#you want to put out everything and revel in all the feedback but there's that like

[ilkkawhat]

Do u have any alan wake fic recs..... especially nsfw... its ok if not 🥺 thank you....

i've honestly been pretty terrible at reading fics lately but i recommend going through my fic rec tag on my blog linked here, since may of last year i've been reblogging alan or niko related fics that i've either read or intended to read cause even if i don't read something i do geniunely want to reblog to spread...i gotta get back into serious fic reading again

[navybrat817]

Hold You Tight: Part 16

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 15 | Series Masterlist | Part 17

Chapter Word Count: Over 5.4k

Chapter Summary: Bucky tries to pull you closer when you want to pull away, and someone else in your life my not take no for an answer.

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, arguing, tension, slight harassment, kissing, reference to stalking, inner turmoil, manipulation, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight! Thank you for sticking with me! Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky traded lazy kisses with you as your tears slowed, and you had no idea if it was his mouth that had your heart pounding and the crushing weight of everything that surrounded him. It was so much to unpack. Every encounter with him seemed to be that way. Something blindsided you or suffocated you, but you hadn't been at all prepared for what he just shared. And how could you? He didn't keep photos of his mother around, and you hadn't gone poking around online.

Would you have found out the truth if you had?

He followed your lips when you pulled away. “It’s okay,” he whispered, pulling you back in.

It wasn’t okay. Nothing was okay. Though it partially made sense now why he was moving so fast. He believed if he met you then that you would've fallen in love and been together to this day. Because he didn't seek you out then and lost so much time, he was packing everything into a rushed time span. Dating, meeting his friends, getting you into his place. He was moving things along at an accelerated speed, and you were barely keeping up with the ride.

“No.” The muffled word against his lips somehow rang out loud and clear enough for him to stop, but you put a hand on his chest in case he tried to lean in again. “Why are you punishing me?”

His eyes rounded. “You think I’m punishing you? Jesus, why would you think that?”

“Because of how you went about all of this. I know you were desperate, and I get the drive behind some of your actions now,” you said, which you refused to excuse. You got it but couldn’t excuse it. “Your response of ‘where’s the fun in that?’ when I said you couldn’t just ask me out like a normal person? You almost seemed to delight in intimidating me. Why?”

If you saved his mom, why do this?

“I didn’t delight in that. I played it wrong,” he admitted in a quiet voice, surprising you. “I approached it like…”

“Like everything else in your life where you have everyone under your thumb through fear. You did the same thing to me.” You laughed just a little. “In a way, it worked because I’m officially afraid to try to leave you.”

Had things blossomed between you two organically, you’d like to believe that things would’ve been better. Healthy. There was always the chance that a relationship might’ve come to an end because life was like that. But if he frightened you enough to stay forever, he’d never have to worry. The stars would still align as far as he was concerned.

“I don’t want you to fear me or what we have,” he whispered, reaching for you as you scooted back.

“What we have? Tell me, do you think your mom would be proud of your actions to obtain me or ashamed?” You couldn’t believe that was the kind of man she raised, to put fear into the heart of the person he supposedly loved.

He flinched. Actually flinched. You might as well have raised a hand to him. “She…” He swallowed. “She would’ve wanted us together.”

“Like this? By you not giving me a choice?” you asked, pushing yourself up. “I need to go home.” There would be no getting through to him and this revelation was doing your head in. One cup of coffee wasn't enough either.

He got up to follow you. “Why are you rushing off?”

“I have a shift today, and I have to go home and shower,” you said, grabbing some of your things. “Don’t worry about dropping me off. I’ll get a cab.”

“What? No, you-”

“You put money in my account, so it’s not like I have to worry about paying for it. And it’s not like I’ll be alone either since you’ll have me followed whether I want it or not,” you said as a matter of fact.

“You’re putting a wall up,” he said, frowning as you grabbed your phone charger before he could. “Don’t shut me out, please.”

“I’m not shutting you out. I’m trying to process the gigantic bombshell you dropped on me,” you said, stopping to look at him when he grabbed your arm. “Bucky-”

“This has been a lot, all of it, but we can’t go back and change it, and you know I can’t let you go because we’re meant to be together,” he said, his eyes searching yours. “You feel it. I know you do.”

How many times would he say that until you agreed? “Just because you think fate stepped in-”

“Fate brought you into my club, but I gave it a much-needed push to bring us together after leaving things to chance for so long,” he said, tugging you closer and putting his other hand on your cheek. “You can’t tell me you don’t care about me in some capacity. You’re just afraid to admit it because it isn’t conventional in your eyes, but you don’t have to be afraid of how you feel.”

How could you truly fall in love with him when he orchestrated everything from the start? “Feelings or not you’re still going to force me to move in with you soon, and that scares me,” you said. Your wings would forever be clipped.

“We should’ve been living together and married by now,” he argued, keeping a tight hold on you. “I know I’m making you move in sooner than you want, but beyond safety it’ll give us a chance to really know each other before we get married.”

Talk of marriage had your heart thudding. The man would probably force you to marry him sooner than you wanted. “You said you already know everything about me,” you said. At least he thought he knew you. The vision of you he built up in his mind scared you, too. He couldn’t keep you on that pedestal.

“But you don’t fully know me yet, and I don’t know what it’s like to live with you. The experience will bring us closer together.” His smile was full of hope. “We can read together, do movie nights, dance in the kitchen.”

“Bucky-”

“We can exercise together, in and out of bed,” he continued, your breath hitching as he rubbed his nose against yours. “Don’t you already feel closer to me now that you know we're meant to be?”

A quick knock on the door followed by a long one saved you from answering. “It isn't check-out time, is it?”

“No. That would be Ray,” Bucky headed to the door and kept you back a small distance before he answered. The man really was protective, wasn't he?

“I’m sorry to intrude,” Ray said, giving you a polite nod before he leaned in and whispered something to Bucky. Whatever was said to him made his face harden. The entire change in his demeanor worried you.

“Kotyonok, let’s get your bag and get you back to your place so you can get ready for work,” he suggested, his smile tight.

“What’s the matter?” you asked.

“I’ll tell you later,” he answered, kissing your forehead. “And before we go, I know you suggested taking a cab, but please let Ray take you back to your place. It would make me feel better.”

The hint of a plea in his voice and the look in Ray’s eyes kept you from protesting. “Fine, Ray can take me home. Just give me a second to change out of these pajamas,” you said, a bit surprised that Bucky wasn’t offering to take you home himself. “But you are going to tell me later what’s going on, right?” you asked.

“I will, but I need some answers myself first. Get changed. I’ll get your bag,” he said, gently guiding you to the bathroom so you could change and officially ending that conversation.

Ray was still by the entry door once you came out, looking a bit stiffer than usual, too. You stole a glance at Bucky as the three of you headed to the elevator, catching the anger etched in his features as he gripped your bag handle tight enough that you thought it would rip. They were leaving you in the dark about something. You weren’t sure if you could take any other bombshells.

“Ray may need to pick you up from work instead of me, but I’ll message you if that’s the case,” Bucky said, fixing his hair in the elevator reflection. “And… we may need to talk about your girls’ day out.”

“What about it?” you asked, already knowing where he was going with this.

“If you can cancel or reschedule it,” he replied.

You stared hard at him. Where was that coming from? “No, it's tomorrow, and I’m not cancelling or rescheduling. And don’t you dare use Zemo as an excuse to get your way,” you snapped. Even if it was a valid reason, you didn’t want to hear it.

His jaw clenched, but he looked sad as he glanced at you. “I just don’t know if it’s a good idea.”

“We talked about this. If it’s a safety issue, Ray agreed that someone could watch out for me. That should keep me safe,” you reminded him. You’d be fine. “Right, Ray?”

The blonde stared straight ahead. “That isn’t my decision,” he said apologetically.

Your shoulders slumped. For a short time, you thought he could be on your side or at least help give you some slack. “Right. Because you don't get to make decisions, and neither do I. You’re a bodyguard, I’m just a doll,” you said, looking straight ahead, too, and pulling your hand back when Bucky tried to take it. “Please, don’t.”

“Kotyonok…” Bucky sighed as the door opened. You marched out, not waiting for either of them. “Wait.”

You headed straight for the desk, feeling sadder when you didn’t see Natasha. “Checking out, please,” you said, sliding the room card over to the woman standing there.

“Of course. I hope you enjoyed your stay.” She looked behind you likely at Bucky before giving you a smile. “Ms. Romanoff also wanted to remind you that you have a place here if you need one.”

“I’m sure I’ll take her up on that soon,” you said, turning your head to glare at Bucky. While his expression was stoic, his eyes told you he didn’t want you to be upset with him. “And make sure she adds an inconvenience fee to the damaged wall bill. She’ll know what I mean.”

“I’ll be sure to do that,” she smiled. “Take care.”

Bucky was hot on your heel and you didn't make it two steps out the door before he had a hand on you. “You’re upset with me. Putting up more of that wall.”

You didn't speak until Ray walked past you to get his car. “You’re trying to get me to cancel my day out with my friends, after you went through the whole charade of buying me a new dress for it and everything. And after what you told me about your mom.” You took a breath to try to calm down. “Yeah, I’m upset, and yeah, you’re supplying me with the very bricks to build that wall.”

“I said we may need to talk about it, I didn’t flat out say you weren’t going,” he corrected you. He might as well have. “I know it means a lot to you, but-”

You held a hand up. “No. There are no ‘buts’ in this. For all you keep taking from me, I don’t ask for much. I really don't,” you stated. In fact, you’ve shown lots of restraint. “Who knows how many moments I’ll get like this with my friends once you move me in.” He wasn’t about to take this small thing from you after everything.

He titled his head. “You think I’ll keep you from them?”

“Part of me thinks you will, yes. Because as soon as I think that there’s hope, the second I think that we could be closer together while you loosen the reins, you say or do something that puts me back in your full control,” you said. He had to see that. “And every time you do that, like you are right now, it makes me want to push you away.”

“And you can push all you want, but I’ll just pull you closer,” he smiled, making you huff when he actually did so. “I’m not afraid to let you burn me.”

“You keep saying that. Give me a match or a lighter and we’ll test that theory,” you said. He burst out laughing, the sound loud in the morning air as your eyes widened. “Why are you laughing?” you asked incredulously. How could he laugh when you were still worked up?

“Because even arguing with you makes me happy,” he sincerely stated. “And now all I want to do is find a way to put a smile back on your face.”

You exhaled. He was so in love with the idea of a relationship with you that arguments appealed to him? Anyone else would've walked away by now.

“You’re infuriating,” you whispered when he touched the corner of your mouth and made it twitch in a small smile. “Impossible.”

“I know,” he whispered back, running a hand through his hair. “Listen, you’re tired and you’re overwhelmed, which is completely my fault. Am I right?”

“Yes,” you sighed. He hit it right on the nose.

“And maybe I was rash in suggesting that you cancel your plans, but I need to take care of a couple things before we discuss that more,” he said, leading you to Ray's car before you could protest. “You just have a good shift, okay?”

He was placating you now, and it was sadly working. “Fine,” you said, touching his hand, the metal one. “I don’t think I said so earlier, but thank you for finally telling me the truth,” you said, calmer than you were moments before. He should've told you from the start, but it couldn't have been easy reopening old wounds regarding his dad.

His gaze softened. “Thank you for letting me.”

“And whatever Ray told you or whatever’s going on, just breathe, okay?” you begged.

He took a deep breath. “I’ll just think of you and it’ll help,” he said, adding in a low voice as he pulled you against him. “And this.”

This was nothing like the slow, languid kisses from minutes ago. This was dominant, claiming, threatening to rob you of the air in your lungs, like he wanted you to feed your own breath into him. He either forgot Ray was there, or he simply didn’t care.

By the time Bucky stopped kissing you and helped you into the car, you didn’t want to look either of them in the eye.

“I love you,” he whispered, kissing your temple and shutting the door as your heart flip flopped. God, he was insufferable. Confusing. Obsessed.

“You're certainly keeping him on his toes,” Ray said, not driving off until he made sure Bucky was in his vehicle, too.

“Someone has to,” you said, staring out the window. “I’m going with my friends tomorrow. I don't care if he makes you drag me back,” you said. Unless your life was in some sort of immediate danger, there was no reason for you to skip out on meeting up with the girls.

“So you’re aware, the suggestion of you moving your day out has nothing to do with wanting to control you. He’s upset because of the news I delivered and he wants to keep you close,” Ray explained, making you feel a little bad.

“So, that news was the reason why you both changed your tune, and you can't tell me what that news is,” you guessed. If you were in some sort of danger though, surely Bucky would’ve said so. “He told me about his mom. How I saved her.”

Silence filled the vehicle. “So, you know the truth,” he said after a minute, his voice neutral. “Are you okay?”

“I’m trying to be,” you answered carefully. You really were.

“That’s all you can do,” he said before adding under his breath, “No good deed goes unpunished.”

You snorted. “I guess I'm living breathing proof of that.” It was ironic how an act of kindness put you on this path. “And as much as I don't like to wish pain upon people, I hope Bucky's dad got whatever he deserved.”

Winnie, from the short time you knew her, was nothing but wonderful. Bucky said the dahlia painting in his office served as a reminder that he would never do to you what his dad did to his mom. He would never set you up to take the fall for anyone else, wouldn’t let someone else hurt you if he could help it. He would forever stand by you.

Was pushing him away doing you any good?

“He did,” Ray promised you. “And I say with complete sincerity that I hope today is very uneventful for you after the time you've had.”

Your nose scrunched as you laughed. “So do I, Ray. So do I.”

Ray was kind enough to wait outside of your place as you showered and got ready for work, and didn't push you to talk more before he dropped you off at the shop. He was even kind enough to stop so you could get another cup of coffee. It helped improve your mood.

“There she is!” Kate smiled when you walked in. “Little miss not-so-single anymore.”

“Hey,” you giggled before you paused. “I didn't know you were working today. Did you switch shifts with someone?”

“God, the schedule’s all messed up. Mrs. Crandle called out for some business thing-”

“Business thing?” you asked, your brows pinched. She hardly ever took time off for things like vacation let alone a business thing without informing her staff.

“Yeah, I’m not really sure about all the details, but Lorraine ended up switching the whole schedule around. Mya’s coming in later, and I had to come in early, and your shift’s ending early.”

“What?” you frowned, checking the schedule to make sure. She was right. Your shift today was almost cut in half. “Would’ve been nice to get a text or something.”

The assistant manager wasn't bad to work with, but she could be a little forgetful with things like that. If Bucky hadn't just put money in your account, you may have been more upset over having half a shift cut. After the night and morning you had though, maybe an afternoon off wouldn't be so bad.

“She probably forgot since you were coming in at your normal time. Who knows?” Kate shrugged. “You know, I half expected Clark to be here waiting for you. Seemed really eager to see you yesterday.”

“Yeah, about that.” You looked toward the door, your body tense in anticipation even though he wasn't there. “Why did you tell him I was working today?”

“He’s kind of a regular, and I didn't really think about it. Then Mrs. Crandle brought up your boyfriend and…” Her face fell as she stopped cutting stems, which made you feel bad when she glanced your way. “Crap, I did something wrong, didn't I?”

You weren’t about to go into specifics regarding your personal situation. “I just don’t want customers to know when my shifts are unless I’m specifically working on an order or event for them, okay?” you said, hoping she understood that it was a general request.

Bucky was not getting in your head about your safety.

“Okay, as long as you aren’t mad,” she said. You gave her a smile to assure her that you were okay. “So, tell me about your new boyfriend.”

You filled her in as much as you could to make it sound believable, just like you had with Addison. Like her and Mrs. Crandle, Kate was excited for you. And they would never know the full truth.

As your shift went on, you were surprised you hadn't heard much from Bucky. It was for the best though. He was clearly dealing with something. As much as you didn't want to defend him in your mind, it had taken a lot for him to talk about his parents. To show you some of the damage done to his body. It was a vulnerable moment. Did you owe it to him to be vulnerable, too?

Wait, why did you owe him anything?

“Heading out?” Kate asked once your shift was up.

“Yeah,” you replied, glancing at your phone. You wondered if you should text Bucky before you decided against it. You'd let him know once you got to your place that you wouldn't need a ride. “Just call me if you need me to come back in.”

“Don’t worry about that. Enjoy the rest of your day!” she smiled.

Satisfied when you didn't see Bucky or Ray’s car waiting for you either, you decided to take a walk. It was a nice day, and you needed the fresh air. You hoped the weather was nice for the winery. You’d have to take photos to look back on what was going to be a fun time.

“Hey!” you heard someone shout after a few minutes of walking.

You stopped when you spotted Clark waving at you from the other side of the street. You barely waved back before he joined you. “Hey. What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I was just in the neighborhood,” he smiled, pushing his glasses up. “You done working already?”

“Yep,” you said, adjusting your bag. “And I should really-”

“Could we talk for a minute?” he asked.

You hesitated before nodding. “Sure,” you said, falling in step beside him.

“You know, I actually went to the shop to buy you flowers yesterday. I was going to buy you some roses,” he smiled.

Oh, God. “You were?”

“Yeah, but you weren’t there and… It doesn’t matter,” he smiled, shoving his hands in his pockets. “But I was thinking… Maybe we could grab a coffee sometime? My treat.”

The hopeful look in his eyes made a pit form in your stomach. “Clark, I’m seeing someone,” you said, his blue eyes dimming. Hadn’t Kate said that Mrs. Crandle brought up that you were in a relationship? “It’s fairly new, and I don’t want to mess things up,” you explained, though he wasn’t owed an explanation.

“I didn’t want to believe it,” he mumbled, kicking a small rock on the sidewalk. “Well, if it’s fairly new, I'm sure you can get coffee with other people.”

“Get coffee with people? Yes. But this kind of sounds like a date, and I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m sorry,” you said. That would feel like cheating even if you didn't consider it a date, and you weren't that kind of person.

“Then we won’t call it a date,” he grinned.

Maybe you were feeling paranoid, but there was something weird behind his smile. “You just got out of a relationship, and I don’t want to send mixed signals by agreeing to go with you.”

His smile shook a bit. “It's just a coffee.”

“Is it?” The longer he stared, the more odd things felt, and you didn’t like it. “Listen, when you find someone else to give flowers to I’d be happy to pick some out for you.”

“I don't understand.” He laughed, but it sounded bitter. “You’ve always been nice to me.”

“Well, yeah. You’ve always been kind, too, when you come into the shop.”

“Too nice for someone like Bucky Barnes,” he muttered, his smile disappearing completely.

You gaped at him, almost faltering in your step. “What did you just say?”

“I said you’re too nice for someone like Bucky Barnes,” he said louder, his ire clear as day. “You think I don’t know about his reputation? He’s dangerous, and you’re too good for him.”

“How do you know I’m dating him?” you asked. And what did he know about his reputation?

He was quiet for a moment. “Mrs. Crandle said his name, and she has no idea what kind of man he is,” he said, making you feel uneasy. “I don’t think you do either.”

Oh, you knew plenty. “I appreciate your concern, really, but it’s nothing for you to worry about.”

“Well, I do. And I just don’t see why we can’t have one cup of coffee together,” he said, flashing a smile again. “It’ll be fun.”

“Because you know I’m seeing someone,” you said. He knew it before he bumped into you, but was still pushing for you to go with him. “And I also kind of make it a rule not to date customers,” you added, stopping when you got to your building. You walked faster than you thought.

“Well, rules should have exceptions, right? And if Bucky cared so much, where is he? Why wasn’t he waiting to pick you up and take you home?” he pressed, his eyes narrowing when you dug into your purse. “Maybe he doesn’t care about you as much as you think.”

Your next breath came out shaky. He hadn’t raised his voice at you, but you didn’t appreciate the third degree, or the implication that Bucky didn’t care. “Because he’s a busy man who sometimes works both days and nights. I don’t expect him to drop everything just to take me home.”

“If you took a chance on me, you’d never have to worry about things like that.”

You were starting to feel nauseous. “Well, sometimes I like the quiet after the bustle of the shop, so walking helps me decompress. And I can't take a chance on you when I’m seeing someone else.” Why was he being so pushy?

He took a small step closer. “You know, it’s dangerous to walk home alone.”

You took a step back, your keys between your fingers. “You’re right about that,” you agreed. The only reason you did so today was to take back a little control, which didn’t seem so smart now.

“I can start walking you home if you want,” he smiled, towering over you. Was he always so imposing? “When’s your next shift?”

You managed a smile in return, but it was extremely forced. “Clark, that’s really not necessary, but thank you for the offer. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

He gently took your arm when you turned toward the door, worry crawling up your spine when his hand tightened a fraction. You suddenly wish you had Bucky or Ray around. “I really don’t mind.”

“My boyfriend will mind, and I’m sure you can understand that. So it’s a no on the coffee and the walks home,” you said gently but firmly, pulling your arm back and rubbing the spot where Clark grabbed you. He wasn’t listening. It somehow felt worse than Bucky and you couldn’t pinpoint why. Was it because Clark tried to act nice? “It’s been a long few days, and I’m going to get some rest. Have a nice day, okay?”

His eyes narrowed again, but it was his chilling smile that unnerved you. “I’m sure I'll see you again soon. We’ll have to get that coffee,” he said, walking off before you could say another word.

You rushed into the building once he was out of sight, your hands shaking. It may have been from the confrontation or the combination of everything. Maybe Clark was just lonely and latched on a bit because you were nice. Hadn't Bucky done something similar?

But if Clark wanted to see you, why hadn't he just gone into the shop if he knew you were working?

Double checking your locks once you were in your apartment, you took a breath and stared at your phone once you sat down. You had to talk to Bucky. He answered within a few seconds of you calling.

“Kotyonok, is everything okay?” he asked, sounding both happy and concerned to hear from you.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” you asked, hearing a few other men speaking in the background.

“Because you’re calling me and not texting. And you sound a little off. What’s wrong?”

“Everything’s fine,” you lied. How did he recognize that you felt off? “I just wanted you to know that the assistant manager changed my shift, so I went home early.”

“Wait, you’re already home?” he asked. The background noise suddenly stopped. “Did you get a cab? Please tell me you didn’t walk back to your place.”

“…Fine, I won’t tell you that.”

Bucky let out an impressive string of curse words as you pulled the phone away from your ear. “That’s not safe. You know it isn’t,” he hissed, but you knew he wasn’t actually angry with you. Just the situation. And bumping into Clark today and Zemo the day before, he had a bit of a point. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you? Because I said it may not be a good idea to go out with your friends.”

You closed your eyes. He was not going to make you feel bad. “I just needed a breather, okay? And I made it home just fine.”

“But did you? How do I know someone didn’t follow you?” he asked. Clark’s face flashed in your mind when you stayed quiet. “…Kotyonok, did someone follow you?”

“No one followed me that I know of,” you said. You really didn't have any idea. “But… I did bump into Clark. He was in the neighborhood.”

“Clark? That guy from the shop who tried to give you flowers just happened to be in your neighborhood when I wasn't around?” he asked, fury seeping into his tone as you winced.

“I… I’m sure it was a coincidence,” you said. Placating him in this wasn’t going to work, but you had to try.

“That isn’t a fucking coincidence and we both know it. Did he say anything? Try anything?”

You shut your eyes. It would be like ripping off a band-aid. “He asked me to go get a cup of coffee with him, but I told him I was seeing someone.”

He chuckled humorlessly. “He asked you out?” he asked, making you shift in your seat. “Why the fuck do I not have a file on him yet?!” he snapped at someone in the background.

“I’m working on it, boss!” you heard someone promise. “Should I call-”

“No. I’ll call him myself,” Bucky growled.

Who was he talking about? “Bucky, it’s okay. The guy asked me out and I said no,” you assured him. You weren't going to go out with Clark. “I’m sure women throw themselves at you every day and you turn them down.”

“They don't ‘bump’ into me in my neighborhood. And had you told me you were leaving early, I could’ve made sure this guy didn’t go anywhere near you. I don’t even want him near your shop until I know more about him,” he said, his anger not lessening. “If he tries anything, I will tear him apart piece by fucking piece,” he promised you, the intensity in his tone making your throat go dry.

“That isn’t necessary,” you whispered.

He sighed. “Why would you deliberately put yourself in a spot like this just to prove a point? Be pissed at me, I can take that, but do not risk your safety,” he said, adding in a quieter voice, “I couldn’t take it if something happened to you.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, hating how guilty you felt, how worried he sounded on your behalf. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to worry you,” you said. It was stubborn and dumb on your part, and now you were afraid that Bucky really would try to cancel your day out tomorrow. You couldn’t let him. “I’ll make it up to you, okay?”

“Make it up to me?” he asked. That seemed to get his attention. “How are you going to do that?”

“I’ll…” you began, steadying yourself. Natasha said you had power, and maybe you’d have to test that sooner than you expected. “Stay at your place tonight.”

You could hear a pin drop from the quiet. “You’ll stay the night?” he asked, his voice moving like lava through your veins.

“Yes,” you whispered, hammering the nail in the coffin.

“Give me two hours and I'll come get you,” he said, his voice strained, eager. “Be ready.”

“I will be.”

God, you hoped you knew what you were doing.

Oh, Clark. He's a problem now, isn't he? What do we think Ray told Bucky? And what's going to happen when you spend the night? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[multifandom-exe]

Intimidation – S. Reid X Reader 

A/N: this is a rewrite of a fic from like 5 years ago, if you want to check out the original here to see how much has changed. Feel free to leave requests! PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK IN COMMENTS OR ASKS PLS i need to know if I'm still writing like I'm 14 😭. Trying to rewrite one fic of each fandom so i get that reach. 

Request: hey could you make a spencer reid x reader where the reader is new to the BAU and she has more PHDs than reid. which makes him super intimidated and insecure (bc he also finds her very pretty) 

  Word Count: 2.1k 

Today was an emotional day. Quickly trying to blink back the tears that burned the back of your eyes, you stared up at the skyscraper. A lump rising in your throat, you reflected on all the hard work, all the time, all the energy, you put in just to be able to stand here right now. Years. Years of school, universities, exams, lack of a social life, and probably enough coffee to kill a small village. All to stand at the doors of the BAU, ready to take on your first day.  

You walked through the double doors, flashing your badge, and security directed the way for you. In a brief call with the Boss, Aaron Hotchner, he had given you a rundown of the people who will be on your team. You mentally revisited all the notes you took, trying to suppress the anxiety crawling up your throat. The elevator bell’s ‘ding!’ interrupted your thoughts. Quickly stepping out, you assessed your surroundings, briefly reveling the fact that you were actually here. You are actually, officially, FBI. You glanced through the double glass doors just in time, to catch a stare from someone you could only assume was Spencer Reid. Your eyes followed as he fiddled and dropped a stack of files on the ground. At his clumsiness, who you would assume would be morgan, followed his line of sight to see what all the fuss was about. His lips curled into a smirk as he said something inaudible to the other team members standing by.  

Looking particularly suspicious, just idling in the corridor, you made your way through the double glass doors. You put on your best smile as a distraction from the blush crawling up your neck. You excitedly walked over to the gathering of people; your happiness evident in every step.  

“Hi! I'm officially Supervisory Special Agent Dr. (Y/N) (L/N). Can you use two titles like that? I'm not sure, but regardless just call me (Y/N).” You beamed like a sunflower as you stuck your hand out to shake, who you assumed to be Emilys, hand. Morgan raised his eyebrow, looking you up and down. 

“Well, hey mama, what a nice Suprise.” He looked over at his team members to find their confused faces but raised his eyebrow, nonetheless. A pretty lady in his midst, Morgan would never complain, especially not when she carries a gun. 

“Team.” Everyone's head turned toward the stairs as Hotch ran down them. “I forgot to mention, new team member, (Y/N) meet, Morgan, Emily, JJ, Rossi, and Dr Reid.” He pointed at each one whilst introducing them.  

Your lips curled into a small smile as you beamed again. “Infamous Dr. Reid, Hotchner told me so much about you, apparently we are going to get along.”  

“Yes uhm.” He coughed, ready to list the facts he knew about you. “She can speak several languages, has 4 PHD’s, In Mathematics, Chemistry, Engineering and Psychology, and she has 4BA’s, Philosophy, Sociology, Linguistics and archeology if I remember correctly, all at the age of 26. Very similar to you.” He took a breath after rattling everything off and gave you a smile. 

“A new resident genius huh?” You and the team turned to the source of the voice, immediately noting that it was Penelope Garcia. You gave a small wave as she walked over. “Our boy genius finally has some girl genius competition.” She smiled as a very speechless Spencer opened his mouth, but closed it again, finding he had nothing to say. 

You turned a confusing look at the girl next to him and spoke. “I'm sure we will have lots to talk about, I'm definitely a talker.”  

You gave him a big smile and God he could've died and went to heaven right there. So many thoughts rattled around his head. He was used to being the smartest person in the room. The one constant in his life was his intelligence. And here you were, looking like a fucking sunflower, taking that constant away. 2 degrees. 2 degrees more than him. He genuinely couldn't wrap his head around it. Attraction and intimidation swirled in his mind like oil and water. The best he could do was gulp down his fear, paste a small smile on his face as you walked away to get situated. 

- 

The hours wore on, and the effect of your first day at work was taking its toll on you. Heading over to the coffee machine, you spotted spencer, making what seemed to be his fourth coffee of the day. “I suppose Hotch was right about you being a coffee addict.”  

A giggle erupted from your throat as his head shot up and his eyes widened at you, looking like a deer in the headlights. And once again, he found himself without anything to say. The anxiety of making a fool of himself in front of someone smarter than him was too much. He just grabbed his coffee cup and ducked back to his desk. Your eyes bore holes into the spot where he once stood, a small frown on your face. Had you seriously offended someone on your first day? Shaking your head, you returned to make some delicious coffee.  

Morgan quickly placed himself on the edge of Reids desk as he sat down. “Our babies will be smart and beautiful.” He mocked in a dreamy voice, breaking Spencer away from his thoughts. 

“What?” He gave Morgan a look of feigned innocence. 

“Cmon, Pretty Boy. Youve already got it bad for wonder girl over there.” At the mention of your name, they both look towards the coffee station where you stood, looking like you were right out of a movie. He stuttered out an attempt at denying his friends accusations, but Morgan simply laughed and clapped him on the back, leaving him a stuttering mess at the thought of you. 

“Briefing room!” Your ears perked up at the sounds of your boss’s voice ringing out across the room signaling you had a case. You turned your head and caught Spencers eye on the way, flashing him a timid smile. Finally, something to draw Spencer's thoughts away from you and your intrepid little mind. 

- 

Having been briefed they introduced you to the private jet. Of course it was met with gasps of astonishment from you, never having seen something so amazing in all your life. Everyone had settled in, and you sat down on the couch next to Spencer, taking in everyone on the plane. “Hey Genius Boy.” The common nickname caused Spencer to look up from his book. “Listen, I'm sorry if I offended you, I'm not trying to take your place as resident genius here, I think we could have some crazy in-depth conversations, if you would actually talk to me that is.” Your hands moved to match your voice, as a giggle left your throat to cover the awkwardness. He stared at you, looking like the human embodiment of his dreams, and decided today was not the day for his brain to fail him, he will not come across as stupid as he feels right now.  

“Thank you, I think we would too, you didn't offend me, I'm sorry, I just get a little anxious about things sometimes. And honestly, I've never met anyone with more degrees than I have.” The way he talked with his hands mirrored yours as he explained himself. You beamed at him after hearing you hadn't offended him, and Spencer swore he was melting. He studied your face and noticed your darker eye bags, and your second cup of coffee in hand. He assumed you'd had a sleepless night. He was all too familiar with insomnia, and first day nerves. “I can move if you want to lay down and take a nap.” A nice offer in his eyes, so he was surprised at your reaction. 

Your hands shot to cover your face as you squealed. “Do I really look that bad?” You spread your fingers to look at him whilst still shielding your face. His eyes shot open as he waved his hands a little frantically. 

“Oh god no! No! You look beautiful, really, I just assumed you were tired because of all the coffee.” He gently grasped your hands and removed them away from your face. A blush creeped up your neck at the compliment, and your hair stood on end at the sudden contact. His hands darted back as he felt his own cheeks darken. 

“I'm kidding Spence, I have trouble sleeping on a good day but thank you for caring anyway.” You smiled at him, taking in his features. God he really was beautiful too. Something about having such an intricate mind made a person all the more attractive. 

In hopes to make you feel better, Spencer did what he did best, and rambled, his hands intricately moving as he practically word vomited on you. “Yaknow, some sleep experts have said that sleeping with someone around, and or cuddling with them, actually improves sleep. Your brain releases endorphins and dopamine and all that good stuff when you cuddle with someone, and it is said that aids sleep. I personally don’t believe in sleep studies, or dream studies for that matter, but it could be something to think about in the future.” He stared at his lap as he finished his ramble. 

“Are you asking me to sleep with you, Dr Reid?” You quirked your eyebrows as endless giggles spilled out of your throat at his reaction. His eyes shot open again and he stuttered out some form of apology. He really needed to get his shit together if he ever wanted to have a normal conversation with you. “Okay, okay relax.” Your giggles faded away as you laid a hand on his arm.  

“I was just suggesting, you know you need to be refreshed for a case, if you wanted to sleep near me, if that's okay with you. I mean I could use a little bit more sleep as well.” He tried to distract your eyes from his searing cheeks as he motioned to his coffee cup.  

A smile broke out onto your face as you nodded softly, heat climbing up the back of your neck at the thought of the close proximity. You had heard Spencer was afraid of germs? Huh, maybe that wasn't the case. With 5 hours left till landing, Spencer retrieved a pillow from the couch opposite and laid it in the crook of his arm. Twiddling your fingers together, you shifted on the couch, moving to slip in between his body and his arm.  

You had never been so glad he couldn't see your face, but at this point, you were sure he could probably feel the heat radiating off your cheeks. You sighed into the comfort, with the thought of sleep weighing heavier and heavier on your eyelids. You took in the scent of his shirt, Pine, and old parchment. You gave it 5 minutes until you were whisked away into dreamland.  

Spencer, on the other hand, had never been so awake. He desperately hoped you weren't able to hear his heartbeat thrum against his chest as you got close. He slightly inched his head to lay on top of yours, the scent of your shampoo absolutely intoxicating him. If it were up to him, he would fly this plane to Antarctica just to be here a bit longer with you. 

Bonus 

The jet took a sharp turn and Morgan looked up from his cellphone. His eyes caught you and Spencer, practically wrapped around each other on the couch. The biggest grin broke out on his face as he laughed under his breath. As quietly as possible, he nudged Emily and JJ, pointing his finger in the direction of the couch. Emily rolled her eyes with an incredulous look, and JJ cooed quietly over how cute you two were. Emily whispered, not-so-subtlety, to Derek. “Take a picture before they wake up.” Quickly digging in her purse and throwing him her disposable camera.  

“I hate you all.” They all broke into silent laughter as Spencer grumbled.  

Since that day, that picture had remained pinned on Spencer's desk. 

-

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[scuderiasundays]

free ride

summary: friction, spontaneous gifts, and revelations on a ride home + a little insta au at the end 💌

words: 673

a/n: a short blurb! haven't written in months but may post sporadically. tagging @vamossainz55, @sainzcaleruega, @monzabee, and @silverstonesainz just because. any and all feedback much appreciated as always! hugs and kisses 🫶🏼

“You can be so clingy sometimes.” Lando let out a sigh, one that was tinged with deep disapproval. He continued to hastily shove his belongings into the duffel bag you had gifted him mere weeks ago. Standing in the hallway, your mind couldn’t help but play back the memory of a happier time.

-

“You’ve gotten me a gift and it’s not even my birthday. If this is a taste of what a lifetime with you looks like, sign me up!”

Lando twirled with the sleek leather bag over his shoulder. Qatar Airways had lost his prized duffel (another “perk” of being a frequent flyer). While you were well aware he could easily afford a replacement, the sheer thought of giving back to him put a smile on your face.

“Check the luggage tag,” you said. He turned it over in his hand, revealing the number one engraved in gold.

“You do realize my driver number is four, right? Or was this meant for Max?“ He said, his lips turning upwards in a cheeky grin.

“Shut up, I just wanted you to show you how much I believe in you—my future world champion.”

“How did I get so lucky?” He pulled you close, cupping your face with both hands before planting a kiss on your forehead.

-

You shook yourself out of it as the front door slammed, realizing your vision start to blur. With 24 races on the calendar and work keeping you in London, it wasn't a total shock that things had gone south. Yet as you tried to make sense of it all, you couldn't decipher if it was Lando speaking or just the exhaustion from a 13-hour flight getting to him. All you did was ask if he wanted to join you for dinner with friends tonight, and he’d deemed you “clingy.”

-

You heard your phone buzz on the kitchen island as you grabbed the keys. It was Ashley calling. He’d call you on occasion when Lando asked him to but it surprised you nonetheless. He sounded worried as he explained that Lando wasn't feeling well at the MTC and needed someone to pick him up. Feeling a sense of urgency, you quickly shifted gears, realizing that you’d have to take a rain check on tonight’s plans.

-

Lando looked pale and small as he climbed into the passenger’s side of your car. You tried to help him in but he swatted your hands away, a lingering reminder of the tension between you. You turned up the radio to drown out the deafening silence when you suddenly heard his voice.

“I’m sorry about this morning.” You could just make out his eyes shifting from the window to you in your peripheral vision. To be perfectly honest, you hadn’t expected an apology out of him so soon.

“I never meant to tell you this but the thought of you walking away from me and us…Well, just thinking about it makes me queasy. I was on the sim and I realized I’d hurt you and my mind started spiraling and-”

You pulled the car over to the side of the road as his breathing shallowed.

“Hey, everything’s going to be fine.” You wiped the tears from his face and placed your hand on his thigh. It took a few minutes but you saw the color gradually return to his face.

“Anywhere you want to go? It’s rare you let me drive so I’m taking it all in.”

“Up to you. I’m just here for the free ride.” He giggled.

“Free, huh? Well, this girl charges in secrets. So, where’s Carlos headed next season?”

Lando ran his hands through his curls, a nervous tick of his.

"I'd tell you, but then I'd have to kill you."

He flashed a devilish grin, his eyes twinkling in the evening glow. As much as you despised the complications that came with all the time zones and miles apart, there was no doubt you'd find your way back to each other at the end of each day.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

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yourusername: i cry a lot but i am so productive! it's! an! art!

fan1: love that she's a swiftie but is lando the reason behind all her crying 🤨

fan2: if so, it's on sight!!!

landonorris: begging you to clear my name and confirm i am, in fact, the world's best boyfriend

yourusername: i love you but what did we say about a growth mindset?

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yourbestfriend: love the fact that pimm fits perfectly in your 🚲 basket

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

compos mentis 8

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, chronic health issues, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After a long court case, your mother stays attached to her lawyer, bringing even more contention into your life.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: my head is fucked

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Andy brings you breakfast in bed. You can't help but feel the guilt rippling off him. All of this is penance on his part. 

It's as close to vindication as you'll get. You're mother would never admit what she did, let alone apologise. That's when you see her again. You're not so sure you ever want to. 

The world is distant. It doesn't feel quite real. It's like a dream. The edges aren't quite sharp enough and the colours are cloudy. 

You look down at the plate and your stomach grumbles out of basic need. You don't have much appetite but your biology is at a constant battle with your mind. You shouldn't be able to breathe but you are, you should take your meds but you don't feel all that different.  

A poached egg, whole wheat toast, turkey bacons, and thick greek yogurt with fruit. It's all very healthy but a bit more than you would eat, when you feel up to it. Your breakfasts are a hard-boiled egg or a small cup of hot oats and milk. 

"I hope it's okay," he hovers at the foot of the bed. He's dressed already. You're less than put together. You're still groggy from a grief-laden sleep and the hangover of the bitter revelation. You wear his borrowed shirt and gym shorts, your messy hair untamed despite your efforts.  

"I called in to the office. I don't think I could focus of I tried," he explains. "And there's too much to be done here." 

"There is?" You nibble the toast. 

You'd hoped for some time alone. Not to think, just to be. You're still lost in all of this. The anger, the hurt, the regret, the confusion, and shame... 

"Sweetie, you don't have any clothes. I have a spare toothbrush for you but it's a travel one from a hotel. And you'll need everything else, right? Soaps and whatever." 

"Oh, I... I don't... my mom has all my money..." you utter and deflate again. You put down the toast. Your stomach is roaring but you just want to puke again.  

"I'll deal with that. Don't worry. She's not as clever as she thinks." He puts his hands on his hips. He does that when he's upset. He used to argue with your mom and stand like that. "Please, eat. Your clothes should be dry soon." 

"My clothes?" 

"I threw them in the wash for you--" his sentence is punctured by the doorbell. His jaw ticks. "I'll deal with that. Probably Mrs. Potter trying to give me more casserole." 

He leaves and you put your focus on the plate. You shouldn't just eat because you're hungry, you should eat because he went to all this effort. You pick up a slice of toast and break through the soft yolk. 

You eat deliberately. Chewing slowly, methodically. A shrill yowl tightens your throat around a swallow. You know that shriek. 

You carefully slide the tray forward and balance it on the legs as you angle out from beneath. You go to the window and try to see past the eaves and awning. You can't. Only the police cruiser and a familiar car... 

You listen. The noise wafts in from the bedroom door. You follow it and peer down at the front door. It's muffled but clearly coming from the porch. 

You twist the handle nervously and open the door a crack. You can't see past Andy as he stands staunchly on the mat, arms crossed. You glance an officer's belt with the radio attached and your mother's snarl lashes you like a barb. 

"He has my daughter. She's sick--" 

"She's an adult," Andy insists. "I'm not holding her against her will." 

"She can't-- I am her legal guardian. She can't be here on free will, genius." 

"Ma'am," a stern female voice warns. "Sir, where is the daughter?" 

"She's sleeping." He lies. 

You let the door fall inward. You don't want to be in trouble. No one seems to notice. You stall and shiver on the threshold. It isn't cold, you're just scared. 

You make yourself step out. There's not much room. As Andy stands like a wall. You peek around him. 

"Hi," you murmur. 

"My baby," your mother throws her hands up and comes forward. Andy moves to block her. "You can't keep me from my girl-- where is her oxygen? Officers, she needs air!" 

“No, I don’t,” you say, quiet but firm. 

Your mother flinches but doesn’t relent, “he’s manipulated her. I can call the doctor right now and you’ll see. She hasn’t been without her tank in years. She could die--” 

“That’s not true,” you murmur. 

“Ma’am,” the female officer warns. “Let her speak.” 

You look around with wide eyes, taking in the full scene. Andy stands just behind you, you can hear him exhale. A male officer is on the other side of your mother. You open your mouth then shut it. 

“Sweetie,” your mother reaches for you and you shy away. 

“Alright, Jackson, you stay here, I’m going to talk to her. Alone,” the female officer says. She reaches out and waves you to her delicately. “You wanna come with me? We can talk. Just you and me.” 

You gulp and look at Andy. His blue eyes blaze as he meets your gaze. He dips his chin slightly. You turn back and nod. As you cross the porch, your mother tries to latch onto you. The other officer, Jackson, pulls her back. 

You sidle past her and follow the woman. She takes you to the curb. You look down at your bare feet then at her. 

“I’m Officer Patel. What’s your name?” She asks. 

You answer and she shifts so you can’t see the house. “Me and my partner came because we got a call about a possible abduction. We’re just here to hear the full story. What’s going on here?” 

You rub your neck and fidget. You can’t tell her the truth. Not the full truth. You can’t tell her your mom lied to you. Not even that she hit you. You don’t want to go back to court. You don’t want to tell everyone how stupid and pathetic you are. 

“I’m here.... because I want to be,” you shrug. 

“Your mother says there was an argument.” 

You chew your lip, “she couldn’t find her pills. She left. I don't know... I don’t know why she came back.” Your chin trembles and you clasp your hands on your shirt hem. You sway back and forth. “She doesn’t love me.” 

You hang your head. That’s it. What you always knew deep down. What’s so clear now that she’s ground you into dust. You’re nothing to her so she made you into nothing at all. 

“She’s your mom, I’m sure you two will work this out. Me and my partner are just making sure you’re safe. We were told that man is keeping you here without consent.” 

You flinch and shake your head furiously. You wave your hands, “no, no. Andy... Andy helped me and... I shouldn’t be here because... because... because I’m a loser and.... my mom... my mom...” you stutter. “She doesn’t want me.” 

“She says you’re sick? You need oxygen?” She prompts. 

You twiddle your fingers. “No, not really. Not... all the time. I can breathe, see?” 

She watches you, “right. How old are you, miss?” 

“Twenty-four.” 

She nods. “You’re not a minor?” 

“No,” you blurt out. Many assume as much, especially with you always hiding behind your mom. “No, I’m an... adult.” 

“Do you want to press charges against anyone?” 

“Charges? For what?” You wonder. 

She sighs. “You’re free to go. You’re grown up and you can make your own choices without mom.” She tuts and turns to look across the lawn, “Jackson, come on.” 

You peer over. Andy stands, arms crossed, staring at you. Your mother rears like a snake, muttering under her breath. You head back up the walk and Officer Patel speaks again. 

“You have to leave, Ma’am.” 

You stop and peek over your shoulder. Patel points to your mother, “we will escort you if need be.” 

Jackson looks at her. She snarls and stomps her foot, “oh don’t you even think of touching me.” She huffs and storms past him. She comes down the steps and you think for an instant, she might push you. She stops beside you. “I took care of you, sweetie. Do you think he will for long? After he figures out what you are?” 

She continues past you. You continue up the paved squares and past Officer Jackson as he follows. As you come up to the steps, you hear the engines turn over. You’re suddenly very tired. 

“Andy,” you drag your feet over the mat. “I want to lay down.” 

“Alright, honey. We’ll sort everything out later,” he turns and stretches his arm across the door frame as you enter.  

He shuts the door as you stagger on, eyes hazy with tears. Your own mother despises you. She’s right about him too. He’ll hate you one day but you don’t know what to do to change any of this. 

💙

Andy makes you finish breakfast before you lay down. He’s right. It’s good for you to eat and you haven’t been doing a lot of that. 

You lay down for an hour before you sense him getting restless. You can hear him downstairs. You can’t be lazy. You don’t have any excuses anymore. You’re not sick, just weak. 

You make yourself get up and venture downstairs. He’s in the kitchen, flicking through his phone as it rests on the counter. You clear your throat and wring your hands as you enter. 

“I’m sorry. I was upset. It’s really stupid but sometimes I just... can’t do anything. Even if I try. I’m sorry, Andy. I’m... so sorry.” 

He faces you and his face contorts in a spectrum of emotion, “oh, honey, you don’t need to be sorry. I put your clothes on the couch for you. Just waiting. Take your time.” 

“Waiting for me,” you frown and look at the floor. “My mom lied. A lot. But I don’t think she was wrong about everything.” 

“What do you mean?” He shifts closer. 

You shrug, “me. I’m... I’m useless.” 

“No,” his voice hardens. “No, take it back.” 

“What?” You pout and bat your eyes as you peek up at him. 

“You’re not going to talk about yourself like that. Not with me. So take it back.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry--” 

“Apologise to yourself,” he insists staunchly. “Honey, don’t let her control you. She’s gone.” 

“But... but...” 

“You’re adjusting. I understand that. I’m not expecting you to be okay right now. Be patient with yourself. Be patient with me. We’re both... figuring this out.” 

You nod and your lips twitch. You could cry. 

“Thanks, er, I’ll... change then. Um, Andy... are we going somewhere?” 

“Sure, sweetheart. I mentioned earlier, didn’t I? About clothes? I tried to get the officers to agree to an escort to go to your mom’s but you saw her. She’s not in her right mind,” he explains. 

“Yeah, that makes sense,” you flutter your fingers nervously and he looks down at them. You clasp them over your chest to make them stop. “I’ll hurry up then.” 

You turn and scurry out. You go into the front room and grab the neatly folded clothes. He keeps everything so tidy and in its place. You go to the bathroom and set it on the counter. 

As you take your panties from between the jeans and tee shirt, you hesitate. It’s a bit embarrassing to think of him washing your underwear. You could’ve done it if he showed you where the machines are. 

You shrug it off. You’re just happy he helped. It’s a nice feeling when people do things for you. 

You change and bring out the borrowed clothes. Andy is still in the kitchen. You stand in the doorway. 

“Where do I put these?” You ask. 

He pops his head up and tucks away his phone, “oh, I can take care of them.” 

“Thanks, Andy, but uh, could I see? I’d like to know where everything is so I can help.” 

“Help?” He approaches and takes the clothes, his hands brushing over yours. “With what?” 

“I don’t know, everything?” You say. “You helped me so much and I want to do the same. I want to be useful. I want to be... better.” 

The tension leaves his shoulder and he smiles. “Alright, sure, that’s nice of you.” He goes to step past you then stops. “Sweetheart, you know, your mom is wrong. About everything. You’re an amazing girl. Really, you’re wonderful. And today, I want you to try as much as you can to forget. I want you to feel good about you, because you should. Because you deserve it.” 

You swallow and bounce nervously on your feet, “Andy, you’re so nice.” 

“I’m just being honest. Should’ve tried that a lot sooner,” he says. 

[chvoswxtch]

we got a problem

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: you discover a shocking revelation about who's behind the defenders of freedom.

warnings: swearing, angst, mentions of guns & violence

word count: 4k

a/n: this chapter is a little on the shorter side, but it does contain a huge bombshell. ;) as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

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If someone had told you six months ago that you would be going shopping with Frank Castle, you would’ve done more than laugh maniacally; you would’ve recommended that they get a psychological evaluation. Hell, even seventy-two hours ago you wouldn’t have believed it. But here you were, in the women’s section, sifting through hangers and stacks of clothing with Frank following you closer than your own shadow, listening to his quiet grunts of irreverence and faint hums of approval when your fingers wandered over different items.

“I don’t get what the big deal is ‘bout this place. It’s just a store.”

All at once, your palm paused over a dark blue pair of jeans, and you looked up at Frank in a mock expression of horror while clutching your hand over your chest. 

“Target isn’t just a store, Frank. It’s a way of life. And we happen to be in a Super Target, which means not only do they have literally everything you could ever want, but there’s a built-in makeup store and a Starbucks.”

Frank rolled his eyes in exasperation and grumbled under his breath as he lifted the white grande cup up on cue, which looked comically tiny in his large hand, and brought it up to his lips to take a sip of the black coffee he had gotten.

“Yeah, don’t remind me I paid seven fuckin’ dollars for one goddamn cup of coffee.”

“Technically you paid eighteen because you were kind enough to buy my iced latte.”

“Is it even still a latte when you ask for fifteen extra fuckin’ shots of espresso?”

Narrowing your eyes slightly, you arched one of your brows and placed your hands on your hips while looking up at Frank. 

“I asked for two extra shots-“

“When it already came with four-“

“I don’t need to explain my caffeine intake to you. Now, if you’re finished with your interrogation, can you tell me how long we plan to be on the run for?”

A slight crease nestled between Frank’s brows while his features twisted into a look of incomprehension. Shoving one of his large hands into his jean pocket, he pursed his lips slightly in conjunction with shrugging his broad shoulders.

“However long it takes to figure out who’s behind this shit.”

“And…exactly how many outfits and tubes of toothpaste does that translate into?”

“Just get whatever ya want.”

Pinching at the bridge of your nose, you inhaled deeply and let out a slow breath before crossing your arms over your chest and staring up at Frank. 

“I don’t know how much you think journalists make, but I can’t exactly-“

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, I’m buyin’.”

Those words were certainly not what you were expecting to come from Frank’s mouth, and the shock was evident on your features. While you stared up at him, completely stunned, Frank gave a light shake of his head with a miniscule charming smile and took another sip of his coffee.

“You can’t use any of your credit cards. They could be trackin’ your bank accounts to figure out where you are.”

“I could pull out-“

“You use an ATM to get cash, they’ll know which one you pulled it from, and that gives ‘em a location. As far as they know, you’re dead somewhere. The longer they think that, the more time we got to figure this shit out.”

“Frank-“

“Just put the goddamn stuff in the cart, and finish your liquid heart attack. We got shit to do.”

Realizing that Frank was serious about his offer, a part of you felt guilty for all the items currently in your cart. You weren’t high maintenance by any means-okay maybe a little, but a girl has needs. You couldn’t get by with three shirts, two pairs of jeans, and a three in one bath product like Frank could. 

On the other hand, you were curious to see exactly how much you could get away with, and the urge to press his buttons was oh so tempting. A devious grin stretched slowly across your lips, and Frank narrowed his eyes at you in suspicion when he noticed the mischievous twinkle in your gaze.

“Well, if you insist.”

Dropping the jeans into the cart with a satisfied smirk, you pushed the cart over towards the makeup section in the middle of the store and could hear a disgruntled Frank muttering an ‘aw hell’ under his breath as he followed right behind you, much to your amusement, which caused laughter to bubble up from your chest. 

Shopping with Frank was your new favorite activity.

»»———　　———««

“How them sheets feel?”

A faint smirk curled at the edge of your mouth as you glanced at Frank over your shoulder from where you were laying on your stomach on one of the comfortable beds. He had managed to find a decent hotel outside the city, and got a room with two beds much to your disappointment, but anything was an upgrade compared to the seedy motel the two of you had camped out in the previous night.

“Like clouds.”

Frank raised one of his dark brows in silent amusement while looking over at you from his spot at the desk by the window. He let out a quiet grunt in response before his features morphed back in pure concentration while he averted his gaze back down to the gun he was currently cleaning. For a moment you completely forgot what you were doing and just watched him, completely mesmerized. His large hands moved methodically, but so fluidly as he cleaned each piece and re-assembled the weapon, like it was second nature and something he could probably do with ease in his sleep. The way his fingers were gliding over the pieces had your mind suddenly wandering to what else Frank’s hands might be good at. 

“Find anythin’ yet?”

Frank’s gruff voice tore you out of your impure thoughts, and your cheeks burned with heat realizing you had spent the past three minutes gawking at him. Clearing your throat, you turned your attention back to the documents in front of you, willing the black and white text to come back into focus as you found the paragraph you had left off on.

“Um…it seems like all the permits and the deed for the land are registered to a company called Fortis Allied. I can’t find a name attached to it, but all the paperwork is fairly recent. Everything looks like it was filed within the last year.”

“You say fortis? Like f-o-r-t-i-s?”

“Does that ring a bell for you?”

“It’s Latin.”

Scrunching up your brows, you turned your head to look at Frank again in a mixture of puzzlement and surprise.

“You know Latin?”

Frank had leaned back in the chair he was sitting in, his legs spread slightly making his lap look like an extremely comfortable and inviting seat. He held onto the handle of the gun in one hand and the rag he had been using to clean the pieces in the other, his dark brows knit as he stared over at you with his eyes squinted slightly in curiosity, like he was deep in thought about something.

“Marines’ got a motto, Semper Fidelis. It’s Latin, means always faithful. Navy’s got one kinda similar; Semper Fortis.”

Frank clicked his tongue against his cheek as he let out a dry and humorless scoff that only fueled your confusion further.

“And why is that funny?”

“Cause it means always courageous. And if these are the assholes we think they are, that’s pretty goddamn ironic.”

Staring down at the slew of papers spread on the bed in front before you, Frank’s Latin lesson presented more questions than it answered, and your lips pursed slightly.

“Defenders of Freedom and Courageous Allied. Their creativity is astounding.”

Frank snickered quietly behind you hearing the dry sarcasm seeping from your voice. Letting out a sigh of frustration, you reached for your phone that was charging on the nightstand. It had been dead for the past seventy-two hours, and as soon as it turned on, you had an overwhelming amount of missed calls and texts from people who thought you were either missing or dead, or both. About eighty percent of the missed calls and frantic voicemails were from Ellison, but to your surprise, there were quite a few missed calls and texts from Billy as well.

You had made sure to turn off your location so that your phone couldn’t be tracked, and Frank had been adamant about you shutting off your imessage. Deciding you had raised your boss’ blood pressure enough for three days, you sat up cross legged on the bed and grabbed one of the paper’s from the bed that had all the company’s information on it.

“I’m gonna call Ellison and see-”

“No.”

Looking over at Frank in surprise, you let out a quiet scoff of incredulity. 

“Frank, I have to tell him I’m alive. And he can help us-”

“The less people know you’re alive right now, the better. I told you, we can’t trust nobody right now.”

Dragging your palm down your face slowly in irritation, you shook your head in a show of defiance.

“I’m pretty sure my boss isn’t one of the people trying to kill me-”

“You don’t know that-”

“Yes Frank, I do. Ellison is practically the closest thing to family I have in this city, and considering that his best friend, and my mentor, was murdered by Wilson Fisk, I can say with absolute certainty that he is not involved in this shit.”

Frank’s hardened features softened slightly hearing the slight twinge of grief that resonated in your tone, and he was looking at you with those big brown puppy dog eyes of his that normally made your knees weak. But right now that infatuating sight was no match for the heaviness of guilt that filled your entire rib cage like raw cement every time you thought about Ben. 

You swallowed the pebble that threatened to swell into a boulder in your throat and stared down at your phone screen, your thumb hovering over Ellison’s contact.

“Fisk was never charged with murder.”

Frank’s voice sounded almost hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if he should be saying that, but it was clear he was looking for an explanation behind your accusation, even though he wasn’t outright asking. It was almost eerie how he always seemed to know when to explicitly ask you something, and when to craft an open invitation to let you come to him.

“Ben was writing a story about him. He was going to expose him for who he really was. He got too close, and Fisk killed him for it. He broke into his home and strangled him to death, but he didn’t leave any fingerprints or evidence, and his hard drive was wiped clean. Ben’s d-his case is still considered an unsolved homicide.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Frank slowly stand up from the chair he was sitting in. He tentatively took a few steps towards you and sat down on the edge of the bed next to you, his eyes searching your avoidant gaze.

“What makes you so sure that’s what happened though?”

“Because I pushed him into doing the story.”

The way your voice slightly broke off towards the end of your sentence broke Frank’s heart. The remorse you felt was evident as it rose along your waterline.

“He didn’t wanna do the story. He told me to let it go, and I didn’t. If I had just left it alone-”

Frank wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you in closer towards him, cradling your head against his chest as he held you close and kept his voice soft.

“Hey, hey…don’t do that. Don’t put that on yourself. Whatever happened, it ain’t your fault, you got that? Don’t take the blame for somethin’ that someone else did. He did the story cause he knew you were right, yeah? He believed in you, sweetheart. And that piece of shit Fisk is rottin’ in prison where he belongs, gettin’ exactly what he’s got comin’ to ‘em, trust me.”

He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head as he slowly carded his fingers through your hair in an attempt to soothe you. 

“I just feel like it’s all my fault. Like I…I could’ve prevented it.”

For a moment Frank was silent. Eventually he let out a heavy exhale through his large nose and gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“I know.”

The deafted way he spoke those two words made it sound like Frank was telling you that he knew exactly what you were feeling, and an ominous thought crossed your mind as you found yourself wondering if he felt that way about his wife’s death. 

He let go of your head and reached into his pocket, pulling out the burner phone that he used. Frank handed the flip phone to you, and you lifted your head to stare up at him curiously. 

“Let ‘em know you’re alright, but make sure he knows it’s important no one else knows nothin’ ‘bout you, yeah?”

“You can trust him, Frank. He’ll help us.”

»»———　　———««

Forty five minutes later, you managed to calm an absolutely hysterical and pissed off Ellison, changed his mind about firing you once you were no longer considered missing/dead, and caught him up on everything that had happened since the night you were attacked three days ago. He agreed to help you and Frank do some digging into the company listed on the permits for the warehouse that burnt down, and in addition to emailing you everything he could find about the company, he also sent you copies of the reports on the two men that had attacked you.

“You were right.”

Frank’s head instantly snapped over in your direction, and his thick brows rose up his forehead slightly in bewilderment.

“‘Scuse me?”

“Cavella and Walker were in the Navy.”

Holding out your phone for Frank to see, you showed him the article you were currently reading on your phone that had a picture of the two men in their Naval uniform. Frank seemed to completely ignore your comment and was looking at you instead of the screen.

“You mind repeatin’ that?”

“I said Cav-”

“Nah, what you said before that ‘bout me bein’ right.”

As you caught the delighted smirk that tugged at the edge of Frank’s mouth, you rolled your eyes playfully and shook your head with a soft laugh, returning your attention to the article.

“Shut up, I tell you when you’re right.”

“Yeah, only after I gotta fix that bratty attitude of yours. The other ninety nine percent of the time, you gotta fight with me ‘bout every goddamn little thing.”

“Don’t be so fun to argue with, and I’ll stop.”

Lighty shrugging your shoulders with a faint mischievous grin on your lips, Frank shook his head and let out a dry scoff in response.

“Ya’know, you remind me of another hot-headed smartass I know.”

“Your other favorite person?”

“He’s the fuckin’ Devil, and a goddamn pain in my ass. Hell of a lawyer, though. You oughta think ‘bout switchin’ professions and arguin’ for a livin’. Think you could give even him a run for his money.”

For some reason that made you laugh loudly. The kind of carefree laugh where you throw your head back like a little kid, eyes crinkling, stomach aching with pure joy. Frank was the first person to make you laugh like that in a long time.

“I’m perfectly happy where I’m at. Besides, I’m pretty sure I would be disbarred within the first hour. I don’t think you’re allowed to tell the opposing court to go fuck themselves when they say something out of pocket.”

“Pretty sure you ain’t allowed to throw shit at ‘em either.”

Turning your head to glare playfully over at Frank, he returned it instantly with a challenging arch of his dark brow. You couldn’t fight the grin that slowly stretched across your lips seeing the faux serious look on his face.

“I threw a pillow at you.”

“Two pillows. Hard as hell, too.”

“I had no idea you were so sensitive.”

“I’m fuckin’ delicate, goddamn it.”

The mock expression of offense on Frank’s face coupled with the serious tone of his voice made you double over with laughter. He couldn’t seem to keep his composure either, and he began to laugh along with you. Shaking your head slowly, you waved your hand at him dismissively and turned your attention back to your phone.

“Okay, I’m trying to solve a case here. Stop distracting me. I have more than two pillows in my arsenal right now.”

“That a threat?”

“It’s a promise, Castle.”

“I had no idea you were so ruthless.”

Frank grumbled quietly under his breath as he looked through the stack of papers with the ghost of a smile on his lips while you softly laughed, his dark eyes scanning the pages for anything either of you might have missed. 

As you looked through the documents Ellison had emailed you about Fortis Allied, perplexity creased in the middle of your forehead the more you looked through each page.

“It’s not a real company.”

“What?”

“Fortis Allied. It’s…it’s like a shell company. It’s just a front. And it’s owned by…”

As you read the signature on one of the forms you were looking at, your confusion melted into an expression of cognizance. Enlarging the signature, you turned to show your screen to Frank, and his eyes narrowed slightly as he read the letters, before his face shifted into a look of indignation.

“Son of a bitch.”

Owned and operated by Nicolas Cavella.

Before either of you could say anything, Frank’s phone started to ring. He glanced down at and read the name flashing across the screen, giving you a quick glance before flipping it open to answer.

“Yeah?”

He stood up and walked over towards the window, leaning against the wall with his back to you. Curiosity got the better of you, and your eyes fixated on him as you watched him intently.

“Been takin’ care of somethin’. What do ya need?” His voice sounded a little rougher than usual, and you caught the way he tensed slightly and watched as his eyes flickered over at you over his shoulder. You arched one of your brows silently, as if asking him who he was talking to and what was going on.

“Yeah…I know. Cause I turned ‘em off. You know why, Bill. Yeah, she’s fine.”

Billy.

It abruptly dawned on you that you weren’t sure if Frank had told Billy what happened. He was technically supposed to be with Steven right now. Where did Billy think Frank was? What had Frank told him? Why wasn’t Frank letting him help?

In the midst of your chaotic inner monologue, Frank’s head dropped between his shoulders for a moment and he let out a heavy exhale before turning to stare over at you with an unreadable expression.

“She’s with me.”

The way Frank said that sent a shiver cascading down your spine, and the room suddenly felt twenty degrees hotter. You watched as he lightly clenched his jaw and nodded, as if Billy were in the room and not on the other end of the line.

“Be there in an hour.”

Without another word, Frank snapped his phone shut, and you watched him inquisitively.

“What was that about?”

“I gotta go check in with Bill. That trustfund asshole is throwin’ a fit ‘bout me not bein’ ‘round.”

While Frank started to gather his wallet and his gun, you quickly got down from the bed, feeling your pulse start to quicken at the thought of him leaving.

“Wait, I thought Steven didn’t want you around?”

“And I didn’t wanna be ‘round, but I guess you gettin’ kidnapped and two cops gettin’ shot spooked ‘em. I won’t be gone long.”

Before Frank could take another step, you grabbed your bag and started to gather up all the paperwork back into the folder.

“I’m coming.”

Frank paused while reaching for his black denim jacket. He let out a deep exhale as she shook his head and motioned towards the bed for you to sit.

“It ain’t safe for you to be in the city right now. Just stay here and I’ll be-”

“Frank, we already talked about this. I’m safer with you, okay?”

“It’s only an hour away-”

“I don’t care if it’s five minutes down the street, I don’t want to be without you.”

Alone. You had meant to say, ‘I don’t want to be alone’. But the words had already left your lips, and Frank was already staring at you with that one look in his eyes that you could never seem to decode. He didn’t hesitate like he did when you asked to come on the stakeout with him. He walked over towards the door of the hotel room and opened it, gesturing with his head for you to follow him, and before you knew it, the New York City skyline was coming into view.

»»———　　———««

When Frank pulled up to the Anvil office and put his truck in park, he turned his head to look at you with a somewhat stern gaze.

“Just stay in the truck, alright? Won’t be long.”

“Okay.”

For a minute, Frank’s thick brows knit together before they rose up his forehead an inch, like he was shocked you simply agreed instead of arguing with him about coming in. He eyed you warily for another moment before letting out a quiet grunt and getting out, closing the driver side door behind himself. While you watched him march up the front steps of Anvil, it was incredibly amusing to see how many people rushed to get out of his way. You weren’t sure if it was because they knew him and knew to stay out of his way, or if it was because of his physical stature and the permanent broody look etched onto his sharp features. Either way, you couldn’t help but laugh.

While you sat there in the truck looking through your phone, you noticed that there was a red notification dot lingering over your voice notes app. Clicking on the app curiously, you were met with an error message that read “Failed to capture full recording”. Immediately you were puzzled, and then you noticed that your last recording was over four hours. When you checked the date and saw it was from three days ago, a soft gasp left your lips.

You had never stopped the recording with Walker and Cavella.

Your phone must have just kept recording until it eventually died. With everything that had happened the past three days, you had almost forgotten about the recording entirely. Pressing the play button, you turned up the volume and listened to the playback.

The sound of glass shattering and bullets flying along with your own panicked scream had you wincing and pulling the phone away from your ear. The sounds of one of the most traumatic nights of your life had your stomach twisting into anxious knots, and you felt the phantom pain in your bandaged hand of glass slicing it open all over again. But just as you were about to turn it off, something caught your attention and made your ears perk up.

Rewinding the recording a few seconds, you pressed play again.

“Pr…we…ot…fuc…lem.”

The sound of bullets being fired in the background made it difficult to make out the words. You rewound it a few seconds and played it again, furrowing your brows as you listened intently.

“Pr…we..got..fuc…problem.”

After quickly downloading one of those music recording apps on your phone, you imported the clip from the voice memo and tried to figure out how to isolate the audio to where you could hear it better. As you pressed play this time and listened, you could hear Cavella’s frantic shouting clear as day, and his words made your blood run cold.

“Price, we got a fucking problem!”

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[bullet-prooflove]

First kiss with Alden

Tagging: @kmc1989 @sarakafarrah @caffeinatedwoman @elefrog25-blog

You don’t realise that Alden’s courting you, not at first. The dinners start off as a thing between colleagues to vent and discuss the challenges of being in a leadership role. He’d been trying to negotiate muddied waters with Nick Torres and came to you looking for ideas because of the nature of the work you do.

“You’re good at getting people to talk, at making them feel comfortable enough to open up, maybe you can give me a few pointers.” He’d said as the two of you shared a coffee in the breakroom. “I’m at my wit’s end with him.”

“I’ve got a couple of ideas, things I use for difficult witnesses.” You’d told him as you glanced at your watch and sighed. “I don’t have the time right now…”

“There’s this great Portuguese place I’ve been dying to try out.” Alden says with an enthusiasm you envy. Alden Parker and his pastries are legendary around the office. When he first arrived it was suspected to be some form of mind game “Perhaps you can meet me there, we can grab a couple of drinks, maybe a bite and you can help me figure out what to do about Torres.”

The first part of the night is spend discussing strategy. You work with people in trauma on a daily basis, it isn’t hard to recognise it in Nick Torres. You give Alden a little insight into Nick’s history before you lay out a few techniques you’ve had success with in the past. It segues after that into other topics, books you’ve read, the music you love, the fact you have this weird thing for plush lobsters.

“It’s something about the little claws.” You tell him, your hand mimicking the pincer as he peppers you with questions about this revelation. “My niece buys me one every Christmas. It helps that they live in Maine so there’s an abundance of choice.”

He has the same thing with birds, he explains. He still isn’t allowed in a certain national park because he climbed a fence he wasn’t supposed to in order to snap a picture. It’s what started his feud with the Park Service.

He puts you in a cab at the end of the night with the promise to feedback how it goes with Nick. It goes from there after that, dinner becomes a weekly thing, something you look forward to throughout the week because Alden knows all the best places to eat and he’s excellent company.

It’s the night he walks you home that things change. The back of your hand brushed against his, shoulders nudging. There’s this chemistry between the two of you, a connection. It’s been happening for a while now, the little touches that feel like electricity, the heated looks. You can’t stop thinking about how good his hands would feel on your body, what it would be like to undress him.

When he says goodbye, your hand captures his, drawing him back. You can see the surprise in his eyes but you can also see the yearning, the want. Your fingers chase up the lapels of his jacket as you raise up on tip toes and press your mouth to his.

That kiss…

It’s everything.

It’s fire and it’s passion, everything you’d been missing throughout the duration of your marriage. It awakens something in you, something wild, something reckless. You need him, his mouth on your skin, the scrape of his beard between your thighs. You’ve fantasied about this man for weeks and now it’s time for the reckoning.

“Come upstairs.” You request and Alden, he can’t resist.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[mint-yooxgi]

Indulgence - Yandere!Fallen Angel!Hongjoong

Yandere AU & Fallen Angel AU - First Person POV

Genre: Mature, Smutty Themes, Internal Monologue

Pairing: Hongjoong X Implied Chubby!Fem!Reader

Words: 2,038

Warnings: Religious themes and imagery, the typical angel/demon bs, heavy sexual themes: masturbation, voyerism. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: Ngl, this was way darker in my head lmaooo. Anyways, Feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!~

The Twelfth of The Feral Drabbles

Really? Broad daylight? You certainly are a wild one, aren’t you? Maybe that’s why I love you so much.

You know, it hasn’t been easy since the fall, but you have truly made the pain I first experienced worthwhile. I’ll even let you in on a little secret…

I fell because of you.

You: you’re captivating, did you know that? I’m not easily impressed, but there’s just something about you that drew me in from the very first moment I laid my eyes upon you. One of His creations that puts even the most beautiful of us to shame. You should be protected, and kept away from those unworthy to gaze upon you.

After all, I’ve always been taught: nothing less for the best!

I will keep you safe. I will worship you like you clearly deserve. You need me, just as I need you. After all, I no longer have to worry about those stupid morals or duties down here. Only you.

From my experience, humans tend to… indulge in their more primal desires at night, but you? Anyone could look into your room right now and see what it is that you’re doing. Really, you’re lucky I’m here to make sure that that doesn’t happen. No one else can see the way your hands trace over such delicate curves. No one else deserves to watch as your chest stutters with every hitch in your breath.

I only wish it were me in that room making you breathless instead.

One of the various reasons I fell, My Beloved, was due to my desire for you. You make it increasingly hard to control myself around you, not that I’ve ever seemed to have any sense of control around you to begin with. I’ve long since ached to feel your touch on me, to know what those hands feel like tugging on my hair, cupping my face so tenderly, and maybe even squeezing my ass…

Well, you get the point.

I want you, and I will do everything in my power - or rather, with the power that still remains inside of me - to make you mine.

I’ve truly never given much thought to indulgences before- no, wait, that’s a lie. I promised myself I would stop lying to you. You deserve my truth, and only my truth. You’re the only one that does. Everyone else can go visit Uncle Luci downstairs for all I care. You are the only one who matters to me now.

Anyways, I digress… Indulgence. What a strange word. To even so much as imply that basic wants and necessities are something to indulge in is completely abhorrent. Every person’s needs - angels, demons, humans - are different, and to act like an indulgence for one is completely natural for another defeats the purpose.

My brothers down below revel in the more sinister indulgences, while those stupid, ‘holier-than-thou’ chickens I once belonged to would shun them, even though the majority of us would do the same damn things. Isn’t it interesting, Beloved, that one is revered while the other is feared? What makes demons worse than angels for doing the same, horrific things?

Ah, but enough about my family trauma… Let me now focus on you.

Oh, I suppose in my tangent, I zoned out for a little there. You’ve certainly been busy in that time, not that I’m complaining. 

No. Never. I could never fault you for anything.

Unless you tried to run from me. Or you decided to fall in love with another. Or you wanted to leave me.

Okay, so just don’t do anything bad, and we’ll live- what do you humans like to call it again? Oh, ‘Happily Ever After.’

Really, I’m just lucky that you decided to move out to the countryside. You don’t have many neighbours, but really, Beloved, you never know what kind of monsters can be lurking in the shadows. Fear not, for I am here to watch over you. Always.

And gaze upon you, I do… 

Such beauty…

Such marvellous wonder…

Look at how those beautiful thighs part, practically begging for me to be between them right this very moment. Look at the way your legs tremble, and you’ve still yet to touch that gorgeous cunt of yours.

It’s a shame really. I should be the one giving you such sweet release. You shouldn’t have to do this on your own.

No! Don’t cover your mouth with your hand! Let me hear you!

Oh my… That was close… I almost smashed my hand through your window, Beloved. Do you see what you do to me? I told you I can hardly control myself around you, but you can’t blame me. You just have such a strong affect on me…

Such a perfect scene spread out before me, and you want to taint it by muffling your sounds? What am I supposed to do with myself if I can’t hear what you sound like whimpering and whining for me? How is that fair?

I want to know everything about you. I want to consume you in the best of ways, just as you have enraptured me with your very soul. Let it shine beside my own, a brilliant white to contrast my now scorched wings. Wings that now brand me as a Fallen with their blackened feathers.

Black feathers are meant to be a sign of shame amongst my kind, but all I can feel is pride. You have given me hope for a new life, and I would fall all over again if it meant spending even one second with you.

I love you, My Beloved, and nothing will ever change that.

So, please, won’t you open up to me?

Yes… That’s it, Beautiful, just like that. Cup those gorgeous breasts for me. Imagine that those are my hands holding you so. Feel my fingers pinching your nipples, my tongue flicking against your skin.

How I long for the day where I can finally touch you. I want to be able to bring you to new heights, and show you pleasures that you’ve never even dreamed about. You should be taken care of with the utmost attention, and I promise you that that is what I’ll do. I’ll take my time worshipping every dip, every curve of that wondrous body of yours. I’ll make you sigh my name like a prayer, nothing but the most intricate of praises delegated unto you from my lips.

Fuck- spread those legs for me. Let me see all of you in your glory. Let me discover my own personal heaven on earth in you.

My Beloved… is this all for me? Is the way your essence drips out of you because you long for this, too? It must be. There’s no other that could make you this wet, no other that could have you trembling just from the mere thought of them and what they could do to you.

I’m glad to know I’m not the only one able to affect the other like this…

Oh, Beloved, you really are putting on a show just for me! It’s like you can read my mind!

Perhaps… No. I shouldn’t be so bold.

Then again, after everything that’s happened, why shouldn’t I be? I have long since submitted to the fact that I am yours, and you are mine. There’s no doubt about it, not when I feel this strongly for you.

I must get closer, this glass separating me from you is burdensome. I need to see you, unobstructed. I need to be able to hear your every sound, unfiltered.

I suppose I should be grateful for my wings now, the black blends right in to the shadows my brothers downstairs revel above all else. I’ll admit, I’m not quite used to hiding in corners. We angels typical love standing out, but for now, I’ll lie in wait. It’s much better for the both of us this way. Besides, you wouldn’t be able to see me even if you tried.

Oh, Beloved, look at you… How the mere sight of you, hand teasing at that gorgeous pussy, nearly brings me to my knees. The way your lips are parted as little breaths escape you while your eyes flutter shut and your nose scrunches is the most captivating sight I have ever had the pleasure to behold.

My only wish is that you could see the effect you have on me. Like you, my whole body is heating. My hands tremble, and my legs shake. Hell, even my wings cannot help but flutter in anticipation as I sneak my own hand down the front of my body. I’ll allow myself the pleasure of touching myself in time with you. I’ve only ever dreamed about it a countless amount of times before, anyways.

Dearly Beloved, won’t you give in to yourself? Give in to any and every desire you’re currently thinking about.

Touch yourself for me…

That’s it, Beloved, let me hear the wet drag of your fingers through that dripping cunt. I want to drown in your pleasure with you, don’t hold back.

Now I see why you covered your hand with your mouth…

It truly is hard to keep quiet when there’s such a temptation spread out before oneself. You are the greatest temptation I have ever known, and if I didn’t stifle my moan just now, you would have know that someone else is in the room with you. Well, we can’t have that, now, can we? You’d get scared and stop what you’re doing, and I wouldn’t be able to comfort you when you needed me most.

Fuck- there is no sound more holy than the breathless way you whine from such a simple touch.

Does that feel good, My Beloved? Are your fingers enough, circling over that delicate little clit of yours? Wouldn’t you rather feel mine? What about my tongue? You’d let me have a taste of that intoxicating nectar that flows from your pretty cunt, right? You’d let me get lost in you for however long I’d like? I’ll always give you everything you could ever want, My Beloved. My fingers, my tongue, my cock. Everything.

All that I am, is yours, Beloved. I hope when the time comes, you can say the same for me.

Oh, Beloved… do you know how fucking sexy you are when you moan like that? Do you know how it makes my heart stutter to hear you get lost to your own pleasure; how my cock aches for you? You must, otherwise you wouldn’t be tempting me like this.

I’m honestly embarrassed by how close I am already. I’ll have to work on that if we are to make love all night long when the time comes. And it will. I will make damn sure of it.

For now, why don’t you come for me? Rub that little clit, and come for me. Don’t hold back now, I want to see you. In all of your raw glory.

Yes, yes, yes, that’s it! Don’t stop now, Beloved. Let me hear you scream for me!

Fuck- I can practically taste you on my tongue already… look at that gorgeous pussy, just fucking fluttering in bliss. 

So beautiful, and all mine.

Wait a second… I taste… blood.

Oh, I suppose I bit into my hand to keep myself quiet while I came with you. No worries, I’ll heal in the blink of an eye. Getting to see you come apart like that for me, though… priceless.

I wish I could stay, but I think one of my wings knocked into one of your picture frames on the wall, and I think you heard it despite the blissful haze that still clouds your mind. The last thing I want is to get caught like this. It’s not proper of me.

Really, what would you think?

I hope you didn’t catch that soft giggle of mine as I left your room, My Beloved, and I certainly hope you don’t discover any of my feathers I may or may not have left behind for you. If that’s that case, and you finally learn of my existence, my devotion to you… well, whatever on earth would I do?

[replicabetweenblogs]

FIRST POST-HIATUS WRITING UPDATE WOOHOOO. ALSO I NEED Y'ALLS HELP.

30.12.2024 // this is not a chapter update yet! As promised before, an update to reveal what I have been up to regarding RBU.

;-; catching up on age old asks that got thrown into my inbox while I was away on hiatus and. Yes- always made me smile reading those, but also made me quite sad for leaving the story at such a cliffhanger.

All the people hoping for a happy ending with the ROs do make me giggle- all those people pointing out all the angst make me feel quite evil for the stuff I have written down in chapter 9 already. ANYWAY!! the update!

A few lill snippets because why not.

over the past years of total and utter silence with this project gone through a never-ending hiatus, I have gotten alotta more confident(yay) yet no-where to put these skills of mine into, as my struggle in real life right now is the fact that I can’t find a proper game design job where I can flourish - I decided to try and keep said skills sharp and fresh by writing stories. so here we are again. I have been quite busy rewriting and re-defining the overarching story, and I cannot wait to have everyone see the eventual endings.

Kept it all hush hush not wanting to come back with nothing- hence the ask compilation above c:<

the chapter is going to be a BIG one. I am at 91k words, fully written out and basically done aside from one (1) path remaining. WOOHOOOO NEARLY THERE :D running towards the finish line, hence the teaser. Anyway --

FEEDBACK FORM, TEASER, REQUEST FOR EDITOR UNDER CUT!

***Feedback form! Help me reach the finish line!!***

I need your help c: for anyone who still has their saves or new players who have reached the end of chapter 8, I like to know what your stats are! I require this for proper balancing in chapter 9 as this is the chapter where the story gets split into many paths depending on some of those questions. Thank you in advance!!

what can you expect from the next update, coming up SOON?

91k wordcount so far (total, all branches, excluding code)

19k words for one single run

Romance lock-ins with Ash and Ha

consequences of your past major decisions/Character personality traits starting to finally catch up by taking the players onto whole different branches and locations altogether.

trigger warnings: implied mental and physical torture, determined character deaths

Some additional flashback sequences across chapters 6, 7 and 8 to some see things from companions' povs

The story of RBU is dark. this game has a dozen "bad" endings planned, only having one "good" ending for each individual Character/MC and main story in general. It's not for just the sake of drama and shock value, as I want this game to reach a very specific "lesson" which effect will be taken away if everything ended in a too-good-to-be-true way. Just a gentle warning!

main story lock-in!! Coded out some branches already for the next chapters. Chapter 10 will be the end of part 2, and part 3 will be more of a 2-chapter endgame with a chapter dedicated to an epilogue afterward. So we are really getting close to the end if I keep this up, and will stop updating the public link once reaching part 3. Will be making an announcement for private betas by then probably, but that'd be like... when I am on my deathbed at the age of 92, most likely.

I really hope you guys will be enjoying the absurdly long chapter. Did a few bold moves regarding the direction the story is going towards which I had been planning and iterating for since the very start of RBU regarding final revelations, hoping some puzzle pieces will be satisfyingly falling into place.

RBU is really about regret and acceptance regarding our decisions and mistakes, and how different types of people deal with it (badly).. so there are no "good" or "bad" endings or choices, really. BUT there is always a "worse" and "worst" so uh. Beware :')

Looking for a paid/voluntary editor!!

To help with the reconstruction of weird sentences, taking out grammar mistakes, eliminating the bad spelling, and bonking teenage-firefly on the head for her bad storytelling. plus points if you could help with the phasing even, perhaps like some kind of a beta reader- yet not too focused on it right now, as I'm just wanting to make the old chapters flow nicer.

shoot me a message if you are wanting to help out! Either on the forums, over here, or shoot me a DM! as I am @fireflyy on the official COG discord server.

For the sake of consistency, I am hoping to get help from one available editor for now. so please do let me know of your experiences if you are wanting to help out!!

You shall be credited within RBU's main screen

See you all soon <3 and a happy new year!!

[sbdskate]

Laws Of Attraction (Part 5) - DR x lawyer!fem!reader

Summary: McLaren is in breach of contract, dr3 hires a lawyer to deal with the aftermath. Tropes ensue. Slow burn. Enemies(kind of) -> Friends/colleagues -> Lovers

Pairing: lawyer!fem!reader x Daniel Ricciardo

Warnings: language, angst, mature themes

Word Count: 4,371

A/N: In a shocking turn of events, this is in fact not the last part. I really wanted to put something out there this week but I’m still not quite finished with the last bit of the story. That being said, I think I found a good break point. I’m not even going to jinx myself by saying the next part is going to be the last, so TBD. Thank you again for your support. Please don’t be a ghost reader, and please feel free to comment or DM with any positive or constructive feedback. Enjoy!  

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Epilogue 1

You woke up the next morning feeling refreshed. Perhaps that was your fatal flaw all along. The entire time you spent trying and failing to suppress and divert your feelings for the driver, you would have been better served leaning into them and letting them go in a controlled space.  

In clearing the air with Daniel, you felt a weight lifted. You were still shocked by the revelation that the feelings were mutual at least in part, but there was comfort and stability in the understanding that had been reached. The lightness allowed you to finally stand in your confidence and share in the excitement of the next phase of negotiations. The season would be over in less than a month, with only two races left including Brazil. You were grateful for the light at the end of the tunnel.

You discreetly made your way to Red Bull hospitality on Thursday morning, bright and early in Sao Paolo before the chaos of media day began. There was only an admin there who greeted you showed you around. You made yourself comfortable in the empty kitchen area, where it was immediately obvious the difference in resources. It felt opulent yet comforting, especially compared to the aggressive orange and sparse theme of McLaren. Then again, spending any excessive time around McLaren hospitality or their garage nowadays just made you depressed and resentful.

It was early, even for you, and you desperately needed to caffeinate before the meeting. You saw the coffee machine, but no mugs in sight. You began opening drawers and cupboards in search of a vessel, cursing Christian Horner in your head. You finally found them, but of course they were on one of the upper shelves. You strained your body to extend as far as it would go, everything you needed just out of reach. While adjusting your balance on your tiptoes, you felt a warm body press against you and a shadow of an arm reaching over you. You closed your eyes and sharply inhaled, relishing the pressure on your back and the smell of familiar cologne. You opened your eyes again when he peeled away from you.

“I think you were looking for this?” Daniel handed you a mug. You took it, feeling your fingers brush again. The epiphany you had earlier was dispelled in an instant. Engaging in self pleasure may have acted as a momentary release, but it did not subdue the feelings that had taken firm root over the last few months. Masturbation was simply a light pruning for the sturdy tree that now grew in your garden that refused to be moved by earthquakes or hurricanes.   

“I could’ve gotten it,” you grumbled avoiding eye contact. You had told yourself you had no reason to feel awkward about the other night, but you felt yourself shrinking in his presence nonetheless. His voice went up several decibels and he batted his eyes to mock you.

“Good morning, Daniel! Thanks so much for helping me! Good morning to you too, no problem, so happy I could help.” You rolled your eyes.  

“Good morning. I promise I’ll be nicer in ten minutes once I’ve had my coffee.” You haphazardly raised your empty mug. He raised his hands and backed away, a small smirk on his face, but did not leave. He found a seat elsewhere in the kitchen, and you felt his eyes on your back as you went about your business.

You locked eyes when you turned around with a full cup. He innocently smiled and waved, while you forced an aggressive smile back. Leaning against the counter, you took a few sips of coffee without breaking eye contact. After a few minutes you joined him.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi.”

“Are you done being a cunt?”

“Are you done being a douche canoe?” He snorted.

“I guess not.”

“Likewise.” You paused. “Sorry. I wasn’t expecting you to be here so early before the meeting.”

“Yeah, I don’t know. Me neither. I’m excited, I think. And a little nervous.” He looked like a child on his first day of school, fidgety and unable to contain the energy requiring release. He couldn’t help the growing smile on his face. It was contagious, and you quickly found yourself smiling too.

“You should be – excited! Not nervous,” you quickly clarified. He looked down while he continued to bounce his knee.

“What if I make the wrong choice again?” he timidly whispered, though it could have been a question directed at you or the universe. It was no secret that many thought him leaving Red Bull in 2018 was the worst professional decision Daniel Ricciardo ever made, his short stint with Renault followed by his experience with McLaren as evidence. However, hindsight is 20/20. Perhaps he had too much hubris at the time, but he very validly thought he was being forced into a second driver position. How could he have known the series of unfortunate events that would follow? You did not fight the urge to hold his hand this time, gently placing yours on top of his in the middle of the table as you leaned in.

“There is no wrong choice this time,” you whispered back.

You truly believed that Daniel was in a win-win situation. Mercedes was a well-oiled, professional machine. The relationship there would be a symbiotic one. You thought they could help ground and focus Daniel, while Daniel could improve their public image and perhaps allow them to shed their somewhat stuffy, mechanical persona. Moreover, it would represent a clean slate with a new team. Conversely, you couldn’t deny how poetic a return to Red Bull would be. The place where Daniel spent so many years at the beginning of his career, it would be a momentous homecoming.

The Red Bull kitchen was quiet and empty. He looked at your hand. You were about to pull away but he lightly took hold of it before you could.

“Thanks,” he said in a soft voice to match the soft smile that graced his features.

“Of course. You know I’m always here for you.”

“I know.” He lazily rubbed your fingers with his thumb.

“Do you want to go over anything before the meeting?” You feebly attempted to redirect the conversation to be more professional, but you both knew there was no real effort as neither of you moved.

“Not really. I feel good this time.”

You remained in comfortable silence for a beat, lost in the exchange of energy that passed through one another. Your phone buzzed, pulling you away from the moment temporarily. Your face fell slightly. He looked at you expectantly.

“Well, you’re stuck with me today. The partner’s tied up with something.” You raised your gaze to meet his, searching for some kind of approval. He feigned distress.

“Oh no, what will I do? You’ve only handled 70% of this whole process on your own.” You squinted, skeptical of his confirmation.

“You trust a meager, low level associate to handle the entire trajectory of your future?”

“At this point, I trust you with my life.”

It was hard to tell whether he was being overdramatic for comedic effect or genuine. Foot steps in the distance pulled you from your trance, your hands quickly recoiling. With his back to the entry, he didn’t miss the chance to give you a wink and a smile that made you want to melt into the floor. Instead, you rolled your eyes in response but your bashful smile gave you away. You stood up when you saw your expected hosts enter.

“My two favorite people!”

“Good morning, Christian. I appreciate it, but you know flattery doesn’t work with me,” you quipped as you shook hands. When he wasn’t pissing off the rest of the grid, Christian really was quite the charmer when he wanted to be.

“On the contrary, it will get you everywhere.” The smile didn’t leave his face when he turned to Daniel, arms wide open. Their energy was well matched as they embraced in a warm hug. As happy as the driver was last week with his points finish, he seemed immensely more comfortable now.

When they separated, Christian looked at you again.

“What is this? Coffee and no Red Bull?” he teased.

“Sorry, had a bad experience in law school with energy drinks I’m afraid. Nothing personal. Though I was beginning to wonder whether the coffee machine was for decoration only.”

“They hide the mugs on purpose,” Daniel chimed in. Given the dimply smile and his tone, you would think he was joking but knew he was absolutely telling the truth.   

“He leaves for four years, comes back, and thinks he owns the place and can share company secrets.”

You had seen it several times now, but it amazed you how easy their relationship seemed. Although technically Mercedes was not out of the question, you already knew where Daniel’s heart was. It was now just a matter of ironing out the details.

Christian and the Red Bull lawyer joined you at the table in the kitchen. It was a nice change of setting, the informality of it made the weight of the discussion feel a bit lighter. The process with them was easy, especially compared to McLaren and even Mercedes. While it was slightly less formal, at all times you felt respected. Not once did anyone assume you were an admin or paralegal, which admittedly is a low bar. But even beyond that, especially with the partner’s absence, you were never treated as a subordinate and your professional capabilities were never called into question. Of course this process was not about you, but in your opinion you believed choice of outside counsel was an extension of the type of work environment your client could expect. Red Bull had been a pleasant surprise in this respect.

It was all smiles when you exchanged handshakes as you parted ways. You and Daniel were shown out the back door to avoid a few media that had just started to arrive at the paddock. You walked behind the teams’ hospitality stations so that you could join the main entry of the paddock without raising suspicion.

“So. How do you think it went?” you casually asked. You didn’t want your own opinion to taint whatever his genuine response may be.

“Honestly… I think it went really well.” The dimply smile you had become so fond of returned to his face.

“Honestly… me too.” You allowed yourself to show your enthusiasm, feeling yourself break into a wide grin. Away and hidden from the main walk of the paddock, he grabbed your hands and you both quietly squealed and jumped up and down. After a few seconds when you stopped and regained composure, he asked:

“So, what’s next?”

“Well, that depends on you. If you think you’re ready to pull the trigger with Red Bull, you let me know ASAP and assuming we’ve already nixed any dealbreakers that would’ve been in their offer, we go through everything again with a fine-tooth comb, see if they’re able to come up on anything and sign.”

“And Mercedes?”

“We keep them in play until everything is in writing and executed. No need to have a PR disaster like Alpine.” You were, of course, referring to the unfortunate circumstances of Alpine prematurely announcing Oscar Piastri as their second driver for 2023. He chuckled as you continued walking towards McLaren. You could hear the hustle and bustle from the press getting louder as more people began to arrive. He paused just before you were about to turn the corner and enter the circus.

“I want to be at Red Bull,” he said definitively. You smiled.

“Ok then. I’ll get to work.” He gave you an encouraging fist bump before taking a deep breath, knowing this would be the last bit of downtime you both had for the rest of the weekend, reluctant to leave the nest of the quiet sanctuary you shared just behind the organized chaos.

“Shall we?”

You sighed. “No time better than the present.”

-

Brazil was an eventful whirlwind. It was no surprise to you that Daniel continued to skillfully navigate an onslaught of questions about his future in the sport on press day and the rest of the weekend. On Saturday, the two of you gossiped excitedly when Kevin Magnussen got pole in qualifying despite Daniel’s own mediocre performance. Obviously the sport was cut throat, but everyone couldn’t help but root for the Haas underdog. There was a buzz during the sprint, Daniel just out of reach of the points in p11. Unfortunately, the race itself ended up resulting in a DNF for both McLaren boys. With each day of events, Daniel’s mood seemed to sour despite the positive steps being taken behind the scenes. Of course DNF-ing on what could be his second to last race ever is not what anyone wanted. However, while you sympathized for Daniel, that’s not what you were focused on. There was the celebration of George’s first win with Lewis also on the podium, but then there was the internal team drama you watched unfold at Red Bull.  

You anxiously waited out the post-race interview process so that you could update your client. If there was any question on what the path forward was before, it became crystal clear today.

As he walked through the paddock eager to get to his drivers room for some solitude, he saw you practically bouncing on your toes. He was a little annoyed to see you in such high spirits after an abysmal race, but it also made him relax a bit.

“I should DNF more often if it makes you this happy,” he dryly joked as he approached you. You should have been used to this song and dance by now. He makes a questionably flirtatious comment, you blush and get flustered, and after a bit of fumbling you redirect course and get back to business. You knew he wouldn’t change his behavior, no matter how many times you halfheartedly scolded or ignored him. It shouldn’t make you flustered any more, but there was excitement in not knowing whether there was any truth behind it. And as much as you hated to admit it, you liked it. But that was before your conversation in Mexico, where you divulged so much about your own inner turmoil. You had made yourself vulnerable. After that, you had assumed he would stop out of respect. What was a thrill before now felt like a cruel joke at your expense.

“Very funny,” you deadpanned. “I have some important news to share with you, can we go somewhere private to discuss?”

“You’re not going to buy me dinner first?” He had said this before, but it wasn’t landing like it used to.

“You’re going to have to buy yourself a new lawyer if you keep this act up.” For someone who didn’t finish the race, he was being awfully cocky today. And by goodness, did it make you feel things.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re the one who said you wanted to be alone with me -”

“Daniel.” He usually stopped after the first rebuttal.

“Not that I’m mad at it-“

Your previous excitement began to sour in your mouth as your heartbeat quickened. You grabbed his wrist and dragged him through McLaren hospitality to his drivers room. You didn’t care who saw or what it looked like. You practically pushed him in and shut the door behind you. His eyes widened as you got in his face.

“Oh shit, is this actually happening?” he began to pull at his shirt.

“What?! No. Shut up. What is wrong with you today?”

“Oh come on, I was just joking! You know I always do this.”

“No.” You pushed your pointer finger into his chest. “Today, you’re being an ass. I don’t know if this is you acting out after a shitty race or what, but pull it together. You are not a 21 year old frat boy, you’re a 33 year old world class athlete with a fully developed frontal lobe - who is now wasting my time, and rest assured, I am billing you for it. And if you stopped your inappropriate jokes for two fucking seconds and let me do my job, I would have told you that there’s a solid chance you can be on the grid in 2024 in a fucking Red Bull. Thought you might want to know.”

You had backed him into a wall and were inches away from his face, huffing and puffing. You were so mad, that one man could make you so infuriated and horny at the same time. His eyes were still the size of dinner plates, but his expression had fallen slightly. It was his turn to blush. He had been surrounded by yes-men for so long, he couldn’t remember the last time he had been chastised like this.

“I’m sorry-” You continued, your tone somewhat more even.

“Max wouldn’t let Checo through today despite what it would mean for the driver’s and constructor’s championships because he thinks Checo purposefully sabotaged him during qualifying in Monaco. The girls are fighting which is more bad PR for Red Bull, Checo’s contract is up next year, and if this dynamic continues between the two drivers then there’s a good chance they won’t renew it.”

“That’s great news-” You cut him off again.  

“Am I a joke to you? Because I know you wouldn’t be making these comments if I was a man. I know you thought I was some secretary when we first met, but I really thought I had earned your respect throughout this process.” He looked at you now wearing the pink pantsuit you’d worn on that fateful first day.

“Can I just-”

“I’ve had to deal with so many mediocre men with undeserved self-inflated egos my entire life. I’ve dated them, I’ve been in class with them, I’ve worked with them, I’ve worked for them – especially the last five years at this godforsaken law firm. Lord knows I don’t need another one. I’ve had to work twice as hard and be better than them to prove myself as an equal. And even with all that, no matter what, as soon as I leave the room I’m the punchline of some joke I never asked or wanted to be a part of because I have boobs. Maybe we got off on the wrong foot initially but I really thought you were different. But no-”

One second you were ranting, the next you were cut off by lips crashing into yours. In your fury you missed his warm brown eyes darting between your eyes and your lips. In a flash he had grabbed the lapel of your suit jacket to bring you towards him, your hands landing firmly on his chest. Fireworks flashed behind your eyelids and for a moment you forgot what day it was, where you were, and who you were. You don’t know how long it lasted. You should have pulled away. You definitely shouldn’t have kissed back. But the taste of saline on him from the demands of the day and the scruff of his beard on your chin and cheeks made you want to stay. You smelled his cologne mixed with musk and, what was that, aftershave? Instead, he pulled away first.

You blinked a few times, jaw slack. You brought a hand to your lips, half to make sure they were still there but also for confirmation that you didn’t just hallucinate.

“Sorry, it was the only way I could think to get you to shut up so I could get a word in edgewise. If you’d let me talk, I would say I think you’re the most brilliant person I’ve ever met. You’re smart, witty, funny, and no, it doesn’t hurt that you’re as good looking as I am. You think I give a fuck about billing? I would spend my entire fortune down to nothing if it meant I got to spend more time with you. I’ve known for weeks I wanted to go to Red Bull and I didn’t tell you until three days ago because as excited as I am about figuring out what I’m doing next year, I’m equally dreading it because as soon as I sign that means you leave. When you’re not in the room I only sing your highest praises. So yes, of course I respect you. And I realize, kissing you just now may have proved your point, and I’m sorry about that. And you’re right that I’ve been a cunt today and a lot of this weekend, and I’m sorry about that too.”

There had been very few times in your life where you were left speechless, and this was one of them. It was literally your job to be good with words, and right now they failed you.  

“And I know you’re going to say ‘let’s forget that this ever happened’ and I’ll move on and get back to business, but I can promise you I won’t. I’ll never tell another soul for your sake, because I don’t want you to lose your job, but I refuse to forget this, our conversation in Mexico, or that Sunday in Austin. You’re unforgettable f/n l/n.”

You stood there in silence for a few moments. Your adrenaline was through the roof and your mind was blank. He was clearly looking for a response, yet you had none. You did your best to break the tension.

“Well if your goal was to get me to shut up, you succeeded.”

“Honestly, I’m as shocked as you are,” he said with a small laugh. There was another long pause. “I shouldn’t have said all of that, I’m sorry.” You gave him a knowing smile.

“No you’re not.” He smirked.

“Yeah, not really.” You had become particularly focused on a speck of dirt on the floor, but finally returned his gaze.

“You know nothing can happen,” you whispered. It wasn’t a question, it was a statement of fact that was directed at yourself as much as him. You unsuccessfully tried to hide the disappointment in your voice. He refused to look away from you even when you continued to avoid eye contact.

“Yeah, I know.”

Silence descended again. There was nothing else to say. You realized through your tirade and this whole exchange you had been standing dangerously close to one another, and you hadn’t backed away after the kiss. You could feel his heartbeat on your chest, and you were pretty sure he could hear yours. You separated yourself and tried to pick up whatever pieces of dignity you had left. You straightened out your suit jacket and cleared your throat.

“I’m going to try to add some clauses in the contract for 2024 primary driver placement. They’ll almost certainly come back with red lines to make them conditional, perhaps based on Checo’s performance and/or your own performance in the sim, but Horner loves you so much that I think they’ll be receptive to the idea overall.” Your heart hurt at how crestfallen he looked.

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

“I’ll send you a draft before it goes to Red Bull. You can expect deliverables by tomorrow.”

“Ok.”

“Assuming everything goes smoothly, I anticipate the agreement to be fully executed by Abu Dhabi. Does that sound like a reasonable timeline?”

He was incredulous at how quickly you could shut everything off. He had spilled his heart to you and in return he received merely an acknowledgement before you put an abrupt end to the conversation. You had done it so many times before to a lesser extent that he shouldn’t have been surprised by how quickly your walls went back up, but he somehow thought this time would be different.

“Yeah,” he finally answered. “But… I want to wait until after the race. I don’t want to have to worry about sneaking away in the middle of practice or qualifying.” It was his way of saying he wanted you there for the duration of the race weekend, he had gotten used to your presence over the last three months. Despite whatever this altercation did to your relationship, professional or otherwise, he couldn’t imagine finishing the tumultuous season without you by his side. He hoped you would pick up the subtlety, but it went over your head.

“I don’t know Daniel, Red Bull probably has a million celebratory events immediately afterwards seeing as their driver won the championship and they won the constructor’s. I imagine McLaren also has a bunch of end of season events planned as well that you’ll have to attend.”

“Can we ask if they can spend an extra day in the country?”

“If you want to wait until after the season is over I totally get it, it might just be easier if we try to schedule something at Milton Keynes the following week.” For someone so smart you were also awfully dense. He tried to come up with a logical explanation that you would be willing to go along with.

“I just thought it would be smart to be able to announce this within a few days after the end of the season, where there’s still buzz and interest and before we get too far into winter break. Plus then it would give the team a few days to come up with a press release still within that timeframe.”

You couldn’t argue that such timing would be better publicity for both him and Red Bull.

“Hmm, I suppose you’re right. No promises, but I’ll reach out to Red Bull to see what their schedule is like.”  

He was satisfied with the victory, no matter how small.

“Is there anything else?” The words felt hollow as they left your mouth. He looked away, shaking his head in disbelief.

“No, I guess not,” he said in defeat. You felt terrible. There were so many things you wanted to tell him, but saying them out loud would only serve to stoke the wildfire you so desperately wanted to put out.

“I’ll see you next week in Abu Dhabi,” you said meekly. You left the room, ending the exchange in a stalemate with neither party satisfied.

Taglist: @ravenqueen27 @leslizzle @zendayabelova @eitak-t @chiliwhore @wewoo1233

[unicorncornflakes]

Dark Desire - Modern AU! | Chapter 11

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Paring: Aemond Targaryen x Niece!Reader

Summary: Aemond doesn't know how he feels every time he sees you. Neither do you when you look at him. Your father Aegon has always been absent from your upbringing ever since he divorced your mother. That role has been filled by Aemond until last summer, when everything changed.

Tags: Alternate Universe – Modern/ Setting Emotional Hurt/ Comfort/ Drama & Romance/ Eventual Smut.

Warnings: This fic includes manipulation, violence, death, and inc3st, at some points. Reader has purple eyes and her mother is from Dayne House, the rest is complete free :D

Tag-List (If you wanna be tagged in thi series or all of my work, let me know): @thedamewithabook @afro-hispwriter @chainsawsangel @thetrueblackheart @atherverybest @itsabby15 @boundlessfantasy @partypoison00 @glame @tempo-rary-fix @tssf-imagines @aaaaaamond @imaloserbby @youngcomputerpuppy @aemondsfavouritebastard @cloudroomblog @queenofshinigamis @bluevxnus @wooya1224 @serving-targaryen-realness @darkenchantress @padfooteyes @mariannnavao @moonlightfoxx @jennifer0305 @ammo23 @iloveallmyboys @tempt-ress @bellameshipper @okfashionista @shelbyteller @dahlias-and-marigolds @the-knights-of-ne @bellaisasleep

Author´s note: Pls, enjoy! Feedback, shares and comments are always welcome!

Acknowledgment: To @ammo23 for the brilliant corrections and the wonderull work as beta reader, for all the patience and the love that always shows to this story. Thank you so much :D

Word Count: 5K

"There are certain situations where she doesn't need you ",Helaena spoke harshly after being interrupted by Aemond for the third time while speaking in whispers with her mother. Alicent looked at her son, who was sitting at the kitchen island while his older sister and her mother talked about something that had happened to you, and they didn't want to share it with him. That summer, you were twelve years old. They had both been gossiping about you since Aemond had come home from work and hadn't seen you once, not even in the pool, and that was your favourite part of the house. The place where you would sleep if they let you.

"I don't know what's wrong with her, but she always needs me. She is my little dragon," Aemond replied as Helaena narrowed her eyes in annoyance. Aemond could become too demanding with you when you were at the family home in the summers.

"Believe me, Aemond, I don't think you can help her this time," said her mother as she poured herself a cold tea. It was Alicent's favourite drink, and she could still drink it with sugar back then before the doctor forbade her to do so.

"Why not?" he asked, annoyed, and Helaena jumped up angrily.

"Okay, great. Are you going to get pads at the supermarket, or will you teach her how to put in a tampon?" she blurted out, not wanting to continue arguing with her brother and how nosy he could be when it came to you. Aemond swallowed hard, almost pale. He didn't say anything. "Okay, well, that's what I expected. I'm going to buy the pads myself," Helaena replied, picking up the car keys she had left on the island.

Alicent looked at her son with concern. He seemed to have frozen at such a revelation. The truth is that your grandmother could not stop thinking that it was the worst thing that could have happened to you.

Those things were essential for your grandmother, a moment when you should be with your mother and have her explain things to you. She surely had already done it, but still, she didn't know how you had taken it. You had only gone up to your Aunt Helaena that morning and told her in a whisper, all blushing. Luckily, Aemond was at work at the time, as was Daeron, and your father hadn't been seen returning from last night's revelry. Luckily, you had only had your grandmother as a witness for such an embarrassing moment. You had told your aunt because, according to your mother, if something like that happened to you at your father's house, the most logical option was Helaena. Your mother had explained to you that later it was Alicent who you could inform and that she would understand. Afterwards, if none of them were there, your Uncle Daeron seemed the most sensible of your mother's choices. Aemond was next to last on the list since there was only one option in your mother's head where he would tell you something offensive about the nature of women. Lastly, your father, who your mother knew would not be there present and also would not know how to handle the situation.

And so, with a list of who contact in the event that you started your period  while you were there, your first period had arrived during a summer vacation at your father’s house during a time when your parents had  joint custody. Your mother couldn't imagine a worse scenario, but it had been, and now it was Helaena's turn to take care of something so delicate, much to your aunt's chagrin.

Aemond remained silent, looking at the stone on the island, almost not knowing what to do in this moment. It was clear that this was going to be the last summer you were his little girl, and he couldn't be more horrified. Now you would start talking about boys, putting on makeup, and hanging out with your friends. You would no longer have time for him or to play Scrabble together, much less to stay with him watching TV until late. He felt like a father when he had to say goodbye to that happy period of childhood. And the worst thing was that Aemond didn't think he could say anything to comfort you. It was impossible. What did he know about those things? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. He felt useless saying goodbye to his little soul. The good harmony had ended between the two and…

"Aemond, I don't know what you're thinking, but could you please come upstairs and see if she's okay? She has locked herself in the room and hasn't come out since this morning", his mother informed him, but Aemond just looked at her defiantly.

"And what am I going to say to encourage her?" he asked his mother, almost desperate for the changes that were going to happen in your relationship;  at least inAemond's imagination, they had already happened.

"It is not about you encouraging her. It's about you supporting her," Alicent told him, and Aemond sighed. His mother was right. He should always be there for you. You were his little dragon.

"My stomach hurts", Aemond heard you speak in the room. Just when he went up the stairs and was in front of your door, slightly open, he heard you sob lightly. And he passed his hand over his face in a gesture of disgust. How was he going to deal with that? He preferred a meeting with all the supporters of Daemon's administration. That was easy. This was not. "I just don't feel well, Mom", he heard you say again. Okay, so you were talking to your mom. Through the small opening in the door, Aemond saw that you were lying on the bed, wearing your pyjamas and looking as if you hadn't slept all night. He was worried about seeing you in a bad shape and opened the door. You looked at him as if he was the last person you wanted to see, embarrassed and said a quick goodbye to your mother. "Aemond", you greeted him as he approached the bed to sit next to you while you also sat up in pain next to him on the bed.

"I was wondering if you needed something," he said without looking at you, with the patch off; when you were little, you liked to see him like that. He wondered if you still found him nice or if you were already like the others, but that didn't last long in his mind as a concern. He had to take care of you, he had to protect you, even though he had no idea how to do it.

"Uhm… no, I'm fine," you replied, sitting down next to him. "I've watched the last episode of Samurai Jack, and…" you began, and Aemond smiled at you for continuing to worry, but he quickly changed the subject. His mission was now supposed to be to fill in for Aegon.

"Grandma told me what's wrong with you and... I was wondering if you needed something," he snapped at you, almost regretting what he had said when you made a funeral face, almost like a brutal change in such a small face.

"No, I'm fine," you said in a breath, grabbing your knees, changing your position. Aemond had observed that it was the same position you used when you felt bad, and it was something that really worried him. It wasn't healthy for you to always take that stance.

"Okay, um… Has your mother talked to you about what happens now?" he said, scratching his head, almost remembering the lack of any kind of sex education in his house. He didn't want to be like that, he had realized that he wanted to be there for you.

"What happens now?" you said, almost scared, your eyes widening, and Aemond felt again that he had screwed up.

"Well... about the changes in the body and how babies are made and..." he began listing. You opened your mouth in a gesture of disbelief as if you didn't believe your favourite uncle was capable of talking about such intimate things, not even with you nor with anyone. It almost seemed comical, although you could feel the burden inside him.

"Please, yes, Aemond. Mom has told me all those things," you almost yelled until blushing.

“That´s good” he sighed with relief. A half smile appeared on his face. You would become quite a woman, and he would always be there for you. He imagined you following in his footsteps. He was beginning to accept that what was happening to you was the law of life and that perhaps this new stage would not be so bad. Above all, he thought about it when he saw your face of disgust before a subject as delicate as that one.

"Please, let's never talk about it again because I'm not going to kiss anyone ever, ever", you declared emphatically, hugging your pillow, and Aemond just laughed.

"You say that now, my little dragon," he told you while he got up from the bed with a smile and looked at you with his only good eye while the other one continued static.

"I promise," you said, hugging the pillow even more as if that would ease the pain in some way.

"Don't promise me things you won't be able to keep," he ruffled your hair with a smile. You would always remember such a beautiful smile, so captivating.

"It's true," you told him, convinced. At that moment, your eyes reflected tremendous sorrow, and you spoke with a trembling voice, almost afraid to verbalize what scared you the most in the world. "Tell me that you will continue to love me even if I get older", you said, scared, almost as if you were afraid of losing Aemond because of getting older. You couldn't lose the only person who showed you some affection in your father's house.

"I will always love you, (Y / N)" Aemond sighed, and his heart broke to see you like this. "You will continue to be you, no matter what." He said, trying to reassure you, and he caressed your shoulder in a protective gesture. Aemond would always be the best uncle in the world to you.

"Thank you", you smiled calmly and happily. Aemond saw how your whole body relaxed. A new stage in your relationship began.

"Then my task here is finished. My planet needs me," he teased as he let go of your shoulder and turned to leave.

"Noooo, don't go. We have to watch the latest episode of Samurai Jack. Together," you begged him with a feigned pout. You would always need him. Always.

"Why do you tell me what happens in the middle of the chapter? No, thanks," he declared theatrically as you rose from the bed to follow him.

"I promise not to spoil it. Pinkie promise." You ran to get in front of him, even though the cramps were running through your lower belly. You were starting to think that period thing was bullshit. However, you stopped thinking and just offered him your pinky finger raised up.

"Alright. Pinkie promise," he offered you his little finger, and you intertwined it like you always did with him, the only person who did that kind of lovely simple nonsense. And Aemond sighed with relief. He thought things would never change between you. Targaryens never take into account their own blood drive.

Aemond entered the house after a long day at work. He needed you. It was what he was thinking while he walked the hall. That day he had booked a hotel room. Again you would spend the afternoon together. You would soothe him while he told you about his day. You would make love. He would take you to a nice restaurant. You would be happy.

He heard your happy laugh, and he smiled unconsciously. Then he heard a laugh from his brother, too, and that made him worry. Aegon had never cared about you; what were you doing laughing with him?

"What are you doing?" Aemond burst into the hall. You looked at him with a radiant smile, and your father next to you had a stupid smile painted on his lips. Both sitting on the sofa. You, with your computer on your legs, wanted to jump to hug Aemond and kiss him. But you controlled yourself. You just greeted him with a beautiful smile while he left his briefcase on one of the chairs. No one in that house could ever know about you. Your attention on him was short-lived, however, and you looked back at the laptop. You were beautiful, so full of happiness, with his pendant around your neck as always. You were his, simply his, forever. That necklace would prove it to anyone.

"We're finishing enrollment for Sunspear School of the Arts," you explained, and then your father pointed out a subject on the screen that seemed interesting to him, who had no idea about anything. And you laughed. You were grateful for that moment between the two of you. However, just as you laughed with your father, Aemond's face darkened, and he left the room without a sound. No doubt he thought things were going to be different.

Aemond made one last thrust and emitted a muffled moan. His eye closed in a grimace of pleasure while the other remained open and static, almost as if he was watching you. You felt his cock vibrate inside you. The hot seed flooded you. You made a pleasurable moan just below him and kept moving your hips in circles, almost as if inviting him to continue fucking. He had already climaxed and just looked at you seriously as he pulled away from you and sat on the edge of the bed.

Your smile disappeared, and your whole face twisted into a worried grimace. Aemond always hugged you right after making love. He hugged you tightly while you leaned on his chest. However, that day he just lit his cigarette, and he didn't even look at you, smoking with his back to you. The truth is that he had been serious all day, but you had justified it by telling yourself that he had a lot of stress from the intense and endless days at work. You thought that after getting laid in that hotel room that he always booked on Thursday afternoons, he would feel better. It hadn't been like that.

"Surely there is something I can do to ease my dragon", you whispered in his ear, just after slipping between the sheets and sticking your body to his back while your arms wrapped around his neck. You wanted to see him like you normally did in those encounters, not terribly angry and distant with you. That day you were just happy. Very happy. You had finished applying for admission to Sunspear School of the Arts; what more could you ask for? Nothing. Were you happy? That was all. You just wanted Aemond to share that happiness with you.

"I'm going to take a shower." That was all he said, pulling out of your embrace, not even looking at you. Showers always meant that you were leaving, that your only time together like that was over. And that already broke your heart as you saw him go to the shower. Alone. Without heading towards you. The tension could be felt. You realized that that time he hadn't kissed you even once while you were fucking, and you couldn't help thinking that it was all your fault. You felt your heart race as if you knew something was wrong.

"Is everything alright?" you asked, almost nervous, still sitting on the bed like a jilted and abandoned lover. He just turned and looked at you with a shrug.

"I don't know. You tell me: Is everything alright?" he responded arrogantly as if his ego was hard for him to admit that he was hurt. He could never admit how very, very hurt he was with you at that moment. Your eyes simply reflected concern, sorrow and bewilderment. What was happening?

"I- I don't know. You are different. Today you've been weird all day," you confessed, almost on the verge of tears, as if you were afraid of losing him after all.

"Maybe if the person you love wants to get away from you, you would be like that too," he told you coldly, fixing his only eye on you. And your whole world fell apart. This was all because of…

"I'm not going far. It's just Sunspear," you replied, trying to defend yourself. You looked elsewhere, trying to suppress the tears that welled up in your eyes.

"Like it was High Garden. It's away from me. It's not something I find funny," he confessed to you again without giving in. He wasn't going to give up. He felt abandoned by you. He was going to be left without what he had fought so hard against, even himself. You left him to continue your life, while he stayed only after taking a fundamental step. After this step, he would never be the same again.

"You could come to see me," you said, almost hurt by his words, and you remembered how Cregan had encouraged you, how he told you he was going to Sunspear. Aemond almost seemed the opposite.

"Okay," he replied with a shrug, turning back to go to the bathroom.

"Aemond, please, I just want to talk about it," you told him, getting up from the bed, almost scared to lose him like that. He simply stared,stirred as if he couldn't take it anymore.

"We've already talked about it, haven't we?" he answered you, terribly angry. He wanted to hit something, but he wouldn't; he was always in control. He never lost his temper. "You are going to leave, and I am going to stay here. That's all I know."

"What do you want from me, Aemond?" you almost begged him, desperate not to see him like this, and he just grabbed your face and kissed you angrily. You could feel all the frustration that his lips had while he kept kissing you hard. At the end of the kiss, he was only honest with you. And selfish, terribly selfish, but he had never had anything for himself. You were his, all of him. He couldn't lose you. His hard-won throne meant nothing if you didn't sit quietly in the shadows beside him.

"Stay in King's Landing. That is all I ask of you. Stay with me," he whispered to you almost desperately, without letting go of your face from his iron grip. His forehead resting on yours. A sad smile on his face. And you sighed, almost broken to see him so desperate for you to leave his side. "You can be happy here, study a degree at the university here," he explained without letting go, but he separated his face just so you could see how he explained a plan that was infinitely better for him. "I still have contacts in the faculty; they could admit you even if the deadlines are already closed." He told you again, with a wide smile on his face. He had found the solution for both of them, for him. Just for him.

"But, I have already filled out the application for Sunspear, and my father has paid for it today," you said sadly, trying to hold on to your dream, but Aemond just continued his arguments, desperate for you to stay with him. He needed you much more than he wanted to admit.

"We can lose that money. We have plenty. You would continue living at home, and in the afternoons, we would go out as we do now, and even Aegon would be happier," the mere mention of your father hurt you. What was going on? Why was he doing this to you? "You and I. Together." He returned to counterattack, and you did not respond. You just wanted to not lose Aemond. Your family's heraldry necklace has never weighed so heavily on your neck.

It was your birthday. It was something Aemond would never forget. Although, his mother, his sister and Daeron had reminded him all the time that morning. Another year, he would have been the one to remind everyone, but this was not another year. It was the day you came of age; it was the year in which he had been haunted almost every night by a feverish dream in which you appeared night after night, naked, advancing towards him, who was waiting for you more than willing in his bed. You rode him like a dragon and called yourself a Dragon Rider. He would be your dragon; he would be whenever you wanted him.

He hated himself. You were his niece. His niece. His niece. And nothing more. Nothing else. He didn't want to accept what was happening to him with you. He would never accept. He would never do it. He had to distance himself, and what better distance than not to congratulate you that day? He knew that he would hurt you, but by doing so, he was preventing both of you from turning into monsters. He looked at the phone, sitting in his office. Saw your last status. It was you with your friends in some ridiculous bar in Starfall, another photo with more friends, and another with your mother. You thanked everyone who had congratulated you, and he wasn't even among them, but he just couldn't. He never could. He had to distance himself. Distances."Alys, can you come here for a minute?" He asked his secretary, and she entered his office, closing the door behind her. He was the responsible adult. He was the one who had to distance himself from you, even if that was causing him more pain than expected.

"Waiting for your one-eyed boyfriend to congratulate you?" Your uncle Gerold, your mother's older brother, broke the silence as he drove to your maternal grandfather's house. They were all waiting for you there to celebrate your birthday party with your entire maternal family and your friends and, as Gerold said, without a single dragon bothering you. You narrowed your eyes angrily at the attitude of the most irreverent of all your mother's brothers.

"I don't like you addressing Brynden like that," you said rudely, dropping the phone on your lap. Your uncle smiled. Violet eyes. Aquiline nose. Marked jaw and silver hair, divided by a black lock. The future heir to your grandfather's oil kingdom, much to his regret. At another time, Gerold's nicknames would have amused you. Theat day of your birthday was not that moment. You were just mad, mad and sad because it was eight o'clock in the evening and Aemond hadn't congratulated you. They had all done it, even your father. Everyone except the one you really cared about. "Also, he congratulated me this morning as I woke up. I already had a message from him", you replied, picking up the phone again and looking desperately at the screen.

"Who, stoat?" he asked, turning to look at you with a mischievous smile. "You know I don't mean that boy. I like him quite well. He's an asshole, but he's the kind of asshole I like," he laughed at his own quip and kept driving. You looked up from the phone again and just looked at him strangely, wrinkling your face while he kept laughing. "Okay, keep pretending. I don't care," he shrugged.

"I don't know who you're talking to me about," you told him angrily, fed up with his mouth always full of insults. Your older uncle, your father figure in Starfall, always had something for everyone, all the time.

"Of course, you haven't been on edge all day because he hasn't deigned to call you," he said sardonically. "That asshole thinks you have the eyes of adragon but believe me. Genetics is a bitch, and you gouged out my eyes. My eyes. Sorry for those sad fucking dragons, but you're a Dayne. (Y/N) Dayne, it does sounds better than (Y/N) Targaryen. Much better." At that moment, you realized that he was talking about Aemond and looked out the window, slightly flushed.

"Aemond is my uncle, just like you," you told him, looking out the window at that sunset in Starfall, the beach in the background, right next to the road. "And today, he will have a lot of work to do", you tried to justify, and Gerold laughed. He laughed like he did every time you said something stupid. He always thought he was the smartest in that place.

"Come on, (Y/N), Just like me? Oh, really?" he said, laughing even more. "I wouldn't lean you against the first smooth surface I came across. It doesn't even cross my mind, and you would much less let yourself."

"You are disgusting!" you yelled at him, almost indignant, and he laughed even harder. "In what sick mind does that fit?"

"In the mind of someone sick, of course, but I, unlike others, see what others refuse to see. He is in love with you, and you are with him. It is a reality," he confessed to you, stopping the car at the speed bump. He looked at you, the only understanding look you were ever going to have in your life on that subject. "Look, (Y/N), I am not a good example of anything, and I will never be, but I have known how to be happy without harming anyone. And if he makes you happy, that's what I want for you."

"Uncle Gerold, I don't know why we're talking about this," you told him, almost desperate to get the subject over with. You were not in love with Aemond. You would never be. Never. That was just crazy. What was happening to you was unreal. Aemond was your uncle. Your uncle. Your uncle. Just like Gerold, and yet you didn't look the same at the Dornishman, nor did your heart beat the same when he looked at you.

"You don't know why we're talking about this. But I do know. I'm a Dornishman; I've done crazy, terrible, exciting things where they had to be done. And I want you to experience the things you want to experience, especially now that you are of legal age," he told you again with sincerity and understanding. Oh, gods. That was just what you needed to take the plunge, understanding. "I'm not telling you that the world has to find out, just do it", he advised you, worried about your happiness.

"Please, can we stop talking about this repulsive subject?" you begged him, and your Uncle Gerold started the car.

"Be that as it may, leave stoat because that way you're only going to hurt him?" he told you and started driving. You followed the rest of the journey in silence, and upon arrival, you sadly celebrated your birthday party. All your friends and family gathered there, happy and festive, while you looked at your phone at all times. Where was Aemond that year? Where?

That day, right after the birthday party, you broke up with Brynden, much to his dismay, and went to bed thinking about how Aemond hadn't called you all day, how much you needed him and how frustrated you were. You didn't want to accept it or even think about it, but your Uncle Gerold was right, and that conversation you had with him was only the first step in accepting it. You had, after all, broken up with your boyfriend at the mere prospect of going back to King's Landing. At the only prospect of seeing Aemond again.

Aemond had been very specific about what he wanted on this special day. He had entered that club on Silk Street through the back door. It had all been arranged by Alys, who, like always, asked no questions. She had just executed orders perfectly. He sat on a large lonely sofa in one of the VIP rooms of that place. No one had seen him enter, and no one would see him leave. Only the owner of the establishment and the girl who had prepared him would know. He looked at his messages. He should write to you. At least write you a 'Happy Birthday', but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He was a coward. He would always be a coward.

The girl entered with a smile and an innocent dress. She looked like you. Same hair. Same complexion, but her eyes weren't purple. They were so blue they almost looked like violets, but they weren't purple. Enough was that with the little time he had given them to prepare it. The girl approached him with a half smile, and he only told her that he had a present for her. The girl looked surprised, but she excitedly opened the birthday box. Aemond thought that if he squinted at her, he could see you in front of him. He shook his head. He was sick. What was wrong with him? The girl opened the box, and Aemond smiled as he tied the gag inside the box. He didn't want to hear her moans or her screams because they wouldn't be yours. He put her on all fours and entered her hard without lubricating the girl. It hurt. You would not hurt him, you would enjoy him under his touch. It was what he said to punish himself immediately afterwards. His mind was a sea of contradictions, that that girl looked like you was a mere coincidence, that he was going to fuck her on your birthday, another one.

It was the best way he could think of to celebrate your majority of age. However, unknowingly and unconsciously, he couldn't stop thinking about you while bumping his hips against that prostitute's, and he would cum with the thought of wishing you a happy birthday because that was his way of celebrating it. His sad and lonely way of celebrating. He had never felt so alone or a failure in his life, and it was all because of what was produced in his body when he looked at you. That scared him and transformed him into his worst fear: being Daemon.

[eris-snow]

𝐕𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐭 𝐓𝐨 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥

Tags: Revelation (Deku's birthday series 2024), izuku x fem!reader, angst, Starlight, Starlight standing up for herself, tags what

Masterlist

8th July. Sun, Stars and Light.

---

“Are you joking? I thought you’d be dead by now. Or given up.” Isamu Suzuki complains you step into the blinding white room.

Another year, another visit.

“Well boohoo,” you murmur, rolling your eyes as you sit down on the armchair opposite him. “Thought you would have died by now, old man. How’s prison life treating you? From the looks of it, not great. Hey, wanna bet to see who dies first? Winner gets bragging points and a one-way trip to hell. You look like the kind of guy who’d die the next day, honestly. You should consider pulling the plug, if you know what I mean. Hold your breath and count to a thousand. End your misery, you know?”

The haggard man blinks at you.

Running a hand through your hair, you slump down on the chair.

“I need…I need sleep.”

A nasty smirk curls onto Isamu’s lips. “Finally getting worn down, hm? And from the looks of it, little blondie cracklefire has left your side too.”

“He’s gonna get Zuku killed.” You muse. “I wanna stop it, but at the same time, I don’t really. Once Izuku sets his mind on something—“

“He never wavers,” The villain finishes impatiently. “Yeah, yeah, you’ve used me as your therapist way too many times. Don’t you have one back at your prestigious school? Just because I’m tied down here, doesn’t mean I want to listen to your hormonal problems. You fuck up my life 7 years ago. I ain’t giving you shit.”

“Well, you threw mine into the 4th dimension.” You grumble. “You reap what you sow, and then some.”

“I still have my brother fighting for his life out there,” Isamu says, and at that moment, even strapped down and crusty in a white suit he doesn’t own, he looks a little more…human. “Yeah, that’s right. Your glitter sparkles hero society have holes in big blabber mouth security guards.” The villain hums. “You’ve had trouble tracking him down, right?”

In the truth of the matter, you didn’t know much. After apprehending Isamu’s brother from the attack last year, you’d handed him off to the police for questioning. With school and internships, you’d barely paid attention to it when he went missing again. Apparently, Chisuke Suzuki snuck out using his Quirk, and by the time backup had arrived, there was simply a blood bath and three stacks of officers.

When they woke up, all officers were chronically depressed.

Chisuke’s Quirk was the erasure of one emotion from a victim. Or at least, that’s what it was last year. You should probably check the files more.

“My brother’s Quirk is more powerful than mine, and he knows how to get by,” Isamu says proudly. “At least if I hold on, I know he’ll be out there, waiting for me.”

His words slip a small pin to your heart, specifically and thoughtfully chosen. It hurt more than you thought, but you couldn’t let him drag you down now.

“What, no snarky feedback?” His eyes are blue, cold, hard and searching. “Never thought there’d come the day.”

A twig breaks. A tree falls. The camel’s back snaps in two.

“Is that what you want?” You explode, slamming a hand on the glass. Everything is hot, from your fingertips to your toes. “Me to give you a speech about how even though I royally fucked up, Izuku will find a way to regain his memories through the skin of his teeth because he’s Deku? Heroes give up too, god dammit! And maybe I deserve it, alright? What? What do you want to hear, asshole?”

You back down to the safety of your chair and heave a breath. “I need…” You whisper, shaking your head, “to give up properly.”

Isamu barks out a laugh. “7 years and finally, something interesting. Nah, keep going. I’ve waited too long for this.”

Watch me break.

Watch me crumble.

“Hey,” Isamu says cheerfully. “If you do want to be put out of your misery, let’s make a deal. You get me in touch with my brother, and I can get him to use his Quirk on you.”

Now, it was your turn to laugh. Maybe this guy has gone off the deep end. “Why would I do that?” you scoff.

“Because,” Isamu smirks. It’s an ugly smirk, with his yellowed, misaligned teeth.

“He can erase your love for that brat, you rascal.”

—

After school that day, Izuku takes the liberty of racing back to his room to dump out the Post-It notes on the floor of his dorm.

It was mind-boggling, and an out-of-body experience.

Scratchy scrawls line every note, his handwriting and his words all spilling out like it was a ritual he’d take part in come fire or hail.

I’m scared to die.

I don’t want to fight Shigaraki. I want to forgive him.

I’m scared I get left behind.

Personal feelings Izuku had never penned down were inked on yellow stickies, little nooks of his own insecurities all laid bare.

It’s difficult for me to admit these things.

Ochaco and I aren't a thing anymore, we fell out of love.

Slowly, Izuku pieces together who you once were to him.

Someone trustworthy, someone kind.

But not all were appropriate triggers, and those that were are diamonds in a mineshaft. Most things were trivial, and the few that caused bone-shattering agony to his mind never tripped anything right.

Gasping, he tugs his necktie off and closes his eyes in frustration. Sweat stains his wooden floor a darker brown, and his hope starts to fade. The last trigger has him seeing stars as he gently eases himself back down from insanity.

“Give them back…!” He whispers, scarred hands squeezing his head as he glares at himself in his standing wall mirror. “Give my memories back!”

In a fit of rage, he swings the tin box holding the systematically stacked notes against his bed.

A flurry of Post-it notes flutters around him as the box slams loudly against his bed frame. A false bottom pops out, and so does a new section of Post-its.

15 of them, and they’re dated from July 1st to 15.

—

“Erase my love for Izuku?” You had to give it to Isamu, his hunches were always spot on.

“You’re always so adamant about keeping your memories. Heck, I think if I find a way to use my Quirk on you, you’d find a way to resist its effect as you heroes do best. But emotions…” Isamu laughs. It’s not a nice laugh. “You can pay the price of millions of memories with just one emotion. It’d end your suffering.”

You falter, and he sees it like it’s white on black. “You won’t forget him, but you won’t know pain, either. It’d go poof,” Isamu says, eyes electrifying as he dishes out the offer with the finesse of a conman.

It’s tempting, of course it is. This whole time, Izuku had always stood by your side not knowing who you really were. You couldn’t bring yourself to love him properly, just as he deserved. He deserved someone there, someone who could enrapture him like the Aurora borealis instead of someone as plentiful as the stars in the night sky. Someone who could share memories with him for a long long time.

That someone wasn’t you.

Accepting this deal meant moving on. It meant leaving your feelings in your glade and finally…

be free.

Not free from the memories, but…in a different way.

But then, your resolve hardens like steel. “You have some nerve trying to bribe me over with that.”

You stand up, anger cooled to an eerily calm. The world is silent, it’s the ocean's depth at the seabed. “Every inch of me, I cherish it. The good, the bad, the terrible. To rip a feeling out of me? Using heartbreak as manipulation? That’s low even for you.” You scoff, fingers sliding over the glass. “If I move on from Izuku, that’s by me, and me alone. I will never accept your side payback that’s dressed up as charity, because I will never let Izuku go through the pain I did.”

Fire burns, a torch of eternal flame; your love for Izuku, cast out because even though it’s pretty, even though it hurts, no one will ever admire its beauty.

“Izuku’s strong, and so am I.” You whisper, eyes locking with his. “I do not need you.”

—

The note that triggers it is not the one he imagined.

I don’t like Kacchan calling you Shortie. Kacchan’s amazing and all, but he shouldn’t make fun of your height. P.s. I like the nickname Zuku, too! You don’t have to tell me why you started calling me that, I’m just glad you do. I can’t imagine you calling me anything else.

Even so, he thinks through it. Zuku? No one has ever called him that before. Kacchan calls you Shortie, he knows that. But why does he say he can’t imagine you calling him anything else?

“Nicknames from first year?” He whispers under his breath. “Maybe I lost my memories last year? My birthday, obviously…”

Where does this point to?

Why the Post-it notes?

What did he call you?

His brain explodes as he writhes in agony again. Blinding hot pain, wax melting his skull—

Starlight, His mind lapses.

There’s another image this time, one of a willow tree in the same field. The branches of it sway hypnotisingly slow, and he can feel the breeze even though he’s not present there.

In a sandbox, building sandcastles under the night sky. Your name is Starlight.

“Your name is Starlight.” He whispers, his mouth echoing the word as easy as he were to say Kacchan.

The fluorescent lights sizzle, and something breaks.

The next thing he knows, everything is black.

[rudnitskaia]

I'll probably regret this note later, but I need to sort my thoughts on this somehow, so let it be. It's not a review, not a feedback, it’s just a skein of thoughts.

Let me start from afar: I wasn't going to watch Joker: Folie à Deux after all the scathing reviews I've seen. But then I accidentally found out that Sylvain Chomet took part in the creation of the credits for it, and I decided: to hell with it, at least for the sake of the credits, but I have to see it. I'll watch the first part and then the sequel in a row.

And now I'm in such contradictory feelings that it's hard to describe.

Don't get me wrong: this is a really bad movie. Everything about it is broken beyond repair: the genre, the plot, the pace of the narrative, the dialogues, the characters’ development arcs. Everything that could be screwed up is screwed up…

…on purpose.

The team that made the first movie couldn't have made its sequel so exceptionally bad by accident. It's really pure sabotage.

And from that point of view, this picture is genius. Joker: Folie à Deux is the bloody Taras Bulba of the cinema world. “I gave you life, I will also kill you!” Todd Phillips says from the screen with every misplaced song, every drawn-out scene, every gratuitous feint. I know of only two precedents of this sort, and both are from the world of literature, not cinema. Burgess, who considered and told everyone that A Clockwork Orange is unworthy of attention and even dangerous to read, and Conan Doyle, who hated Sherlock Holmes so much that he tried to kill Sherlock, but had to resurrect him anyway to meet the public's desires.

Joker: Folie à Deux truly fell victim to its creator's hatred of both the character and the industry that demands to put a comma, or even never-ending ellipses, to the place where a period is unquestionably placed. I can only applaud Phillips’ courage to bring this statement to the screens so unashamedly explicitly.

What I can't neither understand, nor justify, on the other hand, is Phillips' apparent inability to draw the line between fiction and reality. To treat a character as a real-living person is sacrilege. A fictional character, no matter how vivid and solid this character is, is still a character who is meant to tell a story, to be a tool, a prism through which the viewer or reader perceives certain events. For some unknown reason, Phillips hates his character, or, to be more precise, his actions, as if he was a real person. And this statement he conveys through the story of Arthur Fleck in the second part in full. Phillips literally forces his character to become pathetic, so that God forbid anyone to have pity for him or desire to empathize and sympathize with him, forces the character to personally debunk the image he himself created, as if telling us from the screen: “Wake up, idiots, this is not the way it fucking happens”.

Thanks for the revelation, bro, we're aware. We're watching a movie. A fictional story about fictional people.

I can kind of understand that level of judgement from people who’re not involved into creating any fictional stories, at least it’s explainable, but from a person who is a long-term director himself? Never. That's a level of judgement like "videogames make people violent".

I'm fully convinced that if there was to be a second part of Joker, it shouldn't have been about him. Arthur Fleck's story didn't need a continuation, at least not a direct one. But the world Phillips created in the first movie still had plenty of material to explore, and Harleen Quinzel's character could have mediated that journey for us. She is a fan of a serial killer (there is a wagonload of such people in reality), a person living in illusions, a victim of a fake idol. You want a musical? Let it be. In her head. Like that very episode of Scrubs, you know which I mean. But it had to be her story. Not Joker’s/Arthur’s story. Not a love story, not at all — or rather, not a story about the romantic kind of love that Phillips mocks and makes fun of for the entire sequel. It must have been a story of love that was fanatical, sick, false a priori, doomed to shatter in the end. In this story, Joker was needed purely in the background, not as a real character, but as an image in fantasies, and then Harleen, blinded by his fame she extols over herself or anything in her dull unremarkable reality, would’ve been our guide to the world that was changed by Joker’s unintentional influence, and I think you yourself are quite capable of realizing how many subjects could’ve been explored in interesting, multifaceted ways from such a delicious starting point. Not to mention the fact that it's just one variant of the starting point, because the main character could have been someone other than Harleen, and the time period relative to the events of the original could’ve been different... well, you got it, there was plenty of material to explore and develop.

And that's a damn shame it wasn’t.

One thing I know for sure is that I will not forget this movie. It's a fascinating specimen that I'll put in my personal mental cabinet of curiosities for two reasons. Adoration for how filigree bad it is — it takes courage, ingenuity, and a lot of resilience to do so, for any creator; and frustration over the fact that a really existing potential that could’ve been perfectly brought into existence in talented hands was thrown into the trashcan because of the creator's mere lack of understanding (which is doubly ironic in the context of the movie I’m talking about) of where the line between fiction and reality lies.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

One False Move

Series Masterlist

Warnings: dark elements, some sexiness in this.

Note: this is what yall asked for, remember that.

Please leave me some feedback either in a reblog or an ask! Likes are always appreciated as well. You know I love yall and hell yeah, you love Professor Steve.

Jake ignores every text and every call. When you pull up his Insta, you find yourself blocked. The last revelation crushes you, sending you into a tailspin and your bed. You burrow under the comforter and cry yourself to a restless sleep.

When you wake up, the sun is still down. It's not even four in the morning. You've never felt like this. So hollow and heavy at once. You drag yourself out of bed and make yourself drink a cup of instant coffee that makes your stomach rot.

You sit at the kitchen table in your empty dorm and hold your head. It's all a mistake, just lies. Professor Rogers knew what he was doing and it worked so well. Why didn't Jensen believe you? He knows better, he should've listened.

Your despair turns to anger and frustration. You don't know why you wasted your time. You get up and rinse out your mug before shuffling back to bed. Well, at least you have groceries for the break. You can make what you bought last a while. You're going to have to.

You lay down and try to fall back asleep. You drift in and out but feel worse as the window pales to a dim grey. The winter morning chills you and keeps you nestled under the blankets. It's only the urgent need that draws you out to the bathroom.

You're more away as you return to your room and grab your phone, stomach wobbly with anxious hope. No replies from Jensen, but a message from a private number.

'He's not worth it.'

You know who it is. He can hide his number but you know he's taunting you. What does he want? He's already ruined everything.

You ignore him and put your phone down. You think of putting a video on your laptop but that just makes you miss Jake even more. He should be here waking up with you. Last night should've been the best night of your life.

Maybe...

You get dressed before you let the thought break through clearly. It's desperate and stupid but you're not going to give up. You zip up your coat and shove your feet into your boots, pulling a toque onto your head. You grab your keys and phone and leave your lonely dorm behind.

The pavement is trimmed with frost and in some places, patches of ice crack under your treads. You keep your hands in your pockets as you chatter, walking with purpose along the curving paths. You stop in front of Jensen's building and look up. He's not going to answer your messages and you can't get in on your own, so you'll have to get creative.

You grab a pebble and count the windows. You're pretty sure it's that one. You huck the stone and it pings off the frame. From your side, it sounds pretty loud. You wait, nothing. You do it again. Several times before the window above opens.

Shit, you were close.

Jensen pokes his head out and lets out a huff that clouds in front of him, "go away--"

"Jake, please, just listen. You know I wouldn't... I wouldn't do that. Not with him."

"Pfft, come on, I'm not an idiot."

"Ugh, what did I ever do to make you believe I would--"

"I don't know. Late office meetings, sending me texts about staying late then calling it off, sounds like cold feet to me."

You lean your head back and whine, "he did that, okay? He took my phone--"

"Convenient story."

"Jake!" You holler, "why can't you see I'm telling the truth? I... you were going to be my first."

He just stares, quiet. You feel yourself wilt. He shakes his head and pulls back, disappearing behind the frame and slamming the pane down. There's your answer.

You turn slowly on your heel. Your eyes well and you quickly flick away your tears. Happy Holidays, indeed.

📚

You're in no rush to get back to your dorm, even with cold nipping at your cheeks. You don't care. You have nothing to look forward too. You waited weeks for your break, to spend time with your boyfriend alone, and now you have nothing.

Typical. Just your luck. Even the wafting aromas of the cafe can't tempt you in as you pass. You carry on, keeping your head down outside the English building, and tramp along in a glum fog. Your feet carry you without a thought, the path etched into your mind and muscles. You look up at the familiar brick facade and fish out your keys.

It's frighteningly still and quiet outside. Most of campus is home and happy, but here you are. You pull out the keyring and scan your fob on the censor. The door beeps and you open it, puttering inside reluctantly.

Suddenly you feel the door open wider and you're shoved forward. You trip as someone skirts in behind you and pulls the heavy barrier shut with a clang. You throw your arms out and steady yourself, turning to face the unceremonious intruder.

"Hey, sweetheart, what's got you down?" Steve asks as he stands tall, hooking his thumbs in his pockets.

"What the hell? Get out? What are you doing--"

"Shhhh," he puts his finger to his lips, "listen."

You blink and hush, listening to the empty hall. What? It's quiet. There's... no one there. The epiphany strains your face as he smirks.

"That's right, sweetie, just you and me," he takes a step closer and you back up. "Sounds like a merry Christmas to me."

"No..." you exhale as you retreat along with his advance, "get away--"

"You can't spend the holidays alone," he says with dripping sympathy, "what kind of man-- boy would abandon you like that?"

"Stop," you hold a hand up, "Steve, you're scaring me."

"Well, baby," his cheek dimples, "you've hurt me so I think I get to return that favour."

He lunges and you stumble backwards, hitting the wall and rolling out of his way. You turn and race down the hallway, pumping your arms wildly. You surpass the elevator and yank open the door to the stairwell. You hear him behind you. He's close.

You grab the railing and swing yourself around, kicking over each step frantically as you struggle not to fall on your face. You're dizzy as you turn up the next flight and the next. Your lungs burn as you feel yourself slowing. You hear him, footsteps echoing up towards you.

You burst onto your floor and fumble with your keys desperately. You can't get a steady grip as you search for the key to your door. Finally, you slide it into the slot as the stairwell door clicks. You hurry inside but as you go to shut the door, it stops short of the frame.

You squeak as Steve gives the door a jolt and flings you back easily. You cry out as he enters and blocks you into the narrow hall that adjoins the rooms. You raise an arm, shielding yourself as your knees shake.

"Please, Steve," you beg as he shuts the door behind him.

"Oh, you don't have to say please, sweetie, I'll give you exactly what you need," he grabs your arm and pulls you close, "I told you, the minute you think you're alone, I'll be there."

[fayedartmouth]

Jj is my favourite from the start. And when I discovered wattpad and ao3 that's all I have been reading, fics about jj. But yours are different. I saw a little bit of others focusing on jj's mental health and thats it. But you, you are writing excatly what I wantted to read my whole life. There was so much potentional for jj and the pogues to just help eachother. Jj was struglling really bad and it was so sad to watch and none of the helped him, talked to him. Even kie was cold to him. Since I found you I read every single one story on ao3 and I am more than happy to be able to read the others. These snippets are everything, you got me excited for them like they would be coming tommorow all.

And you write it so good I can imagine the scenes, I can cry when I read it or laugh. You write jj just like him, just like I always thought he was. So good luck with everything you write cuz I see you have been here for a loong time and you know how to write. 🫶

Literally, I can't shut up. So yeah, it's under a cut.

I feel like I'm kind of old and just never even attempt Wattpad -- but now I'm wondering if there's any JJ fic there that I'm missing out on. Because I want so much JJ fic, lol.

But thank you! The thing about fic and fandom is that it's really just anything people want it to be, and people should always write what they want to write and read what they want to read. We're all here to have fun, and there are just no specific guidelines on how/why to do that.

For me, it's just always been about delving into the mental game. I use whump to get me there basically all the time, but the mental state of characters is what drives me. And especially for a character like JJ, where his mental health is so clearly an important part of what makes us love him.  I remember watching in S1, being on the fence about JJ -- and then there was hot tub scene, and we just saw him fall apart and I realized how much this kid needed and how much he was hurting and I was done for.  Like I was 100% done for, and I haven't stopped writing him since.

Which is why what the show did in S4 was so weird?  And upsetting?  Because I was totally fine with how dark they took JJ -- and that he was making mistakes and unraveling.  But they completely failed to put him back together.  I was expecting some version of the hot tub scene -- with the hurt, the revelation, and the comfort -- but like it just never came and then he was dead and I was just horrified.

So I am going to fix it, lol.  For my mental stability, I have to fix it.

And that's just kind of you to say, all around.  For me, it's weird, but writing is my purest form of expression, the place where I exist most fully.  Sometimes that makes me anxious, because sharing that part of myself can be overwhelming and makes you feel vulnerable.  But it's been such a joy to share JJ with other people and to have that joint sense of love and community over him.  It kind of makes my day.

I'm always writing but it just varies on how fast I'm able to go.  I've enjoyed the snippets as a low stress way to get things out -- because usually I only post finished fics, so it's kind of fun just to share stuff as I go with no promise of completion or deadline.  And what I will say is that sharing fic and fandom is truly a reciprocal experience.  So getting feedback makes it so much more fun -- thank you!

[cubemagnet14]

This is probably not a good idea, but here's my self-insert weird daydream fanfiction fantasy I wrote bc I need feedback

And he asked me.

"Do you want this? Do you enjoy this?"

I'm not happy about that. I enjoy him. He adores me, I adore him too. We revel in each other's presence. But it only lasts for a moment. And he suffers again.

I can't help him. Mainly because he does not require help. Never did, never will. He's so perfect. We are not a couple, I am not the other half. He is not half, he is whole. Always has been, and always will be. I love him and support him, but I'm not happy about this situation either. None of us are happy about it. None of us wanted it this way, but that's just how it turned out.

You have to work with what you have. Even if we suffer in the process. I have to support him as much as I can. That's all I can do for him. That's probably all for now. Mainly because he wouldn't let me help him more. That's enough for him. He never wanted more. I could give him so much more, but he wouldn't take it. Even the good things can cause harm to you after some extent, he always says.

He will never change. I don't even want him to change. Others would certainly play the savior, but I don't want to redeem him. I love him the way he is. I love him for who he is, not for who he could be. Because he couldn't be anyone else. He wouldn't change even if he was forced to. He wouldn't let himself get tortured. I wouldn't want him to let himself get tormented either. He needs understanding. No one ever understood him. He was different from the others. Very different. He went through too much that he shouldn't have. He was too young. Way too young. He should never have seen so much.

Ignorance is bliss, he always says. He's right. It would have been much better if he didn't see the things he did. We can't go back now. I can't do anything about it anymore. What's done is done. No matter how much I try to calm him down with kind words, the crying child will not stop crying in the depths of his soul. I alone am not enough for this. Certainly not enough.

He always says that I'm doing everything I can, but I still feel helpless. So powerless. So weak. I want to do more for him. However, I can't give him what he needs most. I can't give him back his childhood because I didn't take it away. I can't get it back either. I can't pretend I can. I don't want to lie to him. He wouldn't lie to me either. He has never lied to me and never will. I know he wouldn't. I trust him.

Our relationship is built on trust. There has never been a time when, when I reached into his pocket, I should have been afraid of finding something there that I should not have seen. But he doesn't share everything with me. If I ask something that he can't tell me, he just listens, quietly, but never lies. He wouldn't do that to me. He wouldn't want me to do that to him either. He doesn't expect anything from me that he wouldn't do. The reverse is also true. Mainly because we don't want to put the other person in an uncomfortable situation.

My brother asked me the question. I visited home. I visited home for the first time after three years. A lot has changed. But my brother didn't. He remained the same. He's just as hesitant. He can't sit still. He found out about my secret relationship, which I didn't tell anyone about. There are no secrets before him, he will find out anything.

He asked me again.

"Apollinariya answer me! Do you really want this?"

I won't answer. I don't know what to say to him. If I speak now, I'll only make things worse.

He yelled at me.

"Say no! Say that you don't want this!"

Then his voice slowly faded away.

"Please say no. Say that he's just forcing you!"

He started crying. The family house was quiet. It's too quiet. You could only hear two things: my brother crying and the ticking of the clock on the wall. Emptiness. It's like we weren't even at home. This place is completely foreign now.

Our mother was in another room. She was looking for something for us. She said it was a surprise. She said we would be happy if we found out what it was. I wasn't so sure about it at that point. My brother thought that as long as our mother was not here, he would be confronting me. But of course, I know him. I knew from the very beginning that he would burst into tears. I knew he would be sensitive. It's always been like that. Especially when it was about me. We were inseparable as children. Now we can live without each other, but the love we felt for one another remains. This outburst on my brother's part was proof enough. He's still interested in how I am and what I'm doing. That's why he was investigating me. It was successful. I wish it wasn't.

Ignorance is bliss, he always says. He's right. He is always right. Now also on the example of my dear brother. If only he didn't know the truth.

I held him close and hugged him.

"It's okay Dmitriy, it's okay."

He just cried and cried and cried. Like he never wanted to stop. I didn't even have to answer the question. He figured it out on his own. I didn't want that to happen either. However, I had no other choice. He didn't either. Dimitri had it. He didn't live with it.

"At least stop while Mom shows the surprise she planned!"

He sniffed, and then the tears stopped. He finally calmed down. At that moment, our mother entered the room with a thick, huge book in her hand.

"What happened my sweet little angel?"

Our mother always spoke to Dimitri in such a sweet manner. It's just a habit now.

"Nothing, I'm just so happy that we can be here again after all these years."

He has never lied to our mother before.