, large Capitol. Please forgive me for not even thinking about how you would feel all by yourself.

Please forgive me for not being there for you when Billius proposed to you. Please forgive me for not being there for you.

Please forgive me for not telling you the truth.

To be honest, it’s been eating up my insides. I wanted to tell you so badly. I regret it so much, I never even realized how much I would suffer, how much you would suffer, from my actions. 

Darling, please forgive me. Please forgive me. Darling, please forgive me for lying to you.

For not loving you like I have.

For not showing you how much I love you. 

Please, darling, forgive me.  

Wherever you are, please forgive me. 

Please, darling, forgive me.

Sweet Angel, my heart felt ripped out of my chest as I saw your delicate face in a coffin, skin cold and flushed pale. Your parents were as stone faced as usual, their eyes bone dry. 

Sweet Darling, I pray that you forgive me from the great beyond. I pray that you watch over me and guide me to become a person worthy of your love for as I am now, I am undeserving of your life, your tears, your love. 

My Dearest Darling, as I read all those letters and saw the tear stains that marred the paper, my heart ached for you, felt the unbearable pain that no number of sorrys and whiskeys can drown out. 

My Dearest Darling, I love you.

I am so sorry that I have been an ignorant fool who is unworthy of everything you ever gave me. 

I now know that I will never smile again, unless I smile with you.

Please wait for me my Darling.

Please forgive me,

Coryo

[buckrecs]

Hello, I'm not sure if it's possible, but are there any recommended long-chapter series for Bucky? More than 15+ or even 20+ chapters in one. It could be for any type of story. Thanks.

masterlist | req masterlist

I sorted out fics that has 15+ chapters from my 2022 Wrap Up list! You can see more series fics on my masterlist:)

Heart & Soul by @all1e23

Alphas only brought trouble. The only thing they are good for is bringing their Omega’s pain and forced submission. They were dangerous, reckless and cruel. There wasn’t an ounce of kindness in any of them. She didn’t need an Alpha, and she certainly didn’t believe in that True Mates fairytale. That was just some fabricated fable Alphas made up to trick innocent doe-eyed Omegas. She wasn’t going to fall for that. Not again.No Alpha would ever get her to believe that love truly exists. And then, James Buchanan Barnes walked into her life.

Astrophile by @/all1e23

Orion Rebecca Barnes's favorite thing in the whole world (besides her daddy of course) is spending hours after school in the bookstore by her house and the owner GIVES her any book she wants; she’s the coolest girl Orion has ever met.

Swallow by @/all1e23

Since he was fifteen years old, Bucky Barnes has only been sure of two things; the club should be the most essential thing in his life, and he’d burn it all down for you.

One Last Job by @sunriserose1023

Bucky Barnes is retired. He did a stint in the Army, did a stint as a Secret Service agent, even dabbled in the private sector, but that’s over. Now, he just wants to rest in the solitude he’s found in a cabin in the Adirondacks, with only his memories to get him through the sleepless nights.Until his best friend comes to him with a special request. One last job, protecting the movie star sister of an old Army buddy. She’s being stalked, getting death threats, but that’s nothing they haven’t dealt with before. Except there’s something different about this job. And maybe it’s not the job; maybe it’s the girl. But when it turns out that something sinister is at play, Bucky realizes this job ... could be his last.

Just One Kiss by @sarahwroteathing

Bucky Barnes has been chasing after you since he was ten years old, but you’re determined not to give in. How long can you hold out when all he’s asking for is just one kiss?

Burn the Witch by @dreamwritesimagines

There’s a thin line between mission and love, and spies aren’t allowed to cross that line.

relationship tutor by @samingtonwilson

a relationship novice, asks for your help in dating your friend. Unable to say no to him, you agree despite everyone and everything telling you not to.

Can’t Fight the Feeling by @sidepartskinnyjeans

After the second snap the world rejoices at the return of their friends and family. But for the Avengers their home is destroyed. Steve and Tony move the homeless Avengers back to the Avengers Tower. With only a few usable floors they're paired up to support each other from the shock of returning and the changing world. Some are happier with their room allocation than others. Can you and Bucky make it work?

Untouchable by @dreamwritesimagines

What happens when Bucky Barnes falls in love with someone he shouldn’t have?

Greatest Hits by @lunarbuck

You work at your family's record store, and Bucky lives next door. He comes into your store and asks you for some music recommendations. You soon realize that he has a lot to learn and make it your personal mission to show him the world he missed out on through music.

Playing With Fire by @beccaanne814

What happens when two people who have nothing in common suddenly have to pretend to be in a relationship? Will the sparks between them ignite into something more, or is this romance doomed to crash and burn?

Strange Times by @/beccaanne814

You have a certain type - smart, charming, and handsome as sin. For years you’ve been in love with the only man you thought possessed all of those traits, but a chance encounter with a Strange individual sends you and a certain ex-assassin on a journey of self-discovery. As you try to find a way back home, will you also be able to uncover the perfect man hidden beneath layers of guilt and self-loathing.

Invisible String by @oitommothetease

James Buchanan Barnes, the owner of the most expensive-looking club in town and your new apartment. He was a dick and you hated him. What could possibly go wrong when you, the new girl in town, start bartending at his club to pursue your dreams?

Scars by @tokoyamisstuff

Based on the Soulmate Prompt where whatever you write on your skin, it appears on your Soulmate’s.

i hate you but by @buckybarnesthehotshot

bucky and y/n can’t stand each other, but y/n needs help with her sister’s kids (enemies to lovers au)

If Only You Were Mine… by @bbgem329

You’ve been in love with Bucky Barnes since the moment you laid eyes on him. That was five years ago, when your older sister brought him home for a Sunday lunch and introduced him as her boyfriend.

Awake My Soul by @foreverdreamland

It's been five years since zombies first started walking the Earth, destroying anything and everything in their wake. Now, in this apocalyptic world, fighting for survival comes as naturally as breathing. The one thing you've learned ever since they arrived, though, is that the living can be so much more dangerous than the undead. When you stumble across two young, scared boys lost in the woods and being chased by walkers, you go against your better judgment and help them to safety. Little did you know that helping them would lead you to Bucky - an angry, grumpy, distrusting member of the camp Shield. Bucky has zero interest in having you enter his life. He's been hurt before and lost too many people to risk experiencing that kind of pain again, and he knows that there are secrets you aren't telling the group. Yet, when push comes to shove, and you're put at risk, he'll stop at nothing to keep you safe.

[lumiereandcogsworth]

looooove when I open tumblr and see you going feral over batb 🥳 have you ever talked about the moment when like. it hit you that you were very much in love with this movie? did it hit the first viewing or did you have to let it cook a bit first?

YIPPEEE!!!!! okay yeah i mean here’s what i remember:

i saw it in theaters april 12th 2017 with my parents. i was ENCHANTED (winks at you specifically) from the very start. i truly remember just being so enamored with everything about it. every song every scene every change from the animated version i was like GOSH THIS FILM IS GENIUS. MAGNIFICENCE 🤌🤌

i remember driving back to the hotel (we were on a trip touring a potential university, twas spring break) with my parents and i literally could not stop saying “that was SO GOOD…. like that was So Good you guys.” and my parents were like yeah it was good ! but my brain was Buzzing

i remember coming back to school the following monday and telling my friend group that i saw it and one of them was like ah, it wasn’t good :/ and i like. had a 404 processing error. it GENUINELY did not ever ONCE occur to me that anyone could possibly think that this movie was not the greatest of all time. i think i was down bad immediately without truly realizing it though

i saw it in theaters a second time. i think with a friend who also really loved it? i actually forget that i had someone to be feral about it with irl for a minute. she somehow carried on with her life after a few months though… weird🤔

i also remember that summer watching it like. every day once i had the dvd and even worse when it was on netflix. if i had letterboxd back then it would have looked like yours does with enchanted afjskdj. i think there were days when i would watch it twice in one day

i remember telling my dad that i think it’s become my second favorite movie (i was afraid to let it beat out forrest gump just yet) and he was like “already?? you’re just swept up by it because it’s new to you still.” and i was like yeah probably but man i don’t know….

and i remember by my 18th birthday that year in november, i was given a big batb 2017 poster, and my sister-in-law (just my brother’s girlfriend at the time!) made me my own rose under the glass thing. so between april and november it progressively ramped up into a very clear love

i definitely knew i loved it A LOT right away, but i also remember being very guarded about it at first. like i was afraid to fully dive in. literally i didn’t even buy my own merch until like, 3 years in. i received gifts but i just?? i don’t know. i guess i was afraid to make it my whole personality if i was gonna fall out of love with it. which happened with bbc sherlock and i was very sad about that. i don’t get big interests very often so i didn’t expect to lose sherlock and i also wasn’t sure how long this would last.

i also Wasn’t on tumblr at the beginning. i joined tumblr in 2019 so for like two years i was just floating around in love with the film on my own accord. i wrote fic in my notes app and didn’t post it anywhere. i just watched it a lot and thought about it a lot and it was just like. secretly and silently the love of my life

but then when i finally got on ao3 i started posting fic and on tumblr i started talkin about it and i got louder about it slow but sure. i became a madman. and now i’m here. seven years later.

and i’m so so happy :)))

[dukeoftheblackstar]

@spicedrobot Sigh. The world of pain, pleasure, and doubt you put me into. That's two fics now. I am needing to do this because if I do not channel my emotions in writing, En, I will die. Literally.

So here's part 1 because oh my god.

WHY DO YOU RILE ME UP SO GODDAMN MUCH? ♥ ILY.

PART 1

BECAUSE TUMBLR SAID THIS POST BE TOO DAMN LONG AND IT BE GLITCHING. I am not even done reading.

Greedo loved space almost as much as he loathed Tatooine. He always tried to steel himself for his inevitable return, but each time, the planet’s heat and grit swallowed him alive like a sarlacc.

This gorgeous!!! Love how this rolls off the tongue.

His chance came one day in the form of a Mandalorian, a human man Greedo ran jobs with whenever he was planetside. When Boba mentioned needing a second pair of hands for work in the Core, Greedo agreed to join him without a second thought. They left behind the swelter and malaise of Tatooine that very afternoon.

- Cue internal crisis flashbacks of that one fic of Boba x Greedo - The haunting continues.

The cool touch of space had never felt so good.

Bet your ass it does, you ho.

It’s him, Greedo realized, after a few cycles of this strange incident repeating. It’s Lord Vader.

HERE IT COMES. OH MY GOD. THE PREPARATION IN MY SOUL. BE STILL MY PRECIOUS HEART. The anticipation!!!

Greedo was in the big leagues now. || They couldn’t actually do anything to him, not when he worked so closely with Boba and Vader.

I genuinely feel so much pride for him like you do you, boo! GO GET IT!

Even Boba had been grabbed by the big boss, once or twice. But Boba always pressed into Vader like he was calling his bet, and Vader always backed off.

MY DARTH FETT HEART. MMMMM.. HNNNGG… SWEET SWEET SWEEETNESSS. E//////////////E

... but Greedo thought it was more than that: Vader simply admired Boba’s brass. It also made Greedo a little proud, too. That was his buddy that cowed the Empire’s greatest weapon. And also, maybe, just a little, Greedo had that on Vader too. The bounty hunters Vader kept in his employ were special. Not little toadies like the rest of the Imps.

Okay. So here you are again. Setting up the stage to putting my heart and mind into a mix of confusion, questionable disgust (?), morally affecting perception, and the dire need to determine whether I AM INTO THIS OR I AM NOT BECAUSE I STILL HAVE NOT DECIDED.

AND NOW?! YOU ADD VADER TO THE MIX?!?!?! I AM HYPERVENTILATING AND IDK IF I'M DOING SO OUT OF SHEER EXCITEMENT OR FEAR OF READING SOMETHING I MIGHT REGRET. YOU HAVE ONCE MORE TOSSED ME INTO AN OUBLIETTE OF CONUNDRUMS AND IDK IF I LIKE THIS FRESH NEW HELL OR I DO NOTTTTTTT.

… but this was the longest Boba had ever been gone while Greedo remained at Vader’s side.

I am hollering for the very reason that I feel like Vader's such a ho in this bit. He's all "welp, time to send my #1 slut out in far away space so I can make a #2 out of this Rodian ho" AAAAAAAAAAAAA I LOVE IT!.

… but Greedo alone was stationed in the room with him.

Greedo didn’t know why that was. 

OH, HOW I WONDER. I TRULY. HONESTLY. DEEPLY. WONDER. SO MUCH WONDERING HAPPENING IN MY HEAD RIGHT NOW. LIKE. IS THIS THE THING? OMG. GREEDO YOU PRECIOUS LIL BALL OF OBLIVIOUSNESS.

Alone on Coruscant with Vader was different than being alone on the ship. Vader was unnerving at the best of times, but here, he was something else entirely. Way too shriekin’ quiet, for one. His already intimidating demeanor was cranked up to the nines, his movements more mechanical, the sound of his breathing more menacing. Greedo spent most of his shifts going tingly all over while Vader conducted business with the locals. At least the office had a large bay window. He always took up post beneath it to bask in the sunlight. 

I am floored by this. I adore how you paint the oppressive silence and the eeriness of the room to make it more immersive. I genuinely feel what Greedo would have probably felt if I was at all braver at his level. The mechanical sounds has me in a happy whirl of bliss — I, too, am very tingly, Greedo. Move tf over and let me sit tf down ♥

 Which was too bad. Greedo would love to go to a fancy Imperial party sometime.  

Greedo, quit being adorable you little fuck ♥ ILY. Wait no. NO. NOT YET. NO RODIANS. NO.

Absurdly, Greedo found himself fantasizing about the warmth of Tatooine’s twin suns.

Good lord! The play on this is superb! ♥

When his body ceased to function and he keeled over, he didn’t even manage to put his hands out to break his fall.

BABE, NOOOOOOOOOOO. I AM GENUINLY WORRIED.

Suddenly, the room’s comm system crackled to life. From it, a stern command issued in Vader’s eerie, modulated tone. “Do not attempt to leave. You are useless to me.” 

IDK WHY BUT I AM SCREAMING. LIKE BIG DADDY V, VADER, VADES MY BOY, MY MURDER GOTH GIRLFRIEND,

but why was he still breathing? Who had even put him in this room? Who would even know what had caused him to pass out and make moves to fix it? Had…  …had it been Lord Vader? 

I SHOULD NOT BE FUCKING LOSING IT OVER THIASKJASHDLKASJDLKASJDAKLJSDKJSHFKSDJFILRHFNW. I SWEAR THIS FIC IS CURSED. IT IS MAKING ME FEEL THINGS THAT DON'T EVEN HAVE A NAME OF. LIKE WHAT. OMHG.

WAS IT? WAS IT GREEDO? WAS IT THE BIG DARK GOTH DADDY MURDEROUS GIRLFRIEND WHO HAS BREATHING PROBLEM AND PROBABLY ABOUT TO DICK YOU TF DOWN LATER IN THE FIC? WELL. SLAP ME SILLY, YOU LIL PRECIOUS BITCH, IT JUST MIGHT BE.

 A pair of blacks. They felt warm to the touch, but were no thicker than any of the other pairs he owned. There was also some sort of armor weave incorporated into them, a dull glint that caught the light when he moved the fabric around. An adaptive mesh, Greedo realized with a start. These were expensive, top of the line. He hadn’t even looked at buying a pair himself when he was shopping around. A strange giddiness joined his confusion. Someone… cared. But who else would know he needed this?

Who else but Lord Vader himself?

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!?!?! VADER YOU SMOOTH FUCK. GODLY RIZZ SUGAR DADDY VIBES?! YOU DOTING? YOU MFKN DOTING YOU BIG DARK ANGRY FUCK. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.

Greedo appreciated the gift. At least, that’s what he thought it was. Certainly there hadn’t been a dent in his account. He checked his balance several times a day. 

FEELING LIKE A LIL PRINCESS NOW, YA BITCH.

It was a shame it had to be covered, but the throat of the mesh could be seen, at least. Vader would know he was wearing it. Wait until Boba hears about this!

OH MY GOD YOU FUCKING PRINCESS. YOU A HO, GREEDO. OKAY. OKAY. I LOVE YOU. OKAY. I HAVE DECIDED. YOU ARE NOW OMG. OMG. I DONT EVEN. OMG.

The temperature fluctuated so minutely that Greedo wouldn’t have noticed—had the suit not adapted to it. A faint, coursing warmth, like blood. 

MY STUPID ASS IS FUCKING GIDDY LIKE WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON? MY TWO BRAINCELLS OKAY.

Vader didn’t look up from the holocomputer as he spoke. “It was not a gift. It is an investment.” He paused for a single, modulated breath. “You will meet me in my personal quarters at 2300 hours, where we will discuss an addition to your current responsibilities in my employ.” 

I NEED TO CALM TF DOWN. WHY IS THE TENSION SO GODDAMN THICCCCCCC. SIR. SIR. PLS. SIR. JUST. STAB ME WITH IT WHY DON'T YOU.

Investment. Additional responsibility? But why the late hour, and why the change of locale? What necessitated more privacy than his own office already provided?

ALL THE QUETSION MARKS. ALL THE WONDERS. ALL THE HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMS?

“Boba Fett has been in my employ for years. He is a hunter of great skill and renown. He is loyal. Discreet. My credits assure that remains the  case… in all matters. He is valuable to me. But he is only one man. When he remains abroad, his other duties go undone. It is manageable, for a time. But now, I believe there is another option available to me… You.” 

HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM. THIS IS ABOSLUTE TORTURE.

“Your daily rate will double each time I require additional services. It is the same offer I gave Fett. A generous amount for any task.”

I AM SHAKEN TO THE GODDAMN COREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.

Of course I can do it. I’m a great hunter. Why keep me around otherwise? 

HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Boba Fett and Greedo both work for Darth Vader. When Boba is sent off on an extended solo mission, Greedo learns more about his boss's eccentricities... and his own.

At first, Greedo thought that Imperial vessels just ran colder than usual. Though he hadn’t been on many, mostly just this one. And what a ship it was: a Venator-class Star Destroyer, housing thousands of occupants. Not just any old Imps either, but important ones, the kind they bragged about on Empire Day transmissions. But the issue wasn’t as simple as dialing back a control on a climate system, and it wasn’t like he could even access such things on a ship as big as this, barring the one in his own room. And it was only ever too cold when he was on the chrono. One moment, the temperature would be perfectly pleasant. The next, Greedo could see his own breath in front of his snout. 

It’s him, Greedo realized, after a few cycles of this strange incident repeating. It’s Lord Vader. 

Read on ao3

[bludhavents]

Lover

pairing: Eddie Munson x timetraveler!reader (no use of y/n)

summary: 4 times you have to cover after accidentally revealing the future, and the one time you don't.

word count: 1.8k

never seen a timetraveler x eddie fic but it truly speaks to my heart.

1.

You knocked on the door of the trailer, furrowing your eyebrows at the sound of commotion coming from inside before the door quickly swung open to reveal Eddie. There was a wide smile on his face and his hair was windblown despite him being indoors. 

“Hey,” he greeted coolly, motioning for you to come in. You raised your eyebrows, following him through the kitchen. 

“Hi,” you replied. There was a mess of cereal across the counter and you figured that had been the cluttering you heard when you were waiting. It was best not to say anything about it as he lead you into his room. A small grin graced your face as you saw The Fellowship of the Rings face-up on his bed. He hurried to swipe it away and clear you a spot to sit. “You’ve read The Lord of the Rings?”

“Uh, yeah,” he answered, surprised. “You know about The Lord of the Rings?”

“Of course. I mean, I haven’t read the books, but I’ve seen all the movies. Kind of confusing at some points, but I think I understood most of it.” You laughed lightly, but stopped when Eddie’s face fell. It startled you, and you quickly realized your mistake.

How could you be so careless?

“What do you mean movies?” He asked as if you’d struck him over the head out of nowhere. He was completely frozen, hunched over the bed with the book under his palm. 

“Sorry, um-- I think maybe I’m confused. Are Star Wars and The Fellowship of the Rings the same thing?” You questioned, internally suffering from the greatest bout of embarrassment you’d ever experienced. It was an idiotic question, quite possibly the worst thing you’d ever said out loud in your entire life. Eddie’s stature remained stoic in front of you, but his eyes narrowed judgmentally. 

“No.”

“Oh. Well I think I was thinking of those. Have you seen them?” Your attempt to recover the conversation was pathetic, truly.

“Yes.” 

“Great,” you said after a moment. “So about the project…”

2. 

The lunchroom was loud, and you had your backpack on the floor under the bench as you sat there, silently eating. The table was empty except for the boy sitting on the far right corner on the other end of the table. Usually he wasn’t there, and you had to wonder what could’ve happened for him to be banished to the recluse's table. 

“You read comics?” Eddie’s voice startled you and you accidentally poured your water over your trey, cringing as your food got soaked. “Shit, I’m sorry. Shit.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You turned to face him with a smile that fell quickly as you realized that he was holding your bag in his hands, holding up your Wolverine comic and taking the seat next to you. “Put it back, Munson.”

“Oh, last-naming me, I must’ve messed up,” he teased, simultaneously put the book back in your bag with the rest of your supplies. “Okay so why didn’t you tell me you were a freak, too? What if I wanted to borrow your comics?”

“I would’ve said no,” you deadpanned. “And I’m not a freak. I’m so very cool and mysterious and perfectly unfreaky.”

“Who’s your favorite x-men?” He ignored your joke. 

“Gambit.”

“Who?” He asked, stealing a soggy chip from your plate. 

“Remy LeBeau,” you tried, watching his face contort. Apparently Gambit wasn't an 80's hero. If he was, Eddie surely would've known about it, and judging by his face you were speaking a foreign language right now. “Shit. Uh, I mean, Pyro. St. John Allerdyce.”

“Pyro sucks. Who the fuck is Gambit and why don’t I know about him?” He called you out, looking at you with raised eyebrows. Usually he brushed off your dodgy behavior, but apparently today he was feeling extra confrontational.

“Sorry, Munson, gotta keep up my whole mysterious thing. Can’t share my intel. Surely you’ll understand,” you spoke with a fake casualty, grabbing your bag and leaving him sitting at the table with your soggy lunch.

3. 

Steve’s car was crammed with you, Eddie, and Robin in the backseat as him and Nancy sat upfront. The three of you were rummaging through his cassettes, groaning at the lack of diversity within his taste. 

“I’m surprised he even has cassettes,” Robin admitted. “He always struck me as just a listen-to-what’s-on-the-radio kind of guy.”

“Now that you say that I’m gonna agree.” Eddie pointed to her sharply, tossing another trash album into his lap.

“Word.” You said, picking up an old Christmas Tunes tape and laughing. “Dude, this is hella weird. No rap, but you have Christmas Tunes?”

“Did you just say ‘hella’?” Nancy turned around in the front seat to face you with an amused look on her face. Your eyes widened, looking at Eddie and Robin to see if they would come to your defense, but both looked just as confused as her. 

“What? You guys have never heard of the word ‘hella’? Slang, like, for really?” You questioned, desperately trying to figure out what was going on. Shit. Hella was from the 90s, most definitely not from the 80s. Not that they could call you out on it, they'd just make fun of you for the rest of eternity because the only way to play it off was to make yourself look stupid.

“No.” Eddie said. “You mean like Hell? Hell-uh?”

“Must have heard it wrong on the TV,” you excused with a wave of your hand. “Forget it, where’s your music, Steve? This has to be a joke.”

“Hella-fucking-shitty choices here, Stevie-boy!” Eddie winked, tossing the tapes up front, earning a loud groan from Steve. 

4. 

The batteries in your Walkman died during the middle of third period, and you rushed to find Dustin in the lunch room as soon as the bell rang. He was exactly where you expected, sitting with a sandwich in-hand at the Hellfire table with Eddie and the rest of the club. You walked there quickly, nudging him in the shoulder to get his attention.

“My girl!” Eddie greeted, but he shut up when he saw how serious your face was as you looked at Dustin.

“Do you have two AA batteries?” You asked without greeting. He stared back at you with wide eyes, swallowing the bite of his sandwich and nodding quickly. “Can I have them? Please? And thank you.”

“Sure, let me get them.” He grabbed his bag and dug around in the front pocket, pulling one out and then fishing for the other for a solid minute before finally finding it lodged in his pack of gum. 

“Dustin I have never loved anyone the way I love you,” you cheered, grabbing both sides of his head before turning to face Eddie. “Edward, I need a screwdriver.”

“What makes you think I have a screwdriver?” He asked, a teasing lilt in his voice. You stared back unamused. 

“Give me the damn thing before I take it and shank you.”

“Jesus, what the hell is even going on right now?” Mike asked from across the table. It was easy to ignore him. 

“Seriously, what’s it for?” Eddie asked, screwdriver now in hand. Of course it was inside his jacket. He wouldn’t give it to you unless you told him. 

“I’m gonna stab Carver,” you deadpanned. He didn’t budge. “Eddie! My Walkman broke and I need to replace the batteries. Please, give it. I'm having withdrawals.”

He unclipped the Walkman from your waist and unscrewed the battery cover himself, taking out the old and putting the new ones in before closing it back and putting the headphones on himself, pressing play and smiling when it worked. 

“All fixed.” He handed it back. “I didn’t know you liked Black Sabbath.”

“Yes, Dehumanizer is their best album,” you replied, still stressed. You put the headphones on for yourself and threw a fist in the air when the sweet sounds of Paranoid filled your ears. It took everything in you to not kiss Eddie right then and there. “Eddie Munson you are the love of my life and I am forever in debt to you. Dead serious right now, I’ll do anything for you. Eternally grateful, lover.”

“Glad you’re so excited about this.” He raised his eyebrows. “But Dehumanizer isn’t a Black Sabbath album. What’d you mean to say, lover?”

“Hell if I know!” You were too happy to correct your mishap. Your legs carried you away from the table, but your voice still shouted. “Edward Munson, I will jump your bones one of these days. Say the words, lover, say the words!” 

And he laughed hysterically as you ran out of the cafeteria with Black Sabbath blasting through your headphones. 

+1

“You don’t have to be a good guitar player to be successful,” you told Eddie. “Look at Kurt Cobain, he’s the most popular grunge musician of all time, and he sucked at guitar.”

“Kurt Cobain? Grunge?” He asked, eyebrows raised as he gently tuned your guitar for you. 

“Sorry, I made all of that up.” It was a lame ass excuse. You were getting sloppy, constantly slipping up and saying things that weren't appropriate for the time period

“I don’t think you did,” Eddie said seriously. “You always do that. Are you a fuckin’ alien or something? Always saying words we don’t know, songs that don’t exist, superheroes that aren’t part of the X-Men as confirmed by Dustin who owns every single issue of X-Men.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Your heart was beating out of your chest as he set the guitar down and walked over to you, leaning his back on the foot of the bed. 

“You’re lying,” he whispered, looking over at you. “I’m not mad, I just wanna know. Where are you from? Why do you talk about all of this stuff that doesn’t exist?”

“I think telling you will completely mess up the course of humanity,” you said, voice shaky. 

“You’re a time traveler.” His voice was matter-of-fact. You dropped your head in your hands and blinked hard. Of course he’d figure it out. “What year are you from?”

“I-I’m not a time traveler, Eddie.”

“What year?”

“2022.” Your stomach twisted. “It’s currently 2022 in my timeline. Then, I was taken one day, by this guy. And he sent me here. I don’t know why, and I can’t leave. I’m just stuck here, where I don’t belong. Without my family. My mom is fucking ten years old right now!” You cried, sobbing into your palms. Eddie wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pulling you into him. 

“I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry that happened to you,” he said. “What do you want me to do? Should we be trying to find a way for you to get back home?”

“I’ve tried. Succeeded, and been thrown back in here. It’s impossible. Just-- I don’t really want to talk about it. Ask me something, I’m sure you’re dying to know everything about the future. Fuck the timeline, ask away, lover.” You chuckled sadly, leaning out of his hug and letting him wipe away your tears. 

“Does Black Sabbath break up?” He asked, eyes wide.

“Yes, in 2017. But a lot happened before that, people came and went and it was a lot, they weren't the same. Next question?”

“Shit, ok, hold on." He paused. "The Lord of the Rings movies, you knew they weren’t Star Wars. They’re real?”

“Totally. Each book gets made into a movie. There’s also 3 Hobbit movies. Plus, the Star Wars franchise is still making stuff. They’ve got a ton of shows and movies. Also, superhero movies are at an all-time high,” you confessed. “Jesus, I’ve wanted to tell you all of this for so long, Eddie.”

[watermelonlovershigh]

Recalling Your First Time Dry Humping Harry (SMUT) /blurb/

AN: originally, this was going to be just a normal blurb where i wrote how Harry & Reader dry humped for the first time but i realized as i was writing it, that it sounded as though someone was reading it from a book or diary and that's where i got the idea to turn it into a fictional piece of the readers diary.

This story contains: mentions of sex, dry humping, orgasms, making out

{ boyfriend!harry - present-day husband!harry - present-day dad!harry - insert from readers diary }

word count: 950

Reading from your diary, you recall your first time dry humping with your then boyfriend Harry and now husband Harry.

It honestly happened in the heat of the moment. Harry and I were fresh into dating. About three months or so. We had just finished up watching a movie on his sofa. The living room was only lite with the low hues of a lamp. I somehow ended up straddling Harry's body while he sat in an up right position. At first, we started kissing like we always did. Gentle and soft touches to the others lips. But then Harry took the brave step and decided to add a bit of tongue.

I remember internally freaking out but also felt like my whole body was on fire. It was the hottest thing I'd ever done. I was very inexperienced at the time. Only ever kissed Harry and had never went further then a simple kiss. But his tongue felt so natural in my mouth. It didn't feel intruding or gross. It was warm and inviting.

Harry knew I was not ready for anything too sexual yet. He knew I was waiting for the right time. I'd told him I wanted him to take my virginity, so that wasn't a question in his mind. But he just didn't know how far was too far or what I did feel comfortable with. And when I started subconsciously dry humping his lap, Harry pulled back from the heated kiss and looked me directly in my eyes.

Harry asked me what I was truly comfortable with and I told him as long as it's not actual sex or mouths near our lower regions, than I felt fine with anything. So that lead to me dry humping his hardened cock, on his couch, at twelve o'clock that night. I rocked my hips back and forth, over his skinny jeans and we each moaned into the others mouths. Me because the sensation felt great on my clit and Harry because the pressure I was applying to his clothed cock.

We went back to making out. Harry cradling my face with his big hands. Me holding onto his muscular shoulders for stability. Our crotches grinding into each others. It felt so good. The best I'd ever felt in my life. My mind went dizzy and it felt like I drowning in a puddle of sexual euphoria and we weren't even naked.

Eventually, our making out turned into more so heavy breathing into the others mouth. Neither one of us could concentrate on the movements it took to actually kiss someone. When our faces were only an inch away, Harry and I just stared into each others eyes. Eye contact that could kill. And for some reason, though my face started to squint and scrunch up due to my clit being stimulated in my jeans from dry humping Harry, I wasn't getting embarrassed. It made me even more aroused seeing Harry watch me being pleasured in front of him. Or on him I should say.

The eye contact slowly diminished when Harry couldn't keep his head up anymore and it started falling back on the sofa. His hands fell down and Harry grabbed onto my hips, helping me to grind with rhythm. I remember I wanted to be close to him again, so I fell forward gently and pressed our clothed chests together. Then I laid my head on Harry's shoulder and closed my eyes, breathing heavy.

After a good ten minutes of grinding on each other, we both came. Beings it was my first time coming in front of someone else, I didn't fully let myself let go. I held my loud moans in and tried to stop the inevitable shaking of my thighs, but like I said, shaking thighs was inevitable. Well for me it at least.

Harry came with me. All his hot and sticky cum erupting from his dick head and wetting his tight boxers, located in his jeans. His chest was heaving hard, making my body rise up and off his body with each inhale and exhale of breath he gave. His mouth was slightly parted and eyes closed tightly. He had never felt better Harry thought at the time.

Yeah Harry looked forward to the day I wanted to go all the way and have actual sex, but he told me he would have waited a thousand years if I wanted. And that's what he did. Well not exactly the thousand years part, but the waiting. We didn't end up having sex until our year and a half anniversary. Harry made it so specials for me, taking every thing slow and sensual.

And look at us now. We've been together ten years and married for eight. We have four beautiful babies (not so baby anymore). We are very much in love and have sex all the time. Very good sex I might add. And every once in a while I'll look back in my diary, what I'm reading and writing in now, and reminisce on mine and Harry's first. Our first kiss. Our first time dry humping. Our first time having oral sex together. Our first time have intercourse together. Everything we have done, I have wrote in my diary book and when we're old and gray, we will be in a nursing home and we'll take turns reading each other chapters out of this book that holds our lives greatest memories.

Masterlist (regular smut, fluff & sicfics)

My Favorite Harry Styles Fics MASTERLIST

Harry Styles Series - One Shots & Blurbs Masterlist

Harry Styles blurbs, concepts, & short stories Masterlist- (short writing with little to no dialog)

[mercurygguk]

winter soldier | jjk

genre; winter soldier/avengers au, angst/smut/fluff

pairing; winter soldier!jungkook x avenger!female reader

summary; the love of your life died during ww2, they honored his death. you had never imagined you’d ever see him again until you’d join him in death, but here he is and he’s trying to kill you. he’s not himself at all. you, however, insist that the man you used to know is still in there somewhere.

word count; 6,764

warnings; descriptions of war/battle/fight scenes, descriptions of scars, the rest of the avengers joins the party, reader is like Cap A but not like Cap A, you know??, jungkook looking hella hot with his long hair and steel arm, inspiration from ‘captain america: winter soldier’, swearing, SMUT; explicit sexual activities, oral (f. receiving), love making at its highest- nothing kinky, just plain ol’ sex

a/n; okay so um, i’m binge-watching the avengers movies atm and i was watching Captain America: Winter Soldier. i kid you not, throughout the entire movie i was imagining what jungkook would look like as the winter soldier- jungkook combined with superheroes is like the perfect story, amirite?? ;)) enjoy!

ps. once again, i didn’t proof read so ignore my possible mistakes lol

(for reference, this is what jungkook’s hair looks like in this fic)

War.

Terrorizing. Horrifying. Absolutely petrifying.

There are several words to use when talking about it, describing it, reliving it. Once you’ve experienced it, it will haunt you till the day you die and even beyond that. There isn’t much positive to take from it, not many positive memories come to you as you think back to the time during war. Only one positive memory returns to you from those dark times...

Him.

Him who did not fit in with the military services due to his lack of strength and speed. Him who never let anyone step upon him and evolved with the job. Him who never backed down from a challenge or an order given from the highest ranks. Him who had braveness unlike anyone, loyalty like no other, a will to fight for what’s worth it and to win. Him who made you fall for him without meaning to. Him who promised he would always come back to you, no matter what happened.

And then one day he didn’t. They had told you he went down in the fight, died for his country, for his team. He hadn’t hesitated to sacrifice himself, thrown himself towards the threat in the hopes of ending it for everyone once and for all. That he did. He killed himself in the process of saving everyone else.

A hero is what they had called him. Honored his name, saluting as they all stood facing his military photograph, serious faces and emotionless eyes all over. Tears had filled your eyes that day, but they didn't fall. You refused to let them. There was no way you would cry because of a liar. A coward, really. Anger kept you going, anger aimed at him. A rage so intense that you would convince yourself that you hated him. Some people would call you selfish, selfish for hating a man who sacrificed himself for everyone else. They were right. You were selfish. But love makes you selfish, and you loved him. So ridiculously much.

Years later, decades into the new century he remains as a positive yet heartbreaking and frustrating memory in your mind and heart. You haven’t aged a day thanks to the advanced technology and the project you offered to be the experiment of, in the end of the war. After his death and the war seeming more out of control than ever, you thought there wasn’t much more to live for, so you volunteered. A successful masterpiece, professor Kim had said as you regained consciousness on the lab table. You were his greatest, most succeeded experiment. You still are, except for the fact that Kim Namjoon is no longer walking among people on earth.

Now you’re living as the successful masterpiece he has created. Stronger, faster – young too even though your real age is something near 98. It doesn’t show. You look like any other 23-year-old but with extraordinary strength and speed. Being a part of a team as the Avengers truly has given you a meaning of life, a purpose that you didn’t feel you had before joining this outstanding team of superheroes as some would call you.

But as you stand here, in the middle of a battlefield that is scarily similar to those back in the 1940’s, you feel small. Gunshots fire around you, flying past your head and ringing in your ears. Explosions going off from the shots fired by Stark, Iron Man as he’s known as. The grounds breaking from the power of Thor’s hammer, the bad guys falling like flies in the hands of Widow. You’re watching it all unfold, breathing for a split second as robots are charging at you with red, glowing eyes.

For God’s sake, just how many of these are there?

Keeping yourself from rolling your eyes in pure annoyance, you set off running towards them with an unmatched speed, fists up and ready to take them out. One goes down after another, surrendering to your very angry, very powerful fists. Your patience is running thin as the robots keep appearing from left and right, setting their focus on you as demanded by whoever’s controlling them. A person you haven’t managed to find yet, but determined to hunt down and put a bullet through their head.

“Hey, Thor!” You call out to the nordic God flying around you, punching fists through robots and throwing his hammer at them. He glances your way, finding you surrounded by robots, too many for you to fight by yourself. “A lil hand here?”

He nods in response, immediately dropping to the ground and plunging his hammer into the asphalt on the ground, lightning seeping through the ground and into the robots, taking them down and splitting them in half. Thor throws a smug smirk at you before turning back around to fight another round of robots. You roll your eyes, about to run off when shots are being fired at you.

“Shit!” You hiss, running to hide behind a tipped-over truck while fishing out a gun from the strap around your thigh. You lean out, aiming in the direction of the shots. There is a man with long, dark hair, a black mask covering half his face and a silver arm that does not look familiar at all. The mysterious man steps onto the railing of the bridge he fired shots from, hard glare focused on you as he steps out and lets himself fall to the ground beneath the bridge. He lands on his feet, supporting himself with the silver fist into the asphalt. He stands to his height, walking straight towards you and leaving a mark in the asphalt where he had landed. Your eyes widen as he holds up a machine gun, opening fire at you as you scramble to run off while loading more shots into your gun.

Peeking around the corner of the brick building you’re hiding behind, you hold your gun up to aim at him. You fire a bullet, hitting his silver arm. He doesn’t budge, the bullet not even leaving a bump in the silver.

“What the-” you gape, firing shots again. He holds his silver hand up, the bullets bouncing off like they’re made of cotton, still walking towards you with eyes focused on you. There’s something about him that seems familiar – maybe his build? Or the way he walks? Or was it the slightly curly hair on top of his head? You can’t quite pin it as you watch him get closer, fists clenched tightly at his sides as if he’s ready to throw punches at you. You contemplate running to him, throwing the first punch at him before he gets to you. There is a slight hesitancy in your body as you can’t shake off how awfully familiar he seems the closer he gets to you. Knowing what the right thing to do is, you step out from your hiding spot, collecting all strength as you charge at him. A yell of anger and confusion rumbles from your chest as you jump on the last step, fist pulled back only for it to be forced forward and into the center of the mysterious man’s chest.

He stumbles back slightly, gaining his balance quickly before he steps closer, throwing a punch at you as well. You dodge, throwing your leg into his side in a strong kick. He grunts as he catches your leg, pulling on it to force you towards him. You ram into him, his clenched fist connecting with your jaw. You groan in pain as you fall to the ground, landing before his feet. Squinting at him, you watch as he kneels down over you, holding you down against the ground. As he stares at you, raising his hand to deliver a punch to your face again, you realize it as your eyes meet his. You gasp softly, not believing the sight in front of you. It’s a known fact that you would recognize those deep, brown eyes anywhere in any given moment.

“J-Jungkook?”

The sound of your voice, the sound of his name falling from your lips has him freezing for a split second. His eyes shift between yours as he slowly begins to sink his fist. But not even seconds later he’s raising his fist again and that’s when you can tell that he does not recognize you. He is looking at you as if you’re a complete stranger, like he didn’t spend the last year of his life telling you that he loved you more than life itself.

His gaze fills with the only feeling he feels, hatred. He moves to force his silver fist down and into your face, a face he used to call beautiful as he traced his finger tips along the edges. You barely dodge it, trying your very best to meet his eyes again as you call his name.

“Jungkook!” You fight the tears that are brimming your eyes as you continue to dodge his hits the best you can, “Hey! It’s me!”

He’s not holding off, continuing to throw punches at you and hitting the asphalt as you squirm in between his thighs. He’s impeccably strong, the asphalt cracking under the jabs of his fists. His thighs are keeping you in place as he pins you to the ground, your arms locked along your sides. You know he’ll punch you to death if you don’t get inside his head. It seems nearly impossible as his eyes are trained on you, emotionless and angry, only a small glimt of the man you used to know in them.

“____! Might wanna duck down a bit,” Tony shouts as he flies in your direction, his glowing hand aimed at Jungkook.

Your eyes widen in horror as you scramble together all the strength you have, throwing Jungkook off you and away from the deathly ray of light coming from Tony’s palm.

“No!”

The shot hits the asphalt a few meters away from you, nearly grazing Jungkook but it doesn’t, thankfully. Tony is shocked as he comes to a halt in the air, staring between Jungkook and you. You wave a hand at him. “I got him,” you assure him as you pant out breaths of air, nodding towards Widow and Thor, “go help the others.”

The man in the iron suit in front of you seems to hesitate for a second as he looks at you. He catches the pleading look on your face, glancing back at Jungkook for a moment before nodding at you once and flying in the direction of Widow and Thor, aiming his shots at the robots that are still coming from all sides. You turn your attention back to Jungkook, the body of the love of your life but not the eyes or mind of him.

“Jungkook,” you try again, slowly stepping closer as he stays still, slightly shocked that you had saved him from Iron Man’s deadly shot, “it’s me, ____.”

You’re begging, tone pleading him and hands up in surrender as you slowly step closer to him. He’s breathing hard, chest rising and falling in deep breaths. His eyes are dark, cold and distant as you get even closer. He’s frozen in his spot. He seems confused behind that hard expression, confused because you look less terrified than you did before realizing who he is. He doesn’t flinch or move away from your hand as it inches closer to his face, reaching for the black mask on his face.

“Hey,” you softly say, hesitating to touch him as you let a single tear escape and roll down your cheek. Something flashes in his eyes as he looks into your wet eyes, a small hint of recognition, familiarity too. Maybe he remembers. You hope he does. He lets you pull the black mask off completely, the strong line of his jaw appearing in front of you as well as his pink lips you used to kiss so often in that hidden place you liked to meet almost every night. “It’s me,” you whisper, “it’s ____.”

You’re afraid you’re imagining things as tears build up in the corner of his eyes, his jaw tightening. It’s too much for him. The memories returning with full force, the emotions filling his chest and warming it for the first time in 70 years. He wants to cry. He doesn’t know whether it's happiness because you’re right here in front of him, after he thought he would never get to see you again as he took his last breath back in 1944, or sadness because he’s well aware that he almost killed you if you hadn’t pushed him off you.

“____?” His voice betrays him as it cracks, your name coming out in a croaked voice. More tears escape as you hear your name falling from his lips for the first time since that morning in the military camp where he said ‘see you soon’ and then never returned. He freezes as you throw yourself at him, arms wrapped around him as you pull him closer in a tight hug. The sniffles and muffled cries you let out breaks his emotionless, cold heart and filling it with a warmth he hasn’t felt in so long. A tear escapes from the corner of his eye as he lets his own arms snake their way around your waist, hugging you just as tight as you hug him.

Relief.

That’s what he’s feeling.

Jungkook wanders around inside Stark’s office, eyes exploring things as he calmly runs his silver hand over them. You watch him from a few feet away, arms crossed over your chest. Worry is filling your entire body as his back is turned to you. He still doesn’t seem like himself. There is something about him that makes you anxious, something about him makes you wonder if he’ll turn at any moment, falling back into whatever sort of amnesia he has been experiencing for the past decades.

You jump in surprise when the door opens beside you, revealing Tony. He notices your jumbled state, giving you a small, half smile. You turn your eyes back to Jungkook who’s picking at an ancient-looking sculpture on Tony’s desk causing Tony to take a step closer.

“Hey! Buddy!” He calls out, catching Jungkook’s attention. “Don’t touch that, please. It’s antique.”

Jungkook steps away from the desk, hands up in mock surrender, emptiness in his eyes as if he couldn’t care less about Tony’s antique sculpture. No one really cared about that sculpture. It’s doomed to break at some point when it’s placed in his office, in the Avengers building.

“Tony,” you catch the attention of the older man, looking straight at him with hopeful, desperate eyes, “can you help him?”

He turns to face Jungkook, looking him over from head to toe. “Friday, give me a scan of whatever’s controlling Jungkook.”

Anticipated, you wait while biting a nail. Jungkook doesn’t move an inch as Friday scans him for anything to help Tony figure out a way to help. He’s glancing from Tony to you, his eyes meeting yours. Seconds. It takes seconds from his stare meeting yours to something flicking behind his dark brown irises, something inside of him snapping like the tips of someone’s fingers. Your eyes widen in panic as you move to stand between Tony and Jungkook.

“Tony!” You shout, moving fast as you try to get in between the two men. Tony has already activated his iron hand, catching Jungkook’s silver fist right before it hits him square in the face. You come to a halt, staring in surprise as Tony tightens his hold on Jungkook’s fist, forcing him to the ground. “Tony, please, don’t hurt him. He’s not in his right mind!”

“Oh, really?” Tony scoffs, sarcasm dripping from each word. A small yelp leaves your mouth as Tony kicks his knee up under Jungkook’s jaw, knocking him out. Jungkook falls limp to the floor, eyes closed as he’s kicked unconscious by Tony. You kneel down beside him, brushing his long strands of hair out of his face. He looks peaceful as he lays there, completely unconscious, and yet there’s a furrowed look on his face, like he’s never free from whatever that is controlling him. You sigh deeply, head dropping as you cradle Jungkook’s hand in your own. Tony’s palm rests on your shoulder. You glance up at him. He gives you a small, reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry, we’ll help him,” he tells you. You nod, knowing he spoke the truth.

“Thank you.”

The frustrated look and furrowed eyebrows are gone. He looks genuinely peaceful this time, long lashes resting on the top of his cheeks as he rests beneath the sheets on your bed. You can’t help yourself as you reach out, palm cupping his cheek, your thumb brushing over his cheekbone in a soft caress. Hopefully you’ll have the love of your life back once he wakes up from the deep sleep Tony put him in.

You’re about to move away, retrieving your hand from his cheek just as you hear him whimper softly. Turning back to him, you watch as his lower lip begins to quiver, eyebrows furrowed tightly together. “No,” he whimpers again, head shaking in his sleep. “Please, no! Don’t!”

Worry fills you once again as you sit on the edge of the bed beside him, hands cupping his face between them. “Jungkook,” you softly call, trying your best to wake him without startling him. “Jungkook, my love, please wake up. Please!”

Startled, you gasp as his eyes shoot open, his lips parting as he gasps for air. He’s looking right into your startled, widened eyes. It takes a minute for him to realize who you are and where he is, the surroundings not seeming familiar at all, but it feels nice. The aura, the warmth and the dimmed lighting in the bedroom where he’s tucked under the sheets.

“Hey,” you breathe out as you smile, not sure what to say to him. Tony had made sure to help him, get whatever that was controlling him out of him, his head to himself now and slowly filling with memories, both good and bad ones. “How are you feeling?”

He groans as he moves to sit up. You help him straighten up, making sure he has a pillow for his back as he leans back against the head of the bed. He closes his eyes tightly together as he drops his head back, still trying to calm his erratic breathing. You sit back in the chair you had pulled to the bedside when you got here.

“I feel…” he begins, words feeling foreign on his tongue as he speaks with a croaking voice. He sighs deeply. This is a lot for his head to take in in just one day. “I feel like my head is about to explode.”

Your smile is careful as you look at him. “Makes sense,” you softly say, watching him glance at his arm only to notice the silver is still there, like he had hoped it would be gone. It’s easy to tell the arm itself is a symbol of a very dark time as he looks at it and then looks away from it. He isn’t fond of the silver arm, obviously having a love-hate relationship with it as it has given him power and strength he never had to begin with and problems he never voluntarily wanted in the first place. There’s pain in his eyes as he glances at you, shame as he cowers under your gaze.

You frown deeply. “What happened to you?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper. He closes his eyes, not really wishing to go back to those dark times where his life was saved and changed for the worse. The dark times where he became a shadow of himself and a manipulated soldier, brainwashed to take orders from others.

“I, uh, I don’t think-“ he stumbles over his words.

You place your hand over his actual hand, your thumb brushing the skin there. He glances at where you’re touching him before looking up at you. You’re hurting, it’s easy to see. It’s not your own pain though, it’s his. You’re feeling pain for him, hurting because he went through things he never should have, things where death would’ve been much less painful. You want to kiss him, kiss it all better if that was possible.

“You can tell me,” you whisper, pleading him to confide in you, to tell you what happened to him all those years ago.

He sighs deeply, turning his hand over to wrap it around yours. A rush runs through your stomach as he grips onto your hand with a hold so tight that you find yourself promising him silently that you’ll never let go again by giving his hand a small squeeze.

“They found me a few days later,” he starts, gaze focusing on the way yours and his fingers intertwine with each other like they’re meant to do it, “in the ruins of buildings. I-I wasn’t fully awake when they did, only just coming to my senses again after the explosion that was meant to kill me.”

You’re focusing on his hand in yours now, not able to look into his eyes as he tells the story of how he ended up here, 70 years later, and still looking like himself but with longer hair and impeccable strength.

“I didn’t recognize them. They wouldn’t tell me anything. They took me to this place, a bunker or something like that. There was this huge laboratory inside with equipment way ahead of its time,” he looks confused as he relives the horrifying moments, “I was placed in a chair and the next thing I know they’re sawing my arm off-“

You whimper. “Oh, god,” tears dwell in your eyes as you grip his hand tightly.

“____, I have never felt as much pain as I did that day,” he looks you straight in the eye, the pain from that day flashing over his face as he recalls it, the feeling of it. “And all I could think about while they turned me into this- this monster… was that I lied to you.”

You shake your head in denial. “No, Jungkook,” you whisper, “you couldn’t know. You couldn’t.”

He offers you a small half-smile, remorse covering his features as he reaches up with his silver hand, careful as he lets the fingertips of it brush your hair out of your face.

“I’m sorry I gave you an empty promise,” he whispers, silver fingertips brushing against the side of your face. You cover it with your own hand, letting him cup your face in the cold silver. He leans closer, hissing lightly as pain shoots up the side of his torso. “I’m sorry that I didn’t come back to you like I promised.”

“You did though,” you sigh deeply, resting your forehead against his. “You’re right here.”

He nods softly, his eyes shifting between yours.. “and I won’t leave again,” he assures you before hesitating, shrugging as he adds; “unless you want me to.”

You chuckle through the tears that had built up in your eyes. He’s smiling at you as you reach up to cup his face in your palms, brushing your thumb across his cheeks. He’s watching you, still not quite believing that you’re here with him. After so long. 70 years of wondering if you’re still alive. 70 long years of wondering where you were in the world. 70 unbearable years of longing for your touch, your soft, plump lips that made his heart stop beating for a few seconds each time they would touch his in a kiss.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you,” he whispers into the small gap of air space between you and him. “Each time I’d return from a mission and become myself again after being under mind-control, you were the first thing on my mind. To be honest, I don’t think you ever left it. You’ve always been there with me, in the deepest parts of my consciousness. You kept me sane during the missions, kept me from forgetting myself completely.”

Listening intently, you close your eyes as your thumbs continue to brush over the skin on his cheeks. He continues, a deep sigh falling from his lips and clashing against yours causing goosebumps to rise upon your body. You’re shocked that you have gone this far without smothering him in kisses. You don’t want to risk anything, waiting patiently for him to make the first move in the direction of more physical affection, whether it’s a touch of his hand, a hug or more.

“And when I realized it was you earlier today...” his voice cracks, “when I realized I almost killed you- I don’t think I can ever forgive myself for that.”

“You can and you will,” you softly tell him, the undertone of your voice stern, “you didn’t kill me. You wouldn’t. You were gonna recognize me sooner or later.”

He exhales shakily. “You don’t know that,” he almost snaps, eyes closed tightly as he drops his silver hand from your face. He pulls away from your touch, the warmth of him disappearing the further he moves away. He’s not looking at you. Tears are threatening to spill as you stare back at him, lips slightly parted as you want to speak up. You want to tell him he’s wrong, but you already know that he will not take your words for what they are. He, and you, know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t pushed him off when you did.

“You’re right,” you say, catching his attention again. He barely glances at you, noticing the small remnants of tears in your eyes before looking back at his silver hand, clenching and unclenching it. A tear rolls down your cheek. “You’re so right, Jungkook. I don’t know if you would or not.”

You get up from the chair you’ve been sitting in since you brought him back to your apartment. Jungkook still refuses to look at you as you move onto the bed, crawling closer to him. You don’t hesitate as you lay a hand on his shoulder and throw a leg over his to straddle his lap. He finally looks at you, eyes slightly widened at your actions. His eyes meet teary ones again, his silver arm moving out of an old habit as he reaches up to wipe your tears away.

“But I like to think you would.”

Your lips press against his before he can reply to your words. Jungkook gasps and then grunts in response as you press your mouth to his, desperately and needy. His body freezes beneath you as you kiss him, tasting his lips for the first time in an unbearably long time. It takes him a while to realize that you’re kissing him, finally kissing you back as he cradles you in his arms, pulling you closer to his chest. The silver arm keeps a tight grip around your waist, holding you in place as the other runs up your thigh.

Pulling away, you gasp for air, letting your forehead rest against his. Jungkook is breathing heavily, his breath once again clashing against yours as you both catch your breath. Your eyes meet, seconds after he’s kissing you again, your tank top riding up as the silver arm keeps you tight against him. The silver touching your skin causes goosebumps to cover your skin, a chill running up your spine as you cup his face. His tongue licks against your bottom lip, you let him in. A moan escapes your lips as his tongue touches yours.

“I’ve been holding myself back ever since you woke up,” you whisper against his lips, making him smile as his hands slide under your top, pushing it up before pulling it over your head completely. You return to his lips, catching them with your own as you reach for the hem of his t-shirt. He helps you pull it off, your mind elsewhere as you throw it onto the floor. Your hands rake down his body, over the tensing muscles of his abdomen as he moves his kisses down your cheek and further under your jaw. Your breathing is ragged as you pull away, only a few inches so you can glance down at his torso. The sight horrifies you, your fingertips brushing over scars and healed wounds.

“Oh my god,” you whisper as you glance up at Jungkook, his eyes meeting yours for a few seconds before you look back at his chest. Your eyes wander, over his both small and larger scars to his silver arm. You feel your heart tightening as you take in the way the silver arm is sewed onto his body. You hesitate to reach up, Jungkook’s eyes on you as you let your shaking fingertips brush over the burned, scarred skin that keeps the silver arm attached. “I- This…”

His human hand comes up to cup your cheek, thumb caressing your skin. “I know,” he agrees without hearing the rest of the sentence. You look back at him, finding relief in his eyes as you rest your palms against his chest. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” he then says.

“They literally cut off your arm,” you point out, shaking your head in disbelief. You can’t even imagine how much pain he must’ve been in when they did this to him. “I wish I could have spared you this pain, spared you the torture you went through.”

He smiles softly. “I know, ____. But there's no way you possibly could’ve.”

You're carefully running your pointer finger along one of his scars when you look up at him, eyelashes framing your eyes so perfectly. He thinks you’re absolutely beautiful, even more so than the last time he saw you. You can’t do anything to stop the words that tumble from your lips next.

“I love you so much, Jungkook.”

His breathing stops for a second, his heart skipping a beat. He hasn’t heard those words since 1944. He didn’t even hear those words that morning you had sent him off, he hadn’t said those words when he promised to return. He should have. That way you’d never be in doubt of his love. He wonders if you’ve loved him since or if there has been anyone else in the meantime to love you the way he should’ve.

Silently, you watch him as his thoughts run one hundred miles per hour. Your palms are sliding from his chest to his shoulders and further up his neck to cup his face again. The love he feels is evident in his eyes as he focuses on you.

“I love you,” he whispers, carefully turning you over onto your back only for him to hover over you. You’re watching him, tingling in your stomach as you hear the words fall from his lips. He returns to kissing you, kissing the skin on your cheek, your neck and further down to the very top of your chest, right beneath the collarbones. He glances up at you as he kisses his way down the valley of your bra-covered chest. “I didn’t say it enough back then,” he mouths against your skin, another round of goosebumps rising beneath his lips, “I should have said it more. I’m sorry.”

You exhale deeply, arching your back into his touch as he reaches your navel and moves even further down to the waistband of your pants, your spandex pants that you so elegantly wear whenever you have a mission with the Avengers.

“Stop apologizing,” you breathe out, eyes closed as you succumb to his touch. The silver hand brushes over your stomach as it runs up to your chest, unclasping your bra on the front. It falls to the sides, revealing your perky nipples to the crisp air. You gasp softly as a silver hand brushes over both, the cold steel doing nothing but erecting them even more. “I've always hated it when you apologize.”

He smirks softly against your lower stomach, pressing one last kiss to the skin there before pulling the silver hand down to pull off your pants, and panties too. The pants are barely on the floor before he returns to your lower abdomen, kisses being spread across your hip bones and pubic bone. You reach down to tangle your fingers in his long hair as he runs his hands up the inside of your thighs. He spreads your legs, revealing your throbbing core to him.

“God, I missed this,” he breathed out, the air of his words hitting your wet folds. “Having you like this, all to myself.”

You whine from above him. “Jungkook,” you whimper, “please.”

It doesn’t take more for him to lean closer, tongue licking a stripe up between your folds and to your clit, his silver arm sliding across your abdomen to keep you down as he eats you out for the first time in decades. One would think he had lost his touch and knowledge of a woman’s body, but you can say that he certainly didn’t as he roots himself between your legs, tongue licking your wetness and prodding at the entrance.

“Oh god,” you moan, softly gasping for air as his human hand rests on top of your one thigh, fingers digging into the flesh there. You’re in heaven, on the ninth cloud as he slurps your arousal, licking your folds and clit as if his life depended on it. “Fuck, Jungkook!”

The sound of your name toppling from your lips as he hits a certain nerve makes his body flush with a warmth he almost forgot what feels like. You’re writhing in the tight hold of his silver arm, squirming as he licks you to your release. The orgasm is approaching fast and hard, Jungkook being the sole reason for it. No one could ever get you there as fast as him.

“I’m s-so close- oh!,” you pant, your walls clenching as Jungkook’s actual fingers slide into you. He pumps his hand in and out of you in a pace that is perfectly building up your orgasm. He takes nothing but a glance into his eyes as he leans down to softly kiss your clit that you’re toppling over, hitting the wall of your orgasm. “J-jungkook, my god!”

You jerk away as he leans forward, tongue licking up your release, tasting it on his taste buds. He hums with a small smile as he glances up at you, loving the way your eyes are almost bulging out of your head at the sight of him between your thighs. It takes nothing more than a few seconds before you shitting up, Jungkook meeting you halfway in a kiss. Tongues clash against each other, the taste of you on his tongue as he kisses you deeply, needingly.

“Please fuck me,” you mumble in between kisses, a desperate whining tone attached to your words. “Make love to me, Jungkook.”

He seals your words with a kiss, giving you a silent promise of doing just that. As if he’d lick you out and that would be it. No way.

You watch, teeth biting into your bottom lip, as he gets off the bed to remove the sweatpants you had dressed him in when you got back, getting him out of those military pants with belts and buckles all over them. His cock springs free, slaps against his abdomen as it stands proud into the air. A rush runs through your stomach at the sight, mouth slightly watering. Once the sweatpants and his boxers lie on the floor by his feet, he crawls back onto the bed. He moves closer, pushing you back onto your back as he hovers over you. You’re glancing at his silver arm for a mere split second, your hair reaching up to run along the hard edges of it. Jungkook can’t feel your touch but he’d like to imagine that he can as he watches your palm brushing over and further up to the nape of his neck. His eyes move back to lock with yours. You’re looking at him just like you did that last night of intimacy you had back in 1944, the night before he was sent off on a deathly mission. A huge wave of emotions hits him as he glances from your eyes to your lips and back again.

“I love you,” he softly says, eyebrows furrowed together as he looks at you, “so much, ____.”

You smile, pulling him down to meet you in a kiss. The kisses are soft, tender even as he reaches down to line himself up with your entrance. You gasp into his mouth as the tip of his cock prods at your folds. A hand of yours tangles back into his locks as he pushes inside, the tightness overwhelming for the both of you. He rests his forehead against yours, your breaths clashing together between you as he buries himself to the hilt.

“Shit,” he hisses, glancing down at your connecting hips. “Can i move?”

You nod your head, whispering, “yes.”

Jungkook watches the way your eyes roll to the back of your head as he pulls out and pushes back in, the sight causing him to do it again and again, wanting to see you lose yourself and succumb to the feeling of his cock brushing against your walls.

“Oh fuck!” You gasp as he gives you a particularly hard thrust, the sound of skin slapping against skin as he hits that exact spot that makes you whimper out a soft, whiny moan. You’re clawing at his shoulders, his neck and chest as he sets a rhythm, keeping it steady as he grinds into you. He grabs your leg with his silver hand, helping you to wrap it around his waist. The other follows suit, locking with your other behind his back. He hits deep inside of you, his veiny cock sliding against your walls so deliciously.

It’s like that last night you had with him all over again just with more longing and more desperate kisses. Your stomach tingles with the overwhelming amount of emotions you’re feeling in this exact moment as you look up at him – his long hair slightly damp at the roots, his toned chest glistening in sweat as he works you both to a release, to a high you’re both so desperately in the need of.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans as you unawarely clench around his length, his head dropping to your shoulder. “Don’t do that or I’ll cum right now.”

“Sorry!” You squeak, chuckling as he eyes you with a small smirk. God, you wanna ride him so badly. “Oh, Jungkook,” you moan breathily as he hits your spot again. He’s watching you, eyes running over your face as it contorts in pure pleasure.

“Fuck, I’m close,” he grunts, leaning up on his hands to get a better angle. He rams his hips into you, his strength coming to show as he thrusts into you harder than ever before. The power of his thrusts have you seeing stars as your second orgasm nears you. Jungkook can feel it as you clinch repeatedly around him. He won’t last much longer if you continue to do that.

High pitched moans tumble from your parted lips as he speeds up his movements, desperately trying to get you over the edge before he topples over himself. Your nails are digging into his shoulders as you reach your high, the orgasm hitting you like a bullet.

“Oh my fucking god,” you moan, breathing ragged as he continues to fuck you to get himself to cum. His breathing is uneven, not matching his thrusts as all as he moves in and out a few more times before stilling inside of you, spilling his load and painting your walls inside.

“Fuck, I love you,” he breathes out as he drops his forehead to your collarbone. You’re smiling widely as you run your fingers from his shoulders and up into his hair. He lifts his head to look at you as you push his long, brown hair out of his face. You know him too well when he gives you a look, a small smirk on his lips. A joke is coming. You can just feel it. And you can’t help but grin at him as everything feels exactly like 1944 again. Also, you want to punch him for his next words:

“Not too bad for a 98-year-old, huh?”

all rights reserved © mercurygguk (with help from marvel studios *wink* )

[cuquitalocita]

a new addition- rowaelin

AN: okay, a bunch of you guys asked for a part two to this fic so here it is! it’s longer than i meant for it to be and it’s not my favorite but i hope you guys like it- by the way the name eliora is not mine originally- i can’t remember who used it but it was not me so feel free to tag people if you know :)

part one

~~

“And then what?” Her voice was eager.

Aelin shrugged, her lips tilting up into a small smile as she gazed at the green eyes across from her. “Then he kissed me.” Being completely honest, Aelin could remember the kiss as if it was yesterday. Could still feel his hard body pressed against hers and the fading taste of alcohol on his lips. 

“Bullshit,” a voice scoffed from behind her. Aelin whirled to face the matching turquoise eyes and she arched a brow, causing him to visibly swallow. 

“Excuse you? As far as I recall, I don’t remember you being there.”

Her son shook his head, plopping down on the open area of the couch beside her and taking her feet into his lap. “I didn’t need to be,” he shrugged. “You and Dad tell the story often enough. Everyone knows that you-”

He was cut off as Eliora’s hand slapped over his mouth. “No spoiling, Sammy! I wanna hear the story!” Aelin laughed at her six-year-old and pulled her onto her lap, kissing her cheek as she did so. She gazed at Eliora for a moment; she truly was a beautiful child, even if Aelin was a little bias. 

“That’s right, Eliora,” Aelin grinned at her daughter. “And what did we say about spoiling?”

“Don’t do it,” she replied definitively with a firm shake of her head. Aelin couldn’t help but squeeze Eliora a bit tighter as she opened her mouth to continue the story. Her mouth closed as another body entered the living room. 

“What are we doing?” Nehemia asked, coming to sit by her twin on the couch. Shoulder to shoulder, Aelin’s eyes stared back at her. Sam rolled his eyes.

“Mama’s telling me a love story,” Eliora gushed to her sister, her green eyes alight with childlike excitement. “The greatest of all time!” 

Nehemia gazed at Eliora with pure love, even as she leaned over to whisper something in her brother’s ear. Aelin was just able to hear, “She’s telling it again, huh?” 

“I told you we should have gone to Aunt Lys’s house,” was her son’s muttered response. Nehemia snorted, leaning back over the couch until she was eye to eye with Eliora. 

“Greatest of all time, huh? Must be a good one.” Her eyes twinkled with a mischievous glint Aelin could only credit to herself. 

“It is,” Aelin finally cut in. “And if you would stop interrupting, I would be able to finish it.” 

The sixteen year-olds rolled their eyes, gazing at one another in a silent language only they could understand. But Aelin didn’t need to hear their dialogue to understand that they had heard the story enough times. But Aelin couldn’t help it. She just loved telling it. Gazing at the sparkling emerald on her finger, Aelin didn’t think she would ever get sick of telling it.

“So, as I was saying.” She bounced Eliora playfully in her lap until she giggled. “He kissed me and-” 

“Aelin Galathynius Whitethorn, you better not be telling my daughter that I kissed you at that party!” Aelin had been so absorbed in her kids that she had barely registered her hulking husband walking into the room. He stood at the door, arms crossed in front of his body as he glared at her, emerald eyes meeting turquoise in a clash of passion. Rowan was still in his work clothes, clearly having just arrived, and Aelin was really trying not to drool at how good he looked with his hair ruffled and his tie undone around his neck.

She threw up her hands with an exasperated sigh.

“Gods, what does a girl have to do to finish a story around here?” 

The floor of their living room creaked as Rowan came to sit beside Aelin and Sam on the couch, his gaze never leaving hers. Rowan leaned forward, catching Aelin’s lips with his for a quick kiss before settling back down on the couch. Nehemia immediately rested her head on her father’s shoulder and was rewarded with a warm kiss to the top of her head. 

Aelin gazed at them with fondness, love filling her heart. Until her husband’s gaze locked with her own once more, and Aelin smirked. 

“You cannot keep telling people that,” Rowan shook his head before turning to their youngest, taking her from Aelin’s lap and shooting his wife an exasperated look. “Eliora, do you remember what Mama and I told you about lying?”

From across from her, Aelin watched Sam snort. He swallowed as his gaze met hers, smile dropping. 

Eliora’s tiny eyebrows scrunched up at the top of her head, the look identical to one Aelin constantly saw on Rowan’s face. Finally, she shook her head, gazing up at her father. “It’s… wrong?”

“That’s right,” Rowan smiled down at her. “And we don’t do it. Even if Mama does.” He looked at the gape on his wife’s face before looking down at their daughter once more. “Especially if Mama does.” Aelin stuck her tongue out to her husband, who finally cracked a smile at her. This one sent warmth all the way down to her toes.

“Does this mean Mama can’t finish the story?” Eliora asked, her voice turning sad as she gazed between her family. Rowan laughed, bouncing her up and down before looking at the twins and back at Aelin, an unmistakable look of triumph in his eyes. 

“Oh, no no no,” he replied, grinning. “Daddy’s here now. And I’m gonna tell you what really happened. I didn’t want to be at that party, to begin with...” 

Aelin didn’t need him to, even if their kids did. She remembered everything about that night. Everything about the days and weeks following she didn’t think she would ever forget them until the day she died. It wasn’t every day you kissed the love of your life at a shitty fraternity rager.

~~

Rowan sat in the kitchen nursing his long since warmed beer. Shitty rap music blared through the speakers around him and it was then that he decided he was better off going back to his dorms before he did something he would regret. 

It had been an hour since the kiss. An hour until he had finally gotten to understand what the hype of kissing Aelin Galathynius was. She was a lot of things- but a bad kisser wasn’t one of them. Rowan had sworn to every god imaginable he could handle a kiss with the infuriating blonde. It was just a kiss, right? Just a game.

But her lips had touched his and Rowan knew something was very very different. He hadn’t been able to get the smell of lemon and verbatim out of his senses for the past hour and it was unlikely that he would stop imagining the kiss any time soon.

But it was just a kiss. He didn’t like Aelin Galathynius. 

She was annoying, and loud, obnoxious, and rude, and she lived to annoy him.

So why couldn’t he stop thinking of her? Even before the party, after their failed project, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about those damn turquoise eyes. 

It wasn’t that he hated everything about her. No- he had noticed the kind voice she would take when talking to Lysandra’s little sister. And he would be a fool not to notice the special smile that lit up her face when she would play with her dog or talk about literature. No, he didn’t hate her. But whatever he did feel was proving to be extremely problematic. Because there was no way she felt the same way. 

Yes- it was definitely time to go home. 

Making his way out from behind the kitchen counter, Rowan made to leave the kitchen just as the door went flying open. The sound of laughter rang through the door and Rowan stared at the exact person he was hoping to be done with for the night.

“Not likely, Moonbeam,” she was saying with a shake of her head, even though a spark glimmered in her blue eyes. Rowan had to consciously check himself from staring for too long as Aelin realized who was standing in front of her.

Her hand flew to her chest with wide eyes. “Jesus, Rowan, you scared me!” 

Rowan thought it was the first time she had ever said his name. He quite liked the sound of it from her lips. 

He was staring again. Full-blown staring at the woman in front of him as he contemplated what to say or do. He was coming up blank. Every thought in his mind seemed to be screaming at him at once. Some saying to run- to flee and never come into contact with her again, others saying to grab her and kiss her. All of them agreed she looked breathtaking in front of him. Like a golden angle.

“Ditto, Galathynius,” he managed out, earning a frown from Aelin. The action brought his gaze to her lips and he quickly looked away. Aelin seemed to have changed as well. Gone was the snarky woman who had spilled her beer all over him, replaced with a beautiful woman who he might’ve been friends with in another life. 

“Hey, can we-” 

“You know you may want to switch to a different conditioner,” he cut her off, saying the first thing he could think of to leave the conversation. “Your hair’s a little dry.” 

Aelin gaped at him, her once lidded eyes turning cold and hard as she scoffed, shoving past him further into the kitchen. “Charming as ever, Whitethorn,” she sniped. “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.” 

~~

Eliora clapped from her place on her father’s lap.

“It was true love’s kiss!” she cried, earning a laugh from her siblings and parents. It had definitely been something, that was for sure.

“I don’t know…” Aelin mused. “I thought true love’s kiss was reserved for princes, the bravest of them all.” Eliora frowned, as did the twins as their gazes switched to their father. 

“I am brave!” Rowan squawked, eyes narrowing. “What are you talking about, Aelin?”

“Why, my dear husband,” Aelin placed her hand on her chest, pretending to be affronted. “It seems you’ve forgotten what happened afterward.” Realization dawned on Rowan’s face before retreating back into a frown. He seemed to hold Eliora tighter as he glared at his wife. 

“I haven’t forgotten anything,” he muttered, voice low.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Sam interrupted his parents from his side of the couch. “What do you mean what happened afterward?” This was a part of the story that neither one of their teenagers had heard before. Whether they were too young to understand it, or it had never come up, the twins were now fully invested in the story. 

“Yeah,” Nehemia joined in. “You guys got together after the kiss at the party. That was it, right?” At their parents’ silence, the twins looked at each other before bolting upright in their seats. 

“Right?” they asked in unison. 

Rowan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. It seemed it was time for a sequel to their family tale. 

~~

Rowan was sure there should be a ditch where his feet had paced through the grass in front of Aelin’s dorm. Cursing to whatever gods there were, Rowan forced his feet to stop moving. How was he supposed to apologize to Aelin if he couldn’t even stop pacing from the nervousness of just thinking about it?

It hadn’t taken long after Rowan had left the party for him to realize what an idiotic prick he had been. He had been tempted to drive over to her dorm right then and there and grovel for her forgiveness. But ultimately he had decided against it, choosing instead in favor of avoiding a hangover. 

But he was sober now, and an apology was necessary. More than necessary. 

He had apologized to people before. He had begged his professors for extensions and apologized after a falling out with an old friend. But he had never planned on asking out any of the people he had been apologizing to. Two days and Rowan had refused to talk about the kiss with anyone. To be honest, he had tried to forget about it himself.

But it seemed it was destined to never leave his mind for the rest of his existence. And as he played the kiss back in his mind, he couldn’t say he minded it. It had been a rude awakening to realize he may have had feelings for Aelin Galathynius. To go from loathing the girl in his chemistry class to suddenly picturing her face everywhere was a big change, and Rowan didn’t know what to do about it. 

Rowan wasn’t stupid. Aelin Galathynius was a beautiful person. Gorgeous looks aside, the woman had a pure heart of fire and gold. Of course, he had noticed this in sullen silence, but that wasn’t the point. He could acknowledge her wicked intelligence and her need to fight for something that was important to her. And he knew that she loved unconditionally. 

Whether he liked it or not, he had kissed Aelin back, and that had been all him. 

He wanted to do it again. 

“Fleetfoot, slow down! Hang on a second Lys- Fleetfoot, no!” Rowan whipped around as he heard Aelin’s voice come from behind him. Sure enough, the golden beauty walked along the sidewalk to her dorm, dog leash in hand. 

She was dressed in a university sweatshirt and leggings that showed off the curve of her legs, so much so that Rowan was forced to look away. Her phone was between her ear and shoulder as she spoke with who Rowan assumed to be Lysandra. He held back a smile as the massive golden retriever yanked her along the road, apparently following a particularly interesting squirrel. 

“I’m telling you, Lys,” she was saying as she came closer, clearly still not seeing him. “It’s not li-” Her feet came to a sudden stop and Rowan’s head snapped up to see her gaze was already on his, eyes wide. Aelin opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Rowan couldn’t find he had anything to say either. Her golden hair ran down her back and Rowan found himself fighting the urge to twirl a strand of it around his finger. She really was breathtaking. 

“Lys, I’ll call you back,” she said, eyes not leaving his as she took the phone from her shoulder and ended the call. “Rowan? What are you doing here?” 

It was his turn to struggle for words. How would he even bring it up? A week ago the two were on nothing more than insulting terms. She had infuriated him- had tried every nerve in his body and every bit of anger he had. But now… 

Aelin’s brows were raised in anticipation. Are you going to answer?

Rowan coughed, finally thrown out of his reverie. Who was he kidding? Aelin didn’t want to go on a date with him? Aelin didn’t want to go anywhere with him. And he couldn’t blame her. Rowan had been nothing but a prick to her since the moment they had met, and it was truly coming back to bite him in the ass. 

“Uh, Aedion told me he left something in Lys’s room.” The lie rolled off of his tongue easily enough, yet he hoped Aelin would be able to see through it. It seemed that she didn’t.

“Oh,” she said, understanding and almost shame clouding her words. “Right. What is it? Do you wanna come inside to find it?” Aelin’s dog sat obediently at her heels, looking between the two college kids in silent wonder. 

Yeah, dude, Rowan wanted to say. I don’ know what’s happening either.

“No,” he shook his head. “It’s Aedion’s problem. I just thought I could find it before class started but I think it’s too late. He’ll come around later for it.” 

“Right,” Aelin said doubtfully, crossing her arms in front of her body and looking at him.

“Right,” Rowan repeated back to her, causing Aelin to raise another brow. He wanted to push it back down. “Well, I’m gonna go- get to… class. So- bye Aelin.” He was gone before she could say anything else, giving her his back and practically sprinting back toward his side of campus. 

Rowan Whitethorn was an idiot. He knew it. But one look from Aelin and the cold fear that had rushed through his body had him wanting to curl up into a ball and never speak to her again. But he had to. Rowan would have to talk to her again if he was going to find out who was truly behind those stunning blue eyes.

But even at the thought of speaking to her again-

~~

“Hold on, hold on, I know where this is going,” Nehemia interrupted her father before he could continue his sentence. “You avoided her didn’t you?” As Rowan’s cheeks flamed, Sam sat upright in his seat, a shit-eating grin on his face. 

“No way. You avoided her?” Aelin cackled as Rowan grumbled something under his breath, earning herself another glare. Nonetheless, Aelin tucked herself under her husband’s arm, reaching up to plant a kiss on his cheek. He seemed to soften at the touch, green eyes meeting hers in a look so full of love Aelin thought she might explode. 

“Well, what is it, old man?” Sam prompted. Rowan scowled at his son and daughter, both of who looked ready to pass out from restrained laughter. 

“Only for a couple of weeks,” he muttered lowly. 

“A COUPLE OF WEEKS?” Sam exploded, his laughter finally ringing out through the house as he fell back into the couch, holding his stomach. Nehemia glared at her brother and poked him in the stomach. It didn’t seem to matter as Sam sat up, still grinning. “And you call me a coward for not asking Asterin Havilliard out.” 

“You are a coward for not asking Asterin Havilliard out,” Rowan shook his head, running a hand down his face. Nehemia nodded, offering her father a high five which he quickly returned. She was such a daddy’s girl. 

“It’s true honey,” Aelin cut in, even as her son glared at her. “Dorian knows she likes you.”

“The world knows she likes him,” Nehemia said, exasperated. “Now get back to the story. Mom,” she turned to Aelin. “Did you know Dad was lying about having places to be?”

Aelin snorted, running her hand through the hair at the nape of Rowan’s neck which seemed to be even redder than it had been moments before. “Of course I did. His excuse was that he had to go to class. It was Sunday.” 

It was Nehemia’s turn to crackle now and Rowan looked downright offended. It wasn’t often that his oldest daughter wasn’t on his side. Aelin leaned into Rowan’s shoulder, delight running through her body as he placed a chaste kiss on her temple. 

“You’ll pay for this,” he mumbled into her hair. 

Her eyes said it all. I’m looking forward to it, Buzzard. 

“What happened? What happened?” Eliora’s voice dragged Aelin back to the present. She was sure her youngest had no idea what was going on at this point in the story, but Rowan continued nonetheless. 

~~

It was three weeks before he saw her again. Three weeks of avoided group hangouts and staying in his dorm room during parties. Three weeks of taking a longer route than normal to all of his classes, and three weeks of wishing he could speak to the girl he couldn’t get out of his head. 

Rowan was sitting at a picnic table in the middle of one of the university quads, textbook open and highlighter in hand. He hadn’t actually understood any bit of what he had read, but at least it looked like he was doing something. And it seemed to be working pretty well for his other problem.

“Fleetfoot, get back here!” Or not. 

Rowan tried not to draw attention to himself as Aelin ran past his table, after the massive bundle of golden fur that was running away from her. He watched as she chased her dog around the quad, finally giving up as she layed on the ground, arms splayed wide. It wasn’t long before Fleetfoot was back and licking her face. 

He felt Aelin’s laugh all the way to his heart.

~~

“Ten bucks says he grows a pair and asks her out.” Sam had long since abandoned his spot on the couch in favor of sitting on the ground to watch his father intently as he told the story. He had muttered the words to his sister, whose feet were right by his head. She too was looking at her father intently.

“Twenty says he keeps ignoring her until happenstance pushes them together.” 

Rowan rolled his eyes at his children, even though the spark in his green eyes showed he was more than amused. “Your mother was right. It is impossible to finish a story in this house.” 

“Gods,” Sam said, shaking his head. “I can’t believe my dad was such a pus-”

“Let’s see how fast I can ground you,” Rowan cut him off with a stern look to the child in his arms who seemed to be on the verge of sleep. Sam smiled sheepishly.

“My bad.” 

“Will you shut up so he can finish the story?” Nehemia glared at her brother. 

~~

“Alright,” Aedion slammed his hand down on Rowan’s helmet, sending a large clattering sound through his head. Rowan scowled at his best friend, shoving him away. “What the fuck is going on between you and my cousin?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Rowan turned back to his bag, shrugging off his helmet and shoving it into the massive pack before taking a sip of his water bottle, all while ignoring Aedion and those eyes that reminded him so much of the ones he truly wanted to see. 

“Don’t bullshit me, Rowan,” Aedion snapped at him, forcing Rowan to face him. “The two of you have been skirting around each other for the past three weeks and Aelin won’t even come to parties with us anymore so what. Happened.” 

Rowan stopped. Aelin hadn’t been going to parties? Had she been avoiding him as much as he had been avoiding her? He looked at his best friend and shrugged. 

“We kissed. During spin the bottle.” 

Aedion looked at him for what seemed like minutes before bursting into uncanny laughter. 

“Damn,” he wheezed out. “That’s it? Well, it’s about time.” 

“Excuse me?” Rowan growled, and Aedion stopped laughing. 

“You know what I mean, man. It’s about time. All those years when you two would look at each other and glance away before the other noticed. Or when you defend each other when the 

other isn’t there- yep, don’t think I didn’t notice that. I think we can all agree that it’s about time.” 

Rowan shook his head, incredulous. Other people had noticed that?

“No, Aedion,” he sighed. “Aelin hates me. She wants nothing to do with me.” Aedion stared at him again before, shaking his head.

“Ro, man, you are such an idiot sometimes.” 

“You know, Aedion. Saying cryptic shit and expecting other people to understand you doesn’t help anyone,” Rowan snapped, his patience thinning. Turning back to Aedion, he found his eyes glued on something behind him. 

Rowan’s heart stopped. There was no way.

But sure enough, Rowan turned around to meet the gaze of a gaping Aelin Galathynius. She held a tennis ball in one hand and Fleetfoot circled the ground at her feet. Clearly, the dog had chased the ball into their field and her owner had eventually followed. At the worst timing imaginable. 

“Aelin-” Rowan started, but she was already gone, whirling around and sprinting out of the stadium, the golden retriever at her heels. He didn’t think before following after her. “Aelin, wait!” he called after her, forcing his legs to go faster.

It turned out that Aelin Galathynius was quite fast when she wanted to be, and Rowan only caught up to her when she was standing in front of her dorm building. She didn’t need to turn around for Rowan to know she was fuming. 

“Gods, what do you want, Rowan?” she glared at him, her voice ice. “Haven’t you already proven your point?” Rowan wanted to grab her and shake her.

“Proven my- what? Aelin I-” 

“Look you made yourself very clear at the party, alright?” she snapped, turning away from him. But Rowan’s arm shot out, catching hers before she could leave and forcing her to look at him. “I get that Aedion can be nosy at times but you were so out of line, Whitethorn.” 

The confused look on his face must have been painfully obvious. Aelin rolled her eyes. “Look, if it was just an act to shut Aedion up, I-” 

Rowan kissed her.

This woman. This annoying, infuriating, intelligent, beautiful woman. She was absolutely astounding. And she thought he somehow hadn’t noticed that. 

Rowan wanted to remember the feeling of her lips on his for the rest of his life. Wanted to bottle the sound of the small gasp she released before melting into the kiss. He wanted to mold their bodies together until there was no room left. Rowan wanted to feel her soft hair between his fingers and the feeling of her hands in his hair until the day he died. He never wanted to let her go. 

This time when the two pulled back, Rowan kept her close to his body with an arm around her waist. Her arms were still around his neck and Aelin gazed at him through wide eyes. Before she could say anything, Rowan kissed her again, this time lingering. She kissed his smile with her own.

“It was never an act.”

~~

“Well it seems to me that Fleetfoot is the true heroine of the story,” Nehemia grinned, petting the head of her own puppy that sat at her feet next to Sam. “Without her, you two would never have met again. Oh, and I won, by the way Sammy. Pay up.”

“That’s my girl,” Rowan grinned, pride shone over his face at his daughter’s antics regardless of her win being at his expense. Sam practically growled as he handed his sister a twenty-dollar bill. 

“Oh, don’t be sad, Sammy,” Aelin comforted her son, holding her arms out until he rolled his eyes and walked over to give her a hug. “Ask out Asterin and your kids won’t do the same thing to you,” she whispered, earning a dark red blush on her son’s cheeks.

She shared a knowing look with Rowan, unable to resist reaching up and kissing his lips once more. Rowan returned it in kind, grinning when she nipped playfully at his bottom lip. 

“Boo!” Nehemia called from her spot on the couch as Sam yelled, “Get a room!” 

Aelin turned to Rowan once more, unsurprised to see his gaze already on her. “Remind me why we keep them?” Rowan’s laugh rang out loud as he pulled Aelin close to his body. Her head landed on his shoulder and she sighed in content.

“Because we’re cute,” Nehemia supplied. “At least, one of us is.” She gazed at her little sister who had long since fallen asleep on her father’s lap. 

It seemed that their entire reason for telling the story had fallen asleep long before her father had finished telling it. There was no doubt that Eliora wouldn’t remember any bit of the story when she woke up. 

“She’s too young to understand the story yet,” Nehemia said, brushing back a piece of her little sister’s hair with astounding gentleness. 

“So what do we tell her when she’s old enough?” Aelin asked, cherishing the kiss that Rowan placed on her head and unable to contain the insurmountable love in her heart as her kids responded. 

“Oh, Mom’s version, for sure. It’s way better.”

~~

taglist:

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[sesamestreep]

Not sure if you're still doing the 3 sentence word fic prompt but if you are: Sloan and Don "never"

well, this took on a life of its own, and it’s basically a full fic. set immediately after episode 2x05, so fair warning for Sloan’s plot line in that episode. it’s not discussed in great detail here, so I didn’t tag much of anything about it, but I’m happy to add more if people think it’s necessary. slightly nsfw content, I guess, but not in an exciting way ;)

“Wait, never?”

“Never.”

“Like, never never?”

“How many PhDs do you have again?” Don asks, amused. “And you need me to explain what the word ‘never’ means?”

Sloan tips forward in her seat—too fast, she realizes, as she lands way closer to the bar than she meant to. She lays her palms flat against the sticky varnished surface, as she tries to gather her thoughts and feelings into something coherent. “I’m sorry, that’s just not possible,” she says, finally. She might be a little drunk, given how long that simple phrase took for her to formulate.

Don laughs into his glass. “I think I would know.”

“Yeah, but…really? Never?”

“We did this already.”

“I thought dudes, like, needed them,” Sloan says, gesturing aggressively with the hand that isn’t curled around her drink. “Like, to survive.”

That just makes Don scoff at her, though. “Come on.”

“I’m serious! I thought nude photos were basically the cornerstone of modern dating.”

He shakes his head, as if he can’t quite believe her. It occurs to her a second later that it might have been an excuse to avoid meeting her eye. “At the risk of sounding like a complete geezer,” he says, sounding hesitant, “I have this thing called an imagination.”

Sloan snorts, more loudly than she meant to. “You do sound like a complete geezer. If you start talking about how you used to have to walk fifteen miles to school each day, and fifteen miles back, in the snow, I’m just going to leave you here.”

“I know I was the one who said you needed to make it to the rage phase, but I didn’t mean with me specifically.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” she says, putting her glass down on the bar guiltily. “I get snotty when I’m drunk.”

Don waves off the apology immediately. “I was kidding. I meant—never mind. You can be as snotty to me as you want. If it helps.”

“I don’t know.”

“If I were in your situation, I’d be a lot drunker. And much snottier.”

“Well,” Sloan says, spreading her hands out wide to indicate…something, “as we’ve established, you couldn’t be in my situation. Because you’ve never…”

“Okay, what I actually said was that I’ve never asked for them. You’re extrapolating quite a lot from that one statement.”

It takes a superhuman amount of effort for Sloan to actually swallow the gin in her mouth at that moment, because all her jaw wants to do is drop to the floor. Luckily, she manages it, because the alternative would be a whole mess. She briefly loses her train of thought when she considers how many worse things have been spilled on this bar’s floor, given its general level of divey-ness. It’s not their usual spot—she’d insisted she wasn’t up for Hang Chew’s and dealing with the awkwardness of facing everyone else from ACN when NewsNight wraps and the bar fills up with staff, but she’d also been absolutely certain that she needed to get shitfaced basically immediately after the Incident at AIG, so now she and Don are in some hole-in-the-wall near enough to the Financial District that she can make that happen but not close enough that they’ll be surrounded by finance bros. The wisdom of getting this drunk in public less than 24 hours after the greatest humiliation of her adult life and the most profound violation she’s ever experienced is, perhaps, debatable, but, while she can count the number of people she actually, truly trusts at this moment on one hand, she also knows somewhere deeper than logic that Don will do right by her, that if anyone tries to ruin today for her anymore than it’s already been ruined, he will stop it or he’ll catch an assault charge trying. She knows this to be true. So, in relative terms, she’s not doing anything that risky. But that’s not what they were talking about, was it? Oh, right.

“Donald Ulysses Keefer,” she says, slowly, “are you saying that someone has naked photos of you just lying around somewhere?”

“First of all, very proud of you for getting my last name right, at the very least—”

“Wait, are you saying your name isn’t Don?”

“It is Don. It’s not Donald.”

“It’s just Don?” She asks, brow furrowing in consternation. “Like, Don Corleone?”

“Well, that’s not exactly—it’s not important.”

Sloan squints at him. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Great question,” he replies, drily. “But I must say, I’m more confused and intrigued by your other question.”

“Which one?”

“You asked if someone out there has naked photos of me just lying around.”

“Oh, yes. That question. What about it?”

Don steeples his fingers underneath his chin, affecting a serious air. “Is your question, are there nude photos of me in the world and those photos are just lying around, waiting to be discovered? Or are you asking if there are, out there in the world, nude photos of me, in which I am not only nude but also just lying around?”

Sloan pauses, trying to formulate a response. “My question is—what I meant was—go fuck yourself, Don.”

“I was trying to be funny.”

“I know you were,” she says. “It doesn’t mean you succeeded.”

He frowns. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you to be sorry. I want him to be sorry,” she all but shouts, her thoughts coming through crystal clear and actually translating into words for the first time all night. “And not just because I punched him in the face!”

Don watches her carefully for a long time, waiting for her breathing to even out after her outburst, for her fingers to loosen their grip on the edge of the bar. Sloan hadn’t realized any of that was happening until she realized he was waiting for it to stop. She, on the other hand, is waiting for him to get impatient, to rush her into being okay somehow, and to finally fuck this up so she can be really, truly mad at him, rather than at his entire gender as a concept.

He doesn’t, though. He just keeps surprising her. She always forgets how patient he can be when he needs to, which is easy to miss under his quick temper. They’re not two qualities that should coincide in a person but Don’s ineffable like that.

“You’re ineffable,” she says, out loud, for some reason. The alcohol seems a likely culprit.

“You’re telling me,” he quips. “Maybe that’s why nobody wants nude pictures of me.”

“That’s not what ineffable means. It’s like—”

“I know what it means, Sloan. I was an English major, for Christ’s sake,” he says. “I’m in the wrong generation for all this shit.”

She rolls her eyes. “Please don’t tell me you’re one of those people who wishes they were born in a different era because they want to die of polio or whatever.”

“No, professor. I was talking about the nude photos thing. That is, if you’re still curious.”

“Oh. Sure.”

“I’m saying I came of age in the wrong era for that. My go-to move for hitting on girls when I was in college was to ask for their email address. Like I was going to send them a newsletter, or something.”

“And nobody in your 19th century women writers seminar was offering you a dirty Polaroid to look at when you got back to your dorm after playing hacky sack on the quad?”

Don gives her a look, then, of such transparent delight that it almost knocks her over. “God, Sloan, it’s like you were there,” he says, amused.

She shrugs, trying to pretend like she isn’t still a little off-balance. “I wish I had been. I’m sure you had some egregious facial hair that I could be blackmailing you about now.”

He laughs at that. “No comment. But, to your earlier question, no. No one was offering and it never would have even occurred to me to ask.”

He trails off, then—lost in thought or maybe just distracted by the TVs in the bar playing March Madness. This is the moment that, if Sloan was sober, she’d pump the brakes on this conversation. It was a bad idea to even start them on this subject at all, but they’re getting dangerously close to discussing specifics about Don’s dating life, which is not something she needs specifics on. She spends too much time thinking about him in a potentially romantic context as it is; the last thing she needs is for those fantasies to be more realistic.

But Sloan isn’t sober, so she asks, “And now…?”

“And now,” he says, choosing his words carefully as he shifts his attention back to her, “I don’t know. It doesn’t really matter, does it? It’s not like I’m doing much dating now anyway.”

She ignores the warning bells telling her to turn back. “No?”

“No,” Don repeats, looking down at his drink where it sits on the bar. “I’m…focusing on myself, I guess.”

“In my experience, men do that even when they’re in relationships.”

“Ouch. Okay.”

Sloan winces. “Sorry, it was an easy joke.”

“No, no, that was—it was a fair hit. I’m sure Maggie could tell you—”

“Maggie hasn’t told me anything,” she says, starting to reach for his arm before she thinks better of it. “Really, Don, I was just trying to be funny.”

“Still, I imagine she could tell you some horror stories about me.”

As if she’d ask. As if anything Maggie could say would truly warn her off now. She doesn’t say that, though.

“For fuck’s sake,” she shouts, instead, because anger is definitely easier, “are you ever going to stop raking yourself over the coals for whatever the hell happened with Maggie? She screwed that shit up too, you know, and she’s said as much to you and to everyone else who will listen. Why do you insist on taking all of the credit for that relationship blowing up?”

Gone is the amused affection that was in his eyes earlier, she thinks, as he turns to her with a look of pure frustration. “Because I was wrong first,” he says, sharply. “And most often. And I should have known better. I should have been the adult in that relationship.”

“Well, it’s troubling that you seem to think a healthy relationship requires only one adult, but besides that—”

Don puts up a hand to stop her in her tracks. “I believe you now, you know. You’re very mean when you’re drunk.”

“I said snotty.”

“And?”

Sloan huffs in annoyance. “Snotty and mean are different things!”

“I’d say they’re not but I really don’t want to fight about it, so fine. You’re very snotty.”

“Thank you. And you’re full of shit.”

“I know that,” he says, hotly. A second later, though, he seems to run out of steam. He drags his hands down his face miserably. “Believe me, I know.”

Some of the fight goes out of her too, seeing him so dejected. “One mistake doesn’t mean you deserve to be unhappy forever,” she says, trying to sound gentle.

“I could say the same thing to you,” he replies. “Would it make a difference?”

“Coming from you? It might.”

He considers her for a long moment before he moves to cover her hand gently with his own. He does it slowly, leaving her plenty of time to pull back or avoid the contact somehow, but she stays where she is. It’s really the lightest touch imaginable, like he’s just trying to be sure he has her attention and not like he’s actually trying to hold her hand, but she can feel her heartbeat in her throat nonetheless.

“Sloan Ulysses Sabbith,” Don says, earnestly and deliberately, meeting her gaze steadily, “you don’t deserve to be this unhappy forever. And what’s more, you won’t be. I promise you that.”

She clears her throat, which is suddenly very dry. “Oh, really?”

“Really,” he says, giving her hand a pat before he withdraws his own.

She does not allow herself to feel disappointed by this. There are more important matters to deal with, anyway. “How could you possibly promise such a thing?”

“Because I can see the future.”

“And the real answer?”

“That is the real answer,” he says, standing up and fishing his wallet out of the pocket of his jeans.

“Don,” she says, exasperated.

He leans into her space a little, as he tries to copy her tone. “Sloan.”

“How could you possibly know that I’ll be happy?” She asks, hating how sincere and vulnerable she sounds. He’s not even being serious right now, but she still needs to know why he said it. Even if it’s all just a joke, she has to know.

Don seems to hear the urgency in her question because he puts his hands on her shoulders to steady himself as he looks her in the eye. “Because you, Sloan, are not the sort of woman who settles for less,” he says, firmly. “You do not give up. You do not blink first. You are the sort of woman who, when faced with injustice, punches it in the goddamn face. If it comes down to a fight between you and Fate, over whether you’re destined to be happy or not, my money is on you. It’s always on you.”

She doesn’t know what to say in response to that. The moment stretches between them as she tries to come up with anything at all. Nothing feels right. If the situation were different—if this wasn’t the worst day of her life, and if Don was still sitting down, she’d probably just climb into his lap right here and now, witnesses be damned. But that wouldn’t be appropriate. If this is ever going to happen—if they’re ever going to happen—she doesn’t want it to be tainted by everything else that’s happened today. This is a moment for them, but it’s not their moment. Not yet.

“My middle name is not Ulysses,” she says, faintly. It’s the best she can do, under the circumstances. “You know that, right?”

“I know,” he says, with a small smile. “It’s Imogene.”

“How did you—?”

“I pay attention, Sloan,” he says. “I’m going to go pay the tab, okay?”

He pats her on the shoulder as he goes by, a quick good game gesture that probably means nothing, but she still feels her pulse flutter at the contact. She watches him move through the crush of people at the bar and lets herself imagine this night as something simpler, like it was actually just the two of them on a regular date and once he’s done paying, he’ll make sure she gets home alright—not because she’s had a rough day but because he wants an excuse to spend fifteen more minutes with her and because she might invite him up to her place if he kisses her goodnight in front of her building. It would be lovely, she thinks, as she looks at him across the room now. He must feel her eyes on him then, because he turns and gives her a quick smile before returning his attention to the bartender. Not yet, she thinks. But soon.

[mrsmaybank]

Honey - Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Spencer and the reader were very much in love during Reid’s brief stint in Pasadena. When he has to see her again on a case, he is super nervous. 

a/n: first section is inspired by such great heights 

C/W: Swearing

PASADENA - 2002 

A note from the love of your life is a lovely way to wake up. 

------

When you can understand everything but yourself, finding somebody who does is like seeing a comet; disappointingly rare. My shaky hands can only be stilled by the smile of my most incandescent--in every connotation--creature, and that is you. The universe always seems to know what it is doing even if humanity does not. The stars align and move in patterns we as it’s audience do not fully understand. I think we have watched the stars so much the universe has aligned us as a favor to our poor, overestimated souls. I am so grateful!  Tolstoy noted that "We are asleep until we fall in love!” And I thank you for waking me up.

However I thought it best the favor not be returned this particular morning. You were up late last night, and looked too cute to disrupt. Do not kill me, I am getting coffee. 

I love you and do not leave the bed.  

-Spencer

------

Only Spencer Reid would write that on a sticky note, and only for you would he do so. 

You heard the rattling of keys and a door being opened and shut as Spencer made his way back to your bedroom. The smile you saw on his face was the start of a story that ended on the upturn of your lips, revealing the two protagonists in a mad frenzy of love. As soon as he reached you, your lips pressed to his in a desperation to be impossibly closer. 

“Hi.” he said. 

I am thinking it's a sign

That the freckles in our eyes

Are mirror images

And when we kiss they're perfectly aligned

“Hey love.” you tucked a loose brown hair back behind his ear for a closer look at the face you adored. “Please get back in bed.” 

He sighed but crawled in next to you, big nimble hands making their way across your torso to diminish the space in between you two. You nuzzled into his chest. 

“Your note was beautiful.” you whispered into his ear.

A big, goofy grin spread along his face.

“I meant every word.” his voice so sweet, it sounded dipped in honey. 

Honey is incredibly sticky. 

-----

There had to have been a world where it all worked out. 

In this world, my things never got old, and the ice cubes in my coffee never melted. I could listen to that song over and over again without draining the life out of it and I could like my hair style for more than three months. 

Spencer had read to me the greatest works of the world. Words of the greatest thinkers, authors, and minds. He had an appreciation for them greater than those of the average passerby and I adored that, because so did I. Truly, our similarities are what connected us. Our minds were correlated perfectly when it came to subjectivity. 

In accordance to human nature however, certain matters were never agreed upon. In particular, we argued about the future. The canyon of discrepancy so vast it tore us and our love in two. I didn’t think that was possible.

I wanted to write the book and watch the film as I lived my life and he and his arrogant over-practically thought that impossible. He thought himself an oneirocritic, but my dreams were not looking for critiques. 

Like I said, Spencer read to me the greatest works of the world. And years would pass and the heartbreak and sorrow would fade, but I would always find it ironic how the last thing I ever heard in that honey soaked voice was a work of Confucius.  “Wheresoever you go, go with all your heart.”

Spencer chose to go to Washington. He took his heart and a piece of mine with him.

-----

BAU JET - 2011

Seaver must’ve noticed my flinch when the sound of her name resonated through the jet. I’d never liked going to California, but this...this had never happened.  “That name mean something to you Reid?” She smiled, “You look kind of horrified.” 

I ran my hands through my hair in a futile attempt to ground myself. “No. I just...I used to know her.” 

In between the fine lines of love and hate, fell a blurry midsection where feelings came before logic and screams and whispers sounded the same. She ruled over this midsection of chaotic emotional fury. 

Morgan spoke, and I quickly realized I might be falling into a conversation I really did not want to be having. “How the hell d’you know her pretty boy?” 

There was no point in lying on a plane completely occupied by profilers. My best option was to clumsily dodge any direct questions about just how well I knew her.

“I’m from the West coast.” 

“So are over 50 million people. You mean to tell me you know all of them?” he laughed.

“The exact estimation is actually 53,492,270. And no, I’m not saying I know all of them, Morgan. I lived in Pasadena for a year after I graduated from Caltech.”

“Okay?” Morgan questioned my previous statements relevancy. 

“She went to USC. We were in the same social circle.” 

Morgan laughed again, “You had a social circle?” 

Emily, next to us, was presumably combing through her file.

“You, ultimate three doctorate dorky dork, were in the same circle as a film major?” she asked. “

What the hell is ‘doctorate dorky dork’ supposed to mean?

“She double majored actually. Film and political science.”

Emily double checked the file, “And Reid’s right. Per usual.” 

“Reid and Prentiss, Y/L/N has agreed to talk to us in her home. She lives in the Hills. When we land, you guys go talk to her.” Hotch stated. 

“Why?” I said before I could stop myself. The team sat in confused silence in reaction to my bluntness, but Hotch, like always, was not having it. 

“Because we have a serial killer that is reenacting the murders in her movie, Reid.” his tone was stern and swift, with a patronizing sarcasm I supposed I deserved. 

“Sorry,” I got out, “I guess I just meant..why me?” 

“Well, you know her don’t you?” Rossi asked. 

I was not ready to divulge the personal details between me and this girl to my entire team, so I just pursed my lips and nodded. 

“Right. Sorry.” 

----

Life is not a spectacle or a feast; it is a predicament. George Santayana. I was in the biggest fucking predicament I’d ever encountered in my life. 

Nothing could slow the incessant, double time pounding in my chest. I was showing symptoms of the beginning of a heart attack. Hopefully I would die and never have to face this.

Fuck, don’t think that.

Have the seats in these cars always been this uncomfortable? God, is California always this hot?

I looked at Emily for half a second, and instantly recognized that keeping quiet from her was proving to be dysfunctional. I could feel her eyes burning into my brain with every profiling skill she knew.

“What are you not saying Reid?” 

I sighed. “Do I have to tell you?” 

“Yeah. Unless you want me to just find out on my own. It’ll be a lot less delicate.” 

Here goes nothing. 

“I dated her. For two years. I was very much in love with her. It ended....abruptly. I haven’t spoken to her since, and now, nine years later, I am on my way to her house. I might have a heart attack.” 

Emily's eyes widened, “Shit..” She laughed a little, “Reunited at last?.” 

I answered with a glare. Hard no.

“Fine, sorry.” She said, masking a giggle with a cough.

I shifted in my seat and I could practically see the gears in Emily’s profiler cerebrum spin. She knew exactly the question to ask. “Is it nerves?”  

I nodded my head, “I was a very different person back then.” 

“Nothing like time and the bureau can change somebody.” she said. “But, hey..”She smiled again and my eyes widened when I realized what I’d revealed. “I asked you if you were nervous. I didn’t-” 

“Emily..” I started. 

“Are you nervous she won’t like you now? Do you still like her?” her mouth hung open, “Oh my god Reid!” 

I shook my head, “No, I don’t still like her! I don’t even know her anymore! I just..I’d never loved somebody the way I loved her.” 

Emily had figured me out at the same time I had. “And you still haven’t.” 

Fuck.

“Correct.” 

The car pulled into her driveway, and conversations from all those years ago started to replay in my head. 

“When we get a house, can we paint our front door bright blue?” 

“I want a lemon tree in the front yard.” 

“Windows. Huge windows. It’s a must.” 

All these things I’d promised her in our future home she’d gotten for herself. Good. 

Fontaine said “Sadness flies away on the wings of time”, but the pain I felt from the loss of her was as prominent as ever. 

Here goes nothing. 

---

Thank you for reading!

a/n2 :  this is completely unedited so if its sucks dick i am sorry :/ i just wanted to post it lol

A/n 3: the typos oh my fuck. I wanna Kick myself for letting this cute fic  be up in that state for so long. Anyway, fixed! :) 

[im-a-goddamn-cat]

Element of Control

MSR || S7; Established Relationship || Words: 2.2k || Rated: E

Summary: Ever since they officially became a couple, Mulder has unknowingly been calling all the shots in his and Scully's sex life. Now Scully decides it's her turn.

A/N: Written for @fridaysat9 for the X-Files Smut Fanfic Exchange (2021) (@xfilesfanficexchange)

Prompt: Scully is in charge for the night, and she gets to decide what happens.

This is my first time participating in an X-Files Fanfic Exchange. I hope you like the fic, Erica! <3

Tagging: @today-in-fic

AO3 || FF.net || ↓

Throughout her life, Scully has not had the greatest sexual experiences. Most of her past lovers were selfish, either barely paying attention to her pleasure or not at all. Even the romantic aspect of these relationships were bad and unfulfilling. It was a curse she thought she'd have to live with for the rest of her life, never being able to find a partner she truly connected with in these ways. That is, until her relationship with Mulder.

She and Mulder have only officially been together for a short time but even so, it was enough time for her to come to the conclusion that this is the best relationship she's ever had. The strong bond and love they held for one another was nothing like either of them have felt before. It was the most fulfilling romantic relationship she's ever had.

It was also the most fulfilling sexual relationship she's ever had. Mulder was a very attentive and caring lover. He always aimed to please her and make sure she had at least one good orgasm… Though it's usually more than one. At times he can almost seem more focused on her pleasure than his own. Even so, just the fact that it was Mulder she was having sex with was enough to make it perfect.

However, there was one thing that has been bothering her about all the current sexual encounters they've had: He was always in control.

Scully wasn't a submissive person by nature but in the bedroom with Mulder, it seems that she freely lets him be in charge. He was the one usually directing her, changing and choosing the positions, and deciding how they had sex that night or day. Scully loved and enjoyed the sex they have, and a part of her even likes giving up control for once in her life, but the other part of her is wanting that control back. She decided it was her turn to be in charge, at least for one night. So when Mulder came over to her apartment for the night and things started getting hot and heavy on her couch, she decided to bring it up.

Scully pulled away from Mulder's lips, a string of saliva connecting their lips forming before breaking away. They sat flushed and panting from the intense kissing that had just occurred.

"Mulder, I want to talk to you about something," Scully told him breathlessly. A look of fear flashed across his face.

"O-okay. What?" he asked just as breathlessly.

"Well…You know I love how things have been going between us. But…" She paused for a moment. Mulder looked absolutely stricken with fear at this point. "I'd like to be in control for once," she finally said.

"Huh?" Mulder said, not understanding what she meant.

"Mulder, it's no secret that when we have sex, you're usually the one calling the shots. And I like it, really I do, but… At least once I'd like to be in charge," she clarified.

"O-oh," he said. "Is that all?"

"Yes," she told him. A look of relief washed across his face. "Why? What did you think I was going to say?" she asked.

"I don't know, I thought maybe you wanted to end things… or…" he trailed off.

"No, Mulder, of course not. Never." She took his hand in hers and rubbed her thumb across it. They both smiled at each other.

"Good, I'm very glad to hear that," he said, smiling. Then his smile faded. "But I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were unhappy with our sex life."

She sighed. "Mulder, I told you, I'm not unhappy. I'd just like to change it up a little."

He nodded. "Okay. Okay, we can do that," he told her.

"Really?"

"Yes." He chuckled. "Scully, what did you think I would say? 'No, I love controlling you too much' like some madman?"

She chuckled then too. "No, of course not."

"Well then, you're in charge tonight, G-Woman."

They smiled at each other. Still holding his hand, Scully got up from the couch, pulled him with her and guided him into the bedroom. When they got there, she turned around to face him. She put her hands on his shoulders and leaned up to kiss him.

Mulder grabbed her hips and returned the kiss. They melted into each other and soon they were kissing just as passionately as they had been earlier on the couch. Scully opened her mouth and ran her tongue across Mulder's lips. Mulder opened his mouth in response. Their tongues met and they explored each other's mouths. Scully pulled back slightly to suck his bottom lip and he moaned. She then dove her tongue back into his mouth.

Scully could feel his erection poking her stomach. She pressed against it slightly and moaned at the feeling. She could feel herself getting wetter with each passing second and decided to move this along.

She pulled away from him. Again they were both flushed and panting. Scully began to remove her clothes as Mulder stood there, watching her and waiting for her next move.

"Take your clothes off," she told him. He complied and in only a few seconds he was completely naked. Scully was now as well.

"Lay on the bed," she then told him. Again he complied and did as she said. He laid down on the bed and waited to see what she did next.

Scully stood there admiring him for a moment. As he laid there, she had a good view of his face and body. She looked over his face and down to his stomach where his cock was fully erect and resting on it.

Beautiful, she thought.

Scully got onto the bed and straddled him. She scooted up until she was face and face with him and then leaned in to give him a quick kiss. She moved her mouth to his neck where she planted an open mouthed kiss. She sucked slightly, causing him to moan. She then released him and peppered tiny kisses along his neck, from the side she was on, to the front, and then to the other side of his neck. Mulder sighed in content.

Scully moved down to his chest, still placing kisses along every inch of skin she went. She leaned over and swirled her tongue around his left nipple. Mulder let out a tiny gasp. Deciding to take that as encouragement, she continued. She moved her hand to his other nipple and rolled her thumb around it. She then stopped the swirling of her tongue and latched onto his nipple with her mouth and sucked. He moaned in response.

Scully was ecstatic that she was able to do this and he was enjoying it. Usually he was so focused on her pleasure and the overall act of sex that she never got to explore his body like this. Now that he was giving up control, she was able to please him the way he always pleases her.

She then switched to places with her hand and mouth to give the same treatment to his other nipple. Mulder was panting and she could tell this was arousing him greatly.

When she was done with that nipple, she then started moving down his body and began trailing kisses down his stomach until she reached his cock. She lifted her head to look at it and wrapped her hand around the head. Mulder gasped and bucked his hips slightly. Scully gathered the pre-cum that was forming on the tip of his cock with her thumb and swirled it around the head.

She then stroked him from tip to base and he moaned. She did this a few times before lowering her head and taking him in her mouth. She slowly worked her way down until she had as much as she could take of him in her mouth. She then began bobbing her head along his length, sucking him and occasionally licking the tip of his cock. She used her hand to stroke what she couldn't take of him in her mouth in time with the movements of her mouth.

He moaned and it caused a surge of arousal to flow through her. She was becoming very wet just from witnessing and being the reason for his pleasure.

Mulder was gripping the sheets and moaning continuously now. Her warm, wet mouth was sending him into a frenzy. He was resisting the urge to thrust up into her mouth, not wanting to accidentally hurt her. He could feel the telltale signs of an orgasm creeping up on him.

"S-scully, I-I'm gonna come," he warned her.

Scully released him from her mouth with a "pop" sound and gripped the base of his cock to prevent his orgasm. She moved up his body again and this time didn't stop until she had positioned her center over his face. She put her hands on the headboard and then lowered herself slightly towards his mouth. He took the hint. He reached his tongue out and licked along her slit to her clit. Scully gasped and shivered at the feeling. He covered her sex with his mouth and explored inside her with his tongue. Scully was beginning to pant.

He then moved his head up to her clit and swirled his tongue around it. Scully let out a moan. He then took her whole clit in his mouth and sucked. Scully moaned again, louder this time, and bucked her hips. He began alternating between lapping her and swirling and sucking her clit.

Scully began moaning continuously. With each movement of his tongue, she was getting closer and closer to the edge. After only a few more moments, she came. Scully moaned loudly and bucked against his mouth as she rode out her orgasm. Mulder kept up his movements until she was finished and then lapped up the wetness that had seeped out of her.

Scully sat there for a moment to catch her breath. Mulder had reached up to caress her thighs and hips as she rested. When she fully recovered, she moved off his face and back down his body. She positioned herself over his cock and reached down to grab it. She gave it a couple strokes before positioning it at her entrance and sinking down onto him. She slowly sunk down until he was buried to the hilt inside her. They both moaned once he was fully inside her.

Scully placed her hands on Mulder's chest and lifted herself until only the tip of him was inside her. Then she sunk back down until he was fully inside again. Again they both moaned. Scully repeated this a few times before she shortened and sped up her thrusts. Mulder placed his hands on her hips but he didn't try to adjust her or change the speed of her thrusts; it was still her night to be in charge after all.

Both of them were moaning in unison now. Scully was frantically riding him now, working towards another orgasm. The hard length of his cock was hitting all the right spots inside her and on every downstroke she managed to rub her clit against him. Mulder could also feel himself getting closer to his peak. The hot, wet grip of her walls was intoxicating.

"Don't come yet," Scully suddenly panted out. An expression of what looked like distress crossed Mulder's face for a brief moment before he nodded in understanding. If he came now, it would be too soon.

Scully's thrusts against him were becoming uneven as she neared her peak. Mulder reached up and took her breasts in his hands. He messaged them and rolled his thumbs around her nipples. This was enough to help send her over the edge.

She moaned loudly and her whole body shuddered as she came. She still rode him as she rode out her orgasm. Her walls gripped and fluttered against his cock, milking him. The sight and feeling of her coming on him sent him over the edge as well. He moaned loudly as well and came inside her, thrusting his hips up into her slightly. Scully held still as she felt his cock pulsing and filling her up, and she moaned at the sight and feeling of his orgasm as he rode it out. He collapsed against the bed when he was finished.

Scully laid down on his chest and they laid there for a few moments to catch their breath. Eventually, his cock softened and slipped out of her. She whimpered and he groaned in response. Scully could feel their combined fluids leaking out of her and onto him.

She got up out of the bed and left the room to go to her bathroom. She got some tissues and water and cleaned herself up. Then she brought some back to the bedroom and cleaned up Mulder as well.

"Hmm, thank you," he said.

"No problem."

After she got rid of the tissues, she got in bed with him and pulled the covers over both of them. They turned to face each other.

"So… is this going to be a regular thing now? You being in charge in the bedroom?" Mulder asked.

"Hmm, maybe it could be sometimes," she told him. "Why? Did you like it?" she then asked.

"Fuck yeah," he told her and smiled. She giggled.

"Me too," she said and smiled back.

She scooted closer and snuggled against him and he wrapped his arms around her. Soon they were asleep and dreaming of each other.

[aminiatureworld]

Deserving

Characters: Childe, gn!reader

Word Count: 1,651

Warnings: None

Premise: Even those who don’t regret their choices can doubt their worth.

In which Childe feels undeserving.

Author’s Note: Since I’m no longer dying you get a proper length fic. I realized halfway through I didn’t write anything for Diluc’s birthday, but blatant Childe favoritism comes first!

He’d never expected to be in a relationship, expected to spend his entire life serving the Tsaritsa and her purposes, dying for the salvation of Snezhnaya. He had no need for romance, no need for any of those connections that humans did. He’d given that all up the day he’d stepped into the Abyss, and for a long time he’d managed to make it seem like it didn’t matter to him, even to himself. And then he’d met you.

You were the greatest source of Childe’s happiness, offering him a sort of sanctuary, without any attempt to do so. You didn’t treat him as a lesser being, as the automaton he’d turned into; nor would you accept his superiority, determined to be his equal in every way. It was refreshing, to have a relationship unfettered by bureaucracy or by prejudice. But it was also frightening, and the small voice inside Childe that whispered he was no more than a monster was quick to remind him how undeserving he was of your love.

Not that Childe didn’t think that already, that he didn’t feel that emptiness inside of him where had once stood his hope, his innocence, the piece of his humanity that could still believe in a good ending. Sometimes it seemed even his empathy had been sacrificed, and now he had little left of himself. All these feelings had only grown, given encouragement the more time he spent with you, the more time he realized how much was truly missing from himself. And though he tried to ignore these feelings, knowing they weren’t your burden to bear, knowing that he could never change what had happened, he still knew they were there.

 “Are you okay?”

You tugged at the end of Childe’s sleeve, eyes filled with concern. It was a lovely day, right between the beginning of spring and the end of winter. It was colder than it had been the past few days, and you’d taken the lowered temperature as an opportunity to steal Childe’s scarf. The tails flapped about around you, and for a moment Childe’s eyes followed the movement as he attempted to come up with something to say.

“I’m perfectly fine my dear. Simply a little tired.”

“A long day at work?”

“A long week. The servants of the Tsaritsa never sleep, as you know firsthand.” Childe smirked, ruffling your hair. The movement seemed to distract you, and as you batted at his hands, grumbling as usual about his work, the Harbinger wondered if it wasn’t dishonest of him to lie about such a thing.

 “I’m sorry I have to go again.” Childe smiled apologetically, checking his belt to make sure his wax and extra bow strings were there.

“It’s alright.” You smiled, leaning over to give Childe a quick peck on the cheek.

Childe smiled back, before leaning down to kiss you properly. He wondered if you could feel all the love he held towards you, if his lips could convey his regret not just in words. He wondered if one day these fleeting kisses would be enough to sate the distance between the two of you each time he left.

“I’ll write to you as soon as I find a mailbox.” He said, withdrawing slightly, hand still grazing your hip.

“I’ll try to reply.”

“Try?”

“No promises.” You teased.

“The audacity! Honestly, how do I ever put up with you?”

“Because you love me?”

“Yes.” Childe pressed one last kiss to your forehead. “Because I love you.”

If only my love were enough to keep us united, he added in his mind, too apprehensive to let those words be released into the air.

 My dear,

How very boring things are without you. Honestly, sometimes I wonder if I’m not working in a glorified daycare, my subordinates more uncontrollable with every passing day. One must wonder if it’s even worth it to whip them into shape, for they make poor sparring partners. If you were here you’d knock every single one of them on the ground, before they could even wonder what an adventurer was doing in a Fatui camp. Maybe I’ll invite you next time, we’ll make it happen.

Childe couldn’t express truly the solace he found in writing to you. It was easier to write sometimes than talk, and it was easier to send his words out to you than rely on the memories of what had already happened. More than that it was the one thing that reminded him of his outside existence, of his world beyond the camp grounds and the men and women who dragged their feet around him, no wish to fight in them, only the wish to get a few hours more sleep. It was a depressing existence, if Childe were honest with himself. It’d become even more depressing, now that he missed you.

He set down his pen for a moment, sighing at the ink which was now frozen in its jar. Where were you now? Were you happy? Did you miss him? Did you resent the fact that he was gone? Three weeks was nothing to a member of the Fatui, how long had Childe been in Liyue before he met you, and yet now those weeks seemed interminable. And if it seemed so to him, he who was used to the isolation, then what would it be like for you?

The Harbinger sighed. Placing a blank sheet on top of his letter he stood up. He never got that much time to write letters. Maybe that was why they weren’t really any good. But you didn’t mind. Didn’t you?

 It was dark when he stepped off the ship and onto the docks of Liyue. Night had fallen, and the lanterns were lit, casting a familiar glow on the city which Childe had come to appreciate so much. Taking a pocket watch out of his pack he checked the time, cursing when he realized how truly late it was. Hurrying up the ramp he didn’t bother to look behind at the subordinates who were also plodding towards the city. If they got lost it was their fault.

The door opened silently, something that made the Harbinger breathe out a sigh of relief. Hopefully he wouldn’t wake you up. Setting down his things he smiled slightly to himself. It’d certainly be a surprise, you waking up to him next to you. Hopefully you’d forgive him for not waking you at 4 in the morning. Walking slowly down the hall, hoping that the occasional creaks weren’t audible, Childe slid open the door to the bedroom you shared.

The first thing he noticed was the chill of the room, something that surprised him. The next thing he noticed was the door to the balcony open. The third thing was you, leaning against the railing, gaze pointed towards the inky sky, expression somewhat distant. He didn’t move for a moment, taking in this small moment of intimacy. You looked beautiful, face glowing slightly from the distant lanternlight, expression serene, a soft smile playing at the edges of your mouth. And yet there was something opaque in your eyes, something that Childe couldn’t quite touch upon. It shook him out of his thoughts, and caused him to call out softly to you.

“I’m home.”

You started for a moment, spinning around to meet the Harbinger’s gaze. For a moment you were still, but then a sort of cry left your lips, as you barreled into Childe’s chest. He just as soon wrapped his arms around you, sighing softly, for the moment feeling nothing but pure bliss, pure love.

“You’re home.”

“I am.”

“I’ve missed you so much.” You drew back, expression ecstatic.

“I’ve missed you too.”

For a moment Childe hesitated, not wanting to break this moment, not wanting to go down that path of doubt, of fear and uncertainty. Yet he was tired, and slightly emotional. If he regretted it later so be it, he had to ask the question that burned in the back of his mind, the question that had once more reappeared upon seeing your expression.

“Am I worth waiting for?”

“Oh Ajax.” your reaction was immediate as you wrapped your arms once more around him, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Always, you’re always worth waiting for.”

“But I’m away for so long. And when I’m here I’m still bound to my duties as a Harbinger. Nor can I shed that part of me when I’m not doing my job. I cannot get back those pieces of me that would make me a better lover, a better person. What if I’m just not worth it?”

“Don’t talk like that!” You let out a small sigh, that opaque expression once more visible in your eyes. “I wish you wouldn’t talk like that. You aren’t missing anything, you aren’t worth any less than me or any other person. You’re loyalties might be… unconventional –”

“You mean wrong to most?”

“I mean unconventional. And yes even wrong. There may be parts of your work I hate, things I wish you wouldn’t do or have to do. But I don’t wish for you to change. You. Childe. Ajax. You are who you are, and that is the person I’ve fallen in love with. It’s a choice I made, and I don’t question it, don’t regret it. So neither should you.”

“Are you sure?” Childe knew he was probably being annoying, but he didn’t care. Neither did you, it seemed, for you simply shook you head, an exasperated expression on your face.

“Yes. I will always be sure.”

Childe nodded, feeling as if a weight had been lifted from off his back. Suddenly he was aware of how very tired he was. Stifling a yawn he smiled once more.

“It’s late. We should go to sleep.”

“Yes,” you smiled, closing the balcony door and sliding the curtains closed, “we should.”

[girlboss-revan]

just a very fun idea that i may or may not pursue along with my very many other Fun Ideas

Anakin, somehow, someway, finds himself in the possession of an unusual holocron. 

It’s unusual in the fact that there is no way to tell if it was Jedi or Sith. It may have been made my someone else altogether. 

He does not tell anyone about this discovery, because it feels wrong. The Force tells him he has to keep this to himself. If anyone found out about it, they would surely take it away and he can’t let that happen. 

Why can’t he let that happen? He has no idea. 

He finally figures out how to open it and it’s just... some person? A person in dark, ancient Jedi robes with a Force presence that can only be described as weird as fuck. 

Gray but constantly shifting. On the precipice of Light and Dark, stable in its instability. Chaotic, powerful, and unlike anything Anakin has ever witnessed. (Distantly he realizes this is how the other Jedi feel about him.)

The woman does not give her name, only cryptically implying that she’s old enough to witness history fade into legend. Eventually Anakin is able to glean that she was from the time of Jedi Civil Wars, some 3000 years ago. 

The holocron was not made to store specific wisdom or knowledge. It was a diary, an attempt at leaving a legacy behind. A statement that whoever created it was once a person, not just a name in a textbook. 

They talk. Of course Anakin has so many questions and the woman tries her best to answer, to give advice based on what she has to give. 

Her ideas are, to be frank, extremely radical. Anakin knows exactly why the Council will confiscate this holocron if they were to discover it. It was absolutely seeping with heresy. 

She has knowledge of both the Jedi and the Sith. Enough knowledge to have solid opinions on the philosophies of both, with her own borrowing liberally from the two. Disagreeing with both as often as she believed they both had merit. She talks from personal experience, but doesn’t give more than what’s necessary. Anakin would suspect it was a Sith holocron if it didn’t have so much... Light. 

“Who are you?” Anakin asked, awed in the traditional sense of the word. 

The woman in the holocron only smiled. “I’ve had many titles. I disliked all of them.” 

She eventually gives herself a name - Mala Khan. 

Anakin calls her Master Khan, because surely she must be an ancient master with her command of the Force? 

Mala teases him mercilessly for it. 

“The masters of my time would rather choke than acknowledge me as a peer,” she said with no small hint of bitterness. A rueful smile tugs at her lips. “I can hardly even call myself a Jedi, at this point. I left the order when it no longer needed me.” 

Over time Anakin gleans more information. 

She was an adult when she was admitted into the Order under a time of duress. She has intimate experience of both the Light and Dark, having struggled endlessly with the push and pull of both. She resents the Force for choosing her, as if it were an entity all its own. She was married. She had a wife. She believed that love was the most important thing in the galaxy. 

“If it wasn’t for her,” Mala said, more serious than Anakin has ever seen her. “I would have been lost. Love is not a weakness. Love is the greatest source of strength there is.” 

Anakin kinda really wants to cry when he hears that. 

They both see their similarities. Both were chosen by the Force, given a power that isolated them from others. Both were unorthodox in their times. Both loved desperately and unconditionally. Both were thrust into power at a turning point in history. Both were mechanics at heart, both had a taste for risk and rebellion, both had reservations with the Order and struggles with Jedi doctrine. 

For once in his life, Anakin has someone he can truly confine in, besides Palpatine. Even then, Mala offers much more directed comfort than the Supreme Chancellor ever could, because the Supreme Chancellor wasn’t a Jedi and didn’t understand. 

He was so, incredibly betrayed when he eventually found out that Mala Khan, confidant, support, friend - was Revan, ancient Dark Lord of the Sith. 

“It was a shock for me, too,” she joked, attempting to lighten the mood. She tilted her head and studied Anakin’s expression. “What have the Jedi told you? About Revan?” 

“That you are an example of what not to be. The ideal Jedi brought down by their vanity and arrogance.” 

“They don’t mention the war? The intent that led to the fall? The false reasoning? The ultimate redemption?” Mala - Revan - tilts her head. “Though, I deny the idea that anything could truly redeem what I have done. It is easy to make an example of history. It is hard to acknowledge that those people were sentient - capable of good and evil in equal measure and gifted with the ability to justify their actions.” 

“I did what I felt I had to and it led to more strife. Perhaps you can take that as an example, young Jedi. For as much wisdom as I thought I had, it was not nearly enough. What saved me, in the end, were the people I cared about. The idea that what I personally wanted would destroy them in the process. Think about this and everything I have said. My past does not discredit what was my present.” 

Yes, in the end this is a fix-it-fic idea. 

Anakin finds the confidant he needed who encouraged challenging the repressing ideas of the Jedi order while admonishing the selfishness of the Sith. 

Anakin basically becomes friends with someone who has been dead for 3000+ years and is also an incredibly controversial character in history and it changes him for the better. He resists the pull of the Dark because of his love for Padme and Obi-Wan. He thinks of the moment Revan had the opportunity to trade the galaxy and her friends for love, but refused on account of it going against who Bastila once was. 

Chaotic lesbian Jedi Turned Sith Lord Turned Jedi Turned Outlier inspires the Chosen One to just... Refuse the lure of the Dark, by introducing him to the idea that he can Just Be A Normal Dude Who Cares About Others. 

Mala intimately knows the allure of the Ends Justify the Means mentality and discourages Anakin from falling into that trap. 

That’s it. 

That’s the Very Fun idea I have that ultimately is just forcing Anakin to interact with what is essentially my OC.

Star Wars brainrot is very real and very powerful.