#I have been biting my tongue the entire time I spent writing that chapter and now that I don’t have to anymore?

[jamiesfootball]

I have loved all the comments I’ve gotten on my post season three fic (like you don’t even know how much I have reread all of those bad boys they give me oxygen), but by far one of the most gratifying ones I’ve gotten has been:

“you made that last episode seem so much more reasonable”

THAT WAS THE GOAL

[owlseeyoulaterpal]

Like Real People Do, Chapter 1

Gale Dekarios x Named! Tav

Synopsis: Seraphina has spent the last 2 years trying to wield her wild magic as life keeps trying to knock her down. After being infected on the nautiloid, she's been presented with her biggest problem and greatest adventure so far. Through the trials of trying to save herself and the city she calls home, she makes new friends, falls in love, and begins to finally understand what it means to trust in luck and her lady Tymora. Already posted this to ao3 and I'm re-learning Tumblr after years away, so it's time to put this here! Notes: It's my first time publishing my writing on the internet in almost a decade, but the BG3 brainrot is real and has demanded it.

Learn more about my Tav, Seraphina.

Includes dialogue directly from BG3. ______________________________________________________________ Chapter 1: Friendly Competition

The gentle hum of the river. The quiet crackling of the nearby fire. The subtle rustling of the leaves as the wind gently blew.

Seraphina leaned into the ambiance around her in camp as she kneeled in the sand on the riverbank and did her nightly prayer to Tymora, her Lady Luck pendant clutched tightly between her hands. Her faith in Tymora had, admittedly, started to waver in the last few years, but the latest state-of-affairs that Seraphina had been thrust into truly made her feel as if the entire foundation that she had been raised on was crumbling.

Just three tendays ago, Seraphina had set out from her parents’ home in Baldur’s Gate for yet another contract with plenty of blessings and well wishes from her family — in fact, an overabundance of them since the last time she left home, she ended up in Avernus. A tenday ago, she had stopped in the city of Yartar for supplies when the nautiloid appeared above the city and began abducting people off of the streets. Now, every plan she had for her life had seemingly evaporated with the death sentence of a mind flayer tadpole in her skull. Her magic and her goddess couldn’t save her, or perhaps Tymora refused to intervene.

The tiefling wanted more than anything to turn tail and run back to the warmth of her family while she still had time left. But that wasn’t what a Hellwhisper was supposed to do. None of her siblings had ever abandoned one of their adventures, no matter how perilous it became.

But none of them had ever encountered a mind flayer or been infected with a tadpole, Seraphina thought bitterly.

Seraphina wasn’t quite sure what to make of the situation she had found herself in, much less of the people who had, for better or worse, become her traveling companions: the gith, the fellow tiefling who had fought on the frontlines of the Blood War, the mysterious cleric, the righteous warlock, the flirtatious pale elf that had recently revealed he was actually a vampire, and the gods damned egoistical wizard of all people.

Seraphina had encountered her fair share of wizards on her adventures and wasn’t a huge fan of them. They all thought they were better than Seraphina, a natural-born sorcerer. Gale honestly didn’t seem too different as he carefully and pointedly distinguished himself from Seraphina when it came to conversations about magic around camp. She had to fully bite her tongue to keep from snapping at him when he made a remark about her wild magic after fighting the goblins at the gate of the Emerald Grove, when mid-battle a wild magic surge enlarged everyone around Seraphina.

They have no idea who I used to be, Seraphina thought as she closed her eyes for longer, clasped her hands tighter, and prayed harder. My Lady Tymora, this trial has to be over now, surely? Have I not shown my perseverance and dedication in the face of the most bizarre odds and chances? Is this wild magic truly the best way to serve you, even now with a tadpole in my head?

Selfishly, a new reason she wanted her old magic back was to prove herself to Gale. Unfortunately, he had taken up a lot of her headspace since their first meeting.

“Hello! I’m Gale of Waterdeep,” The newly appeared man shook Seraphina’s hand as she looked, befuddled, from him to the portal in the rock that she had just pulled him from.

“Apologies, I’m usually better at this,” Gale scratched the back of his neck sheepishly.

“At introductions?” Seraphina joked, brushing dirt from her robes that had appeared after she and Gale fell to the ground.

“At magic,” He smiled. She felt her heart skip a beat.  

“Well, I’m Seraphina…of Baldur’s Gate. Pleasure to meet you, Gale of Waterdeep,” She awkwardly replied. If she was telling the truth, she felt every usually charismatic bone in her body turn to mush as she took in the tall, handsome man standing in front of her. And she could feel the very essence of magic flowing around him? What a catch.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” came a voice from behind Seraphina. She whipped her head around and saw Gale approaching with two quarterstaffs in hand.

“I was just finishing up,” she smiled.

“Praying for Tymora to send an overdue stroke of good luck our way, I hope,” Gale grinned.

“Fortune favors the bold, Gale. Lady Luck will help us find this Halsin and return him to his Grove, curing our tadpoles along the way. She’s never failed me before,” Seraphina replied as she rose to her feet and walked over to him, putting her Tymoran necklace back around her neck.

“Have you followed Tymora your whole life?” Gale asked.

“Yes. As my sisters and brothers did before me, as did my parents, grandparents, and their parents before them. We were all raised in the same temple to service Our Smiling Lady,” Seraphina said excitedly. “But I imagine you’re not here to listen to me babble on about my goddess. Is there something I can help you with?”

“I could listen to you talk for hours, Seraphina, but yes, there was something,” Gale replied, blissfully unaware that he was making Seraphina blush furiously with such a simple statement. “With your natural gift of magic and less of a talent for a blade, I was hoping that you might be in the mood to help me with a small task,” Gale grinned.

“And what would that be?”

“Would you be amenable to a little friendly sparring to cap off our night?”

Seraphina laughed. “I would be, but I’ll have you know my weapon of preference is a glaive.” She thought sadly of her favorite glaive that had slipped from her holster as she sprinted to try and escape the tentacles of the nautiloid. It had been a gift from someone she would rather forget, so maybe it wasn’t too much of a loss.

Gale turned and led Seraphina closer to an empty patch of land near the campfire.

“I will have to keep my eyes peeled for a glaive then, my dear sorcerer,” Gale continued. Seraphina felt her face grow hot and she tried to ignore it as he handed her one of the quarterstaffs.

Seraphina braced herself firmly on her feet, the quarterstaff diagonal to her body, and carefully lowered herself into a defensive stance. “Give me all you’ve got,” she curved her hands, beckoning him.

Gale started with a swing directly at Seraphina’s legs, which Seraphina smoothly dodged, dragging her feet along the dirt in a simple arch. She immediately retraced that arch and, with a thwack, hit Gale on the back before spinning and resuming her defensive stance a few feet behind him.

“I said ‘give me all you’ve got,’ wizard,” Seraphina teased. Gale winced as he stood and turned to face her. “I take it you don’t have too much combat experience?”

Gale chuckled. “Wizards have towers for a reason,” he replied, carefully dodging a direct answer as well as a swing from Seraphina. “I assume this isn’t your first perilous adventure?”

“Far from it. I’ve used magic and a blade or two to fight pirates,”

Gale swung and Seraphina blocked with her quarterstaff, immediately pushing back and swinging at his ankles. He jumped over it.

“Hags,” Seraphina curved her body in a crescent shape to avoid his next attack.

Seraphina swung upwards, knocking Gale’s staff out of his hands, and placing the butt of the staff against his chest. “And I was fighting for my life in Avernus not too long before the nautiloid,” Seraphina finished.

She was crouching down and looking up at him. They were both breathing heavily, having already been exhausted from today’s events of defeating the Harpies at the Grove. Gale looked down at her and Seraphina’s breath caught in her throat as she took in his features, illuminated by the campfire. The gray hairs that blended in almost seamlessly with his long, thick brown hair. The orange of the fire made his brown eyes look like they were blazing.

With Gale’s slightly lifted eyebrows and intense gaze, she could detect a swirl of emotions in his eyes. Admiration. A little fear?

“You like to live dangerously,” Gale said breathlessly.

“High risk, high reward,” Seraphina laughed.

She felt a singular bead of sweat drip down her neck and chest, disappearing behind the laces of her nightshirt, and she watched as Gale’s eyes followed it. Seraphina suddenly felt like her entire body was itching as she shifted. Gale’s eyes snapped up to meet hers and he instantly flushed , taking a step back and ending the moment that truthfully only lasted mere seconds. She turned, picked up his staff, and thrust it into his hands.

“Again. I want you to knock me down or disarm me before we finish,” She smirked.

It took 30 minutes and several tries, but as Seraphina’s eyelids grew heavier, finally, Gale did it. With a firm sweep to the back of her calves, she tumbled to the dirt and, as she fell, Gale knocked the staff from her hands. He mimicked her earlier movements, pressing the end of his staff against her chest.

“Mragreshem,” She playfully cursed at him as he chuckled.

“Mission accomplished,” Gale proudly smirked. Seraphina nodded, panting. He reached out a hand to help her up. She took it and as he helped her up, she swayed backward.

Gale’s hand pressed against her lower back to steady her, and she leaned forward, Seraphina’s hands landing on his chest. With how close he was, she inhaled his intoxicating scent of parchment, books, and sandalwood. Her eyes caught his and he smiled at her when, suddenly, the markings on his chest, neck, and face began to glow a dull purple.

Just as quickly as he caught her, he stepped away, still smiling, but he looked like he was in pain, his eyes squinting as if he was holding back a wince. The glowing ceased. Seraphina’s eyes widened as she realized there was something magical in Gale’s chest.

“Gale, are you alright?” Seraphina stepped forward, a hand outstretched and Gale subtly leaned away.  

“Perfectly fine. I believe I have kept both of us from sleep quite long enough. Thank you for helping me get a little bit sharper in my staff handling,” He smiled.

“You’re welcome. Good night, Gale,” She returned his smile. Gale nodded curtly and Seraphina could’ve sworn he nearly ran into his tent. She was no stranger to rendering people speechless, but Gale seemed positively terrified of her.

She stood there for a moment, processing before she turned to head to her own tent.

What if he’s not usually attracted to tieflings? Does he act nice with me and the other tieflings at the Emerald Grove just to turn around and call us foulbloods behind our back? Seraphina thought.

As she was about to enter her tent, she noticed Astarion out of the corner of her eye. He waved her over and Seraphina crossed the camp to stand before him.

“I thought the wizard might keep you occupied all night. You know, I’ve been thinking about you.” Astarion grinned. “And that delicious moment we shared the other night.” Seraphina felt her stomach flip. She had butterflies around Astarion, and she couldn’t quite tell if it was exclusively because of his flirtatious way of speaking, or the fact that he reminded her of someone she shouldn’t still allow to be occupying her thoughts.

“The moment you bit me?” She asked.

Astarion nodded. “The very same. I’ve had this condition for two centuries, but truth be told?” He broke their eye contact and fiddled with his fingers. He took a deep breath. “You were my first.”

“What an esteemed honor. I hope my blood was satisfying,” She smiled.

“You were delectable. And now I just can’t help but wonder how the others taste.”

Seraphina dramatically gasped and clutched at her heart. “You’re looking at other necks? I’m hurt,” She pouted.

Astarion, for how prickly he was at first, was truly quite silly beneath it all. It only endeared Seraphina more.

“Don’t worry, there’s enough of me to go around. I’m a man of tremendous appetites,” Astarion smoothly replied. The way that he looked at her from under his lashes made her feel like lightning was coursing just underneath her skin. As she held his gaze, Astarion’s eyes began to shift from their beautiful crimson to the bright blue ones that haunted her dreams. She blinked a few times to push the image away.

“In the spirit of theoretical questions - if you had to take a bite from one of our companions, who would it be?” Astarion mused.

 “Ah, I love pondering hypotheticals with you in the dead of night,” Seraphina laughed, recalling when he asked how she would like to be killed. “Gale, no question.”

“A refined palate, but such an underwhelming answer coming from you, darling,”

“And what makes you say that?”

“I took you for someone who likes to take risks, live dangerously.”

“Would Lae’zel have been a more acceptable answer? Or you?”

Astarion smirked at her. “Darling, don’t expose all your lustful desires at once. Let’s try to leave room for a little suspense,” he winked.

Seraphina grinned wickedly. She hadn’t had fun like this in so long.

“Silly me. The buildup is the best part,” she whispered flirtatiously.

“If you think the buildup is the best, wait until you experience the conclusion I have in mind,” Astarion quipped. “But it’s late. I’d better go find something I can sink my teeth into. Sweet dreams,” Astarion brushed the back of his hand down Seraphina’s arm as he turned and headed into the woods.

“Good hunting!” She called out after him.

Sleep came easy. She knew that she couldn’t allow herself to develop feelings for anyone or get attached, not with the tadpole threatening all of their lives.

But wasn’t that all the more reason to have a little fun?

[mypoisonedvine]

𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐥𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐞 || helmut zemo, bucky barnes and sam wilson x reader

(this is a sequel to 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭-𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐞, I recommend reading that first although it’s not 100% necessary... it would make this make a lot more sense though)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : it was just a matter of time before he upped the ante, all four of you knew that, but taking you all on a vacation specifically for this was a bit over-the-top.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 7.9k (hoo boy)

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : smut (foursome/group sex + a scene that’s just zemo/reader, cockwarming, d/s dynamics, brief oral f receiving, a touch of dubcon/cnc but it’s very subtle and the reader is 100% consenting), established zemo x reader, sugar daddy relationship, ‘sir’ kink (with zemo), ‘daddy’ kink (with sam), orgasm control/denial, overstimulation, creampie, praise with light degradation, possessiveness (but also sharing, lol), exhibitionism/voyeurism, choking, brief anal mention, once again technically cuckolding but not in the typical sense, slight corruption kink?, too many robes, latin sokovian (or as I like to call it, serbukromanian), also assume that whenever the reader and zemo are alone they are speaking sokovian even though I write the convos in english for the sake of simplicity

thank you for being my beta @nsfwsebbie​ !!

                   When your Baron told you he wanted to take you on a vacation, you immediately assumed it would be to the mountains or some European city full of history and culture.  Instead, you were a bit surprised to hear he was interested in a beach resort, a private villa he had purchased in French Polynesia.

And then you found out he wanted to bring Sam and Bucky along too… and you were simultaneously more and less surprised.  More, because who brings tentative coworkers one barely gets along with on a romantic vacation?  Less, because of course he would do this.  Of course he had plans to dress you up in the tiniest bikinis he could find and show you off to the men who had already become pawns in his perverted game of social chess.

Not that you minded; you were the Queen of the board and it didn’t bother you if it was what the King wanted.

~

You spent the first night in the villa alone with him, which you appreciated.  It had been a while since you two had some real quality time together, and you were craving him more than ever, in every way.

After a beautiful day spent swimming in the crystal blue ocean and enjoying the sights your new temporary home had to offer, you took a shower and tried not to get too excited about how you might be spending the evening with him.  But, of course, you were only a few minutes into washing the saltwater off your body when you began to imagine his tongue on you, god that man could use his tongue to destroy you any way he wanted: with his words, with his kisses, or perhaps best of all with it tasting every inch of your cunt.  It was amazing how he could get on his knees for you and still have all the power.  He liked to make you keep eye contact with him while he did it, make you beg him to let you come, whatever it took to remind you that you were thoroughly and properly owned.

And you loved every second of it, you loved being helpless to him.  He made you feel so safe that being vulnerable with him by now felt like no risk at all.  You could remember early on when your fears and insecurities made you more hesitant to submit to him, and it was only with gentle patience that he coaxed you into it, never pressure or anger.  You weren’t a virgin when you met him but, sometimes it felt like you might as well have been since you were so inexperienced and undersexed then.  In fact, he was the first man, the first person other than yourself to make you come… and he made you come more ways than you had known possible.

Okay, so maybe the plan to not get your hopes up wasn’t going so well… you were already struggling to keep your hands from between your legs. Frankly, you would’ve already done it if you didn’t know that touching yourself was against the rules.

You’d gotten so used to taking care of yourself while he was in prison, at which point he obviously suspended that rule, and it was a hard habit to break at times.

You emerged from the bathroom in the fluffy robe you found on the door, smiling when you saw him lounging on the bed in a matching one, reading Анна Каренина (known by the West as Anna Karenina).  He looked contemplative, as always, and you always thought he looked especially sexy in his reading glasses.  You slipped into the bed beside him, resting your head on his chest as he found a position where he could read comfortably with his arm around your shoulders.

“You must’ve already read that book a thousand times, Helmut,” you sighed.

“And it gets better every time,” he mumbled back, turning the page.

You pouted slightly, nuzzling into his shoulder, and he chuckled.  “Is my little lutka in need of some attention?”

You nodded, and he kissed the top of your head softly.  

“Why don’t you keep me warm while I finish this chapter, hm?” he offered, and you involuntarily clenched your thighs together at his words.  He phrased it like a question, but it felt more like a gentle demand, and you were happy to agree either way.

“Yes, sir,” you hummed as you sat up and straddled his legs, undoing your robe and opening his to wrap your hand around his half-hard cock.

He reached his full potential with only a few slow strokes, and you found yourself absent-mindedly licking your lips as you saw the way your fingers just barely met with your thumb and imagined how your body would be pushed to its limits to take him.  Good thing you were already dripping wet even though you’d just been in the shower.

You indulged in rubbing your pussy over his shaft for a moment, enough to coat him in your wetness, before you lined up his tip to your entrance and sunk down onto him with a sigh, feeling like you could never tire of being stretched open by his thick cock.  

When your hips met his, and the tip of his cock brushed against the deepest parts of you, you had to bite your lip to suppress a whimper.  After so long apart, you were still readjusting to taking him and being on top didn’t make it much easier.

Honestly, you really weren’t trying to move; you just found your hips rocking slightly, seemingly of their own accord.  You moaned under your breath as your clit rubbed against his body, but you were pulled from your trance with a whine as he slapped your thigh.

“No moving, draga, I think I made myself clear,” he reminded you sternly.

“Yes, sir,” you breathed.

You were pretty sure that at some point, you were a patient person. But you couldn’t imagine that now, not when all you could think about was how amazing it would be to just ride him right there, memories running through your mind and making your inner walls ripple unintentionally.  He either couldn’t feel it or didn’t care, stoically continuing to read even as you were struggling to stay still.

Your plan was to be good for a while and then hope that you could convince him later… but you know what they say about best-laid plans, so you ended up cutting straight to the convincing pretty fast.

“Can I move yet, sir?”

“It’s hardly been a minute,” he frowned.

“Please,” you sighed, just barely moving your hips without even meaning to.

“Not yet,” he asserted, sounding a bit annoyed, but you needed this more than anything.

"Please let me move, please; I just wanna ride you so bad,” you begged.

He sighed, clearly irritated, and just when you thought you’d made a grave error, he finally put his book aside and looked up at you with a grin.  "If I had known you would be so whiny, I would have had you keep me warm with your mouth.”

You opened your mouth to respond but let out only whimpery moans when he ran his hands up your body, toying briefly with your nipples before wrapping a hand around your neck and pulling you down into a rough kiss.  Moaning into it, you couldn’t hold back any longer and started to rock your body atop his, savoring that perfect drag of his length along your walls that you’d missed so much.

Before you got a chance to really set your pace, he grabbed you tight and rolled the both of you over, pinning you under his weight as he fucked you in that way that was somehow rough and slow at the same time, moving his kiss to your neck and holding you down by your wrists.

“Fuck, th-thank you, sir,” you sighed, your cheeks warming when he chuckled against your skin.

“You really are too sweet, draga,” he whispered.

Your arms wrapped around his neck while your legs did the same to his hips, keeping him deep inside you while his lips and tongue teased your collarbones, his fingers interlacing with yours.

He spent the entire night somewhere between making love to you and fucking you within an inch of your life, making you come more times than you could count, only taking breaks from fucking you to eat you out like a starving man (and one time for a quick drink sometime around 3 a.m.).  It was no wonder, then, that you passed out just a few moments after he finally came inside you, sleeping soundly in his arms until well into the morning, nearly noon in fact, when the sun was streaming in through the massive window.

After a relaxed breakfast of champagne and fruit (the native pamplemousse was unlike anything you’d ever eaten before), Helmut encouraged you to shower again and meet him at the pool, which was a bit surprising since he normally liked to have you keep his come in you as long as possible.  “Our guests should be here this afternoon,” was his only explanation, and you had a few ideas about what that meant, all of which made your gut sink in an oddly pleasurable way as you were filled with anticipation.

“Wear that bathing suit I bought for you, the new one,” he added finally as he stepped out onto the back patio.

~

It might seem silly to have a pool on a property right by the beach, but on days like today, where the ocean water was just a bit too chilly, you were thankful to have the heated pool to take a dip in.  Honestly, you were a little surprised that Helmut didn’t make you swim in the ocean to see your nipples get hard through the tight black bikini, but then again, they were already getting there just from sharing a pool chair with him.

He was lying against the cushioned chair; your body sat between his spread legs as the back of your head rested on his chest.  And, this is entirely unrelated, but you really liked how he looked in the round sunglasses he had on.

You hummed contentedly as you reached up behind you to touch him, rubbing his shoulders and pecs.  You wiggled a bit, slowly, and imagined how it would feel if he got hard right against the small of your back.

"Mm, what's gotten into you, lutka?" he purred, rubbing your arms.

You rolled your eyes playfully.  "You know the effect you have on me, don't act surprised."

Just before anything exciting could happen, Sam and James entered through the fence, apparently already having changed into their swimsuits; you wished you had thought to wear sunglasses so they couldn’t catch you ogling their muscular bodies, but instead, you just tried to keep your cool as you waved hello.

“Welcome!” Helmut called out, both of you getting up to greet them properly.  “I hope your flight was alright…?”

“Yeah, it was great,” Sam nodded, “thanks.”

“You really own this whole place?” James added, glancing around.

“Yes, would you like to have a swim?  I hear it should be warm enough tomorrow for the ocean, but until then…” Helmut trailed off.

Sam went right ahead, diving in and smiling wide when he popped back up.  That man had such an infectious smile, you thought he should charge people to see it or something because you felt spoiled seeing it for free.

James jumped in behind him but seemed a little surprised when he returned to the surface to see you back in your chair with Helmut.  “Care to join us?” he asked you.

“Um, no, I already swam a bit this morning,” you remembered, suddenly shy, “I think I’ll stay by the pool a while longer.”

“Aw, I was looking forward to getting to know you better,” he pouted, and everyone else raised an eyebrow at that statement.  “Um, verbally, I mean,” he added, cheeks flushing slightly.

“What would you want to know?” you asked, sighing as you relaxed against Helmut’s chest.

“Well, what’s your story?” he shrugged, swimming up the edge of the pool to hang his arms over the edge.

“I… suppose it’s a rather short story,” you realized, “I was born in Sokovia, but my parents were immigrants.  I was a bit of an ugly duckling as a child, I think.”

“You look like quite the swan now,” James winked, and you hoped Helmut wouldn’t notice how much that affected you.  

“Oh, thank you,” you mumbled.

“Which reminds me, that’s a cute bikini you have on,” he complimented.

“Do you like it?” you hummed coyly.  “Helmut picked it out.”

“Why don’t you give them a better look, darling?” Helmut prompted, and Sam swam up to hang over the edge too as you stood up and fought the urge to cover yourself with your arms.  The Baron motioned his finger in a circle, silently instructing you to twirl so they could see the back, and you did though you felt a bit self-conscious about it.  Finally, once you were sure they’d had an eyeful, he let you sit back down in his lap.

“Cute, isn’t it?” he cooed as his fingers travelled slowly up your sides.  “It’s Chanel.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Sam dismissed, unlatching himself from the edge of the pool and falling into a backstroke.  “This is weird.  I just wanna swim.”

“You didn’t think this was seriously a free vacation, no strings attached, did you?” James shot back, getting up out of the pool and shaking some of the water off of himself before sitting down in the chair beside you two and letting his eyes wander over you.  “So, Chanel, huh?” he prompted, and you nodded.

“Helmut says I should only wear the nicest things,” you explained, sitting up slightly.

“Why does it matter?  You’d look beautiful in anything,” James cooed, and you felt a little dirty for how much you liked his attention.  Good thing you liked feeling dirty.

“And a rare wagyu steak would taste just as good served any way, but you wouldn’t put it on a paper plate, now would you?” Helmut countered.  “Well, maybe you would…”

James rolled his eyes but brushed off Helmut’s insult, returning his attention to you.  “I guess I’m just… hungry enough that it doesn’t make much of a difference.”

You reached up to trace your fingertip over the silver chain dangling off of his neck, biting your lip as you hooked your finger around it and pulled him closer.  “Are you hungry enough that you don’t mind that it’s another man’s meal?”

His blue eyes went wide for a moment before glancing down to your lips and back up to your unwavering gaze, your brow raised as if a challenge while his furrowed as if he were considering accepting it.

“If he’s willing to share…” James whispered back.

“Then kiss me,” you requested softly, pulling him closer by his dog tags one more time until your lips met.

The way James kissed you was… difficult to describe.  Gentle, but with this edge of intensity— like he was restraining himself, like there was so much more passion teeming beneath the surface.  You wanted to bring that out if you could; you wanted to see how far you could push him until he lost it.

As James carefully ventured his tongue into your mouth, only to pull back and nip your bottom lip with his teeth, Helmut kissed you too— on the back of your neck, that spot that always made you wet and desperate right away.  You moaned, and you couldn’t be sure exactly who it was for, but James sure decided to respond to it either way, tilting his head more to let his kiss explore you deeper.

Helmut’s teeth dug into your shoulder right as James nipped at your bottom lip like they had somehow explicitly coordinated to make you desperate; your right hand reached up to weave into James’ hair, your left squeezing Helmut’s wrist at your side.

The kiss ended just a moment too soon, and there was a delay before you blinked your eyes open to look back at James, who seemed quite proud of himself.

“Touch me,” you pleaded in a whimper.

“Where?” he asked, somewhat innocently.

“Y-you know where…” you mumbled.  

He grinned wide, all trance of innocence gone.  “I know, but I want you to say it.”

“My cunt,” you whispered, and he snarled just a bit at the word.  “Please?”

“Of course, which one do you want?” James prompted with a grin, showing you his hands as your eyes instantly gravitated to the metal one.

“I think you know which I’m going to choose,” you mumbled shyly, and he smirked as he reached forward with the vibranium arm to brush his fingertips over your stomach, moving down to the top hemline of your bikini bottom.

You just barely gasped when the metal digits swiped over your clit and began to rub gentle circles, almost too slow as if he wanted to tease you… which, of course, he did.

"Do you like the way he touches you, draga?" Helmut whispered.  His voice in your ear was like honey on your tongue, like honey everywhere.

"Yes, sir," you nodded, looking down at James' hand buried into your bikini.

"Hey, tell me you like it, too," James protested, "I'm the one doing it after all."

"I like it, James," you repeated, looking up at him.  "I… don't have a title for you.  Should I call you something when you touch me like this?"

"You can just call me Bucky from now on, okay?  I think we're well past close enough now for that."

"Okay, Bucky," you sighed, watching the way his jaw clenched when you called him by name, "please put your fingers inside me."

"Both?"

"Yes, please," you breathed.

"But my fingers are thick, they're hard metal, and you're so small and delicate…"

"I want them to stretch me out, just please—"

A loud moan of shock jumped out of your mouth when he pushed the fingers in all at once, and though it reawakened some of the soreness from when Helmut had fucked you the night before, it felt wonderful enough to make your back arch up from the strong body behind you, his erection now digging into your hip.

It was certainly loud enough to get Sam's attention, who suddenly appeared beside the chair while he towelled off his chiselled chest.

"Damn, what are y'all doing to her over here?" he wondered aloud as if he were concerned for your health.

"Just playing with Zemo's little doll," Bucky answered.  "She's really fucking tight, can barely fit two fingers."

"Wait, move over, let me see," Sam insisted, making Bucky pull his fingers out and Helmut holding you more firmly as Sam slipped his hand into your bikini as well, poking his fingers at your entrance before pushing them in.

His fingers were even thicker and longer than Bucky's, just by a slight margin yet enough to make you mewl and arch your back as your eyes fluttered shut.

"Fuck, yeah, you were right," Sam breathed, and you felt more hands running over your body but you couldn't even tell anymore whose they were; you knew one that reached to pull up your bikini top and expose your breasts was Helmut's, because only he would be so bold, but the fingers teasing your nipples, the rough palm running up your legs… they could've belonged to anyone, and that realization made your clit throb.

"Okay, okay, that's enough. I was here first," Bucky mumbled as you felt Sam's fingers slip out and the metal ones push back in— not to mention the thumb reaching up to circle your clit slowly.

He wasn't just exploring you this time; you could tell he had a mission.  The way he instantly curled into your spot, the way he moved quickly yet deliberately, all made your thighs begin to quiver.

Helmut kissed your ear, gently tilting your head to access your neck better where he began to suck hard enough to leave a mark, mumbling something in Sokovian about how good you were being for him and his guests.

You loved being good, and the praise made your hips lift a little so you could rock yourself onto Bucky's fingers; the three men chuckled proudly.

"Feels that good?" Bucky pressed, and you nodded quickly.

He fingered you even faster, harder, and you cried out.

"Ohhh fuck, Bucky!" you gasped.  "Bucky, I'm gonna come!"

"Oh no, you're not," Helmut groaned, giving you a quick spank on the inner thigh as you whined and jolted.  "James, take your fingers out."

"Do I have to?"

"You do if you want a chance to fill her with more than just your fingers…"

That worked right away, Bucky pulling back as you pouted at being empty again.

“Let’s take her inside, and we can continue this there,” Helmut suggested, and Bucky lifted you up into his arms as the Baron led the group back to the master suite.

The convenient thing about bathing suits is that it takes so little time to get naked, which is why the second the patio door was shut, Bucky and Sam were stripping as their hard cocks bobbed up against their stomachs.  As if that weren’t overwhelming enough, Helmut stepped away for a moment (which left you feeling more alone than usual) just as the men began to help you strip; Sam untied the back of your bikini while Bucky knelt and pulled down the bottoms, leaving you feeling exposed as you were totally bare before them.  Bucky smiled up at you and kissed along your thighs while Sam grabbed a handful of your ass and growled a bit under his breath.

When you looked over at Helmut, you saw he had actually dressed in his robe rather than stripping, nearly making you whine with disappointment.  But you couldn’t focus on that long as hands moved all over your skin, both of them still just slightly wet from the pool, and you shivered for both of those reasons.

You gasped when Bucky suddenly licked a thick stripe right over your folds, and if it weren’t for Sam’s arms holding you up, you might not have been able to stay standing.

Looking down at where Bucky was devouring you, he looked back up at you with a lot less dominating intensity in his eyes than you were used to seeing.  Not that you minded; after all, no one could do what Helmut did as well as he could, but maybe Bucky could do something different, and it would be just as enjoyable.  His tongue lapping at your clit was certainly wonderful so far.

Sam guided one of your hands back behind you to stroke his cock, your mouth falling slack, which he took advantage of by turning your face and capturing you in an open-mouthed kiss.  You heard your moans stifle against his tongue, felt his cock flex a bit as you smeared the precum you found at his tip.

“I think that’s enough for now,” Helmut interrupted, and everyone turned to look at him.  “Darling, come here,” he instructed with a curled finger that pointed to the bed, “hands and knees.”

You nodded and pushed the other men away, taking your place on the bed and looking up at him as he held your jaw gently.

"How long has it been since you had another man inside you, lutka?" he asked lowly.

"I can't even remember,” you admitted, “it's been so long…"

“Are you willing to try it?” he asked gently, no hint of domination or pressure in his tone, and you found yourself searching his eyes for the right answer.

“What do you want?” you asked him instead of answering.

“Draga, I’m asking what you want,” he reminded you, but you were afraid he would be hurt if you showed interest in the other men.  Sure, previous evidence indicated that wasn’t an issue for him, but your gut instinct was to deny your attraction.  So, you compromised. 

“All I want is you,” you answered first, “but…”

“But?”

“But is it awful if… if I want them to fuck me, too?”

He smiled, kissing your forehead.  “No, I don’t think so.  Only as awful as it is that I want to watch them fuck you.”

You looked up at him and smiled back, brimming with gratitude that he was so gentle with you.  It was fascinating how he wielded complete control over you and yet never used it against you.

“I have one rule, draga,” he added firmly, “you cannot come for them.  You only come for me.  Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And stay on your hands and knees, so I can always get a good look at you, yes?”

“Yes, sir.”

He kissed you one more time before pulling away and sitting back in the chair in the corner with his ankle over his knee, looking at Sam and Bucky expectantly.  Every chair he sat in seemed to look like a throne as soon as he was in it.

“Well, get on with it, then,” he instructed, motioning to you.  The men looked at you and looked at each other before some kind of silent agreement took place and Bucky stepped up first.  Sam sat down to watch you as you felt Bucky stand near the bed behind you, flesh and metal fingers running over your back until you shivered.

Then he pressed his cock against you, coating himself in your wetness, and that made you shiver, too.

You braced yourself as he lined himself up, whimpering slightly as he pushed his cock into you as well as hearing him moan lowly.  The hand at your waist tightened as he hissed in a breath through his teeth.

"Fuck," he breathed, holding you still so he could fill you completely.  “S’tight…” he slurred.

“How does it feel for you?” Helmut asked you, raising an eyebrow as he examined your expression, your mouth fallen slack, yet your brow furrowed.

“It feels… different,” you stammered your answer.  You gasped loudly as Bucky started to move, and yes, this was very different.  His cock was curved differently and though it didn’t exactly reach any new parts of you (you were sure Helmut had already touched every part of you physically accessible), it did stroke them in new ways.  

He gained speed rather quickly, clearly too on edge himself to stay patient, and you didn’t blame him although it sent you moving faster toward the edge than you would’ve liked.  At first you wondered if it would even be a challenge to keep from coming like Helmut had demanded… you chided yourself internally for ever being so hubristic.

His legs pushed yours apart, spreading them wider, and he began to really fuck you in earnest, fast and needy and each slam of his hips against your ass harder than ever.  “O-oh fuck,” you choked, forcing your eyes shut and scrunching up your nose for a second when he slammed the tip of his cock right into the deepest spots inside you.  This position left you with nowhere to go, put your whole body on display for him along with giving you no escape from his onslaught of pleasure.  Worst of all was that you were pretty sure he wasn’t even trying that hard to make you feel good, and yet feeling used like that only turned you on more.

"Bucky, please, slow down," you whimpered.

"Absolutely do not do that," Helmut interjected sternly.  "Don't let her tell you what to do."

And, possibly just to spite you, he actually fucked you faster.  You sobbed and bit down on your lip, fighting everything building up inside you.

“You’d better not come,” Helmut warned through his teeth, “you’d better not fucking come.  You know how bad it would be for you if you came for another man.”

“Y-yes, sir,” you nodded.

But Bucky was slamming right into your spot, and he knew it, too. He knew how desperate you were becoming, and apparently, he didn’t mind at all that you’d be punished for it.  He leaned down to growl against your ear, “I know how close you are.  Don’t you think it’d feel so good to just let go and come on my cock?”

You shook your head, tears streaming down your cheeks as the force it took to hold back your orgasm became painful.  “No, it would only feel good to come for Helmut…”

“C’mon baby, just stop fighting it and come for me,” Bucky taunted, “squeeze me tight with that sweet little pussy; I know you need to so bad.”

He wasn’t wrong, but you blinked with teary eyes up at Helmut and wanted nothing more than to please him and make him proud of you.  “Please, m-make him stop,” you begged, “I won’t be able to hold back anymore…”

“He’s not going to stop until he comes, lutka, and you need to stay strong,” he explained, his voice soothing you slightly.  “You need to be my good girl.  Can you do that?”

“Yes, sir,” you whispered.

Bucky held your hips tight as he pulled your body back onto his cock, and you forced your eyes shut to try to focus on not coming.  No other man had made you come in your life but Helmut, and you had no intentions of breaking that streak.

“Think you can make me come before I make you come?” Bucky challenged.

“I have to,” you answered breathlessly.  “And I want you to come… I wanna make you come so bad, Bucky, please…”

“Mhmm?” he encouraged.

“Please, I want it, please come for me,” you whimpered.

“Fuck, I will,” he promised darkly, fucking you even harder.

Helmut interjected a brief instruction: “Pull out.” 

Bucky nodded a little, breathing heavily as you felt his cock throb slightly, especially at the base where each movement stretched you out even more.  It was so beautifully erotic and you were tensing every muscle inside you to try not to come, which helped speed him up quite a bit since you were gripping him so tight.

“Fuck,” Bucky grunted, “fuck!” 

He pulled out and instantly painted your back with a roar, sliding his cock over your ass as he pumped stream after stream of come onto you.  You sighed happily, satisfied that you had managed to stave off orgasm with perhaps only a few seconds to spare— you’d never been so happy to make someone come before because this time it brought relief that you had done well for your Baron.

Then again, you always felt that way when you made the man himself come, but this was different because you had been moments away from failing him.

Speaking of the Baron, he stared down at you proudly the whole time, kneeling down slightly to swipe his finger through the cooling spend on your back and bring it to your open lips.  “Mm, you really are my perfect little girl,” he mumbled as you sucked his finger diligently.  But he turned his attention away from you to call out across the room, “Sam!  It’s your turn.”

Your eyes went wide.  “W-wait, Helmut, I’ll come!”

“No, you won’t,” he hissed, eyes darkening again, “because I told you not to.”

And Sam was already behind you, taking Bucky’s place who had already cleaned himself up a bit and returned to his seat, letting the Baron pour him a drink which he gulped down in one go.

When Sam pushed into the end of you, your natural instinct was to arch your back up to try to keep him from going too deep, but he growled and pushed your back down again with a strong hand that made you feel so small for a moment.  “No, baby, no running away… you’re gonna take it all.”

“Yes, daddy,” you breathed, yelping a little when he roughly shoved in that last inch.

From then on, he went much harder on you than Bucky had, spanking you and gripping your ass while he fucked you, and the most embarrassing part was how much harder it made it to keep from coming.  It was clear that he realized making you come would give him power over everyone else in the room for different reasons, and he was determined to gain that power.

“Does he fuck you this good, huh?” he groaned.  

“He fucks me better,” you shot back right away, making Helmut chuckle slightly.

“If your plan is to make her switch allegiances, you’ll have to do better than that,” Helmut taunted, and Sam doubled his efforts as one hand pinched your clit and the other groped your breast.  You almost lost it right there but managed to pull yourself together, your whole body shaking with the effort to keep the pleasure at bay.

“Well, if he can fuck you better then why doesn’t he?” Sam continued his leading questions, even though you could barely keep up a conversation at this point.  “Why does he keep pimping you out to us if he’s fucking you right all on his own?”

“Don’t you understand?” you breathed, your head falling down onto the bed as you were almost able to look back enough to see his face.  “This is my punishment.  He knows I don’t want anyone else; that’s why you’re here.”

Sam smiled, perhaps in pity, and yet you honestly had to close your eyes because his smile was so lovely that it could’ve brought an end to your restraint.  “Poor thing, he’s really got you whipped.  I… still can’t believe I’m doing this, but you feel too good to stop now.”

He yanked your head back by your hair for emphasis, making you yelp as he fucked you brutally.  Your toes curled and your fingers dug into the sheets, and you had to close your eyes because the way Helmut was staring at you made this all much too difficult.  Maybe it was just that he didn’t seem jealous at all, or angry; but he didn’t seem like he was getting any excess pleasure out of this, either.  It was… almost neutral, but something burned behind his eyes brighter than maybe you’d ever seen it, his legs crossed and his fingers interlaced as he waited for you to either hold or break.

With the top half of your body fallen limply onto the bed, you reached out above your head and felt Helmut’s hand grab yours, squeezing slightly, and it helped keep you grounded as you held his fingers.

“Oh fuck, ‘m gonna come,” Sam groaned out his warning, “gonna cover this pretty ass in my come, you want that?”

“Yes, please,” you shuddered. 

“Keep begging for it,” he demanded, rushing his words as you felt his cock start to throb against your walls with his impending orgasm.  

“Please come, please come, please come on me, Sam, please,” you chanted, over and over, struggling not to come and hoping that if you could speed him up, then you could make it.

He grunted through his teeth as hot ropes of seed covered your ass; though your body was left wanting, dangling on the edge so close to your release, your mind was satisfied that you had managed to follow your Baron’s rules.

Sam stepped back to admire his work, finding another spare robe to cover himself with as he rejoined the other men across the room.

“Would you like a drink as well?” Helmut offered to Sam, unfortunately letting go of your hand in the process.  Sam was still catching his breath, running his hands over his short hair as if he was processing everything.

“No, but are those cigars up for grabs?” Sam replied, pointing to the ornate box propped open, and Helmut nodded.

“Of course; what’s mine is yours,” he answered, presenting the box and lighter to him.

“Yeah, you can say that again,” Sam added flatly, the three of them all looking at where you were sitting, covered in come and waiting patiently for your next command.

Just as you feared they’d all have their cigars and whiskey and ignore you completely, your Baron knelt down to look at you face-to-face, smiling proudly.

“You did so good for me, darling,” he cooed, and your insides clenched as if you could come just from hearing that.  “You don't think I'm horribly cruel, do you?"

"No, sir," you smiled weakly.

“I’ll be right back,” he promised with a kiss to the tip of your nose as he stepped away to the master bathroom.  

You glanced at the other men— Bucky with his crystal glass of whiskey, Sam puffing at the cigar stoically— and wondered what, if anything, you could possibly say.

“So, how’s your weekend been so far?” Sam asked you plainly, breaking the silence.

“It’s only Friday night,” you realized, sighing as you tried not to imagine how much debauchery the Baron had in store for you.  Right now you were so exhausted that it sounded like too much work; and you were so desperate only for Helmut that the idea of anybody else being involved intimidated you.

Helmut returned quickly with a washcloth, sitting beside you on the bed and placing it gently on your back.

“As pretty as you look covered in come, I’d rather not make too much of a mess,” Helmut explained as he wiped you down with the damp cloth, your skin tingling and your body crying out for more of his touch.

“Will you fuck me, sir?” you mumbled, somewhere between an honest question and a desperate plea.

“Yes, I will,” he answered, making you hum happily, “and I’m finally going to let you come.”

You bit down on your lip, trying not to moan just from hearing that.

“But I’m not going to let you stop.”

The lump in your throat was impossible to swallow, but you tried anyway as he tossed the rag away and circled the bed, standing behind where you were laying limply.  He grabbed you by your ankles and pulled you down to where he needed you, covering your body with his as he kissed the back of your neck slowly.

“I bet you’ll come the moment I’m inside you, draga,” he whispered.  You nodded in agreement, gasping a bit as you felt his cock teasing your swollen, sore pussy.  Just the tip bumping into your clit was enough to make you think you could come right there, you’d been on the edge so long.

But then he pushed into you in one stroke, not rough yet enough to reignite the soreness of being filled by two men already, and your walls started to pulse around him.  A million words swirled in your mind, words about how perfect he felt and how you’d missed him so much and how no one could fuck you like he could, but none of them made it to your mouth where you could only moan loudly.

He wrapped his arms around you, he kissed everywhere he could reach, and waves of pleasure washed over you until tears filled your eyes.  You lost count immediately, coming on his cock over and over as you became a limp, whimpering mess right away.

“You two really did miss out,” Helmut taunted the other men between his own moans, “it feels so fucking amazing to be inside her when she comes.  She gets tighter every time… blyat, so tight I can hardly control myself.”

It was already hot to hear him speak to you like that in these moments, but for him to speak to someone else, to keep you from forgetting that you weren’t alone and that these men had just fucked you and were watching you come right now?  You hadn’t even imagined before what that would be like.

“Please, please, sir, please,” you chanted, your voice breaking until you could barely whisper.

“What is it that you want, lutka?  Do you even know what you’re begging for anymore?”

“I want whatever you want, sir, please,” you cried.  He reached around your body to rub your throbbing clit, and you all but screamed.

“I know you do, beautiful, I know,” he breathed, kissing your back and shoulder tenderly to calm you.  “I love you so much, draga, you know that, don’t you?”

“Yes, I love you too, Helmut,” you whispered, “more than anything.  I love being yours.”

“Aw,” you heard Bucky briefly sigh.

“Dude, shut up,” Sam corrected him harshly.

“It’s sweet!” Bucky defended.

“It’s weird; this is all so weird,” Sam frowned.

“You didn’t seem to mind before…” Bucky trailed off.

Two of Helmut’s fingers swiped over your open lips and you immediately sucked them into your mouth with a satisfied hum, the taste of his skin always comforting you.  When he rolled you onto your side, it was so much easier for him to touch you wherever he wanted and it only did more to keep you overwhelmed with pleasure until you worried you couldn’t take much more.  But you kept sucking his fingers, tears still falling which he occasionally kissed away, until he took his hand away to wrap around your neck instead.  You nodded a little to let him know it was okay to choke you, and your loud moans fell to sudden silence when he tightened his grip.  

It made your eyes roll back, it made your walls flutter and your toes start to go numb, it made you wonder if you were going to pass out whether or not he let you breathe again because your body was already ready to give in.

You sucked in a gasp when he let go, sobbing his name as a particularly deep thrust knocked you right into your peak again.  He kept one hand on your neck as the other reached between your legs to play with your abused pussy as he fucked it harder than ever.

“I can’t come anymore,” you assured, shaking your head and trying to push his hand away from your sore clit.  “I— I can’t…”

“Yes, you can, draga, I know you can. Just relax and let me keep making you feel good,” he instructed, somehow both gentle and demanding all at once.

“I… I can’t…” you breathed, nearly incomprehensible between thick sobs, but you were already coming again in spite of your words, shocks of pleasure electrifying your body from the inside out.  He choked you out into silence again, praising you all the way through it.

“There you go, shh, it’s all right,” he soothed, “you’re so beautiful, darling, so good for me, just keep going…”

You reached back to lace your fingers into his hair and tug, which did nothing to deter him from kissing your neck just beneath where his thumb gripped it, same as your hand wrapped tightly around his wrist didn’t stop him from quickly rubbing your clit.

Breath filled your lungs when he let go, and you were so desperate for relief that you felt like you weren’t even in control of your words anymore.

"Please come inside me," you begged mindlessly, "please, I need you so bad, please…"

“Is that what you need?” he groaned.  “You need to be full of my seed?”

“Yes, please, want it deep in me— fuck, Helmut, please!”

He growled and bit your ear lightly, mumbling his promise to fill you up in Sokovian— sometimes you thought he spoke Sokovian when he was about to come because he was so distracted that he forgot English, but you didn’t think that at the moment because you were currently too cockdrunk to think about anything.

His low moan echoed right through your body as you felt his cock flex and throb with each pump of come, just as deep as you’d wanted, and you sighed happily at the familiar feeling, finally relaxing into the mattress.

But perhaps you relaxed a little too soon because he made you come one more time after he’d filled you, whispering something about he wanted to use your pussy to milk every drop from his cock, but after that finally he pulled out, and you collapsed face-down onto the bed, ready to pass out even though the sun was only just beginning to set and you’d slept until noon earlier.

“Well, I think we sufficiently knocked her out,” Sam chuckled.

“‘We’?” Helmut repeated, sounding a bit offended yet bemused as he redressed.

“Okay fine, you did most of the heavy lifting, but only cause you wouldn’t let her come for us,” Sam relented with a frown.

“I swear, I was this close to getting her to break,” Bucky interjected, sighing before taking another slow sip of his (third) drink.

“Yeah, what would’ve happened if one of us made her come, anyway?” Sam wondered aloud.  “She seemed pretty worried about whatever punishment you had in store for her.”

“Nothing too terrible,” Helmut shrugged, “I just would’ve fucked her in the ass.”

Bucky choked on his whiskey as Sam tried and failed to suppress a smirk.

“She lets you do that?!” Bucky blurted out between fits of coughing.

“She lets me do whatever I want,” Helmut replied, “I’m surprised that hasn’t become abundantly clear to you by now.”

“I guess we’re still adjusting to it, that’s all,” Sam explained.  “I don’t know about you,” he looked at Bucky, “but this is new for me.”

“I was born in 1917; everything is new for me,” Bucky frowned.

“Well, this is new for us too,” Helmut assured, “especially her, she was so inexperienced when she met me…”

He paused for a moment to reminisce before glancing at you lying prone on the bed and looked totally fucked-out.

“But look at her now!” he finished.  “She takes it all in stride.”

“Yeah, she’s a trooper alright,” Sam agreed.  “Be careful with her, Zemo, ‘cause I think if you hurt her too bad, Bucky here is gonna be waiting in the wings to steal her.”

“I— what?!” Bucky snorted defensively.

“Don’t think we can’t see you giving her googly eyes, not that I blame you or anything… getting deepthroated for the first time will definitely make you catch feelings,” Sam smirked before taking a puff of the cigar again.

“It’s not like that, I’m just… listen, I guess I’m just a bit more conventional than you perverts,” he frowned.  “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful or anything, I just can’t imagine having a girl like that all to myself and letting anybody else lay a finger on her.”

“Not everyone is as insecure as you, James,” Helmut shrugged.  “Women can’t be stolen.  They can only go where they want to.  And she wants to be with me.”

He turned back to ask you if you agreed, but you were already fast asleep.  Smiling slightly, he grabbed a blanket from the foot of the bed and unfolded it to drape over you; you instinctively cuddled up under it without waking up, letting out a quiet sigh.

“Goodnight, draga,” he whispered with a kiss to your forehead.  “Rest well, you’ll need it for the morning.”

[snelbz]

Life As We Know It {Chapter 30}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Written with @tacmc.

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

A/N: Wow. The final chapter. Tara and I are so glad you've come along on this journey with us. We've absolutely loved writing this story for you all and we hope you've enjoyed it as well.

Nesta looked around their home.

It was decorated to perfection - at least, that had been Nesta’s goal. The theme for Nyx’s second birthday was space cowboy, which had happened when Cassian wanted a cowboy theme while Nesta wanted an outer space theme.

It had been a challenge to perfect the space cowboy theme - especially when it came to a two-year-old’s birthday party.

There were aliens with cowboy hats and paper cows on UFO balloons. In the corner of the living room, there was a horse wearing an astronaut costume - a decoration that Cassian had created, and one he was quite proud of.

Nesta herself wore a “space-like” outfit that reminded her fondly of Zenon: Girl of the 21th Century. When Cassian came down the stairs, however, it looked like he had just walked out of the Wild West.

He wore chaps over his jeans, and Nesta found her mind wandering on those chaps alone.

She hoped he kept them.

They would be useful in the future.

He also wore a plaid button down and a cowboy hat.

She thought he should keep the cowboy hat, too.

Nyx, however, looked like the cutest little mess Nesta had ever seen. His onesie looked like a spacesuit, but on his head, instead of an astronaut helmet, he wore a teeny little cowboy hat. On his feet were genuine cowboy boots.

Nesta laughed as they reached the first floor landing, and Cassian’s grin widened.

“Now introducing our two-year-old space cowboy,” Cassian said, unable to control his laughter.

Nyx’s grin was wide as he clapped. “MAMA!”

Nesta laughed, taking Nyx into her arms. Yeah, he looked ridiculous, but he also looked oh so cute. “Happy birthday, sweet boy.”

Nyx took Nesta’s face in his hands and gave her a big, sloppy kiss.

With a chuckle, Nesta said, “Thank you, that was very sweet. Now, let’s go make sure everything’s ready, yeah? Our guests will be here soon.”

“Dada,” Nyx said, pointing to Cassian. “Hi-hi.”

Cassian laughed. “Hi, bud.” He went straight for the corner and adjusted his astronaut-horse.

Nesta just shook her head and brought Nyx into the kitchen.

It smelled delicious.

Nesta had spent the entire morning cooking.

At first, she had no idea what to make for a space cowboy party, but she really felt like she nailed it. She had a taco bar, which worked for every type of party, and baked and decorated a cake that looked like Cassian’s horse in a spacesuit.

It was ridiculous.

And absolutely perfect.

Nesta looked at the clock. “We have twenty minutes, Nyx. We have to make the homemade tortillas and get out the salsas.”

“What about the alcohol?” Cassian asked, sweeping into the kitchen.

Nesta rolled her eyes. “It’s our two-year-old’s birthday.”

Cassian blinked. “So, no whiskey, just wine?”

Nesta clicked her tongue. “Check the wine cabinet.”

“Yes ma’am,” Cassian winked, tipping his hat before he left the room.

Nesta snorted, even though she found it deeply charming and handsome as hell.

Yeah, she definitely hoped he’d keep that outfit.

Nesta took the dough out of the fridge that she had rolled earlier that morning and a rolling pin. When she had countless flat, doughy circles she dropped them in the oil-filled skillet one by one. Fifteen minutes later, she had a giant stack of flour tortillas and was carrying them, alongside a tray filled with different types of homemade salsas, to the table she had set up in the living room.

There was a quick knock on the door and it cracked open before Nesta could even turn towards the door.

“Oh, my.”

She laughed at Azriel’s reaction to the house, turning to see him carrying in a stack of presents, Elain’s camera bag and Persephone’s diaper bag. “Go big or go home, right?” She chuckled.

“You decided to go big at home,” he replied, shaking his head.

Nesta wasn’t surprised to see that Azriel hadn’t dressed up, wearing his traditional all-black attire instead, but a little space princess in cowboy boots ran in right after him and she couldn’t stop the grin as she looked at Seph.

Elain was a just a few steps behind, and as she came in, she dropped a black cowboy hat atop Azriel’s head. He rolled his eyes, but said nothing as he adjusted the hat, and was off in search of Cassian.

“Okay, you’ve outdone yourself,” Elain announced, beaming as she looked around the house. “This is awesome.”

Nesta shrugged. “He only turns two once, right?”

“I’ve got the wine!” Cassian announced, pushing through the kitchen door with two bottles of wine and a glass of whiskey.

Nesta chuckled. “I thought we said wine only?”

“We did,” Cassian said, setting the bottles on the table. “For the guests.”

“Am I a guest?” Azriel muttered.

Cassian snorted and motioned to follow him into the kitchen.

In the middle of the room, Nyx and Persephone were dancing to the techno space playlist Nesta had put on.

Elain laughed, quietly. “I need to get out my camera. Anything I can help with?”

Nesta shook her head. “You’re good. Take pictures and send them all to me.”

Elain promised she would, and Cassian and Azriel came back out with their full glasses of whiskey. Nesta looked around.

Elain was right.

They had done well.

Nesta hoped the rest of the guests thought so, too.

Before they knew it, the house was full, people were laughing and eating and drinking and Nesta couldn’t help but smile from where she stood to the side watching it all.

What a difference 365 days could make. Nesta couldn’t believe it as she watched Nyx and Persephone play with Viviane, who had also come dressed up, much to Nyx’s delight. He kept stealing her hat, and she let him, donning his tiny one instead, though it didn’t fit on her head.

She couldn’t help but think of the two people who were missing though. The two people who should have been here. Her eyes drifted to the cross Cassian had made, where it sat on the mantle, it’s permanent home.

A set of strong arms wrapped around her waist and she leaned back into Cassian’s embrace.

His chin was resting on her shoulder, and he said, “Nyx is happy. We’re happy. But… It doesn’t feel right without them here.”

As always, he knew exactly what she was thinking. She gripped his arms over her abdomen and held him there, letting him know she understood.

“They’re here, though,” Cassian whispered into her ear. “They’re here and they’re watching us, watching him. They wouldn’t miss today.”

Nesta nodded and held onto him tighter. If she would have tried to say a word, the tears would have come.

Sad tears because she missed her sister and brother-in-law.

Happy tears, though, because she loved Nyx, and she loved Cassian, and she couldn’t believe how far they had come in the last year.

Clearing her throat, and wiping a tear that had snuck out, she announced, “Let’s open gifts and have some cake!”

Cassian kissed her cheek before he was on the floor, Nyx climbing on top of him, and helping the two year old open his gifts.

It only took one or two gifts before he was completely distracted by trying to play and wasn’t even paying attention as Cassian opened his gifts one by one. But they made it through the pile and Nesta carried in the astronaut horse cake, which had Nyx on his feet and chanting, “Cakecakecakecakecake!”

With Cassian’s help, Nyx blew out the big “2” candle and narrowly avoided a smash cake for the second year in a row.

“Not this year, bud,” Cassian chuckled, carrying a confused Nyx to his booster seat in the kitchen. “We’re all going to eat this one. Not just you.”

His irritation disappeared as soon as Nesta sat a piece down in front of him, but he made nearly just as big of a mess as he had the year before.

“Nesta!” Elain called, and she turned from where she was cutting more pieces in the kitchen. “Come here, I want to get a picture of you guys.”

Her eyes found Cassian’s and they softened, thinking back to the picture they’d been forced to take a year before.

“Still think you’ll burst into flames if you brush arms with me?” He asked, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“Maybe,” she said, and he chuckled as she wrapped an arm around him. “But I’m not as bothered by it as I used to be.”

Cassian grinned, and Elain took a picture of their little family.

*

It was the day after Nyx’s second birthday and all three of them anxiously waited in the living room. It wasn’t that they were scared about the visit, but after last time, there was a little bit of nervousness surrounding them all.

Well, everyone but Nyx.

He was giddy as he played with all of his birthday toys.

Nesta was pacing, while Cassian watched a hockey game around the path she was wearing into the carpet.

“Come sit down, Nes,” he said, reaching for her hand. “They told us it would be this afternoon, but that could be anytime.”

“I know, I know,” she said, biting her nail. It had been a horrible habit of hers when she was younger, but now it only appeared when she was nervous

He caught her other hand in his. “Sit,” he repeated, tugging her towards. “You know what the doctor said about stress. It’s not good for—.”

A knock on the front door had Nesta bolting for it, and Nyx asked, “Hello?”

Cassian couldn’t help but chuckle as he stood and walked to him, crouching down in front of him. He smoothed Nyx’s dark hair back from his face and said, “I need you to be good today, okay? Be a good boy and daddy will take you to get ice cream after dinner.”

He nodded and repeated, “Ice cream.” Or he tried, but he couldn’t quite pronounce it.

Cassian could only grin down at him.

“You’re taking too long,” Nesta chastised, hurrying toward the door.

Cassian rolled his eyes but said nothing more as Nesta reached the door, smoothed down her non-wrinkled dress, and opened it up.

Alis Birch stood on the threshold, a folder in her hand, and, surprisingly, almost wearing a smile. “Nesta, it’s a pleasure.”

Nesta nodded, hesitantly. “Yes, you too. Come in, please.”

Alis crossed the threshold and nodded at Cassian. “Good afternoon, Mr. Nazari.” She looked at Nyx. “And glad to see you wide awake for one of my visits.”

Nyx smiled as he waved, and said, “Hi-hi.”

“Ah, he’s talking,” Alis said, going into the living room and smiling at the toddler.

“Oh, he hardly ever stops,” Cassian snorted. “Picks a new word up every day, I swear.”

“Sit,” Nesta said, sitting in the chair. “Please.”

“Thank you,” Alis said, taking her place on the couch. “I hear someone just had a second birthday.”

“Yesterday,” Nesta said, nodding. “We had a party. He had fun.”

“Good, plenty of toys and excitement, I assume?” She asked, watching as he played with a chunky, wooden puzzle made of farm animals. As if it were a gift from the gods themselves, he slid the cow into the right hole, and grinned up at Cassian. “Mooooo!”

He chuckled as he sat on the arm of Nesta’s chair. “Good job, bubba. Cows do say moo.”

He kept on grinning but went back to his puzzle.

“So,” Nesta said, clearing her throat. “What sort of questions do you have this visit?”

Alis didn’t say much, just looked around at the living room and kitchen. Cassian’s astronaut horse was still set up in the corner, as he’d insisted it was a work of art and as such, deserved to be displayed for at least a few more days. “Honestly, I don’t have many today. You two have made it very clear that Nyx is your main focus, and I can tell that he’s very happy and is thriving under your care.”

Cassian doubted she knew it, but Nesta released a breath she’d been holding and nodded. “We love him, more than anything. We— We’ll always miss Feyre and Rhys, but it’s not just about doing right by them anymore. Nyx has…” She took Cassian’s hand and continued. “He’s become our son, and we’ve become a family. And we couldn’t imagine it any other way at this point.”

Alis nodded and jotted a few notes in her binder. Nesta could have sworn a hint of a smile was on her face. “And, as far as the relationship between the two of you goes, where do we stand? It’s been a few months since we last discussed it.”

Cassian was the one to answer. “We’re engaged. We have been since Christmas, and, since Nyx’s birthday just passed, the wedding planning will start soon. And actually, we’re also—.”

“We couldn’t be happier,” Nesta said, interrupting him, holding up her left hand and showing the sparkling diamond on her ring finger. She gently squeezed his hand, and he didn’t ask, but nodded. “We couldn’t be happier and neither could Nyx.”

Alis looked from Cassian to Nesta to Nyx, and nodded. “I’m glad to hear it. I’ll put in a good report, and you have nothing to worry about. Truly, I wish you all the best.”

Nesta smiled, and it was genuine. “Thank you, Mrs. Birch. Thank you.”

“I’ll leave you all be,” Alis said, standing. She closed her binder. “If you ever need anything, please reach out.”

“We will,” Cassian said. “Thank you.”

With one last smile, she said her goodbyes and was gone.

Nesta leaned against the closed doors and sighed a loud sigh of relief. “We did it. We’re done.”

Cassian pulled her into his arms and hugged her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I never had any doubts.”

She pulled back and looked up at him. “I sure as hell did. Who knew an old woman could be so terrifying?”

He chuckled but shook his head. “What now?”

“We wait for Tarquin to reach out to us. There’s some official paperwork that will have to be signed after she submits her report and findings, but…” She looked over at Nyx who was still engrossed in his puzzles. “We’re officially a family.”

Smiling, Cassian leaned down to kiss her. “And we didn’t tell her about this one because…?”

His hand brushed over her abdomen, over the life that was growing inside.

“I’d say we’re entitled to a few secrets of our own,” she replied, smiling. “Besides, they’re more focused on ensuring Nyx is taken care of. We’ve proven that time and time again.”

They’d found out Nesta was pregnant just a few weeks before. Not even ten weeks, and for that reason, they hadn’t told anyone, not even Elain and Azriel.

“Fair enough,” he muttered and kissed her, again.

Nyx had walked up to them and was tugging on Cassian’s pant leg, begging to be picked up, which is exactly what he did.

They hugged him tight, and felt an overwhelming amount of peace.

A year of ups and downs and chaos had passed, but they had made it.

They were a family.

All four of them.

[comfortwriting]

Keep Me Warm - F.W

Masterlist, Requesting Rules, Writing Prompt Masterlist, Taglist

Fred Weasley X Fem Reader

Requested/About: Fred and Y/N move into their new flat, Fred soon realises that his neighbours are crushing on his girlfriend, Y/N. One evening, he's tired of having to explain that you're his, so he makes it clear in another way.

Warnings: 18+ smut, mention of eating, smoking, breeding kink, unprotected sex, rough sex, jealous Fred, swearing.

Prompt 106: "Be careful" he warned you, fucking you faster "you know how bad I want to knock you up."

Prompt 117: "That's it, baby! Moan my name, tell me how good it feels as I fuck you!"

"That's the last box!" you beamed up at Fred, standing at the bottom of the stairs, excited to finally get settled into your flat.

Fred peered over the stairs and smiled at you, looking proud and accomplished; finally able to start a new chapter as a husband and wife.

"Shall we get everything unboxed?" he asked, his smile widening - turning into a grin.

"As long as we start with the bed first." You smirked.

The front door behind you opened, two young men walked through, they looked like brothers, they closed the door behind them and you could smell the tobacco on their clothes.

"Sorry!" you went bright red "I hope I'm not being too loud."

Fred walked down the stairs slowly, staring at the two brothers who were eyeing you up and down.

"Not at all" the man held out his hand "I'm Stewart."

"I'm Y/N" you smiled back, shaking hands with him "This is my husband, Fred."

Stewart raised his eyebrows, but still shook hands with his new neighbour.

"Husband? You look a little too young to be married."

Fred bit his tongue, he didn't judge them - yet they were already judging you. What did it matter to them if you were married or your age? It's none of their business.

"We've been together since high school" Fred interrupted "Been together ten years now."

Stewart nodded, then introduced his brother Steven who couldn't take his eyes off you, staring at your breasts and behind.

"It's lovely to meet you" he smiled, he then turned to face Fred "it's nice to meet you, Fred."

Fred quickly ushered you upstairs, refusing the offered help from the brothers who were eager to help you unpack. He carried the last box up the stairs, slammed the door with his foot and set the box on the floor, he looked slightly ticked off.

"You okay Freddie?" you asked softly, pulling out a vase from the box, placing it on the kitchen counter.

Fred grumbled and pulled out his wand, waving it, your furniture sliding across the room, the bed pulling together, the plates and dishes flying into the cabinets and your books speeding across the room, landing, and sitting comfortably on the bookshelf.

"Hey!" you frowned "you promised me no magic."

Fred walked towards you and planted a soft kiss on your head "sorry, love." he said softly "I'm just a bit pissed off, that's all."

You placed your hand against his face, stroking his cheek with his thumb "ignore them" you sighed "it's not like they're next door."

If only you knew, unfortunately, the brothers did live next door - and they couldn't help but spend the entire afternoon making a dessert pie for you - of course, they would express it being for both you and Fred, but that was bullshit, they didn't care about your husband.

"Ten years with the same guy, how miserable," Stewart said, pulling the pie out of the oven.

"Fred!" they heard you giggle through the walls "Give me that back!"

Steven looked at his brother and shrugged "I don't know, she sounds pretty happy to me."

"Well, she could do much better." Stewart grabbed a postcard with sunflowers standing up tall in the sun, he scribbled a note on the back.

"That I agree with." Steven laughed, he pulled out a cigarette "going out for a smoke, you coming?"

Stewart shook his head "I'm good, going to take this round."

Steven nodded, your laughter and Fred's broke through the walls, "I'll see you afterwards then."

Fred chased you around the room with the feather duster, trying to tickle you, you were starting to get out of breath and stopped in your tracks forming a 'T' with your two hands.

"Time out!" you wheezed "Time out!"

Fred lifted you into his arms, pecking kisses all over your neck "Time out? We were just getting started."

Before Fred could continue, a knock rapped at the door, Fred put you down and walked over to the door, looking through the peephole.

"Fuck sake" he mouthed.

You walked over and looked through the hole, Stewart stood there with the pie in the glass tray.

"Oh Freddie" you whispered "he's just being nice."

You pushed in front of Fred and opened the door, Stewart looked up and smiled at you, Fred stood behind you and didn't bother to hide his sour expression or glares.

"Hope you don't mind me bringing this for you both tonight" he smiled "Apple pie, hope you like it."

"I prefer my mums" Fred interrupted.

You rolled your eyes and took the pie from Stewart, inviting him inside and putting the kettle on, remembering to keep your wand inside your pocket. Cutting the pie into slices, you plated them up and set the three plates down on the table, sitting with your annoyed husband and eager neighbour.

"So how did you know which number?" you asked, taking a bit out of the delicious pie.

"We're next door actually!" Stewart beamed, this flat has been empty for months, seeing you move in made us realise someone finally decided to rent the place."

Fred gritted his teeth, he hated Stewart, he hated the pie, the fact that he was next door - he couldn't bring himself to engage in conversation, he couldn't anyway - Stewart was only interested in you.

The rest week didn't turn out how you expected since moving into your own place, Fred spent more time at work, and would be in the foulest mood when he came home, he couldn't stand being next door to a man who became infatuated with you, who was pushing his luck and went too far one evening which kickstarted the worst argument between you and your husband.

"Why does it matter?!" you yelled back, draining the bath of its water.

"Can't you understand?" Fred hissed "He's in love with you!"

"He's just being nice!" you picked up your towel, drying yourself before wrapping it around your body "You're never here anymore! You're always at work and when you come home you treat me like shit!"

"He's trying to fuck you!" Fred shut the bathroom door so you couldn't leave "I'm away from home because I can't stand him, I can't stand you getting close to him."

"Fred-"

"No, Y/N, I've tried and he just doesn't get it. He wants us to argue, he wants you all to himself!"

You rested against the tile wall, staring up at your husband as his soft hand pushed the stray hairs out of your face.

You realised that Fred was right - there was a reason Stewart only came to visit when Fred was working, why he showered you with kind desserts and sweet notes, and how his obsession with you had caused Fred to become so distant within the past few weeks.

You placed your index finger against your lips, shushing your husband "he'll be able to hear us" you whispered.

Fred nuzzled his nose into yours, kissing your neck softly, looking at you with a smirk on his face.

"And I know he's listening," Fred whispered back.

You dropped the towel to the floor, exposing your naked body, Fred lifted you up into his arms, you wrapped your legs around him and giggled as he carried you into the bedroom, he sucked on your nipple softly, circling his tongue around it. You moaned out softly, he slowly lowered you onto the bed.

Fred pulled his mouth from your nipple, slowly planting wet kisses down your warm body, reaching your navel, he spread your legs and planted a soft kiss on your clit, causing you to moan out a little louder than you meant - Fred looked up at you and smirked.

"Don't be quiet now" he growled "I want them to hear you."

Fred slowly dragged his tongue over your clit teasingly, you looked down at his hard dick poking through his trousers.

"I want you, Freddie." you breathed staring at his hard-on "Please."

Fred licked his lips, pulling off his shirt, then unbuttoning his trousers and pulling down his zipper. You tried to sit up but Fred pushed you back down, shaking his head, you stared at his cock poking through his boxers, he finally pulled them down and his erection slapped against his lower stomach.

Pulling in to kiss you passionately, Fred stroked his cock and pulled out the lube from the bedside table, pulling away to lather it on his cock, which he stroked against your pussy teasingly.

Fred sat on the end of the bed and summoned you over to him with his index and middle finger, you crawled over to him and sat down on him slowly, facing away from him, reverse cowgirl, but your feet were on the floor - you stared at your husband through the mirror.

His hands gripped onto your waist, his hard cock now pushing inside of you, your eyes closing shut and your jaw hanging open for a moment as you adjusted to his length and the feeling of him stretching you out.

Fred's left hand let go of your waist and gripped your hair, pulling you down as you leant forward. Grinding on your husband, his soft moans filled the bedroom - but he stopped you - he didn't want Stewart to hear how good you made him feel, he wanted to fuck you so hard that your moans had Fred's name all over it.

Your husband started to buck his hips faster, pounding into you, your moans and the slapping noises filling the bedroom and spilling into next door.

The feeling of him reaching deeper inside of you, his right hand on your waist and his left in your hair sent shivers down your spine, biting your lip you remembered what he said, and didn't stop yourself from moaning out loud.

"Fuck!" you panted heavily, watching Fred through the mirror "You feel so good, Freddie!"

Fred grunted, pushing you onto the floor, the palms of your hands resting against the wooden floor, now in doggy style, your husband pushed his cock deeper inside you, this position bringing you more pleasure.

"Fred!" you wailed "Fred!"

"That's it, baby! Moan my name, tell me how good it feels as I fuck you!" Fred panted, your walls tightening around him, his cock throbbing at the thought of Stewart knowing that you belonged to no one else but him.

"It feels so fucking good!" you wailed "You're so deep inside me!"

Your husband picked up speed, your palms and knees pressing deeper into the wooden floor, your juices coated Fred's cock, as did the lube, making it easier for him to slide in and out of you.

Fred continued to pant, his forehead and body covered in beads of sweat, the sight of your body and the sound of your moans, the feeling of your walls strangling his length pushed him closer to the edge; both of you were having the time of your life, and Stewart knew it.

Stewart sat in the kitchen, his face red, an expression flashed like he had been slapped in the face, he hated Fred, he hated that he was fucking you - owning your pussy - making you feel better than anyone else ever could.

Sensing that Fred was close, his cock throbbing inside of you, you pushed your arse out and spread your legs further so Fred could watch his juice throated cock fill you up. You could feel your climax reaching closer, the pressure in your tummy building up.

"Y/N" Fred groaned "You're so fucking tight-"

"I-I'm cumming!" You wailed, the pressure in your stomach bursting.

"Cum for me baby!" Fred yelled, so next door could hear.

Your cum flowed down Fred's length, he couldn't keep up much longer, and the sight of your pussy in this state was sending him over the edge.

"Be careful" he warned you, fucking you faster "you know how bad I want to knock you up."

You chewed on your lip, the pleasure increasing, your moans getting louder.

"Cum inside me" you begged "Please!"

Your begging pushed Fred to the edge, before he could pull out he released himself deep inside of you, filling you up.

“Don’t move” you breathed “keep me warm.”

Whilst you and your husband climbed down from your climax, Stewart had his head in his hands, feeling frustrated that his plan didn't work out. Luckily for you, this was enough to send him packing.

Taglist: @amourtentiaa @reeophidian @alwaysnforeverfangirl @horrorxweasley @lucymfer @onlyfreds @sebby-staan @xmalfoyweasleyx @freddiemylovelg @pandaxnienke 

[icequeenbae]

Desert Flower (m) Ch. 1 | BBH

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader x Baëkhyun

Characters: EXO and X-EXO (not all of them mentioned)

EXO vs X-EXO dynamics, complicated relationships, angsty, action, smut (as usual)

Warnings: sorta mingling with your ex’s ‘evil twin’, mentions of blood/ violence (nothing too graphic… I suppose), Y/N gets teary a lot(?), explicit content, rough sex, unprotected sex

Word Count: ~13.5k (full), ~3.7k (Chapter 1)

Summary: Baekhyun, your beloved boyfriend of three years, suddenly breaks up with you and disappears from the city in an attempt to protect you. But leaving you alone and clueless means trouble will surely find you. For it is easy to spot a flower in the desert.

Masterlist   >> One >> Two (m) >> Three (m) >> Four (fin)

Author’s Note: Yay, this is happening!!! My first BaekBaёk, oml I’m gonna-

Ok. I’ll admit right off the bat that I wouldn’t be posting this any time soon without my lovely beta @baekshoney​ 🖤 She’s the person I turn to when I think there’s a million little things I could’ve done better, because that’s what I always think. I had to give myself a cut-off date to finally give up editing this 😅 So, I’d really appreciate it if you guys could share your thoughts and opinions on this too. My asks, dms and comments are places where you’re always welcome! Now, let’s get into this!

Tags: @blahblahblah-boo @baeklightsx @wooya1224 @baekklove

Chapter 1. The beginning of the end 

It was all too sudden.

The words he’d said deafened you. Refusing to believe what you were hearing, you shook your head and took a step back, as if doing so could start the conversation you’d just had over. Or rewind the time and allow you to prevent the words from coming out of his mouth in the first place. But he was firm, unyielding in his stance.

‘I’m sorry,’ he repeated. ‘It’s my fault. I should’ve known better.’

Than to start this relationship, was what he meant. That he should have avoided getting in a relationship with you altogether, and breaking up with you would’ve never become an issue.

‘Why?’ You tried to speak, but your lower lip started to tremble, silencing you at once.

This was all wrong. It couldn’t have been true, what he was saying.

He licked his lips, looking away, hands forming tight fists at his sides as he tried to recollect himself and urge his body to stay frozen on the spot.

That did not work for long – the sight of you, so small, so stunned and defeated, with tears welling in your eyes while you tried to stifle them… He couldn’t. It was stupid of him to break his act so easily, but you were too precious to him to just leave you like this.

Sighing and cursing himself out in his mind, he took a stride towards you and gathered you tightly in his arms.

‘I am sorry, Y/N,’ he continued softly, hearing you hiccup in his unexpected embrace. ‘But I have to leave. We- I should’ve stayed away from you from the start. Forgive me for being so weak.’

You sobbed at his words, shaking your head stubbornly and clinging to his broad chest as an act of desperation.

‘I can come with you!’

‘No,’ he interrupted your crazy idea. ‘I’m leaving you behind. To keep you safe.’

‘Safe from what?’ You questioned, half-annoyed now.

He kept insisting that he wished to protect you, but how was leaving you all alone ensuring your security? And why would you even consider it, when you only felt safe while with him?

‘I cannot tell you. The more you know, the more dangerous it is.’

‘Baekhyunie, please,’ you wiped the tears and grabbed onto his vest as he moved to pull away. ‘You can’t just decide this on your own!’

‘Y/N,’ he took hold of your wrists, not removing them just yet. ‘I know it’s hard, and I never wanted to hurt you like this. But there’s nothing you can say that’ll change my mind. I’d rather break your heart than risk your life, so it’s not really a choice.’

He looked around as if to make sure you were not being watched, and then leaned in to place a farewell kiss on your temple – his favorite spot. You sniffled, realization of the inevitable setting in.

‘Just let me go, flower,’ his voice lowered to a whisper, and you sobbed at the pet name. ‘You’ll be better off without me, I promise.’

‘No,’ you protested as he freed himself from your grasp, and took a step back. ‘No, Baekhyun, don’t leave,’ you clawed at his forearm, trying to stop him. ‘We can deal with it together, we can think of something! I don’t want to be without you,’ you whimpered sorrowfully.

He shook his head, shying away from your touch, while you desperately tried to hold him back.

But you couldn’t. He gently peeled your hands off to walk away, and you missed the pained crease between his eyebrows when he turned his back on you to escape your apartment.

‘Please, don’t do this…’ You whispered, voice breaking in anguish. Just as your heart was.

Yet, Baekhyun kept walking. Leaving you to weep in the unwelcoming emptiness of your home.

Leaving you for good.

***

Your relationship with Baekhyun started almost three years ago.

Still new to university life, you found yourself in the midst of a soap opera worth of drama when a bunch of transfer students joined all at once, some even in the same year as you. All highly attractive, they usually hung out together and spent less time than needed socializing with the outside world.

Not that you cared too much – sure, the excitement going around was making you curious, but they looked too handsome, almost to the extent that you found it intimidating. Ironically, the most intimidating you found Baekhyun. His then long dark hair with strands of red and a mullet hairstyle, the sharp green eyes, the pierced eyebrow, and the lip ring that made him look like a very attractive hooligan... The piercings turned out to be just as fake as the eye color, which did not disappoint you at all.

Funny enough, you only got to know this bad boy because he took a liking to retreating to the campus library. Hiding from all of the attention, of course. While some members of his clique actually basked in it, he preferred to disappear to the remote aisles of the quiet space and read a book, or, more likely, sleep with one on his chest. You saw him like that often, since you were stuck in there yourself – essays for different classes were piling up rapidly. As a diligent student, you were determined to do well in your first year of university, so dragging yourself to the library to stay glued to your laptop was the best option.

Coincidentally, you also preferred to stay in the less lively spaces, as you tended to seek peace and quiet to focus on your assignments. Your attention span… wasn’t impressive, to say the least, so you did your best to avoid any distractions. However, you didn’t count on a certain sleep lover to be one of them.

It was not the first day you spent close enough to notice the tranquil expression he wore on his face as he was snoozing. It was, however, the first time he caught you staring mindlessly in his direction. Burning the deepest shade of red in your cheeks, you grabbed your books and quickly made yourself scarce, thanking heavens for the multiple aisles of books around. You walked around for ten minutes or so, actually placing your books back where they belonged and finding a secluded corner to check out what else was on the shelves. Squinting, you tried to read the name of the tome that had gotten your attention, and raised your arm to get it from the level that was clearly too high for you. Thankfully, someone reached over your head and helped you obtain the book. You turned around to say thank you but instead were suddenly pushed back into the shelf by the taller figure with neat red strands. Speechless, you only held your book close and gaped at him, as he leaned forward.

‘Ever heard about the cat killed by curiosity?’ He hummed, eyes piercing you from above.

You swallowed, knees getting weaker as you registered the fresh musky smell coming off of his brightly colored shirt.

To push your buttons, he decided to get even more scandalously close to you, arm holding onto the rack behind you to keep balance.

‘Nothing wrong with being curious!’ You jabbered. ‘In fact, if people preserved the curiosity they have as kids they would’ve had a much bigger learning capacity as adults.’

He huffed. You weren’t sure if he was shocked or amused, because your eyes looked anywhere but his face. In fact, they lowered enough to fix on your forearm, resting across his rib cage, and your fist pressing slightly into his pec to keep him at least at a minimal distance.

At this you gasped, eyes widening and returning to his face, only to catch an inquisitive spark in his retinas as he nudged the lip ring with his tongue. Sighing, he took a step back, finally allowing some space between you.

‘Can’t write a philosophy essay with this, little flower,’ he chuckled. ‘Or if you can… I’d be impressed.’

You looked down in confusion, understanding that the book you were holding was from a Botanics section. ‘The Oxford Book of Wild Flowers’, read the title.

But… How did he know about your philosophy assignment?

***

Only later had Baekhyun confessed that he had had an eye on you for a while by the time this incident took place, but the moment of your outburst was what got to him. When he looked down at your cornered form, holding a book to your chest so innocently, and keeping him away instinctively with one arm. He had to bite his tongue to prevent a smile from making its way onto his face. That was it for him, and even though he wanted to avoid you and keep interactions with you to an absolute minimum, he couldn’t help but find ways to draw your attention. Like that one time, when you walked out of the library because the loud noises from the outside made your concentration for the night crumble.

The source of that noise was, in fact, a certain convertible, blasting the music for the entire campus to hear. You would have come up to complain that your studying was cut short if you didn’t have perfect eyesight. It allowed you to see that there was a red-haired problem sat in the car, with a bare foot resting lazily against the panel. Ready to run the other way, you turned around, meeting a solid chest with your forehead. You discovered that it was a rather cheerful guy in the same year as you, Jongin, and the other one with him was Sehun. And those two stalled you long enough for Baekhyun to make an entrance.

It was the first time he tried asking you out. And got rejected.

However, as much as you wanted to take ownership of that and say that you were playing hard to get when you walked off and left him stunned by your refusal, that was not the case. This guy made your throat go dry at the mere sight of him! He was way too handsome, and he also looked kind of… well, he looked like he’d break your heart without thinking twice about it. And that you couldn’t allow.

But then again, good girls do tend to fall for bad boys. Or was he only pretending to be bad? You’d never heard anything that discredited him, except for the way he stared people down sometimes. That once happened to a fellow student in your class. After he sat next to you during lunch.

Actually, almost the entire week following that incident you had lunch alone because everyone kept making excuses to sit elsewhere. That was how you became friends with Jongin and Sehun. Having had a few classes together, you were more or less acquainted with each other, so you didn’t mind when Jongin suddenly appeared out of nowhere with a tray and asked you if they could join. He even had lunch with you when Sehun wasn’t around – you figured that it made Jongin even more chatty. So much so, that one day he leaned across the table to get slightly closer, and used his most clandestine voice on you.

‘You know, hyung could burn a hole in anyone next to you with his glare, but I’m immune to his ‘charms’, thankfully,’ he giggled and added, ‘Still, I think you should give him a chance. Baekhyun’s a good guy, and he’s kinda torn as it is. Asking you out was a pretty big step for him.’

Honestly, you had a hard time believing that. Baekhyun… was probably the kind of guy, who never even had to ask. You could look around and easily spot a dozen eyes that were fixed on him at this very moment. Why in the world would he want to date you, clearly not the ‘easy-going’ party type? He probably wanted to get into your pants just for sport, like the rest of the pretty boys.

‘Whatever you’re thinking, it’s far from the truth. Ugh, Junmyeon will kill me for this!’ Jongin cursed himself and continued, before you could ask. ‘Hyung looks rough around the edges, but he’s really a softie. Trust me on this.’

‘Are you his wingman or something?’ You snorted dubiously, getting a little timid from this discussion.

‘Ha, are you kidding? He’s gonna strangle me if he finds out. Like I said, he’s torn between staying away from you and persisting in his efforts to take you out. Just think about it,’ he ended with an attempted (but failed) wink.

As if to take away your chance to process the unexpected input, Jongin shoved Baekhyun in your direction the very next day. Disappearing from the cafeteria right after, of course. Envy his subtlety. But, apparently, what he said earlier had an effect, so you only nodded when a flustered figure asked for permission to sit with you. He looked quite different from the previous times you saw him up close – much less confident and intimidating. But he seemed sincere when he said he just wanted one chance.

And that was how your relationship picked up. It took a whirlwind course from the very beginning, and the hot summer before your second year of university was the most torturous time ever for the both of you. Still wary of getting played, you only trusted Baekhyun enough to get intimately close months and months into dating. And he was patient with you, going at a slow pace, letting you pull away whenever you wanted. Until you didn’t want to anymore.

That last leap of faith was a beginning in itself – a true beginning of you and Baekhyun. The final seal was broken, and you entrusted yourself fully to him, which he repaid by showering you in his affection and feelings that he himself had not come to acknowledge just then.

After a year together, you were not simply allowed into the inner circle, but also educated about the special abilities that Baekhyun and his friends had. You were first interrogated by their leader, Junmyeon, who wanted to make sure you had no ulterior motives and were not going to tell a living soul about them. He called it ‘a quick chat’ as he dragged you in a scarcely furnished room where he sat you down at the small metal table across from him. The leader asked you questions and tried reading your verbal and non-verbal cues, so it was clearly an interrogation. Junmyeon was pretty experienced in this, so he could instantly tell that you were harmless. And you also passed the test, answering the most ridiculous questions about Baekhyun – apparently, that was to make sure you were not ‘faking it’ – so, he accepted you into their family.

However, knowing too much was dangerous, so you only learned about their powers and how they came from the so-called EXO Planet when they were young (talk about dating an alien!), and that the organization they called ‘the Red’ amongst themselves wanted to hunt them down. They also used to be held hostage by these people – and that was just about as much you knew about the issue because Baekhyun kept you away from the ‘unnecessary details’. He only told you that they seemed to be hidden well in this town, surrounded by just enough people to blend in and disappear. And you worried, always, because you knew too little about the dangers surrounding the group, and even less about how you could contribute to their safety.

Baekhyun laughed when you once brought it up, finding your concern nothing but cute.

‘You don’t have to worry about it, flower. It’s my job to make sure you’re safe, not the other way around,’ he then said, playing with the curly ends of your hair.

You frowned at that. Why was it not your job to take care of him? If you could help, you wanted to help. But he always brushed you off, saying that the only thing you should do to help is staying out of trouble. Like that was a challenge – you either studied or hung out with him and his friends, not much room to stir trouble. The only other person you talked to regularly was your roommate, and she was also pretty harmless.

As time went by, you got closer to your own graduation, basically, one year left before you had to figure it out for yourself again. Your boyfriend was always supportive, but you couldn’t help but wonder how he imagined your future. He was always up to something but never shared it with you since it was ‘nothing for you to worry about’. Had he not shown you his actual abilities before, you would’ve certainly thought that it was a crazy lie he told you to cover up for some kind of illegal activity. In reality, some illegal activities were going on, especially since hacking and cracking was one of Minseok’s specialties (but mostly because they needed to keep their identities out of sight). Another reason why they didn’t all go to the same school when they arrived, and also why they changed their appearance ever so often. The lucky mullet was long gone by the time you had your first Christmas together, and you had had the pleasure of seeing him in multiple hair colors throughout almost three years of your relationship. Notably, the first dozen or so make-out sessions you had with him took place when he had just cut his hair and dyed it pitch black. And he still wore his fake lip ring at the time, which was an experience in itself. He did know how to use his mouth…

Admittedly, you were kind of used to being the object of the boys’ shameless teasing every time you hung out together. The way Baekhyun kept you close and fussed about everything was, apparently, atypical for their usually chill and humorous hyung. He was their second-in-command, after all, the genius behind the strategic planning of the group, and the mind that kept them hidden for so long in one place.

Because of you.

One of the boys had previously let it slip that they hadn’t lived anywhere for that long before, maybe not even for one full year. But this time Baekhyun was determined to stay for a while, now that he had an anchor.

But the day came. When he found out that they might’ve been compromised, he got scared. The way he’d never feared anything before. And he’d been through a lot, to put it mildly. Baekhyun could maintain a cold and sharp mind at all times, that was his thing, but not when it came to you. Once he figured out that there was a real chance, that they could’ve found the EXO hideout and, thus, could connect you to the boys, he couldn’t think straight. Overwhelmed by a sudden panic, he sought advice from the leader.

‘You know it’s not me who’s supposed to decide,’ Junmyeon sighed, looking at his disheveled second. ‘I told you a relationship wasn’t a good idea. I also think that keeping her close means putting her life in jeopardy.’

His words were cutting through Baekhyun as he paced the room, long fingers grasping his own hair.

‘But it still may be a safer option than leaving her here,’ the leader added, pinching the bridge of his nose. ‘We need to relocate fast, and you have the ‘better of two evils’ situation on your hands.’

‘I know I should leave her,’ Baekhyun stopped in his tracks, turning his head to the leader. ‘But what if they already know, hyung?’

‘Minseok had every trace of her erased, not a single camera in town had a glimpse of her with you. They might have found our footprints in the sand, but those don’t necessarily lead to her. I suppose they should move on as soon as they come here and realize that we’re nowhere around.’

‘Most likely, but what if-’

‘They can very well catch up to us while we run. Like I said, there isn’t a right answer, but a choice. And I think that you’ve already made it when you should give her a voice, too,’ the leader pushed.

‘I-’ Baekhyun turned away to hide the glassy eyes from Junmyeon. ‘I have to give her a chance, hyung. I cannot sentence her to a lifetime of running and danger. And I know she’s silly enough to throw herself into it if she has a say in this.’

‘And if you’re wrong? You’re going to break her heart as a precaution?’

‘She won’t die from a broken heart. Can you imagine what they’d do to her if they find out?’

Junmyeon bit his lip. This time, the choice was completely out of his hands. He thought his second was making a mistake, but it was not his place to decide. Exhaling again, he nodded.

‘Tell her in the morning. We’re moving out as soon as the rain starts.’

>> Chapter 2

A/N: So, what do you think? This is more of an introductory chapter, I know, but it covers quite a lot of their relationship with Baek. You must be excited to see where this goes and when Baёk appears? Or if Baekhyun is coming back? Me too, me too 🙈

[twistedmusings]

A Midnight Prank

[Set during Chapter 5] 

Ace figured that if you were sleeping so peacefully in your bed while he had to spend a good portion of the night on the floor, why shouldn’t he try to get his revenge? A small midnight prank would be a good way to teach you about leaving him laying on the floor like that~ 

Warnings: Lime. Very mild somnopholia and food play with Ace slowly starting to realize that he might have taken a prank a bit too far. 

A/N: What better way to start this writing blog than to reveal myself as an Ace stan. I barely blinked when I first started with this game but the moment he popped up in Ghost Marriage I guess my eyes just suddenly saw the light because this boy has such yan possibilities as well as being a tease about everything. So enjoy this self indulgent drabble, I’ll see if I write more like these ò uó. 

“Oh Great Sevens…my back.”

Ace stands up and stretches, looking down at his best friend’s and Grim’s position on the floor. Of all the things Vil could do, poisoning the food? 

Well not really poisoning but cursing the food? Who the hell cursed food? Especially Trey’s baked goods?! It was a late-night snack, a team bonding exercise! To him, Ramshackle was the place he could get away with being himself without having to follow Riddle’s sometimes ridiculous rules! Yet he had just spent the good half of the night laying on the cold, hardwood floor with Deuce and Grim like some punished first year despite the fact that he was best friends with the prefect of this dorm! 

And speaking of you. 

He glares at the stairs, remembering the helpless look you had sent him as you went upstairs with Vil following short after. You, better than anybody, knew how the floors of Ramshackle were! If you had been laying on the floor paralyzed, Ace would have brought you at least a pillow!

 Maybe!

A grin spreads on his face as his brain plans out a pretty simple prank. He goes over to the chocolate cake he had taken a bite out of and scoops up some of the whipped cream frosting the cake was lavishly decorated with , grinning as he grabs  a napkin and makes his way upstairs.

“This is for betraying the First Year Loyalty Pact, [Y/N]. Get ready to get yelled at, dear manager~”

His steps are quiet on the stairs, knowing where each and every creak would be in the old, wooden stairs. It had been a while since he had pulled a prank on you, the both of you teaming up to pull pranks on others and quickly running away as soon as the plan was executed. A part of him always thought that you, the favourite of Riddle whenever you came over to Heartslabyul, would not be as on board with his pranks but seeing you come up with your own little plans as both of you hid away from your rose garden duties was unexpected and highly welcomed.

Your excited tone, the way you moved your hands. It would get Ace riled up and ready to execute absolutely anything under your orders. 

Cater had described him as being 'whipped' but Ace didn't even know what that meant so jokes on the upperclassmen, he supposed. 

He snickers as he gets to your door, praising the Queen of Hearts that it was only ajar instead of fully closed. Ace had gone over a few scenarios in his head, maybe covering your entire face with the frosting or putting the frosting on your hand while tickling your nose so that you would slap yourself. Nothing too big since he still wanted to keep his friend status with you. 

Yet his best idea had popped up once he reached the side of your bed, looking down at you sleeping so peacefully. 

"Not for long~" 

If he took a peek at the clock he could see that it was three in the morning. He guessed that Vil's curse lasted around four hours. Practice started at eight so they would usually be awake around six thirty to eat a meager breakfast and start walking to Pomefiore-- 

Which meant that if you happened to take a bite out of this delicious frosting that he held in his finger, you would wake up unable to move and miss the entirety of breakfast altogether. He would also add the extra bonus of closing your door so you would have to scream for someone to come get you. 

"Essentially two birds with one stone, right [Y/N]?" he sits down at the edge and leans over you, "Your screaming will piss Vil off so much, probably throw him off his whole morning routine. Heh, even in this scenario you are my partner in crime…" 

Ace moves to trace the chocolate on your lips, a smile on his face as he wonders just what words you would be yelling out first thing in the morning. After this maybe he should go set up his camera to record Vil lecturing you while you were stuck in your bed. 

Ah. 

His fingers weren't moving. Why weren't his fingers moving? 

"Haha...ha. O-Okay, I got this. [Y/N] say 'ahh'." 

A warm hand cupped your face as he used the one not holding the sweet confectionary, pressing his thumb against your lips and swallowing down the rather huge lump in his throat as it slowly made its way past them. Ace pressed down lightly, your mouth parting slowly as his nail scraped against the top of your teeth which allowed him to press down and watch as your mouth parted open for him. 

Shit. Shit. Shit. 

He was sweating, why was he sweating? A normal prank would have him smiling as adrenaline rushed through his body but this wasn't the kind of rush he was expecting. 

Ace was nervous. 

Thumb pressing against your tongue, he stopped his exploring there and not daring to go another step. He remembers back in his dating days during middle school, his girlfriend always insisted on doing the 'cutesy' thing and feeding each other. Strawberries, cotton candy, anything that was just cheesy and picture perfect enough to make him sigh in annoyance. Back then it had all just been a bother. 

But with you, why was it making him feel so--

"Augh!" 

Ace pulls his finger away, your lips still parted slightly as he grabbed his hand as if it was burned. 

Come on Trappola! What the hell is wrong with you!

You! You with your soft lips, warm tongue and inviting face that looked so so peaceful while sleeping. As if nothing would wake you! Just leaving the door open so anyone would come in and take advantage of the opportunity right before them. 

The infamous prefect of Ramshackle...looking so defenseless. 

"[Y/N]." 

Ace leans over you once again, the finger covered in chocolate this time making its way past your lips with no shame as his eyes seem to glaze over with unprecedented confidence. This was all for the sake of a good prank. Hell, he should one up it and sleep next to you tonight. You would wake up to Ace looking over you, unable to move as he teases you for not noticing his presence sooner. 

"You should really lock your door at night." he shivers when he feels your tongue lapping at his finger, "Otherwise next time I'll have to pull an even naughtier prank." 

He presses down on the slimy muscle, eyes widening when he starts getting a reaction. His finger moves up and down, tracing your tongue as your body starts to slowly respond to the attention of something sweet teasing your tastebuds. 

"Mmnnn." 

The chocolate was all gone when Ace pulled his finger back, licking his lips as he saw a faint trail of drool connecting his finger to your lips. You should have the taste floating in your mouth as your body slowly took in the curse. 

Ace barely notices himself panting until he takes a deep breath, fingers toying with the sheets covering your body as he leaned in ever closer. Maybe he should check? After all he wanted to prank you so good that you wouldn't forget about it. The thought making you squirm and open your mouth, begging him to put something inside-- 

"Ace?" 

Blood nearly rushes all the way back up to Ace's head as he hears Grimm's voice, the little creature looking at him tiredly as it floated towards him. 

"G--Grimm?! What--!" 

"My tail and ears hurt! I can't believe [Y/N] just left us there. When they wake up I'm going to--" 

Grimm yawns as he makes his way over to you, gently laying on your chest as the Heartslabyul student quickly stands up and makes his way through the door. He doesn't waste any words on saying good night as he steps out into the hall, gently shutting the door behind him and sliding down to the floor. 

What the hell did I just do? 

He looks at the finger that had done the act, staring at it as if it had a mind of its own. Your mouth had been so warm and now his entire body felt cold. Anf you weren't even aware that you had just left him feeling like this! 

Ace sighs as he runs a finger through his hair, standing up and making his way downstairs to check if Deuce has woken up. 

Not necessarily noticing how he bit at the top of the finger that had become so intimate with you. 

                                                        ~~~~~

Omake 

"Kalim? It's four in the morning why the hell are you awake?" 

Ace blinks as he supports a sleeping Deuce, the other still snoring away as Kalim smiles and places a finger to his lips. 

"I'm going to see if I can sneak in a cuddle with [Y/N]. Grimm mentioned how warm they were yesterday and I've been curious ever since!"  

"Oh, cool. Have fun then." 

The Heartslabyul student keeps walking as the Scarabia dorm leader opens the door to your room, whispering a goodnight. It was only when he heard the click of your door did he nearly drop his fellow student. 

"WAIT WHAT?" 

[yesimwriting]

Falling Angels: chapter two

A/n took me longer to get around to writing part 2 than i thought!! i didn’t know there was an audience for this idea but im glad you guys liked it!!

Im adding a country to the grishaverse to make my story work,, def not a big deal i just needed a country in which i could control the history of without worrying about conflicting with cannon lol 

Link to part one: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/yesimwriting/652318577650696192 (lmk if this works ive never linked something to a tumblr post lol)

Series Summary: Y/n is a rising star in the most famous circus in Ketterdam because of her ability to see the future. Unfortunately for her, Kaz Brekker knows more of her backstory than he should, and he’s willing to use that to his advantage. The one thing he’s not betting on? That he doesn’t know her entire story

Chapter summary: Y/n gets a visitor before getting tricked into the most dangerous show of her life. 

Pairng: SOC x reader, Kaz Brekker x sunshine-y! Psychic! Reader 

--

My father seemed to love me more after two glasses of something amber. It was after these two glasses that he would tell me realities his inebriated self believed I needed to internalize. He’d pat my head affectionately and smiled at me as he told me that the world was a bad place. Most of his lessons are lost in my mind, but the one I remember most clearly is that there’s no such thing as a kept secret. There’s always a leak or a flaw or a factor you could not account for. He told me that if I wanted to keep a secret, I would have to decide what I was willing to risk for it. 

I know from Seria’s reaction to his presence that listening to Kaz is a risk, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take for my secret. “I don’t know what you think I am, but you’re mistaken.” It doesn’t really matter that he believes me. I have the paperwork I need to disprove him. “I have to get to my tent.” 

“The princess gets her own tent?” His words are saturated by mock casualness but I can feel his pride on how he delivered that line. 

My body is still tense from balancing over flames and his confidence only adds to my desire to unravel. I can’t get angry here. Not at him. Not with the way he grips that cane of his. “I don’t understand what--” 

“You may be able to play pretend here where no one wants to look twice at you, but I know what you are.” His stiffness leaves my skin prickling. “I know who you are.” 

I swallow back my panic. “Then who am I?” 

“You’re that king’s bastard--the one with a high bounty on her head.” Don’t back down. Even the smallest crack will confirm his story. “As long as she’s returned alive.” 

Thoughts of what my father would do to me if ever given the chance strike me with more anxiety than his presence does. “I’ve heard of the girl you’re talking about,” I admit, the lie leaving me as easily as the air leaves my lungs when I exhale. “But I’m not her.” 

“You’re not from Ketterdam, if you were you would have known who I was after you friend referred to me as Dirtyhands.” I have no defense, but I never claimed to be from Ketterdam. “You make your business claiming to be a psychic.” I am a psychic, but now is not the time to make that argument. “Elkosa is a relatively small and self efficient port kingdom, the island is nothing more than a jagged coastline barely larger than Ketterdam, but I have connections in all places.” He knows someone from Elkosa? I have to fight the instinct to move all of my weight on the balls of my feet, prepared to run. “A captain of the royal fleet told me the story of the night the King’s bastard ran into the meeting room the night before ten ships were meant to sail to Ravka.” 

He studies my reaction as I struggle to keep my expression blank. “None of that seems connected.” 

“Patience is a virtue most Saints are familiar with.” I roll my eyes. “The bastard couldn’t have been more than nine at the time, but the guards did not want to let her in. The King told them to let her interrupt. The sailor noted this because he had never made an exception to his meeting before. The girl described a nightmare to her father, a nightmare of a storm and ten dead birds. The king did not comfort her, she finished her story by saying that he asked to know about all of her dreams. She went back upstairs and the King continued the meeting as normal but the next day the King cancelled the trip.”

I remember that night as the night I realized that if I’m not careful, I’ll feel what I see in my visions. It felt like I was drowning. I felt the death of each of those men and instead of comforting me, my father nodded once like I had offered him advice and sent me back to my room. “And?” My defense is weak, my mind too lost in the memories of drowning. “Many smaller countries are superstitious.” 

“The next day the worst storm to have impacted that ocean occurred. For four nights and three days the storm continued.” 

I press my nails into my palms. “You don’t believe that I am precognitive, so that sailor’s unverified story has nothing to do with me.” 

“A princess that can see the future disappears at the same time a failing circus hires a girl who has no business in this city who claims to be able to see the future.” He adjusts his stance, taking pressure off the cane as if he’s preparing to need to use it for something else. “I am not fool enough to believe in coincidence.” 

“And I am not fool enough to crack beneath the vague threats of a man. In my experience, men always threaten with a blade when really all they’re in possession of is a butter knife. Try to drag me from here kicking and screaming, find a way to incapacitate me and put me on a ship to Elkosa, but when the King sees that you brought him a stranger he will have your head.” 

He blinks, expression hard as stone. I tense, preparing for a physical blow. “I didn’t expect you to be a half-decent liar, but I should have.” I bite my tongue to avoid resorting to something I can’t take back. Like begging. “Even if it’s in only half your blood.” 

“I am not her.” My stubbornness burns more than the need to survive. I inhale, hoping to shake the grasp of the sensation but it only worsens. The pinch of dread in my chest is heavy and familiar. A vision. 

No. Not now--not in front of him. I push against it even though I know that only makes it worse. Not now. Not now. I should be grounding myself but all I can think about is how stupid I am and how bad this situation is.

--

“I’m not an idiot, I know to be quiet. I see myself crouched somewhere dark. 

“Being defensive doesn’t make you any more intelligent.” It takes me a minute to recognize Kaz in the darkness. 

We’re somewhere small, our backs against the same wall but our shoulders do not touch. This vision is enshrouded by the feel of panic. 

This other me grimaces, but her eyes lack anger, “Remind me why I agreed to help you again?” 

“You never told me why,” he admits, “you can change your mind on participating and I can change my mind on whether or not you're more useful than your father’s money.”

Something loud crashes from behind the door we’re both staring at. “You’ll have no use for me or my father’s money if we die here.” I squeeze my hands together. 

He hesitates, “My ghost will.” 

The future-me almost smiles. “I wonder if I’ll be able to see ghost futures.” I hesitate, something strange behind my eyes. “I wonder if that can exist, if there’s a future beyond endings.” 

Future-Kaz is silent for a long second. “There should be,” he says, “for someone like you, at least.” 

I watch the way I take in his words. “You’d be there, too,” my voice is low, “your ghost at least.” I turn my head, staring at the door instead of him, “If you weren’t, I’d miss the brooding.” 

--

The vision leaves me with sweaty palms and swirling thoughts. All of my visions do that. Not all of them make me feel so confused. Apparently, he needs help and I agree to do so. At one point we’ll be pushed into a life or death situation and I won’t loathe him. 

I blink twice, forcing myself to hold onto the reality in front of me. I don’t have to agree--the future isn’t set in stone. For all I know tomorrow morning I’ll have a vision in which he kills me. 

“Are you ignoring me?” 

Shaking my head, I turn to face him. “You need help.” I don’t wait for his reaction. “You’re not here to return someone to the King of Elkosa, you’re here because you need someone that can see the future.” 

“I--” 

“It’s not that you won’t take me to Elkosa, it’s that you’d rather use my abilities for something.”

I’m confusing him again, but that’s okay. I’d rather deal with him confused than angry. “I need to know how a certain business deal of mine is going to be worth what it costs.”

He’s spent the entire time claiming he doesn’t believe in my power. Was that some kind of tactic? In the vision I saw, despite the panic surrounding the situation I didn’t feel panicked around him. The probability of that future occurring is probably low. I’ve been wrong before, the future changes too much for me to know everything. 

“That’s not how readings work,” I admit, “I don’t have that much control on them. Most of them come to me randomly. The events I see always involve me or someone I care about to a certain capacity. I can give someone a general glimpse into their future but I can’t promise I’ll see what they want. Sometimes I can see the general vision by just focusing on their energy but usually I need some physical contact for it to work.” That seems like a fair explanation. “Oh--and not all of my predictions come true, most are blurry, few are solid--the future is always moving.” 

Wait...the vision I saw where I was with Kaz wasn’t blurry. Those can be wrong, but it’s much rarer. Do I really agree to this? 

“Then maybe I should make it involve you.” His aggression has me forcing myself to stand my ground. He can threaten me all he wants but that won’t change things. “Or take the money your father would give me and cut my losses.” 

Every time I’ve purposefully destroyed a solid vision, something bad has happened. I’m genuinely considering it. “What do you need a psychic for, anyways?” 

“To get through the Fold.” 

Despite everything, I laugh. “I’ve never seen anyone get through the Fold, literally or in my visions.” 

He’s unphased by my doubt. “It’s happened.” 

I really don’t want to help him. “Well then good luck, I’m happy to part ways here.” 

I manage one step forward before he moves his cane in front of my path. I’m getting tired of this. “You’re assisting me one way or the other, whether that aid will be financial or through your services is up to you.” 

Anger pinches in my stomach the way it often does when I’m told what to do. The one thing centering me is the vision still reflecting in my thoughts. There’s no denying it--I had felt comfortable with him. There is a future in which I feel comfortable with him and I’m not sure I’ll be able to avoid it. 

“I won’t get in trouble for you,” I tell him, “The Ringmaster holds onto those indentured to him, especially the commodities that bring him profit.” 

There’s something stiff about his silence. I wonder if he’s always like this, pushing the weight of his presence onto those around him without saying a word. “When I have a goal, it is achieved. I’ll speak to him.” 

I cannot imagine a conversation I want to be involved in less. The Ringmaster and this man that Seria had labeled ‘Dirtyhands’. “I just had a vision--I saw your entire conversation and it ends with you missing an arm.” His stoic expression does not shift. “Okay, I’m aware that it wasn’t the funniest joke, but throw me a bone--you threatened to kidnap me and sell me to my father in order to extort me and I’ve been nothing but polite to you.” 

He’s quiet for a moment, something in his expression changing in a way I can’t read. “All you’ve done is lie since the moment you started to speak to me.” 

The optimist in me would like to think that his annoyance counts for banter. I shrug, feeling a little lighter than I did a second ago. I’m certainly not comfortable but I’m starting to see how to put up with the tension without letting it strain me. “Well, polite for my standards.” 

I let him brood. “You must have done well as a royal.” 

My past cuts through the peace I managed to grab onto. It’s not his fault, he has no way of knowing what the castle was like for me. I open my mouth, but I don’t know what I’m going to say. “I had my moments,” I finally settle on, hoping the echo of pain isn’t visible behind my eyes. 

I guess it doesn’t matter if he sees me bleed. He’s heartless, and I hate sympathy. 

“Y/n,” Seria’s voice is genuine anger, “You’ve turned into an idiot--first the tightrope walk and now entertaining whatever deal he’s trying to coax from you.” I love Seria, she’s the reason I didn’t die in the street when I first arrived in Ketterdam, but she sees me as a mindless child. “Whatever he told you, whatever he promised you--it’s a lie.” 

“He hasn’t promised me anything.” I need to calm her down. Once she’s calm, everything will be normal again. “And he knows.” I don’t have to turn to feel the way Seria gapes at me. “He knows who I am, so I have to do what he wants.” 

“You never have to do anything a man is forcing onto you, y/n. We’ll find a way--” 

“Seria, it’s fine,” I reach to touch her arm, “I’ll be fine, you can’t protect me from everything and you don’t have to.” 

Kaz throws a pointed glare at the man who was with him earlier. When did the stranger get here? “Boss, she’s faster than she looked, but I have what we need to get the girl--” 

“You’re late,” Kaz sighs, bored, “she’s agreed.” 

Wait--what was he going to do if I didn’t agree? “Out of curiosity, what are you talking about?” The man blinks twice, squeezing a rag between his ring-clad fingers. “You were going to use chloroform to kidnap me, weren’t you?” 

For some reason I don’t understand, the stranger gives me a look that’s a cross between sheepish and charming. “Nothing personal.” 

“Or original.” 

Seria pinches my arm. “Y/n,” she scolds, “your sense of humor is going to kill me one of these days.” 

I cringe, pulling my arm away. “When I met you, you were pickpocketing in the pleasure district, please remember that.” 

She rolls her eyes. “An attitude like that is going to leave you without a place to sleep at night.” 

I take her comment for the empty threat it is. Every other day she’s threatening to kick me out of her private trailer so that I’m forced to fight for cots or speak to the Ringmaster about my lodging arrangements. He’d give me what I want, but speaking to him feels so slimy I’d sleep in the woods before trying it. 

“Kaz.” I turn my head in time to see the girl that gave me the advice about the tightrope walker. “We need to go, he’s coming soon--you’ll do better to speak to him in the morning after she’s gone, that way he has nothing to hold over your head.” 

“Once I’m gone?” The girl had called me a Saint. I can appeal to her. “I’m not--I’m not going anywhere, I said I’d help.” 

Her eyes widen, sympathy reflected clearly in her dark irises. “There was never a version of this in which you ended up staying here.” I hear a hint of apology in her voice. “You won’t believe me, but I promise this will be better for you.” All of her pity is gone with those, replaced by something hard.

Seria responds for me, “I think you should go.” 

“What?” 

She almost smiles, but her eyes are painfully sad. “I never wanted you to be here forever. I don’t trust these people, but I trust their ability to get you out of here, even if only for a little while. Bad things are coming, and I think you’ll miss the worst of it if you go now.” 

What she alludes to is a blade in my heart. “You want me to leave you here to deal with it?” 

“Y/n, I’ve been hurt here more times than I can count--”

“No, I won’t leave y--” 

Seria squeezes my shoulder, “It’s not forever.” When she wants something, it’s almost impossible to get around it. “Besides, if I need you, you’ll see it.” 

My world feels to have lost the vibrance of color. I’ve left so much, but I let myself believe I wouldn’t leave her. I pull her into the hug. “The moment I see a vision of you in any type of danger, I’m coming back.” I hug her even tighter when she tries to pull away so that I can whisper something in her ear, “I’ll use this opportunity to leave the Ringmaster and then I’ll get you out, and together we’ll leave Ketterdam. We’ll find your child, like you always wanted to and they’ll know that they're lucky because they’re the only kid in the world to have you as a mother.” 

She squeezes me so tightly I find it hard to take full breaths. “Two,” Seria whispers, “I have two children.”

My eyes burn as her words find their way into my heart. “I love you, Seria.” 

“I love you too, my star,” she pulls away enough so that I can look her in the eye, “you don’t like being called a Saint, but I can’t think of anyone more deserving of the title.” 

Tears prick my eyes as she releases me. “I’ll find you.” 

“He’ll be coming soon,” the girl warns, “He spoke to an advisor about wanting to find you after the show.” 

No doubt to praise the fire stunt he forced onto me. Bastard. I nod once but I don’t move. I can’t bring myself to leave Seria until the girl places a hand on my elbow. 

--

Falling Angels Taglist: @glowstick-lesbian @cashlum @whatiswrongwithpeople @pass-me-jeez-it @thecraziestcrayon

[stydiaeverafter]

Can’t help falling in love with you ❥

Summary: Ray tried with all his might not to fall in love with Heather Nill, but the girl had flown right into his heart, and the will to fight it had disappeared into the night.

Rated: T

A/N: One day I just happened to watch this random show and ended up loving it! I really enjoyed the concept and the characters, especially the story of Heather and Ray. I knew I'd have to write them sooner than later.So I hope you enjoy this fic of NillHall. ♡ (I might be adding more chapters)

Read on ao3

She flew into my heart 

“We don't have to fall in love, Ray."

Those words. Those beautiful words Heather had spoken to him were constantly a shadow within his heart and mind.

Ray tried with all his might not to fall in love with Heather Nill, but the girl had flown right into his heart, and the will to fight it had disappeared into the night.

Truth be told, he had been falling in love with her not after they had kissed, but ever since he had gazed up at her on Devil's Drop spreading those brave wings and jumping with wide arms.

Heather was different from all the rest. He thought at first it was the chase...cat and mouse. Most girls would flock to him. It was easy. Predictable. But this hadn't been. This was revealed in the cornfield and the ball. She wasn't biting his bait—instead, she was pushing back with everything she had. "I'd rather fucking die," she had once affirmed to him. Heather had meant every word, and it nonplussed him. With every step he took getting further away from her in the cornfield, he wondered why he even gave a shit. Everything that had worked in the past had blown up in his face, so why bother?

Ray was a fool apparently because he had wanted to fluff her feathers more and more as time went by. There was a need of wanting to be around her at any chance he could find, and unfortunately, Ray thought about her even when he didn't want to.

It was as if Heather Nill had crawled her way into his existence—whether she wanted to or not. It bothered the hell out of him, yet, he couldn't help but get enough.

Ray had retaliated a bit at the Player's Ball, even though Heather had looked damn-near edible in that dress. No other girl at the party had held a candle in comparison. When he was feeding her lines that he had dressed up pretty, Ray unintentionally expressed the desires he had imagined late at night when she wasn't around.

His feelings were apparent again when Ray got more turned on by who was observing him kissing the random rather than who Ray was actually kissing. He had wanted to forget whatever crush this was on Heather Nill; instead, her mesmerizing eyes pulled him in to the point that he trembled nice and slow. Even though Ray had stated that the whole situation was bullshit, it felt real, denying it had been the bullshit.  

At the end of the day, Ray's attention should've been on Panic, but it was the panic Heather left inside that stirred him upside down.

The more time he spent around her, the more Ray craved it. It wasn't just their kisses they had shared, though, even though they were the sweetest type of torture, but the fact that she was honest to God good. Sarah had even warned him about it. Everyone could see it. Heather was too good for the likes of him, and he had known it from the first moment Heather gazed deeply into his eyes when he tugged her close on the plank. It was as if she saw something that he couldn't, and it unnerved him in a way no Panic challenge could.  

When Heather had accepted his invitation and had joined the group on his boat, it had been a good one, one of the best days he had had in a long time. Heather had a way of bringing his smile out to the surface like it was the easiest thing in the world. He felt as though he had been floating the entire time. She made him laugh effortlessly and also made him face demons of his past like he had the night of the Player's Ball. Always with her.

It unnerved him yet pulled him in as the current did. Ray had lost control and reached out to her as a blind man did, pulling her towards him without even meaning. When her lips had grazed his own on the boat, Ray knew he was forever lost in this beautiful, yet too good for him, girl.

Sarah was right—he would become broken from these feelings. Feeling vulnerable was clearly already on the table.

They had gone further that day, and it was like the first time being with someone, even though he had done that to countless other girls. With Heather, it was different. Everything was.

Ray had openly searched the manor to discover her at the Graybill house, creaking the floorboards as he took each step. When she jumped around, he had forgotten all about the game and wanted nothing more than to have her back into his arms. She was clearly his Kryptonite.

He had been surprised by the hunger he felt as they kissed, not for the first time. Ray was being drawn in by this girl, and it had been obvious that she didn't even realize she had that type of control over him.

Ray, himself, hadn't realized how deeply his feeling ran until Heather had stated, "You do this all the time. What's the big deal?" The words pierced him painfully, and his brain had short-circuited. Ray had wanted to scream at her, yelling, "It is a big deal to me. It is. Is it not to you?" But that wasn't fair, so Ray held it on the tip of his tongue, angrily leaving the room but not before calling it a mistake, which was a lie. That was not how he felt—she was anything but a mistake. But Heather had been right, though, and that's what pissed him off the most. All she had done was to hold up the mirror reflecting the type of person she had grown up knowing.

He had been that guy before spending time with her. He was a playboy, moving from one woman to the next, without so much as a care in his pointless world. He drank. He smoked. He had sex. He took his boat out. That was the story of his life.

But being around Heather had changed that. See, it wasn't just a random hookup—it was the conversation. From the moment Heather spoke to him, she challenged him. Heather recognized things no one else had, and she was honest with him from the very beginning. It was so real that Heather had asked him to return the favor.

That had scared him for the first time, and Ray hadn't liked it one bit. He couldn't even open up to himself, let alone the beautiful girl who flew. So Ray had hidden behind his cowardly mask, turning into the asshole she knew all too well. Even though it had pained Ray in a way, he hadn't entirely understood when she sadly and disappointedly walked away at the Player's Ball.

Bits and pieces of bravery had presented itself as Ray did start, in fact, opening up to Heather Nill. Each syllable had scared him shitless, but he found the more he opened up to her, the more it felt like breathing for the first time in his 18 years of life.

So even though he had walked away angrily, knowing what was happening between them wasn't a mistake, Ray knew she deserved better than the likes of him. The Hall men were deadweight and always would be. How could he pull down a woman with wings ready to take flight? There was a whole wide world waiting to embrace someone like her. What could he possibly be to her in comparison?

But those thoughts had no longer mattered when the house had burned in flames. His heart had burned with anxiety as he searched for the woman he was falling for. With every step he took, Ray was haunted by the last words he had said to her, "Just a mistake." Letting someone like that die before spreading her wings was a sin, and the thought of never gazing into those beautiful blue eyes felt like his own personal hell on earth.

Thank God above, Heather Nill had kicked her way out of that house like the fighter she was. Ray admired that this small girl didn't need saving, even though secretly he wanted to protect her. Seeing her lifeless on the ground edged away at his cold stone heart. Ray acknowledged that as he witnessed and felt a sudden wave of relief when Heather finally gasped for breath, he had truly fallen in love.

She had been living rent-free in Ray's mind since the moment she took flight off the cliff, and with every passing day, it had escalated to every breath and step he took.

Heather being stuck in the hospital had been a torture he'd never known. Ray had visited wanting to selfishly make sure she was okay but had seen Bishop entering her room. It had been a good reminder he did not belong in Heather's world; he'd never have a place in it, even though it killed him to admit it.

He had been surprised beyond belief that she had shown up at his house, but Ray knew it had been too good to be true as she couldn't get away from him fast enough. As she sped away, the word mistake haunted and swirled around his curls like a fucked up hangover.

Through the game's final stages, they found their way back to each other, even to the point of Ray admitting to others how he truly felt on the bridge. Diggins had blabbed that he hadn't answered the question of being in love with her, but in terms only she would understand, he had. He did love her, every part of her, but he knew he had to be selfless with Heather.

Ray had to let her go. She didn't belong in Carp. She didn't belong to him. Heather deserved what was still good in this messed-up world.

For him, though, his heart would always belong to her as he rotted away in the shithole of his hometown.

Once, he had remarked to Heather, "I don't think good things are gonna happen to me anymore," but he was so very wrong.

Heather Nill was something good that happened to him. Something amazing. Loving her came easily, like drifting down the stream with the current. It terrified him, but he was grateful. The girl that flew into his heart forever changed him for the better.

At the hospital where Luke was, Heather had all but expressed that she cared for him, too. That someone else actually gave a shit about him. It had knocked him speechless, to the point where he thought he'd join his brother on the neighboring hospital bed.

Then the thought of losing her once more at the Joust ran him ragged, but nothing would ever stop her. When he saw her standing there all but glowing on that dirt road, Ray once again saw the girl who had jumped from the drop. She took his breath away with her returning kind, brave smile, and the fear of saying goodbye felt closer than ever before.

However, it had seemed by the stream as if she had chosen him. It was a blessing and a curse that she had seen his video. He didn't want her to feel chained to Carp, but Ray couldn't deny the joy and the sense of peace he felt inside as she moved closer to him.

"We don't have to fall in love, Ray," Heather had said against his lips with a hint of a smile, a secret between the two of them.

Smiling, he had taken her into his arms, which felt so right as if it were meant to be. However, with every kiss, the words were left unspoken. Oh darlin', I've already fallen helplessly in love with you—the girl with the beautiful wings.

Losing her was what he feared now because sooner rather than later, Heather would fly away.

Perhaps the game wasn't through with Ray after all.

[izzabeean]

Chapter 18 : Awakening

SUMMARY

There's a lot to unpack.

pairing : ushjima x f!reader / oikawa x f!reader / iwaizumi x f!reader

genre : angst + fluff

word count : 3,446

content : profanity

tags :  alternate universe - college/university, post-break up, friends to lovers, pining, slow burn

a/n : a/n: I'm sorry this took too long, I've been needing a mental health break with how busy life has become. This chapter is a bit rushed just because I wanted to post it before next week since I've been MIA for so long.

masterlist

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Slowly turning the key, your head starts to spin as you push the front door open to an empty apartment and a mixture of emotions surge through you. Relief that the repairs for your apartment are finally complete and you can move back to the comfort of your own home. Yet sadness swells in your chest at the realization you’ll be alone.

It’s weird. The natural response would be to get out of Oikawa’s apartment as soon as possible, sick of his antics and constant harassment. But for some incoherent reason, a part of you feels hesitant.

This heavy sensation in your chest drags you down as you walk into your apartment -- it seems so much more burdensome than when you left. Everything still feels fresh.

An agonizing pain mixed with confusion emanates off the walls flashing you back to the night Ushijima ending things. Your anxiety grows stronger as you picture his piercing hazel eyes glowering down at you after asking for you back. It's seemingly getting more and more difficult to make a decision as each moment passes and you're feeling inexplicably hopeless.  It's a terrible idea to get back together with him -- just remembering that night makes you sick. We need to talk still haunts you accompanied with his unbothered, stoic expression... Your heart starts to race trying to make sense of what you’re feeling.

Why is everything suddenly so difficult?

You clench your fists so tightly your knuckles turn white. Why does he even want you back? This isn’t something that he should take so lightly, he hurt you. Though you strongly feel anger festering within, a voice keeps whispering in your ear to take him back. You can’t tell if it’s what you truly want or it’s just the fear of disappointing your parents even more.

“How’s it looking?”

Your manic thoughts are pushed away with Oikawa as he walks further into the apartment to take a look around.

The flood -- you’d forgotten about that morning until this moment. Your heart starts beating faster as the memory rushes to the forefront, not just from the panic and frustration of waking up to a submerged apartment, but to the moment of the warmth under the covers with Oikawa’s firm body pressed up behind you. Had Oikawa been holding back the entire night you spent together? Of course, you didn’t know how long he’s had feelings for you, so surely if he did at the time, it must have been absolutely tempting to make a move on you. But why didn’t he? Truthfully, if the situation was switched then you would’ve taken the opportunity to…

“Not bad,” you answer, trying to force an honest smile, but Oikawa sees right through you.

“Why do you do that?” Oikawa says, his voice is tight on the cusp of irritation.

“Do what?” you respond quickly, hoping that he will just let this one go. But he doesn’t.

“Force yourself to smile like that,” he grunts. “You’re not good at hiding when you’re upset.”

“I’m not--”

“Bullshit,” he retorts with a harsh tone.

You bite your tongue, even more conflicted on what to say.

Oikawa sees that as he analyzes you, he knows it’s not easy for you to talk to him about stuff.  “Is something on your mind?” he asks softly, drawing his frustration back.

It’s hard to process, you’ve felt this heavy feeling for so long, you thought it was normal. The only time you’ve felt any reassurance is in Oikawa’s presence, yet for some reason, today the aching is much more prominent.  Everything feels so nerve wracking. You know he likes you and yet, it makes your heart throb.

“My parents,” you start with your voice a little shaky. “They think they know what’s best for me...”

“For the internship?”

“Yeah,” you reply quietly, eyes fixed on the ground. They also think they know it’s best for you to be with Ushijima, but you couldn’t tell Oikawa that. “Everything’s all set up and it could make me successful but…”

You turn away from him so your face is out of his view. The silence stretches between you for a moment. You feel oddly vulnerable, like the slightest touch will shatter you into pieces. If only it was easier to explain the constant pressure you receive from them, you might've tried to laugh about it upon telling him, just to make things a bit lighter. But, it wasn’t something you were ready to dig into.

“Then what do you want?” Oikawa asks, breaking the quietness.

The age old question that’s been going through your head this entire time. Truthfully, some answers seem so vivid now. You don’t want that internship… It’s not something that will excite you in any form. You want to work to achieve something and this feels like it’s just being handed to you because of your parents. There’s no drive for it.

But as for Ushijima, well...

“I don’t know,” you utter, shaking your head. “I don’t know if I ever will.”

“You’ll figure it out, I know you will,” Oikawa hums, before walking up to ruffle your hair.

Even as he pulls his hand away, his touch is still lingering, forcing you to catch your breath at the sudden surprise. His words are warm and caring as if he truly believes everything will fall into place. You want to believe him. Even the warmth in his eyes almost sways your skepticism, you can feel affection in them, but you can’t seem to grasp onto the hope he has. At this point you’re too stunned to even say a word as you allow your emotions to control you.

“When are you moving back in?” he asks, bringing you back to reality.

“Probably in the next couple days,” you breathe then pause staring at him for a bit while feeling your entire face burn up. An undeniable tension floats in the air and you're struggling to understand if it’s just your mind racing or it’s actually there. The way he manages to get your heart racing out of nowhere, the look he gives you when his chocolate eyes gaze at you, makes you want to melt… “Can you help?”

“Of course.”

------

Now that Iwaizumi is gone, it’s only standard for you to sleep in the guest bedroom. You’re not sure why a room down the hallway was more uncomfortable, but here you were tossing and turning unable to fall asleep. Of course you have other causes to your insomnia, like the pressure of deciding whether or not you should move forward with the internship and whether or not you should get back together with Ushijima. But at the very moment, your head can’t seem to wrap around the idea that Oikawa is just down the hall.

You’ve been living with him for awhile and now you decide to be nervous about it, you think.

Tucking your head under the covers, you take a deep breath inhaling the soft scents of softener and linen, a deep contrast to the sweet scent of citrus mixed with a tinge of oak in Oikawa’s room -- which you’d noticed shortly after is the essence of Oikawa. You clench your jaw, y our brain is all messed up from everything going on. Not to mention it's strange, the way Oikawa’s been so generous lately -- sweet without being boastful or bothersome, completely unlike himself. You’re not sure what you were expecting after your “fight”, but it probably wasn’t this.

You won't be sleeping anytime soon, so you get up and grab your coat, hoping an evening walk will put your mind at ease.

The night is dark and calm as you walk down the street, sidewalk lit by a streetlamp every few steps. Though quiet, your thoughts are louder than ever, pounding at your head hounding you to make a decision. As the cool air picks up and nips at your face, you quickly shove your hands in your pockets full of tissues and a cartridge. Pulling it out, you’re reminded of the evening you first bought the pack of smokes, how your agony ripped you apart to the point you had to turn to a bad habit. The recollection of relief pulsing through your body after inhaling the rich smoke tempted you as you open the pack and take out a stale cigarette that’s a bit crumpled.

The emptiness sets in and your eyes begin to gloss over as you think of what you should do next. For a moment the stress of your future can temporarily disappear with one breath, but how disappointed would Oikawa be if you did so.

That evening, when he called you in the midst of your smoke, he didn’t even know what had happened, but he was still there in a way. His voice echoes your head as he slurs that he hopes Ushijima makes you happy… It makes you hot and flustered. Oikawa always just wants what is best for you. Even if it didn’t benefit him…

You crush the cigarette into your palm and with that a shiver went down your spine. The heavy feeling in your chest seemed to lift itself a little and you almost thought you were standing a bit taller.

------

Fiddling with your pen, you look up once again at the time; class is almost over. Oikawa sits beside you, seemingly locked in on the professor's lecture. It feels unfamiliar to see him taking notes, attentively listening -- his concentration is normally as lacking as yours. Today your attention span is the worst it’s ever been trying to hone in on the dull monotone voice that booms across the class.

Then an idea sparks.

Quickly you try to grab the pen that Oikawa is writing with, but his reflexes are too swift for you as he jerks it away from your reach. A loud obnoxious screech from your chair lurching forward interrupts your professor in the middle of his lesson.

“Y/N, is everything alright?” the professor asks, while everyone’s eyes turn to you.

It’s awkward as you scoff under your breath, but sit up and readjust your seat.

“Y--yes, everything is good,” you say before having the professor return back to his stale lecture.

You let out a sigh while your face gets all flushed. The taste of desperation coats your mouth and it’s so overwhelming that you had to go to uncomfortable lengths just to feel the slightest bit of normalcy between the two of you. There’s just something about the way his irritation spikes through his tight-lipped smile and balling of fists while his eyes glare at you. You missed it.

Suddenly, a quiet snicker sounds beside you. In the corner of your eye, you can see a softness in Oikawa’s appearance and he's slightly smirking. You try not to make it obvious that you notice, but it makes your heart melt a little.

The remainder of the lesson, you continue to replay the way Oikawa’s lips almost turned up to a smile. You wish you got more of a reaction out of him, but it was enough to reassure things.  When the professor gives his final dismissal, Oikawa pops up to pack up his belongings. There’s this longing of wishing you could sit beside him longer as you slowly collect your things.

“Ushiwaka is here,”  Oikawa says, gesturing to the doorway.

You glance at the doorway noticing a familiar figure poking his head in. His eyes survey the classroom and before meeting yours, you quickly dart them away.

“Are you kidding?” you say under your breath, quickly zipping up your bag, feeling a flash of irritation course through your veins. “I’ll be right back.”

Oikawa raises his brow as he watches you speed towards Ushijima. He knew something like this was going to happen. It was only a matter of time.

But you weren’t pleased with Ushijima’s appearance.

"What are you doing?” you fume, you were quite pissed off as you pout your lips in petulant annoyance.

“I wanted to walk you to your next class,” Ushijima admits so nonchalantly it grinds your teeth.

"N--no," you reply, losing your focus to Oikawa walking by. “No, I don’t need--”

“I need to make up for the time we’ve lost together,” Ushijima adds, eyes locked on to yours that are wandering past him looking at Oikawa who’s getting further and further away.

"I-- I can’t. Please just… I need more space,” you sputter before swallowing hard your body leading to Oikawa’s direction.

"Take whatever time you need, I'll be waiting,” is what you think you heard from him as you catch up to Oikawa, but you don’t really care because your heart feels like everything you did in the moment was unlawful. You didn’t want Oikawa to get the wrong idea, and you feel like he might have, it makes you sick. Just when things started to repair with him, Ushijima just had to sweep in.

“What did he want?” Oikawa asks, his gaze ahead. “Did you finally accept his proposal?”

“What? No," you answer, trying to catch your breath.

“You’re really taking your time with this aren’t you,” he mumbles. “You better figure it out quick, he’s not going to wait for you forever.”

“He can wait,” you say to which Oikawa glances at you.

You get to a fork in the hallway that branches off to your next class or leads to outside the building. Oikawa raises his hand to bid farewell, but you stop planting your feet and take a deep breath.

“Toru.”

He stops and looks over at you…

“Can you come with me…. to my parents?” you breathe. “I don’t want to do the internship. I just don’t want to go alone to tell them.”

Hesitant of his answer, you wait for his response.

“I’d be happy to.”

----

“I don’t know if I’m ready,” you whine, abruptly stopping on the sidewalk in front of your parents house. The sun hides behind the dark clouds, almost seeming like a sigh that you shouldn’t move forward with your plan, but gently touches your back.

“It will be alright,” Oikawa says softly as you try to push away the heat of his touch.

You’re sure that because Oikawa is here with you, you can go through with it. Even if you’re on the verge of retreating, it’s in fact, much more relieving to have him support you on the sidelines.

Every ounce of you pushes your body forward towards the front door. The ominous illusion of a stone cold castle looms over you as you press your finger to the doorbell.  The anxiety starts to build up as you look back to Oikawa. He gives you a smile and your face is hot, worried about what's to come from this conversation.

The door unlatches and slowly opens.

“Oh, hello,” your mom says, eyes wide yet narrow glaring down at you. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“Hi,” you respond shyly. You wanted to grab Oikawa’s body to shield you from your mom’s unpleasant aura, but of course you plant your feet. “This is Toru Oikawa.”

Looking back at him to check in and see if he too is incapacitated from her energy. But he isn’t.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he says with a bow.

“How charming, come in!” she greets.

Oikawa straightens up, smoothing out his shirt before fixing his hair. Your eyes widen in awe - his calm confidence is visionary. You didn’t remotely feel comfortable around your mother and Oikawa is smooth and endearing. You're definitely always bringing him with you when you have to see your parents.

Your poorly hidden anxiety is noted on Oikawa’s behalf as he raises an eyebrow and flicks you on the forehead.

“Don’t stress!” Oikawa smiles.

Entering into the house, you two take off your shoes and make your way into the dining area where your mom awaits you. The rooms feel remarkably lifeless and empty.

“Where’s dad?” you ask, taking a seat at the dining table as Oikawa follows suit, sitting next to you.

“Oh working again, doesn’t know when to stop,” your mom sighs. Her eyes trail to Oikawa and her gaze feels so much softer compared to the daggers she throws at you. “Would you like some tea? Water?”

Her gaze lingers as she patiently waits for an answer.

“Thank you, but I’m alright,” he replies.

She turns to you and your heart leaps out of your chest, her stare feels like it could drag your soul out of your body.

“No, I’m fine,” you say, voice shaky as you swallow hard, forcing the next couple words out of your mouth. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about the internship.”

Your mom’s intimidating demeanor drops immediately, her eyes twinkling with excitement while taking a seat across from you.

“Oh they’re so delighted to have you,” she croons. “They’ve even made you a care package in anticipation of your arrival!”

“See, the thing is…”

Your mom’s blissful face cuts.

“What’s wrong,” she says, making the question more of a blank statement.

“Nothing’s wrong, I just--”

“You think a mother wouldn’t know her own daughter.”

“It’s just--”

“Spit it out.”

You hold your breath, not sure how to present it. Looking at Oikawa, his eyes are full of affection and reassurance, you’ve come this far and you can’t back out of it now.

“Are you quitting?” she murmurs, gazing at you with a stern, cold look on her face.

“I’m sorry,” you say, trying to cushion the blow. But her eyes grow with more displeasure.

“Excuse me,” she hisses.

The air cuts thin. You’re quiet upon hearing the disappointment in her voice, and can understand why she’d be absolutely mortified.

“All that your father and I have done for you,” she barks. “This is how you repay us?”

I knew this was going to happen, you think to yourself as the worst case scenario seems to be on track with her reaction.

“I want to find somewhere else to intern,” you breathe, scared your words are just going to start a war. Her eyes have blaze in them won’t go out. There’s so much passion to make you like her, but even more successful, despite you going against her wishes. Something in her aura makes you want to run, but running is all you’ve ever done. It’s time to face your fears. “Please, let me explain.”

She doesn’t speak, her scowl says everything as she leans back in her chair, arms crossed against her chest.

“I’ve been thinking about it a lot, ever since I first went in for the interview,” you begin trembling. “Everyone was so welcoming and so excited to have me, but something just doesn’t feel right.”

“So you’re going to be selfish and only think about yourself?” she argues.

You recognize your anxiety from earlier stirring in your stomach. Your mom isn’t the easiest person to speak to, especially when her face radiates failure and suffering, this is quite possibly the most horrified you’ve seen her.

“It’s not what I want to do with my degree. I want to look somewhere else that will make me feel more fulfilled.”

“What you want is a mistake,” she thunders.

Her words are like knives digging into your heart. She just seems so distraught, and obviously cares about your future, but you can’t do this anymore.

You stand up from the table and bow deeply. “Will you please trust me? That’s all I ask.”

The room is silent as tension fills the air, you don’t really know what to expect as you shut your eyes tight waiting for a reaction. You’re expecting to be yelled at-- not to mention a shock wave of embarrassment protruding through you in front of Oikawa. The moment is painful and you don’t know what to do. You remain in the deep bow waiting.

“Alright. You don’t need to be so ridiculous, bowing...” she mumbles. You stand up and she has her hand clasp to her forehead. “You’re father’s going to kill me, but alright.”

Your heart rate increases, uncertain what she means by that, because you thought you’d misheard her.

“I guess it’s about time you’ve made your own decisions,” she says. “I was beginning to believe you’d continue to go along with it, but you’re your own person now.”

Shock and confusion washes over you, mixed with hope and excitement. You press your palm to your heart wondering if it’s about to beat out of your chest.

“Just don’t come crying when nothing goes your way,” she adds.

Letting out a huge breath, your lips upturn to a smile.

“Thank you,” you say. And it’s genuine.

[bluejayblueskies]

the before, the after, the in-between

Chapter Four: unsweet dreams Words: 4.3k

Relationships: Jon & Daisy, Jon/Martin Tags: Post-Canon, Scottish Safehouse, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mute Jon, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Nightmares

Work Summary:

There was no knife, no blood, and Jon was not dead. And when he heard a strangled noise from beside him and looked over to see Martin standing in the doorway of the safehouse, flung open and letting in the frigid bite of near-winter and sunlight, there was sunlight, he felt such a dizzying, intense wave of relief that he could hardly breathe around it.

Then, he opened his mouth to say Martin’s name, and nothing came out, and all of the relief fell away in an instant.

.

Jon wakes up in the safehouse in October of 2018, alive and well but without the Eye and without his voice. In the days that follow, he finds himself confronted with a world that has reset itself in space and in time, a version of himself that is no longer the Archivist, and the fact that death during the end of the world had not been so permanent as it had seemed.

Chapter Summary:

Daisy lets out a little huff of air through her nose and says, “Do you still have the same dreams? Or did the Eye take those with it when it left?”

They’re not the same, Jon writes. Then, hesitantly and with a lump in the back of his throat: I can’t decide if they’re better or worse.

“Yeah, me either.” Daisy looks at a point just over one of Jon’s shoulders and says, “My dreams are memories, I think.”

Read on Ao3 (link in source)

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five| Chapter Six| Chapter Seven

Or read below:

(cw for mentions of knife and gun violence, mentions of blood)

Jon isn’t used to his nightmares being his own. He’d spent so long closing his eyes only to open new ones, ones that had no eyelids and did not look away and knew nothing but watching and knowing, never enough space in his own head for the things that haunted him and him alone. (Those nightmares restricted themselves to the daytime, striking him at odd moments and leaving him shaking and breathless, his chest tight and his hands clenched into fists on his thighs as he tried to remember how to breathe.) Then, the world had ended and he hadn’t needed to sleep at all, save for the period with Salesa that he’s told was nice, really nice and the time spent in the tunnels beneath what used to be the Institute. By then, he hadn’t needed to dream. Maybe he wasn’t capable of it anymore; maybe he’d forgotten how.

Then, he’d awoken in the middle of the first night of what he and Martin have started to simply call after, a shout stuck at the back of his throat with no way to release it and his hand pressed against his chest, directly above the ragged scar that’s made its home upon his skin. Martin had woken too—he’d always been a light sleeper, even before, and it appeared that he’d only grown lighter during the in-between—and had reached out for him, concern etched across his face.

Jon hadn’t meant to flinch away. But the afterimage of the nightmare was still vibrant in his mind, the phantom pain in his chest still acute, and his body had reacted without giving his mind time to think. Jon doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the look on Martin’s face, horrified and devastated and broken. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever forgive himself for it, either.

He’d had the same nightmare the next night, awakening with a soundless gasp with his hand pressed over his chest. But he’d remembered the previous night and had moved slowly and carefully so as not to wake Martin as he slipped out of bed and out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, where he’d sat at the table with a glass of water in his hands and had stared blankly at the wall in front of him. He hadn’t slept any further that night, and when Martin had come out of the bedroom in the morning to find him curled up on the couch, book in hand, he’d looked hurt, then worried, then blank. Jon isn’t sure which expression he felt more guilty for causing, but he knew any of them were better than what he’d seen the first night.

So, when Jon wakes up tonight with his heart in his throat and an ache in his chest, he waits for his heart rate to slow before once again sliding out from underneath the duvet and glancing briefly at Martin’s face—still slack with sleep—before he exits the bedroom and makes his way to the kitchen.

His pulse accelerates once again as he spots a shadowy figure sitting on the couch, barely outlined by the moonlight filtering in through the window, before he remembers that it’s not just him and Martin in the safehouse anymore. He’s not quite sure how to announce himself in a way that won’t startle Daisy, but he must have made some sort of sound despite trying to avoid the noisy floorboards because her head turns towards him, her expression lost in shadow, and she says quietly, “Can’t sleep?”

Jon lets out a long, heavy breath and nods. After a moment, he makes his way over to the couch, hesitating before sitting on the opposite end of it as Daisy.

She’d had nightmares back in the Archives sometimes—ones where she woke up suddenly with a sharp intake of breath, her hands scrabbling at her throat for a brief moment before dropping away once she realized where she was. The first time Jon had asked, she’d snapped that it was none of his business, her shoulders still tight with fear and stress. The second time he’d asked—because he never was good at keeping his curiosity in check—she’d glared at him for a moment before saying, clipped and weary, “The dirt never filled my lungs, but sometimes, it felt like it had.”

He didn’t ask again. And she’d never wanted him close in the minutes after she awoke, shying away from a hand on her shoulder or against her wrist or his occasional clumsy attempts at a hug. Some weeks after they’d crawled out of the coffin hand in hand, she’d turned away from him and mumbled something about claustrophobia and things touching her skin, and though he hadn’t entirely understood, he thought he understood enough.

Jon doesn’t know if Daisy’s had another one of those nightmares now, and if that’s why she’s awake, or if she just hadn’t gone to sleep at all. So he keeps his distance as he sits just in case, folding his legs underneath him and covering his hands with the too-long sleeves of his jumper to fight off the chill, and she doesn’t move to close it. Instead, she looks at him; at this distance, he’s able to pick out the angled slant of her nose and the way her lips are flat and pinched. It’s quiet for a long moment. Then, Daisy lets out a little huff of air through her nose and says, “Do you still have the same dreams? Or did the Eye take those with it when it left?”

Jon opens his mouth to respond, then shuts it, fluttering his hands in frustration. He shakes his head, huffs in annoyance, then stands and makes his way to the kitchen, picking through drawers and cabinets until he locates a few pieces of scrap paper and a nearly-blunt pencil that he looks at with distaste before deciding that it’ll be good enough for now. He collects the book sitting on the table next to the couch as he returns so that he has something hard to write on, tucks himself in the opposite corner of the couch as Daisy again, and—with a sigh as he stares down at the darkened paper in front of him—reaches behind him and turns on the lamp.

The room fills with a warm golden glow not dissimilar to that of firelight, and with slightly more force than is probably necessary, Jon writes, They’re not the same. Then, hesitantly and with a lump in the back of his throat: I can’t decide if they’re better or worse.

He holds the paper up for Daisy to see, resisting the urge to tear it away before she has the chance to read the words. Although it’s still hard sometimes, it’s… it’s easier to be vulnerable like this. There had been times before, when he’d been dating Georgie or when he used to spend evenings with Tim and Sasha or when he and Martin first moved into the safehouse, where he’d found himself overwhelmed and unable to vocalize what he felt sitting at the back of his tongue no matter how hard he tried. Georgie had grown frustrated once, telling him to just spit it out and that she couldn’t help if he wouldn’t tell her what was wrong. He’d snapped that he couldn’t, mortified to find his voice slightly choked as he did so. He’d pressed his fist to his mouth for a long moment, trying to force himself to just spit it out, before accepting that it simply wasn’t going to happen and mumbling that he had to use the restroom before leaving the room quicker than was strictly necessary. He’d sat on the cool tile floor, arms wrapped around his knees and back knocking gently against the wall as he rocked forward and back, trying to whisper the words to himself now that he was alone and finding that he still couldn’t force them past his lips.

When he finally left the restroom, Georgie intercepted him on the way to the front door, gently guided him to the couch in the living room, and handed him a pen and paper. He stared at and stared at it and stared at it as she said, in a voice more controlled and level than it had been however many minutes prior, that she’d googled some things and she thought this might help. And that she was sorry for pushing. He looked at her after a moment, twisting the cap of the pen back and forth between his fingers, and she gave him what he thought was meant to be an encouraging smile.

So he wrote down what he could. And it was easier, even if it was hard to hand her the paper afterward and to sit there as she read it silently to herself, dreading whatever she would say to him once she was done (or worse—that she would ask him to say more, to explain himself further).

Daisy doesn’t ask him to say more now. She reads the words and nods, says, “Yeah, me either,” and lets out a long breath before sitting back more heavily on the arm of the couch she’s leaning against. They sit there in silence for what must be minutes. It should probably be uncomfortable, but it’s not. Jon closes his eyes and rests his head against the back of the couch, the faint light from the lamp bleeding in through his eyelids and his breathing slowing into something relaxed as he slowly lets the tension of the nightmare drain out of him. He only opens his eyes again when he feels the faint brush of something against his foot, and when he looks down, he sees that Daisy has uncurled her legs and has stretched them out slightly, knees still bent but one foot resting just beside Jon’s. Jon doesn’t move, and after a moment, Daisy looks at a point just over one of Jon’s shoulders and says, “My dreams are memories, I think.”

Jon moves so his ankle brushes up against hers, and when she shifts her gaze so it meets his, he nods once, tilting his chin slightly forward in a go-on, I’m-listening gesture. He knows she dislikes vulnerability as well—she’d said once that it makes her feel unguarded, open, as if inviting herself to be hurt—but he thinks they’d almost gotten to the point, before everything had gone wrong, where they’d been able to deconstruct all of their walls around each other. Jon’s were already cracked, and they crumbled at the slightest of touches. Daisy’s were thicker, well-fortified, and though they had fractured slightly under the pressure of miles of dirt and sand, they stood solid. Jon shared, and Daisy listened, and it was rarely the other way around. Still, near the end, it felt like it was becoming more balanced, like the bricks were coming loose and holes were beginning to appear through which Jon could look and see the other side clearly.

Jon sees the wall, just for a moment, as Daisy hesitates, her eyes sliding away from his and landing on an indeterminate point behind him. Then, Daisy takes a breath, lets it out, and says, “I close my eyes, and I… I see Basira.” The words clearly upset her, though the only real indication Jon gets is the slightest twitch of her jaw, a small sign of discomfort that he’s come to recognize. “It’s strange, because the way I feel when I look at her… I know it’s me, and it feels like me, but it’s also… not. I look at her, and I want her to come with me, and… and that feels like me. But I also want her to be like me, to… to chase like me, and that feels different. It feels like the part of me that was only Hunt, but it’s still me, just… a different version of me.” She pauses, her throat moving as she swallows sharply. “I like it, in the dreams. I’m happy. I chase, and I kill, and it feels right. And then I wake up, and it feels… wrong. Like I’m existing as two people at once, and they’re both me, but they’re not both me right now.” She takes a deep breath in and lets it out slowly. “I don’t like it.”

Jon presses his ankle against Daisy’s again, then reaches forward tentatively and places a hand atop hers. She doesn’t move away, but she doesn’t flip her hand to allow Jon to hold it properly, which is all right. He maintains the two points of contact as Daisy continues, “And then Basira’s holding a gun, and it’s hard, but I can still smell her above the- the blood.” Your blood, she doesn’t say, but Jon can tell she’s thinking it anyway by the way her eyes find his only briefly before glancing away once again. The bite mark scars are just a few inches above where his ankle makes contact with hers. “I say her name, and she looks… sad. Scared. I don’t understand, and I tell her to come. That just makes her look sadder, and there’s so much blood. I can hear it rushing in my ears, can feel it coating my mouth.” Daisy’s fingers twitch beneath his, and her free hand curls into a loose fist atop her knee. “And then she fires the gun. And I know it hurts, but I can’t feel it over the anger. She fires twice more, and…”

Daisy falls silent. Jon curls his fingers loosely around her hand, trying to provide what comfort he can. “And then I wake up,” Daisy says at length. She looks at Jon, and her eyes are heavy. Sad. “The person I was then is still angry at her. Doesn’t understand why she abandoned me, why she didn’t have my back. But who I am now, without the blood… I understand. If she had made a different choice, things would have been worse. Probably would have ended badly.” Daisy pauses, then shrugs—a small motion that’s anything but casual. “She kept her promise. Even though it hurt.”

Jon’s eyes are pulled, almost instinctively, in the direction of the bedroom, where Martin still sleeps soundly. He hesitates a moment before taking his hand away from Daisy’s and shifting so he can grip the hem of his jumper in his hands. He takes a breath to steady himself, then lifts the fabric up to his chin to reveal the jagged scar that cuts across his chest, just beneath his heart in the space where once there had been ribs but now is left empty and unprotected. He brushes a finger against it unthinkingly, feeling the raised texture beneath his fingertip, and then looks back at Daisy, who is staring at his chest with a small furrow in her brow. Jon drops the jumper, letting it settle back over his stomach, picks up the paper and pencil, and writes, in clear, blocky letters, Martin kept his promise, too. Then, he hesitates and scratches the words out, replacing them with, It can hurt to break them, too. He pauses, then scratches those out too. Finally, he settles on, Martin made a similar choice, and then amends it with a quick, Though choice is perhaps a stretch, before holding the paper up for Daisy to see.

Daisy reads the words, one eyebrow arcing into her hairline. “He gave you that?”

Jon nods.

“Hm. Looks an awful lot like a stab wound.”

Jon bites his lip and nods again, slower. Then, hastily, he scribbles, I asked him to, and holds up the paper, because it’s important that she knows. That she knows it wasn’t Martin’s fault.

“You asked him to stab you,” Daisy says. It’s not a question, and it almost sounds incredulous, but there’s also a note of sympathy behind the words. An I understand.

Jon nods, worries his bottom lip between his teeth, and writes, It’s a long story.

Daisy hums. “And you feel guilty for it,” she says. Also not a question. Jon looks at her, surprised, and Daisy sighs. “You’re an easy person to read. Terrible poker face.”

Jon scowls, but it softens almost immediately, and he looks away. After a moment, Daisy continues, “Do you feel guilty because you asked him, or because you had to ask him?”

Jon frowns at her. He’s pretty sure those are the same thing—or at least for the circumstances, they’re indistinguishable. For all of it is probably the most accurate answer he can give. He feels guilty for leaving Martin behind and he feels guilty for putting Martin in the position he did and he feels guilty for pressing the knife into Martin’s hand, but it’s complicated because if he had to go back and make the choice all over again, he… he doesn’t know if he would make a different one. He’s guilty, but he’s not sorry. Maybe he’s guilty because he’s not sorry.

“Jon,” Daisy says, and Jon blinks at her. He’s not sure how long he’s been just sitting there, unmoving, but by the expression on her face, it has to have been long enough to be bothersome. He reaches for the paper and, after a moment, writes, Both. Then: Do you feel guilty about Basira?

It’s not a deflection. It’s not. Jon just… he doesn’t know what to think. What to feel. He’s afraid that if he thinks too much about it, he might feel angry, or frustrated, or… worse. And he doesn’t want that. Daisy gives him a considering look, like she’s trying to decide if she wants to let him turn the conversation back on her, before shaking her head. “No. I don’t.”

Jon frowns and tilts his head slightly to the side in a questioning gesture. His knees are starting to cramp where they’re folded up underneath him, so he shifts so his legs are slightly outstretched, the tips of his toes brushing against the sides of Daisy’s thighs. Daisy is quiet for a moment. Then, she says, “She understood why I asked her to do what she did. She knew that I didn’t want to be… what I was. Not anymore. I asked her to kill me for my benefit, but also for hers. I… I didn’t want her to see me like that.”

Like a monster? Jon thinks, looking down at where his hands are resting on his lap. He… he thinks he understands the feeling.

“We both did what we had to,” Daisy says, an undercurrent of resignation in her voice. “There’s no use in feeling guilty for something like that. I… I know she won’t feel guilty for doing what she did. Hurt, probably. Sad. Angry. But not guilty.”

Jon curls his hands into loose fists and nods, still looking down at his lap. He knows Martin feels guilty. He can see it on Martin’s face when Jon pulls his jumper over his head to change, Martin’s eyes glancing off the scar on his chest like he can’t stand to look at it. He doesn’t know how to fix it.

He doesn’t know if he can.

Before he can obsess over it more, Jon picks up the pencil and writes, in too-big letters, We should call her. Let her know that you’re alive. It’s even more obviously a deflection than the last, but still, he holds the words up and waits expectantly for Daisy to answer them, trying to ignore the tight curling of anxiety and tension in the pit of his stomach.

The line between Daisy’s eyebrows deepens, and she looks away. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” she says softly, and Jon frowns. He reaches forward and brushes his hand against hers, and she doesn’t move away, though she also doesn’t look back at him—just keeps her eyes fixated on the kitchen table. The daisies are barely visible, hidden mostly in shadow. “I don’t…” Daisy says, then stops. Her fingers twitch. “I don’t know if she’ll want to see me,” she says finally. Then, quickly after: “I don’t know if I want to see her either.”

Jon’s frown deepens, and he squeezes Daisy’s hand. Daisy must be able to see his expression out of the corner of her eye because she sighs heavily and says, “It’s—complicated, okay? Like I said, the anger is… it’s a part of me. It might still be a part of her. I don’t know what I’ll feel when I see her, and it… scares me.” She says the last part like an admission of a crime, like she’s ashamed of it. Jon squeezes Daisy’s hand again, firmer this time, and presses their legs together. She sighs again wearily and says, “Suppose I should let her know that I’m alive, though. Scared or not, she… she deserves that.” She looks at Jon out of the corner of her eye. “Hm.” At Jon’s raised eyebrow, she continues, “Does Basira know that you’re alive?”

Ah. Hm indeed. Jon pinches his lips together and shakes his head. After a moment, he picks up the paper and pencil, though he’s reluctant to let go of Daisy’s hand to do so, and writes, I don’t know if she’ll want to see me either. If that makes you feel any better.

Daisy looks at the paper and lets out a small, breathy laugh. “Not really. I appreciate the effort, though. Is it about the…” Daisy gestures in his general direction. “Archivist-ness?”

Jon grimaces and wobbles his hand from side to side in a kind-of gesture. More about the fact that I ended the world, actually, he writes.

They’d filled Daisy in as best they could when Martin had gotten back from the store, fresh cups of tea held in their hands and Jon trying not to feel frustrated at the fact that he couldn’t easily chime in as Martin told a version of events that Jon very much had opinions on. Martin had repeated the words it wasn’t Jon’s fault about a dozen or so times throughout, while Jon had sat there and tried very hard not to write any form of well, actually on the notebook in front of him. It had been exceedingly difficult.

So he supposes it’s expected that Daisy frowns and says, “Thought that wasn’t your fault,” but he still can’t help the exasperated sigh that escapes him at the words.

It’s complicated, he writes. And it doesn’t matter. Basira thought it was, at least at first, and I

He stops, pencil still resting against the paper, and after a moment, Daisy says, “Going to finish your sentence?”

Jon worries his bottom lip between his teeth and continues, I don’t know, then stops again. Another moment passes; he can feel Daisy’s eyes on him like paperweights, a gentle pressure that settles in his chest like an anchor. He forces himself to finish, and once the sentence is complete, he pushes the paper towards Daisy with a displeased expression on his face.

I don’t know if she would be glad to find out I survived.

Daisy stares at the paper for a long moment before holding it back out towards him. “You’re right. You don’t know. Maybe she won’t be, maybe she will be.” Quieter: “Maybe she’ll be angry with you too.”

Jon raises an eyebrow. You don’t know that she’ll be angry with you, he writes, a bit cheekily. Maybe she won’t be, maybe she will be.

“Bastard,” Daisy mutters, and Jon laughs, the exhalation sending the top of the page in front of him aflutter. “Fine. We can tell her we’re both alive together, then. Two birds, one stone.”

Jon nods. There’ll be no way to avoid alerting Basira to the fact that he and Martin are alive once she finds out about Daisy anyway, given that Martin will probably be the one to call her. It��s nice to have solidarity all the same.

They sit and talk about meaningless things then, until Jon runs out of paper space and Daisy’s eyelids begin to droop with exhaustion. Jon doesn’t know if sleep is in the cards for him for the rest of the night, but he feels more boneless and relaxed after spending time with Daisy, so he thinks it might be more in reach than it had been the previous nights. He should go back to the bedroom, he thinks. The bed will be better for his back, and the couch is just barely big enough for two, and he knows it would be nice to press himself to Martin’s side and feel his heartbeat against his cheek, warm and comfortable and safe. But he knows if he returns that Martin will wake, and then Martin will worry, and Jon will feel guilty all over again. So instead, Jon gives Daisy a pointed, questioning look, placing a hand on the space on the couch next to her where he knows he’ll fit if he squeezes in close.

Daisy, to her credit, doesn’t mention Martin. He thinks she understands that desire not to bother the ones you love more than is necessary, given how often she’d spent sleepless nights with him rather than waking Basira. Instead, she presses herself into the back of the couch and allows Jon to wriggle in next to her, pressing his back to her chest and allowing his head to fall underneath her chin in a familiar, practiced motion. She slings an arm over his side, and he breathes out as the weight settles a last lingering bit of unrest within him, exhaustion finally pulling at the edges of his mind as Daisy begins to snore, her chest rumbling against his spine.

He still dreams, and they’re still horrible. But when he wakes with a start however many hours later, the room still dark, Daisy doesn’t even stir, just tightens her grip on him in her sleep. He focuses on the pressure of her arm around him, tries to force his breathing into something even, and when he manages to slip into sleep a third time, he stays there until morning.

[kindahoping4forever]

Watch Me Bloom: A Few Hours Ago // Ashton Irwin

Here we are at the final installment! This section was honestly the driving force behind me deciding to write this whole thing - the night of the album release I was so inspired I told a handful of people about both this section and the fic as a whole, without knowing if I would ever follow through on it. I ended up writing it just to see if I could, unsure if I would even end up posting it. I’m glad I did and I hope you are too!

Thank you to everyone who has read and/or given feedback on the first two chapters - it really does mean a lot. Thank you to @ashtonangst for the real time reaction messages that are as equally entertaining as they are helpful. And like basically all of my work, this entire 10k+ monster of self-indulgence wouldn’t have been possible without the guidance, cheerleading and wisdom of @cal-puddies

Warnings: Boyfriend!Ash in fluffy, contemplative (and obviously smutty) situations. Weed smoking, oral sex performed on both a male and a female (perhaps simultaneously oop), unprotected sex within an established relationship

Word Count: 3534

Watch Me Bloom Masterlist

Masterlist // Taglist // Ko-Fi

Let  me  know  what  you  think!

You knew Ashton had been wanting to do something to commemorate the album release but you were still shocked to wake up to the sound of him hauling your suitcase out of the closet.

“Oh good, you’re up!” He giggles. “Think you can be ready to take off for a few days by the time I’m done with my interviews?”

You stare blankly at him for a moment or two and he offers another round of giggles before quickly explaining the arrangements he’d made for a desert retreat to thank everyone who helped him put his album together; he’s talking a mile a minute, describing the Airbnb he’d booked, the safety precautions he’d asked everyone to take, the plans he had for activities once everyone got there.

It’d be a lot to take in even if you hadn’t just woken up but you love when he’s excited like this, so animated and bright, you can practically feel the joy radiating from him. You promise to be ready after lunch and with a quick kiss, he’s rushing downstairs for a Zoom appointment.

The drive to Joshua Tree flies by, the two of you singing, chatting and generally thrilled to get out of town for the first time since lockdown started. Once you arrive at the rental, he practically yanks you out of the car to enthusiastically show you around the expansive property.

After briefly teasing him that of course he chose a getaway destination that offers a ‘hammock circle’ as an amenity, you wrap your arms around his waist and squeeze him tight. “It’s perfect, babe. I’m glad you’re gonna get a chance to unwind after all this, you deserve it.” You tilt up and he pecks your lips. “When do the others get here?” You ask, starting to pull him back towards the house.

Ash grins and pulls on your arm, bringing you back into him. “Friday.” For the second time today, you look at him in utter bafflement. He kisses your knuckles and earnestly explains, “I know I haven’t been very present for you and this whole thing couldn’t have been easy for you to deal with so I thought we could use a couple days together to kind of reset and reconnect.”

“Ash,” you pout, unsure of what to say. You’re overwhelmingly touched and all you can think to do is to throw your arms around his neck and hold him tight. He chuckles and wraps around you as well, the two of you swaying together for a moment.

The next couple hours are spent exploring the grounds, arranging for grocery delivery and unpacking your bags. After a quiet dinner, you follow him out to the patio to relax and enjoy the idyllic desert landscape. He pulls his long hair back into a bun as he settles in on a couch.

You get comfortable, sitting cross-legged next to him, while he unzips his backpack at the foot of the couch and retrieves a glass stash jar, a small grinder and a pack of rolling papers; he turns to you, raising his eyebrows and you nod enthusiastically.

He grabs the acoustic guitar sitting by the couch, flipping it over to lay in his lap as a makeshift table. You realize for a relaxing retreat, he hasn’t really sat still since you arrived and you decide to check in.

“So,” you start, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly. “Couple days from now, people everywhere are gonna get to enjoy all your hard work. Hear everything you poured yourself into. How are you feeling?”

Ashton is focused on grinding the weed and his reply is brief and distracted. "I feel good, I feel ready. Probably the best I’ve felt about a release."

You’re unsatisfied with his easy answer so you press further. “Why’s that? Because there’s less pressure without the label? Or because it all belongs to just you?” You twirl your finger in the curls at the base of his neck, the ones he missed scooping into his bun.

He pauses, contemplating this time. “I mean, all of that feels great but I think I’m really just pleased with it because it was made with pure artistic intent… like, I’m not gonna gain anything from this. I didn’t have to make it but I needed to, you know?” He looks over at you expectantly to see if his point was made.

You nod and smile softly at him. Happy to be understood, he turns back to his task. You watch intently as he sprinkles the weed onto the paper, brow furrowing as he meticulously loads it with just the right amount. You always love watching him work and this was no different.

"I get what you're saying, babe… and I’m happy you’re feeling good about it,” you beam. “I’m so proud of you, Ash.”

He looks over and shoots you a toothy grin. You intended to continue, to keep him talking but you've become distracted by the way his long fingers look as he rolls the newly forming joint back and forth between them. When his tongue darts out to drag across the paper to seal it, you find yourself biting your lip, fascinated.

His voice interrupts your enraptured silence. “We can talk about something else if you want, you’ve been hearing about this non-stop for months now," he laughs, feeling around his pockets for a lighter.

“I like hearing your thoughts on things you’re passionate about,” you shrug, handing him the lighter off the coffee table. "Plus, it’s the reason why we’re here.”

Ash shakes his head as he turns the stick over the lighter's flame. “No, the album is the reason why everyone else is going to be here,” he insists. “The reason we’re here is different.” He lifts the lit joint to his mouth and takes a long drag.

“Right. Reconnecting. Resetting,” you parrot his earlier words breezily, watching the smoke pour from his mouth.

He scowls at your tone of voice. “I’m serious,” he says firmly, passing it to you. “This year has obviously been a lot but you really got the short end of the stick, having to deal with me.”

You look at him, puzzled. “I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about,” you comment, taking a couple hits. “Parts of the year have been good, parts have been shit but the silver lining to it all is that I’ve gotten to spend so much of it with you.”

He reaches over and rubs your thigh. “I invited you to live with me for the lockdown and then barricaded myself in a studio all day everyday. Going to bed by yourself every night, waking up alone, seeing me at meals only if Matt forced me to take a break that day. And you also had to put up with me during the CALM disaster and the tour getting cancelled… it’s been me, me, me. All the time,” he points out.

“Oh, you don’t think I’m used to that by now?” You joke, giggling at his mock-offended gasp. He lightly smacks your thigh in protest and snatches the joint back. “Seriously, babe. I didn’t put up with those things, I went through them with you. It’s hard for me to see you frustrated or upset about situations that can’t be changed. When you’re disappointed, I’m disappointed. So to see you be so excited about something? Your joy brings me joy. I wouldn’t trade that for all the late night cuddles in the world.”

“Baby,” he breathes quietly, pulling you in to rest at his side. You’re both quiet for a few moments, thinking about each other’s words, feeling each other’s presence. “I hope you know how sincerely I mean it when I say I would not have been able to do this without you. This album belongs to you too.”

“Oh yeah?” You look up at him with a twinkle in your eye. “So what’s my percentage, how much of a cut am I getting, Mr. Label Man?” You laugh at your joke, pulling from the joint he’s just handed back to you.

Ashton laughs heartily and scoffs, “Why do you think I started growing my own vegetables? We’re fuckin’ broke now, sweetheart.” He giggles as if it’s the funniest thing he’s ever said.

“Well, you’re broke and out of work, I am currently still employed,” you playfully boast, gesturing with the cigarette for emphasis.

“Ohhh, that’s how it’s gonna be now?” He jabs over and over at your side and you dramatically yelp. “Do I gotta start calling you ‘Daddy’ now?”

You offer him a devilish smile and carefully get on your knees to straddle him. “Do you prefer the term ‘sugar baby’ or ‘kept man’?” You tease, placing the joint in his mouth before he can reply.

He runs his hands over your ass while he puffs away; holding the hit in his mouth, he moves a hand up to guide your face towards his. He presses his lips against yours and you open your mouth, allowing the smoke to transfer from his mouth to yours. You grind in his lap a little and he groans as he watches you tilt your head back and slowly let the smoke trickle out of your mouth.

After a few more shotguns back and forth, Ash quickly sets what’s left in the ashtray on the coffee table and buries his hands in your hair, crashing his lips into yours. You moan as he kisses you with an almost unreal intensity; his tongue feels like it’s melting into yours, his lips have never tasted softer or sweeter. His hands have slipped under the back of your shirt and his fingers are either icy cold or burning hot - you’re undecided but it feels incredible - as they trace tantalizing designs on your skin.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been making out - it could’ve been 10 minutes, it could’ve been 40 - when he states in a gravelly voice, “We need to get you inside and naked for me.”

You reply with a pleased sigh and attach your lips to his jaw, just below his ear; your face bumping against the coolness of his earring both distracts and delights you. You don’t realize you’ve been rocking relentlessly against his growing hardness until he firmly grabs your hips and rasps your name as a stern warning.

He lifts you off his lap and stands up from the couch. You don’t know whether to laugh or moan at the spectacle: eyes glassy from both arousal and blazing, lips swollen from slotting with yours, skin littered with your bitemarks. His hair is pulled halfway out of the bun, his shirt is unbuttoned all the way and the silk pants he’s wearing aren’t even trying to hide the tent that’s formed in them.

He pulls you up from the couch and right back onto his lips; you stand there on the patio for several more minutes, slightly swaying as you devour each other. You can’t remember the last time you felt this hungry for him; smoking together usually gets you both hot but this is next level.

By the time you finally pull away and breathlessly declare, “God, I swear I could fuckin’ cum like this right here,” he's got you down to your bra and panties and you’ve got one hand in his hair and one down his pants.

He nips at your neck a bit longer before separating from you and turning you towards the house. “Bed,” he commands, starting to gather up his things. You continue to linger and he swats at your ass to get you moving.

You set the mood when you get to the bedroom: opening the windows to bring in the cool night air, dimming the lamps, lighting some candles. You know he brought incense but you’re not sure where he unpacked it. Ashton slinks up behind you while you’re digging through a drawer and wraps himself around you.

“Why. Aren’t. You. Naked. Yet.” He complains, leaving wet kisses across your neck. You shiver as his fingers trail down your back before unhooking your bra and pushing it down your arms. You giggle as he tugs your panties down your legs right where you stand.

You step out of the underwear and let the bra fall from your arms, turning to him completely bare. “Your turn,” you lilt, lightly backing him up towards the bed, incense quest long forgotten. You laugh at how quickly he whips off his shirt before he lets himself fall onto his back on the mattress. You crawl next to him and as soon as you’re near enough, his hands are instantly playing with your tits; you take his pants down, licking your lips as his hard cock springs up against his stomach with a satisfying smack.

You stroke it where it lays, using just your thumb and index finger, finding yourself hypnotized as you watch your hand move, hear his breath get heavier, watch the first drops of precum appear at the head. His hand has made its way between your spread knees and he lazily drags his fingers through your folds, occasionally tapping against your clit; he’s barely using any pressure but in this moment, it feels incredible and you rock against him.

After a few minutes of mindlessly playing with each other, he reaches for your arm and gently pulls, wanting you to come closer to him; you lean in and even with his eyes half-closed, you note the fondness swimming in them. He cups your face with his hands and murmurs, “Love you,” just before he presses your lips to his. The noise of your sloppy kisses sounds almost musical to your stoned mind.

Ash moves his hand back to your center as you lean to peck down his chest, relishing the feeling of his skin shivering underneath you as you move down his torso. Again, you leave his cock on his stomach, giving the shaft a few sloppy kisses before taking his balls in your mouth.

“Baby… here,” he breathily directs you, gesturing for you to lay on your side while he turns onto his. He lifts your outer leg and rests his head on your other one; he sets your leg back down on the bed, bent at the knee, effectively creating a triangle of space allowing him access to your pussy. He moves closer and licks a stripe through your wetness to test, the resulting moan from you letting him know he’s spot on with his positioning.

You scoot closer to his crotch, reaching for his cock that’s now facing you, giving it a few strokes before guiding it to your mouth. You’re now deep in your weed and lust fueled haze so it takes you a few moments to wrap your head around giving a blowjob at this angle. The work he’s doing between your legs isn’t doing your concentration any favors so you buy yourself some time and stick your tongue out, tapping his cock on it before kitten licking over the head; you suckle at the tip while your fingers tease his shaft and you moan when you taste precum.

Ashton’s tongue darts in and out of your folds and he thinks to himself he should tell you that you’ve never tasted better but decides not to because he doesn’t want you off his mouth for even a second. He teases the tip of his tongue at your entrance and the way you jerk against him leaves him groaning; the vibration against you feels like tiny electric sparks shooting through your pussy.

You grip his ass, using it for leverage as you start to bob your head up and down on his cock; you move cautiously at first, still trying to navigate the position, but as you continue taking him, you realize how much you’re enjoying the slow pace. You swirl your tongue around him as you move, your heightened state making you appreciate every detail: the weight of him, the details of the veins and ridges on his skin.

You pull off with a pop and rub the tip over your lips before doing the same down his shaft; when you come back up, your tongue’s attention focuses on fluttering around the underside of the head. You feel Ash pull away from you and hear a “Just like that, baby,” muffled against your thigh as you take him down again.

He collects himself and dives back in, promptly sucking your clit between his lips. You whimper around his cock a few times before you have to let him slip out. Your brain tells you that you should let him know you’re getting close but your senses are so overwhelmed, you can’t find the words.

Ash knows your body and even his foggy mind can read the signs that you’re nearly there. He wraps his arm around your hip, trying to steady your unruly movements as he slows his work on your clit, edging you slightly.

You whine his name and even your own ears are surprised by how needy it sounds. You try to resume sucking him but your pleasure center feels like it’s in overdrive and you can’t make yourself focus. You rock your hips against his mouth, breathlessly conceding, “Gotta cum, babe… oh god, Ash, please."

His fingers dig into your thigh as he holds on while you writhe against him; his tongue ramps up on your clit, skillfully fluttering back and forth with voracity. Your legs shake around his head and your breath comes out in labored gasps as you climax; your pre-existing high melts into your orgasmic high and you lose yourself in it, unable to believe how many waves of sensation you’re feeling.

He licks at you until your tremors stop and then he’s carefully untangling himself and turning around so he can lay facing you. Your eyes flutter open when you feel him stroking your hair and you giggle at how adorably sinful he looks: curls askew, goofy yet lusty smile curling at his lips, face damp and shiny from your release.

You give him a soft kiss and then in what feels like one swift motion, you push him onto his back, lay yourself on top of him and slip him inside you. You unhurriedly move yourself on him, chest pressed against his, alternately pecking at or mumbling sweet nothings into his skin.

Ashton pulls you into a deep kiss and hugs you tightly to him, arms wrapping around you. He runs his hands over any skin he can reach, taking advantage of your closeness to create a tactile heaven for himself. He wonders if your pussy has ever felt so tight or warm around him; as if you can read his mind, you clench and he groans loud and long, hands moving to your ass.

His large hands grip your cheeks and you rhythmically rock against him as he lazily fucks up into you. The two of you murmur and moan at each other, neither of you particularly trying to express anything other than the total pleasure you’re feeling. Finally, his noises take on a different, more urgent tone, his hips begin to stutter and he whines your name as he cums inside you.

You lay in silence for what feels like hours but in reality can’t be more than a minute. He kisses the top of your head and carefully moves you to the side of him; he reaches over to the bedside table for some tissues and you watch reverently as he cleans the both of you up.

“I fucking love you,” you dreamily state, unprompted.

He giggles blissfully at your outburst as he settles back on the bed, opting to lay perpendicular, resting his head on your stomach. “Well, I fucking love you,” he beams, closing his eyes as you finger brush his hair. “You know, this is exactly what I pictured when I planned this whole thing.”

“The trip or the album?” You joke, stifling a laugh. “You know you didn’t have to make a whole ass album if you wanted to take me to the desert for a nice stone and bone, you could’ve just asked.”

Ash snorts and sits up to blow a raspberry on your bare skin. “You know what I meant.”

“Yeahhhh, I guess,” you tease. There’s a long silence before you muse, “I feel incredibly lucky to be with you during all this.”

“The trip or the album?” He laughs hard at his quip, crawling up your body once he sees the amused pout on your face. “Aww, baby, I’m the lucky one. Thank you for being here with me. For everything this year, not just the stuff worth celebrating.”

You offer a satisfied hum as he kisses you sweetly. He pulls back and raises an eyebrow to ask, “Have I made up for all those nights you were sleepin’ on the couch yet?”

"God… my back hurts just thinking about it,” you exaggeratedly grumble. He pokes at you and you snuggle into him. "Maybe you should light up the rest of that joint and persuade me a little more."

Ashton looks at you, eyes gleaming with admiration and amusement. "Deal."

————-

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[yuzukult]

effortlessly pt. 9 || jungkook & reader

title: effortlessly pairing: jungkook x reader words: 5.0k genre: fluff, romance, school!au, smut some chapters notes: this is more of a self-realization chapter, less of the romance :) oc development & one more chapter left before an epilogue!!!! thank you all for your support and patience, i know i took a while with this one, mostly because i really wanted to take a break and write something else. :)

series: part one || part two || part three || part four || part five || part six || part seven || part eight || part nine || part ten || epilogue 

Yura’s cheeks are stuffed with the pastries from the bakery that was recommended by one of Jungkook’s teammates, something you’ve been meaning to take her to lately but with your mind flooded with thoughts on your future, there hasn’t been much time to dedicate to her. 

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” She’s eyeing you quizzically, uncomfortable with your distraught gaze. “You seem like you have something to say, so spit it.”

“I’m sorry,” You blurt with an agonizing frown. “I’ve been a terrible friend.”

“Why do you say that?”

Pushing the plate of baked goods away from you, your body slouches in the seat. The aroma of the flakey croissant beside the in-house made strawberry jam wasn’t appealing anymore and your previous conceptions stole away your appetite. “You didn’t tell me you wanted to be a cook.”

She rolls her eyes with a soft smile, shoving the plate back toward you. “Eat, loser.”

“Oh, come on. Stop acting like you’re not mad at me. I had no idea you were even going through anything—”

“Idiot, I’m not going through anything. I’m also not trying to be a cook. I’m trying to be a chef.” She corrects you, tearing off a piece of the croissant and bringing it to your lips. “Now take a bite of this, it’s crazy good.”

Abiding by her instruction, you open your mouth for her to feed you, chewing the soft pastry as it melts effortlessly on your tongue. “Good, right?” You nod in agreement. “I can’t help but think that I could’ve been there for you when you needed me the most. You were going through something, you were just as lost as I am.”

“Well, don’t feel bad. I kind of knew for a while, but I wasn’t sure. Sometimes we have to go through things alone to learn more about ourselves. Then Jungkook asked if I could help him with your little date, so I offered to do a picnic basket. It was for practice, and he seemed to be okay with it. How was the omelette?”

“Amazing. Which is why I was upset that I wasn’t a good enough friend to know that you cook so well.”

“Oh, please. Stop exaggerating... but really though. Was it that good?” Her eyes lit up at the compliment, emitting a chuckle from you. “It was, Yura. I’m seriously so proud of you. I wish I knew about your talents sooner.” 

Yura’s kind and patient, the qualities in a friend that everyone searches for. She has developed into a person who you found yourself depending on, someone who you wanted to stay around to share both good and bad times. Knowing that you weren’t there when she potentially needed you only made you disappointed in yourself. It was your turn to return the actions she provided for you; it was your turn to be a good friend.

She’s rolling her eyes again, a smile appearing upon her lips. “I told you, this is nothing. I’m still learning things about myself, so don’t worry, you didn’t miss out on anything.” You don’t believe her, but you take her words nonetheless, because you promise yourself and to her that from this day on, you’d try harder to be a better friend to her.

Walking out the café, a backpack slung over your shoulder, you glance at Yura who zips up her hoodie, snuggling in closer to the fabric to regain warmth as the night approaches along with the cool wind that blows in your direction. “Are you going to take the apprenticeship?” 

“How’d you even hear about that?” You’re surprised she knows this; there hadn’t been much exchange between the two of you since the last time you hung out. Yura scoffs, shaking her head as she fixes the straps of her backpack, strolling down the street beside you. “I’m your best friend, of course I know about it.”

“Jungkook? Hoseok? Which one was it that spilled?”

“Jungkook,” She confirms, a playfully innocent grin glued to her face. “But that’s besides the point. You got an offer of a lifetime, what does that mean for you?”  There's not much of a reaction from you, other than a slight shrug that you give her. It seemed great— getting an apprenticeship for a position that isn't for just anyone, but for you specifically. This was an endeavor that you never imagined yourself encountering. Goals and aspirations were a list to some people, especially Jungkook, but for you, that list hadn't been anything more than a title. So what did it mean to you, this opportunity that presented itself? "I don't know," You respond honestly, uncertain of what next steps to take. "I kind of am going through a dilemma." Yura raises a brow questioningly at you. "What is it?" You chew your bottom lip for a moment, trying to gather all your thoughts in a place before taking a deep breath of courage before exposing yourself to your friend. "Is it weird that I've been with Jungkook all my life, and now my so-called aspiration is on the same route of his?"

"Nobody is calling it that." "But if he's on the path of being a professional— what does it mean for me? Am I just a follower? Oh, Jungkook wants to be a professional swimmer, and now his girlfriend wants to do the same thing. How stupid does that sound?"

She shakes her head in disagreement, walking side by side with you along on the sidewalk, the sun slowly beginning to set whilst the wind makes its appearance again, sending chills down your spine. “Why does everything have to be about Jungkook? Why can’t it be about you for once? When you think of swimming, you think of Jungkook immediately, but why can’t you consider it being something you’re interested in?”

“Because Yura, I don’t know!” You exclaim, stopping in your tracks. It was hard, dreadfully hard making a decision that you weren’t sure of. You’re only in your teens, you think to yourself, at such a young age with the responsibility of making choices that may determine where your route is headed for the rest of your life. In all honesty, you want to cry; force yourself to shed all the tears even if you have to because the amount of pressure sitting on top of your shoulders was wearing you down.

You’re immensely grateful for the opportunity that just happened to land at your feet, but with a chance to do something big, you can’t help but feel that guilt eating you inside, wondering if this was truly what you wanted to do, and what if it wasn’t? Did it mean you took away the possibility of an experience from someone who yearned for it more than you did?

Yura ceases her steps, eyes meeting yours that were pools of pity. “It’s okay to not know. But you’re running out of time and have to pick what you want to do soon.”

“But Jungkook really wants me to do it.”

“Why do you care about what Jungkook thinks?”

Because Jungkook is the only person in my life whose opinions that I actually care about, is what you want to say to her, but it goes against all of the rules you’ve given yourself. You want to be independent, you want to be selfish in these moments that allowed you to, but at the end of the day, pleasing other people was a flaw you had never been able to grow out of.

“I don’t,” You lie, fiddling with the straps of your bag in between your nimble fingers. “I don’t care about what he thinks.”

She’s flabbergasted. “You absolutely do care. You care about what he thinks, and you’re afraid of disappointing him.” Yura says your name lovingly, in a tone that brings chills down your spine because she’s serious this time, a rarity in its form. “Please stop caring about what others think of you and make this decision on your own. There’s a chance that Jungkook won’t be with you at the end of this road, and you have to be prepared for it.”

“But it’s so freaking hard, Yura,” You finally admit, bending down to sit at the curb on the street. “I spent almost my entire life with Jungkook. My parents never approved of anything and weren’t ever happy with anything I did; he’s the one person who has supported anything I did and all I worry about is if he’s going to turn away like they did.”

“Did you just forget my existence again?” Yura interjects, sitting down beside you, giving you a slight nudge. “Listen, whether or not Jungkook decides to be by your side for this entire thing, I’m still here, right? It’s true, I can’t swoon you nor can I give you kisses because well, no offense, you’re not exactly my type—“ you snort, “—but I can be the friend portion here. You got me, you don’t need some boy you love, you have a friend.”

How crazy is it that you’re living in a fanfic trope? Your best friend from childhood is your neighbor, your first kiss, first time, first kiss... the list goes on.

So when you’re walking in the direction of where he stands in the parking lot of your high school, Jungkook’s car parked alongside his other teammates, while he leans against the hood of his car with the guys crowding around him. He looks like every other main character of a romantic film; hair slicked back, changed out of his uniform and swim clothes, now in a t-shirt that’s tight around his frame paired with light washed denim pants with tears and rips that hugs his thighs so deliciously. The laugh that escapes his lips is melodic, melting your heart seeing how happy he looks just by being with his friends.

You’re going to miss the hell out of this if he’s disappointed in your decision.

Approaching the group, the guys holler at the sight of you. “Hey! You’re finally here! Jungkook refuses to leave without you, so we’ve been waiting around until you came.”

“Were you?” You ask, eyes meeting your boyfriend. “Are you waiting for something in particular?”

Jungkook glances at the guys before back at you nervously, palms getting sweaty. “Uh... how do you feel about coming with us tonight?”

“Where to?”

Hoseok snorts from behind, almost bursting into laughter at how anxious Jungkook is around you. It’s cute, really, because despite officially together, he still acts as though he’s pining over his crush on you. “Oh, come on, it’s not hard to ask, just ask her!” Jimin adds into the push by actually pushing him.

Jungkook stumbles closer to you, slightly breathless. “So... there’s this party tonight...”

You giggle— mostly because he seems as smitten with you as you are with him. “Jeon, are you trying to ask me to be your date to a party or something? Why are you jittery?”

He is. And he can’t help but feel like his heart quickens whenever he sees you in a skirt and your hair down, first few buttons of your uniform unfastened and blazer hanging off your arm. Even in makeup that’s been on for 8 hours straight, he thinks you’re pretty. “Yeah,” his response is airy, “I’m hoping we could set aside a sleepover and head over to Hoseok’s place tonight to blow off some steam. How’s that sound?” Chuckling at his lack of confidence in the question, you nod in agreement. “Okay, that sounds great. When are we heading out?”

Getting ready for the party proves to be one of the most nerve-wreaking things you’ve done in a while, including that apprenticeship offer. 

“Why why why are these jeans so tight?”

“This dress shows my belly rolls.”

You’re patting the fabric that’s wrinkled around your stomach region as you sigh when you see the sideview of your body in the mirror. “I should workout. Does Jungkook find this attractive?”

“And this skirt is too short. It shows my freaking underwear.” Bending over in the mirror to see yourself from behind, you grumble at the sight.

“Wait— turn over here, I want to see.”

“Holy—“ Flinching in the direction of the voice, you place a hand on your chest to ease your breathing; Jungkook sitting at his window sill, hair let loose, fresh from a wash, still dressed in his sweats. “You look cute in that. Twirl for me. Oh, and bend over too.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m not going to bend over for you, Jeon.” He frowns. “Why not? I want to see what color your panties are.” Just when you’re ready to drop the blinds on him, he has his hand out. “Wait wait wait, don’t close it. Wear those jeans you wore the other day. And that black t-shirt. I think you look pretty even in casual clothes.”

While searching in your closet for said outfit, he stays seated by the window, resting his chin on his arm. “So... can we talk about break?”

“Uh, sure,” You respond, only half paying attention as you’re shuffling through the tremendous amount of clothes you have, the space between your brows crinkling in focus. “What about it?”

“So... the team and I had these plans to go on a lake trip...”

“Okay...?”

“And it’s an all guys trip.” He finishes, finally getting to the point. “I know we talked about the possibility of spending break together—“

“You should go, Bub.” You interrupt, eyes soon lighting up when you find the shirt, then meeting with his gaze. “I think it’ll be good for you. We’re not going to be in high school forever and you guys might separate when you get to college.” 

Jungkook thinks he hit the jackpot with you. From your understanding nature, to your independence, support... all the qualities you had were stacked up on the pros pile for him. “You’ll be okay? Without me?”

He asks this question and it stings a bit. You know he doesn’t mean it in that way but you can’t help but think about it in that direction. There had been a lot of dependency on Jungkook throughout your friendship; hardship, accomplishments, direction of your dreams— he’d be there for all, guiding you and lifting you up. But did he think that you wouldn’t be able to be without him? 

“I’ll be fine,” You reply, attempting to hide the disappointment in your voice. Head peeking out the window, you grin mischievously. “Well, I’m going to get ready now... so...” Quickly backing away, you shut the blinds immediately, and Jungkook groans. “I wanted to see a show!”

Arriving at the party with Jungkook by your side is more than an accessory— he’s the main point of an outfit. You learn that he wanted you to wear that t-shirt just because he wanted to match with you, knowing that you’d oppose it but would be too lazy to even change afterwards.

“You guys came!” Hoseok cries, weaving his way through the crowd of people while having to raise his voice for you to hear. He has a solo cup in hand, liquid sloshing around as people push and shove around him. “Go to the kitchen! Grab a drink!”

To two of you do, eventually Jungkook being pulled away by friends, chatting up a storm with his face slowly growing crimson from his asian flush. Deciding that it was a night to enjoy yourself, you play around with the ingredients from his fridge, cooking yourself up a mojito.

“Are you making a mojito? Can I join and make myself one too?”

“Sure,” You grin, looking up at the stranger. “Help yourself.”

This girl is absolutely gorgeous. Hair jet black and straight, stretching to her lower back with skin milky smooth and makeup done effortlessly naturally, with a body so slim and appealing in her body-con dress, a sight for sore eyes, you’re suddenly boiling inside because you’re wishing it was you. You learn her name is Somin, a University student who attended your high school last year, friends with the swim team but you never met her before.

“So, what brings you here?” She asks, searching through the drawers for a knife. “You don’t seem like the type to go to parties.”

Rinsing a couple limes under the faucet beside her, you nod. “Yeah, I’m not. Got dragged here so I guess I’m left with no choice. What about you? Trying to get away tonight?”

She laughs, so feminine and light. “Actually, trying to get closer. There’s a guy I’ve had my eyes on for the longest time. His mom and mine used to be friends so I saw me occasionally. I mentioned that I was in love with him and he freaked and left. But! I heard from Hoseok that he was coming tonight, so I’m hoping I get to see him.”

“Ah,” You respond, mouth open while taking the knife from her hands, slicing the lime into pieces. “Well, I wish you luck. I know how that feels.”

“Wait!” She exclaims, nudging you as you wince, startled and almost cutting yourself by her sudden action. “He’s coming!” Looking from the cutting board laying on the island counter, your eyes trail up to see the familiar figure walking toward the two of you as Somin waves eagerly. “Jungkook!”

She’s in love with Jungkook? When the hell did she know him?

“Oh, Somin!” He greets, smile so wide from the amount of alcohol in him. “I didn’t know you were here. I see you’ve met my girlfriend.” Well, how awkward. Somin turns to look at you, mouth agape, shunned. “Girlfriend?”

“Yeah!” He’s almost yelling in your ear now, rounding the counter to pull you close with a hand on your waist. “The love of my life. Isn’t she so cute?” Your lips tug into a painful smile, apologetic toward Somin. How is it that every female you encounter just so happens to be so in love with Jeon Jungkook?

You can’t even blame them, in all honestly. He’s handsome, generous, has a car and can drive, a freaking athlete, and he can sing. This guy was the entire package and he hasn’t even graduated high school yet. Forget high school girls chasing after him, Jungkook already had college girls swooning and it’s left you wondering what it’d be like once the two of you head to University.

That night home, you drive. Deciding to spend the night taking care of him since he seemed totally wasted, you’re on route to his house while pondering deeply about the events of the night.

“What’s going on in your head, bubba?” Despite the amount of slurs that slip from his mouth that night, he’s oddly stable.

“Bubba?” You laugh at the new nickname. “Uh, just some stuff.”

“Be honest?” He asks, looking over at you with glassy eyes as his head is laid back against the seat. “I wanna hear what you’re thinking about. I like hearing you talk.”

Licking your lips, you’re having an inner debate on whether or not to let Jungkook in on your thoughts. Succumbing to his request, you sigh because communication is important in a relationship. On the bright side, he might forget about this conversation tomorrow anyways.

“The girl earlier tonight? Somin? She told me she was in love with you.”

“Huh?” He seems just as surprised at this new information. “That’s crazy. We used to hang out during Sundays when my mom would force me to go to church. Then I got old enough to decide if I wanted to go or not.”

You hum, stopping the car at the red light. “Well, it had me thinking. We’re going off to college soon. What does that mean for us? You’d have girls dropping at your feet, completely smitten with you. What if I end up at another college?”

“We’ll figure it out then. But I know how much I’m in love with you, whatever you do and wherever you go. I’ll be sad if I can’t follow you or you follow me to college, but that doesn’t change how I feel about you.” Although he’s slow when he speaks, he finishes off what’s on his own mind before drifting off into slumber before you could even chime in a response.

A drunken man's words are a sober man's thoughts.

It takes a lot of soul searching.

You’ve spent a week away from everyone— Yura, your family, everyone, even Jungkook. He thinks he did something wrong but you assure him that he hasn’t, rather that you needed some time for yourself. Coincidentally enough, that week was break; Jungkook and his teammates had a vacation planned and Yura picked up a part-time job at a bakery anyway.

Maybe it’s the breeze from the salty sea, the humidity sticking to your skin or the taste of the strawberry ice cream that hits your tongue, but the air feels lighter here. Inhaling in the fresh aroma the beach brings, it brings you back to when you came here last time with Jungkook and he professes his love. It brings a smile that tugs on the edges of your lips, a memory that you would never forget, your first love reciprocating his feelings for you. 

“Oh, did you drop this?” 

Quickly turning, you realize that what was in the hands of the person in front of you is your wallet—how irresponsible do you have to be that you dropped your wallet and didn’t even notice? “Oh my gosh, fuck, it’s my wallet!” You call out, grabbing it from their grasp before meeting eyes with them. “Thank you, I wouldn’t know what I would’ve done if I didn’t find it!”

The person waves you off, a grin drawn across the face of a male, cheeks so supple and milky smooth. “Think nothing of it. Be careful though, there’s a lot of pickpocketers around here.”

You nod in agreement, lips pressed in a straight line, slightly disappointed in yourself. It’s like he reads your mind because he then says, “It’s okay though. It happens to the best of us.”

“Can I at least get you something for not robbing me? And my fate being that you so happen to not be a pickpocketer?”

The guy laughs; something about the warmness he radiates makes you trust him, fraternizing with this stranger with qualities of a sweet friend. Something about Junmyeon makes you fearless, trusting him enough to propose the idea of treating him out to anything for being a good samaritan. 

You learn that his name was Junmyeon, and he’s way older than you in comparison, but he has a lot of words of wisdom to share. After a lot of convincing, Junmyeon takes your offer for a cup of coffee—iced please, he begs, and in exchange, he in addition, tells you about his life like a middle-aged man.

He’s only 29.

“You’ve got a couple years ahead of me,” You begin, and it only sparks Junmyeon to raise a brow at you questioningly. “I’m stuck in a dilemma. How did you know what you wanted to do in life?”

Junmyeon chortles, mostly because he finds it interesting that you seem to think he has his shit together. The both of you had decided to take your cool drinks out on one of the benches on the boardwalk that faces the water. “You realize that I’m just twenty-nine right, not ninety-two?” You blink in confusion at his light-hearted joke, watching the sunset behind him. He continues on, “It means that I’m not that old, kiddo. I’m a bit older than you. And despite what you think, I don’t have my shit together.”

“Well, what did you do?”

“Well,” He starts, imitating your own words against you, “for one, I graduated college at the age of twenty-three. With a degree I didn’t end up using, by the way, and decided that the best thing for me at the time was to follow this girl that I was head over heels with. That being said, it didn’t end very well. Fast forward to today, I’m back in school trying to get my PhD... in a completely different field than what you’d expect.” Reminiscing back to his past mistakes, he shakes his head in disbelief. “There are just things you should be selfish about, and it took me a while to finally get that.”

“How did you decide on those things? And how do I decide what I want to do?”

“Well, for one, if you’re really hesitant about it, you probably don’t want it.”

And that’s when it hits. 

A day at the beach alone, meeting a stranger who finds your wallet and gifts you words of advice was more of a helpful trip than expected.

“You... got really tan?”

“You can be honest. I know I’m more red than tan.” You stifle a laugh, watching from his bed as Jungkook enters his room with his bags, waddling around to unpack his belongings from his trip. He’s in so much pain, and not to mention crimson red like he’s Santa’s suit, mostly from forgetting to put on sunscreen despite the many exchanged texts reminding him to remember to put on SPF. Turns out the entire team was burnt as well.

Browsing through a magazine that you found on his bedside table, you smile at the sight of your boyfriend wincing while sitting on the carpeted floor, attempting to unzip his duffle bag. “I didn’t know you were still shy seeing me. You’re all red and blushy.” You joke, leaning over to tap his nose, only for him to groan in agony. “Baby, I love seeing you, but I’m resenting asking you to come over.”

You gasp in feign surprise with a hand on your chest in exaggeration. “Jeon Jungkook, you couldn’t possibly mean that, could you?”

He throws a dirty t-shirt at you in hopes it lands on your face, and lucky for him, it shoots his target.. “Bullseye,” He says, content with his shot. “I worked out in that, just so you know.” Grimacing and tossing it back at him, he lets out a chuckle at your disgust. “That was horrible. It reeks.”

“Speaking of horrible, I couldn’t believe we didn’t spend the break together. I know it sucked without me. How was your week away?”

You roll your eyes, opening a drawer to drop the magazine back into it. “You’re the one who made plans, lover boy, with your group of other boys. But it was great, I think I learned a lot of things about myself.”

“That’s a step in the right direction. What’d you do in that time?”

Where to even start? Do you tell him about Junmyeon? What about the weather down the shore—humid and sticky, just how Jungkook likes it— or maybe that funnel cake you got to try that was so sweet and melted on the tip of your tongue? Or would that defeat the purpose and he’d be sad he missed out on that?

“I met someone,” is the words you manage to formulate out of your mouth, and the expression on his face is distorted in shock. “Oh— wait, not like that, I just met someone at the beach and they became a friend.”

“Scare a guy to the point of breaking his heart, why don’t you?” He’s stopped to listen to you in the midst of packing, attention fully yours. “So, what about this friend?”

Leaning against the bed frame, you take a moment to let your mind sink into your thoughts. There’s a lot to unpack, more than what’s in Jungkook’s duffle bag that’s similar to a clown car, but you want to do this right. “He gave me some life advice. He’s a bit older and gave me some guidance that could help me on what next steps I should be taking.”

“Does that mean you’re ready to make a decision?”

You chew on your bottom lip. In the end, you know that whatever you choose is solely based on your happiness but you can’t help but worry about what Jungkook thinks. “I think I am. What do you think I should do?” Maybe you should test the waters first.

He wrinkles his brows in perplexity. “What do you mean?”

You shrug at this question. “What do you think I should choose?”

Jungkook stops pulling things from his bag, eyes locking with yours and you feel your chest tighten at the serious shift in the atmosphere. “You’re not really asking me this, are you?” Now you’re the confused one. “What?”

“I don’t care what you choose. I mean, I care, but I don’t care as in I won’t be upset if you rather do one thing over the other. Is this what’s bothering you? Do you feel guilty about all of this? I told you, I’m always here for you, even when I’m trying to drill that into your head it seems like you don’t get it.”

“So...”

“So if you said that you didn’t want the apprenticeship, I wouldn’t be opposed to you going another route. Vice versa, same result. We’ve been together our entire lives, it would take a lot for me to actually upset with you. I just need you to be honest.”

Your heart swells. If anything, that’s all you really wanted— his support.

Sitting in the seat that you presumed that Jungkook had sat in when he’d gotten his offer, you feel slightly uneasy finding yourself in this situation. The room is filled with cases of books, most that you’ve never heard or seen before; the unfamiliarity churning a weird feeling in the pit of your stomach. There’s even a fireplace in this office, a portrait of what seems to be one of the founders of the university that hangs over it, and a fuzzy... bear rug that lays in front of it. 

The recruiter closes the door behind her, striding to her desk before settling down in her large swivel chair that only seems to make her look even more powerful than she was already. 

“So,” She begins, straightening the pile of papers on her desk. “You’re here to talk about the offer?”

[americasass81]

Make Her Mine - Chapter Nine (End)

Warnings:- 18+, Dark theme, Smut, Dubious Consent, Non-Consensual Sex, Oral (female receiving), Swearing, Mention of Real People, Violence, Implied Character Death, Implied Breeding.  Do not read if any of these warnings are upsetting.  Feedback is welcomed.

This contains adult themes and by proceeding you are acknowledging that you are over 18 and are consenting to the content below the cut.

A/N:- So here we are at the end (finally🤣).  It’s been a really fun and interesting experience writing this series and I hope that all those who read it enjoyed it as much as I did writing it.  Thanks so much for joining me on this journey.

Word Count:- 2,903

Situating himself back between your legs, you feared passing out once again as Tony's mouth connected with your left ankle and began the slow, sensual trek towards your aching pussy.  Kissing, licking, biting and generally reintroducing your intimate area with every part of his lower face, including his goatee, you were quickly reminded just how much control this man possessed when your hips began writhing beneath him and wetness pooled in your panties, yet he simply switched legs and began again.  Cursing and whimpering beneath his highly skillful mouth, you now knew what sexual frustration felt like and knowing you couldn't take any more you reached out, and grabbing Tony by his hair yanked, hard.  "Stark, I vaguely recall a conversation where you promised I'd want for nothing.  Well right now all I want is to fucking come," and while he moved forwards to capture your lips with his, his hand reached out as his considerable strength pulled your panties from you.  Wanting to cry out at the sting this action left behind, you couldn't find it in you to care as you felt his shaft move slowly along your wet folds as his chin came to rest in the valley between your breasts.

"Darling, I'm offended that you think I'd leave you wanting," he said kissing your right mound, "waiting, possibly," he continued, now moving to your left mound, "but we both know I always deliver in the end," and you both groaned as you felt his considerable tip breach your flower.  Waiting patiently for the feeling of fullness to envelop you, you instead screamed out all the frustration of the past week, as Tony rested his considerable weight on your lower body and did nothing.

Now plastering sloppy wet kisses all over your tits while you tried everything to get his lower regions moving, you knew now you should have taken one of your cars and left your life behind when the iron avenger removed himself from your body and smirked down at you.  Holding you back with one hand as your fists came flying at him, your sex deprived brain would never figure out how he managed to use his other hand to free you of your last article of clothing.  As it was, snaking his mouth around your left nipple and biting gently was the only thing that brought you back to reality and knocked the fight out of you.  Moaning in ecstasy as he then soothed the skin before doing the same to the right, you now just hoped that his promise to deliver would soon be fulfilled.  Smiling down on you as the fight left you, Tony kissed you once more before heading back south.  "Ready to fall apart for me Y/N?" and when all you could do was mumble "yes" over and over and over again, he knew you were finally ready.

Finally placing his mouth over your intimate area, you dropped your body on the pillows as his tongue began to explore your sopping, aching folds.  Allowing his tongue to get reacquainted with your clit, he shoved a finger into your waiting heat and was disappointed when nothing happened.  Suspecting that a single digit would never again satisfy you, he proceeded to add another and this time was rewarded with a slight jerk from your hips.  Moving them steadily in and out as his mouth sent shockwaves radiating through your clit, you surprised him yet again when a third finger was added to your warm pussy.  Now giving voice to the pleasure thrumming throughout your entire system, Tony's curiosity got the better of him and pulling his mouth from your folds, proceeded to add a fourth finger while his thumb came to rest against your clit.

At last moaning out his name as your stretched hole easily accommodated his palm, Tony worked over your walls until the gasp that left your body informed him he had found your g-spot.  "Ah, there it is darling.  Just what I was looking for," and from there it was only a matter of time before he had you begging for release.  "Come on darling, come apart on my fingers like the good girl I know you can be." Tony coaxed, as your body no longer fought the hold he had over it and you cried out as you let go while your cum gushed out around his digits.  Falling forward to rest his exhausted body against your chest, Tony continued to work you through your orgasm and pepper your skin with soft kisses as his praises echoed in your ears.

Gazing down on you, his soaked hand left your pussy and approached your mouth at the same time his gracious plenty buried himself within you with one powerful thrust.  Moaning weakly with some fingers in your mouth, as was all they would allow, you continued to lick your arousal from his hand as his cock began the slow, steady pace of moving your body towards the edge once again.  Finally freeing his hand so his fingers and mouth could once again toy with your tits, his slow, powerful thrusts had your body crying out for something more.

"Oh fuck Tony, more please.  I need more.  Give me more." you begged between pants and as his gleaming eyes met yours, the smirk gracing his features, told you that a good hard fucking was not on the menu today.  Turning you over onto your stomach and raising your hips, this new angle allowed him to sink deeper into your welcoming heat, but his pace remained stubbornly tender as his lips began dotting your shoulders with equally soft kisses.  Feeling your resolve and hatred for him growing weaker and weaker the more his lips and shaft worked their magic, you thought the whimpers he pushed from you would somehow force him to take pity on you.  As it was, he continued with the task at hand until your walls began to tighten around him, at which point he pulled out, lay down on his back and placed your trembling body over his soaking rod.

"Ride me darling.  Take everything you need." he said as he pulled you down onto him while his hips thrust forward.  "I want to see your face as you give yourself to me."

Afraid that your decision now would negate some of Tony's culpability regarding all his previous actions, your body stalled momentarily as you tried to think if you really could go through with this.  Watching one of the most powerful men in the world, gazing up at you with lust and some other unknown look in his eyes, however your mind lost the battle with your body as your hips began to move against him while your hands used his chest to ground you.  Remembering back to the last time you had him in this position, your sex addled brain now only cared about what you could get out of him, and so throwing caution to the wind, you removed his hands from your hips and proceeded to bounce yourself faster and harder on his cock, until your walls firmly clenched around him, his cum shot out all over pussy and your orgasm flowed through you to the point where Tony's groin was completely soaked.

Finally spent and completely satisfied, you fell forward onto his heaving chest while his arms encircled your trembling body.  Kissing you tenderly while your breathing returned to normal, you snuggled deeper into his chest, until a deep chuckle broke through the sex haze currently pulling you off towards sleepy town.  "Don't fall asleep on me just yet Y/N, we gotta clean you up." he stated before lifting both of you from the bed and walking you into the shower.

Impressed by his strength, the whining protests escaping your mouth told him that despite your sleepy expression you still wanted more, but thankfully his will proved stronger.  Washing both of you quickly and thoroughly before you had a chance to get all frisky again, Tony then dried you gently before helping you back to bed where a soft mattress and warm body dragged you down to a sleep that made you feel like you were floating away.

                    *************

Waking utterly refreshed the next morning and starting up where you left off, now that you and Tony had reached an understanding, things began to change in ways you didn't expect.  Allowing you access to the kitchen since he knew how much you loved to cook, Tony never once suspected the treachery you were still secretly harboring.  Getting to have more frequent phone conversations with Sabrina was also an added perk, but the unseen progress made elsewhere in the coming week and a half was the real icing on the cake.

Having slowly let his guard down and become more open with you, back in New York, Steve had managed to use some Wakandan technology procured by Bucky to finally use their conversations and Sabrina's with you to accurately pinpoint your location.  Discussing now the monumental task of actually separating you from the powerful avenger, a casual conversation with the other Avengers about a missing Stark employee that no one had actually reported missing confirmed Steve's suspicions that the New York mob was now his only source of backup.

Having finally settled on a plan, Steve knew that ordinary humans, no matter how tough however, would need something more powerful to stand against Earth's Mightiest Heroes.  Heading back to the compound, Steve cautiously cleaned out his rooms and then walking away from the life he knew, simply because it was as always the right thing to do, made a call to Wakanda for some advanced weaponry to help even things up.  Then driving off to the cabin he now shared with Bucky, who was currently visiting Shuri for work on his new arm, all he had to do now was hope you hung on long enough for them to draw Tony away from you.

                    *************

Back at the crypt things had settled into a comfortable routine of meals, movies, watching Tony work in the lab and fucking like rabbits whenever and wherever the mood hit.  Fearing the consequences, your calls to Sabrina kept you focused on keeping Tony off guard however, and not two weeks after this whole ordeal had started came the unexpected opportunity you had all been hoping and praying for.

Having at last been left alone thanks to Iron-Man's skills being needed somewhere you couldn't remember Tony mentioning, you smiled triumphantly that the latest little development had finally allowed you a modicum of control in Tony's absence.  Making your way throughout the house, a voice in the back of your mind told you to get some shit together and you were thankful you listened when not fifteen minutes later, a loud explosion told you that someone or something had breached the crypt's defences.

Wondering why V.I.R.G.I.L. had failed to respond or even warn you of a possible attack, you wished now more than ever that you had your weapons or the suit Tony promised you, when a certain and familiar star-spangled Avenger appeared before you.  Standing frozen in place until he explained that Sabrina had sent him, you quickly trusted your gut and grabbing your bag followed him back to the main entrance.  Looking at the mess he had made of the place, you stopped suddenly as your eyes latched onto the door leading to Tony's lab.

Turning around when you were no longer behind him, Steve followed your feet as they led you towards the room that held your go-bag.  Reaching out to grab your arm, Steve urged you to get moving but you told him you weren't leaving without what was yours.  Leading him towards the place you now knew the safe to be hidden, he used his shield and considerable strength to quickly work it open and allow you access to your prize.  Seizing the bag and now following the Captain from the place that recently held you captive, you instinctively looked towards the sky half expecting a red and gold suit to drop on this location.

Hearing Steve hollar at you to get a move on, you threw your bags into the waiting car and quickly joined Captain America as he sped through the forest, leading you away from the nightmare you had known.  Driving quickly while trying not to draw any undue attention, Steve couldn't help gazing over at you from time to time as you apprehensively waited for the nanoparticles to shock your system once more.  Not knowing that an undisclosed issue had caused this feature to be permanently disabled, you didn't breathe properly until Steve pulled off the main road and headed towards what looked like an unused car park.

Pulling into what actually turned out to be an old abandoned building site somewhere off the beaten track, you pulled out the burner phone Steve handed you and called Sebastian who told you to stay put while he and his soldiers came to get you both.  Finally having some time to let the events of the past hour sink in, Steve quickly placed his arms around your shoulders as you bent over and emptied the contents of your stomach onto the ground.  Thanking him as your system settled down and he led you back to the passenger seat, you prayed the mob would reach you before your fallen angel figured out what had happened.

                   *************

Waking up some time later in the same location, the darkening sky was the least of your worries.  On a partially built rooftop with weapons you could only assume came from Steve, Scarlett and Jeremy did their best to provide aerial cover to Sebastian, Brie, Anthony and Chris while Steve worked tirelessly to bring down as many of his former teammates as possible.  Wanting so badly to fight alongside them, but feeling another wave of nausea hit you as you were about to move, you couldn't hide the shriek that left your throat as Steve launched a badly shattered Vision across the front of the car.

Witnessing firsthand the brutality that both sides were capable of, you wondered why they were willing to go to such lengths over someone like you, but this thought was quickly forgotten as a red blast flashed by your window towards Sebastian only to be intercepted by Chris.  Falling to the ground as Cap unleashed his shield and Sebastian's forces let loose a hail of gunfire, you once more wondered where it all would end when an unseen blast shook the ground and caused everyone to drop to their knees.

Sitting in Steve's car watching the dust settle all around you, a cold panic filled you as Iron-Man, in all his glory, dropped out of the sky like some avenging angel.  Watching as you realized you alone had the power to stop this and what it would ultimately cost you, you looked out the window as Tony prepared to fire on Jeremy and Scarlett's locations before your eyes fell on Sebastian.  Knowing that everything he had told you was true and that your friends had run out of time, you exited the car and quickly went to stand before your iron captor.  "TONY ENOUGH, PLEASE!" you shouted, as you held out your hands.  "You win.  I know now my place is by your side, so let my friends go and take me home."

Looking at you while still keeping his weapons trained on the two mob soldiers, Sebastian and Steve took advantage of the lull in battle to come stand beside you.  "Y/N, think about what you're doing." Steve warned, placing a hand on your shoulder.

"I am Steve.  Look what's happened because of me." you stated, looking around the old property at the two worlds that held you in their grasp.  "Jeremy and Scarlett have god only knows what type of weapon trained on them, Brie and Rhodes need a hospital.  I don't know if anyone can help The Vision and Chris.  And let's be honest, you, Anthony and Sebastian don't stand a chance against Tony, Bruce and Wanda."

Nodding solemnly as he stared between you and the mob boss before glancing around the makeshift battlefield, this time it was Sebastian who broke the silence.  "Y/N, I promised Sabrina I'd bring you home.  Don't make me break my promise."

Raising your hand to wipe the blood from the gash above his left eye, you nodded at Tony to let him know you had accepted your fate before answering your best friend's husband.  "He can find me anywhere, Sebastian.  Look at the carnage already created without him even firing a weapon.  He won't hurt me, at least no more than I can handle, and hopefully when things settle down we can bury the hatchet and put this animosity behind us."

Wrapping your arms around both of their necks, you kissed Sebastian's cheek and then walked towards Iron-Man.  As he placed his arm around your waist and pulled you flush against his side, you held onto him before calling out to Sebastian.  "Tell Sabrina I love her and we'll see her soon."  With that you placed your arms around Tony's neck and launching both of you into the sky, he left the teams to clean up as he flew towards home with his family wrapped securely in his arms.

Tagging:- @nsfwsebbie @hoseokchild @gotnofucks @ironlady1993 @floatingdaisy7 @taintedgenre @buttercandy16 @kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay , sorry if I missed anyone.

[all1e23]

Between the Stars [Pt.7]

Pairings: Past!Steve x Reader, Bucky x  Reader

Series warnings: CHARACTER DEATH. Grief. Overall sadness. Depression. It’s pretty angsty if I’m being honest. Things mellow out as the series goes on. TW: Military/Spouse death

A/N:   This might be my favorite chapter yet. Bucky is soft, and I love him. Reminder because I know the timeline for this fic is confusing with switching between readers and Bucky's POV, we are eight months past Steve's death. Bucky has been home with her for seven. Thanks to my beautiful beta @moonbeambucky​​​ for looking this chapter over for me. If you like it write me a book report, sing me a song or come scream at me.

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are my jam, though! Thanks!****

Eight months after Steve’s death, Y/n was playing again. It wasn’t on the same scale as it once was and she was no longer teaching, not that it mattered. It was a big deal, Bucky didn’t downplay just how huge this was. She had given up, threw out her dreams in search of new ones as some misguided form of punishment; maybe she thought it was her penance for some terrible crime she convinced herself she committed by living. Bucky understood that feeling better than most, he really did, but she had nothing to atone for. The only one who needed absolution was Bucky and he hoped that by helping her get her life back, he was earning a tiny bit of forgiveness for everything he had done.  

Nothing would ever completely absolve him, but he prayed this would help to even the scales.

Over the last month, Y/n hasn’t mentioned Steve as much. Bucky didn’t know if that was because she was starting to heal or if it hurt too much to keep talking about him. She still slept in his room most nights, only slightly closer to him now, her foot usually wrapped around his ankle and Steve’s pillow was no longer hugging her back -- it was still there every night though. A handful of nights she fell asleep on the couch watching trashy late-night television and Bucky didn’t know if he should pick her up and carry her to bed. Was it too intimate of a gesture? Should he touch her that way? And if he did what bed would he take her to? It wasn’t something he was ready to test and he wouldn’t risk the potential hurt the wrong move could make. So he let her sleep, and stayed close by, sleeping on the small window bench nearby in case she needed him. 

Things began to resemble something better, calmer and there was a bit of normalcy returning. They even started going out. It began with small outings, a trip or two to the market, or down to the Mexican restaurant twenty minutes away for takeout. A few Fridays back, they spent the entire day at one of those you-pick farms a couple of hours away from the house. She told him she wanted to go get peaches. Bucky wasn’t about to tell her no or tell her that they could pick some up at the grocery store without the hassle of having to pick them off a tree. No, he wouldn’t do that. This was a big step for her; she wanted to go out, and well, she’s so damn pretty when she’s smiling. 

The farm was enormous for the area, sitting at around 200 acres. They had blueberries, pumpkins, peaches, and strawberries. Some of the produce wasn’t ready to pick, but Bucky knew Y/n was planning their next trip as soon as the seasons changed, and he really didn’t mind. They had a petting zoo they found upon arrival, at which point Y/n squealed over the baby goats, and they spent some forty-odd minutes feeding them. Then Bucky spent the next hour talking her out of having a baby goat of her own. Okay, Bucky would get her a damn goat if she really wanted one, but he was praying she would forget about it on the drive home. There was a hay maze that was still in the process of being prepped for the upcoming season but Y/n’s eyes lit up at the mere thought. 

The food had to be Y/n’s favorite most of all. 

There were candied peach slices that she had been so excited about. Bucky couldn’t help but laugh when Y/n had a bite with too much of the ginger that was sprinkled on top and wrinkled her nose in disgust. She glared at him, but it only made him grin wider. They both tried the vanilla scones with fresh peach jam and shared a large Mason jar full of peach iced tea because she said it was silly to spend the extra money when they could share. One sip and all Bucky could think about was the sweetness on his lips is what she would taste like.

Maybe the food had been Bucky’s favorite part, too.

The sun was starting to set, and despite being forced to leave the goats behind thanks to closing, Y/n was still smiling. Bucky followed behind her, letting her lead him to whatever tree she deemed had the best peaches. Y/n delicately placed three more peaches in the pail he was carrying and then set her eyes on him, scrutinizing and somehow still playful. She stepped towards him and flicked the bill of his NASA ball cap, causing it to pop up and sit crooked on his head, and she grinned at the feigned look of annoyance he was giving her. 

“I can’t see your face when you wear a cap.”

She told him that as if it was an excuse for her assault on his favorite hat. 

“Well, I’m trying to hide my stupid looking hair.” 

She giggled at that. 

Y/n giggled, and the little bit of his heart that didn’t belong to her became hers. She leaned in, and if he was a stupider man, he would have thought she was going to kiss him by the look in her eyes and how close their lips were. Y/n slowly reached up and pulled his hat off his head only to plop it on top of her own. If she was his, he would have pulled her close and claimed those pretty lips, savoring the honeyed peach and candied ginger he knew was still lingering on her tongue as he took his sweet time tasting her. He would have kissed her until she was smiling and giggling and sighing in that soft way she does when she’s really happy. 

She wasn’t his. So he didn’t. 

But he would dream about what it would be like if she was. 

“Looks better on me anyway,” Y/n told him with a grin, wandering off towards the next row of trees. 

Bucky could only watch as she walked away with his hat and his heart. He mumbled quietly to the peaches hanging nearby, “Yes, it does.” 

After their outing, their day trips became something they both looked forward to. It wasn’t their norm. In the past, they spent a lot of their time watching movies, sitting in the quiet enjoying each other’s company, or Bucky would read while she played and worked on her music. But this new normal was good, too. It was nice to see more than the seafoam green walls of her living room, and he would do just about anything if it made her happy. 

“Hey.” 

Bucky looked up from his spot on the couch to find Y/n standing next to him in those black skinny jeans that make his knees weak and a plain white t-shirt. He knew she was wearing that black lace bra of hers because he could make out the imprint of the lace against the delicate fabric of her shirt, and he recognized the design from an embarrassing mix-up on laundry day. Bucky couldn’t seem to find his voice so he met her gaze, a question lingering in his own eyes as he waited for her to spill whatever she was so excited about.

“Wanna take me out?” 

He laughed softly and closed the book in his hand. He found it funny that she still asked him that. The answer would always be yes. For her, it’s always yes. 

“I’ll take you wherever you wanna go, Y/n.”

They went out to dinner that night. It wasn’t anything lavish, but it was the right amount of rowdy. There was a band playing out on the patio and the music carried through the open doors to where they shared a small booth inside, it was loud but not so they couldn’t talk. She ordered pasta because pasta always makes her happy, and Bucky tries his hardest to make sure she’s happy. They talked a lot, well, she talked a lot. That wouldn’t be so strange if she hadn’t been so closed off the last eight months. 

Bucky let her talk about how she wanted to see if the band had any shows soon because she wanted to see them play in a better venue, and she told him she liked lights the restaurant had above the tables -- a large beam with hanging Edison bulbs wrapped around them. She talked about the funny picture of him Sam posted on Instagram. Bucky had rolled his eyes at that. Sam had the bad habit of taking candid photos of everyone, and he always posted the worst ones of Bucky. This one happened to be from the worst possible angle; the camera caught his mouth hanging wide open as Bucky took a bite out half of a cheese pizza, folded over and covered in potato chips. Some people eat pizza that way, it wasn’t weird or funny, and Bucky stood by that. The night was perfect, but even perfection has a few cracks if you look hard enough. 

Someone had mistaken them for a couple that night, and Bucky was quick to correct them. He informed the older man and his wife that she was his best friend, she was taken by another lucky man. It was all platonic Bucky had said. Y/n didn’t say anything. She watched Bucky charm the older couple and gave them a friendly smile and a wave as they walked away. 

“Platonic,” she muttered quietly once it was just them again. 

Bucky looked up from his half-eaten burger and ketchup soaked fries, took in the furrow of her brow, and the frown sitting where a smile was beaming only a few moments ago, and his heart sank. 

None of that was good. 

“Yeah, Trouble.” 

Bucky’s eyes dropped to the wedding band she was still wearing without meaning to, and she quickly pulled her hand under the table. The rest of dinner was quiet, and they didn’t speak about it again. 

--

They never talked about what happened at the farm or dinner that night, but whatever bothered her the night at the restaurant hadn’t caused a setback in the healing process as Bucky had feared. It seemed forgotten. Bucky was thankful for that, and he was thankful for days like today. Y/n wanted to spend the day at home, relaxing. She informed him that today would be perfect if she could spend the day with just him. She might have said something like, “I just want to spend today curled up on the couch watching movies with you.” Not that Bucky memorized the way her voice sounded when she said that or anything. 

Three movies into their marathon and Y/n declared they needed a break. She was going to figure out something to eat for dinner, and Bucky wasn’t sure how it happened, but he found himself upstairs, staring at a ghost. The letters Steve gave him have been tucked away in a drawer of the old desk that sat in the corner of his room. They caused him more heartache than Steve intended Bucky was sure. Or maybe this was exactly what Steve wanted. This was his punishment for loving her. Bucky tapped the letter on the desk and ran a hand down his face, Bucky had hoped they would disappear, and he wouldn’t have to look at them again, but there all twelve sat. 

A heavy-handed fist pounded on the front door, startling Bucky out of his trance and his stomach dropped at the sound. He wasn’t down there with Y/n, not that she needed him to answer the door, and lord knows if she knew he dared to even think about babying her like that, she would chew him out for a week straight. Still, he didn’t like leaving her completely on her own, not yet. Bucky tossed the letter back in the drawer, and hastily closed it before trampling downstairs. 

Bucky made out a familiar voice as he reached the bottom of the stairs. “Well, you never answer your phone anymore, and I figured you were spending all your time with-” 

Her father met Bucky’s eyes, and he grinned.

“-Bucky. Well, shit, son. It’s good to see you home.” 

Bucky grinned and took the hand that was extended towards him. He hadn’t expected it to be her father at the door; he thought Sam or maybe Natasha. It made sense, though. No one has come by to check on her since he’s been home. It was about time they started to get visitors, and Y/n didn’t answer her phone much anymore, so if someone wanted to talk to her showing up like this was their only choice. Bucky knew she wasn’t doing that on purpose, she had to put some things off in order to keep going, and there wasn’t any shame in that. 

He was doing the very same thing. 

Y/n was uncomfortable, whether her dad knew Bucky wasn’t sure. Bucky knew, though. She hates small talk, so Bucky knew when Y/n said she was starting the grill, she just wanted a moment to breathe without being judged; a minute so she could prepare mentally for a guest when she didn’t want one. Bucky could keep her dad busy until she was ready for idle chit chat and undoubtedly Invasive questions. How hard could it be to keep up a conversation and look for a small fire on the porch? 

He could handle it; smoke meant they had to run. It would be fine. 

“I thought you would’ve stopped by before now.” 

Bucky passed over an amber-colored bottle from the fridge, taking a beer for himself and leaned against the counter. It probably wasn’t proper or how Steve would entertain him, but Bucky wasn’t Steve. He didn’t even know why he was thinking about that. This was still Steve’s house and his wife, no matter how much Bucky wished this life was his. 

“Well, I knew she was in good hands. She has you.” 

He smiled but shook his head. “I appreciate that. She’s probably helping me more than I’m helping her.” 

“I doubt that.” 

Bucky caved under the weight of his stare and grudgingly nodded his head in agreement (or cession depending on who you ask). He has yet to win an argument with her dad, and Bucky wasn't about to try to now. 

"We haven't had a chance to talk since you've been home. I've meaning to come by.  Y'know how much we love Steve; we always have." 

Bucky tried to keep his face impassive, his grip on the bottle in his hand tightened, and he could feel his stomach-churning. Where the hell was this going? 

“He was a good man and a good husband. Took care of Y/n, made sure she was happy and was always respectful.” 

Bucky relaxed some when he realized he was simply praising his lost friend, and he nodded, taking a swig of his beer to wash his guilt down. Yeah, that was Steve. The polished side of the coin. The hero, not the broken sidekick.The better of the two. Bucky heard the speech before; it was one truth he knew well. 

“But I always thought it was going to be you.” 

Bucky froze and by some small miracle managed to keep his face blank as the older man went on, “Even up to the day of the wedding I had this feeling one of the girls were going to come running in, flowers in their hair to tell me she ran off with you and the wedding was off.” 

Bucky huffed. “She would never do that.” 

Her dad smiled and nodded his agreement. “She wouldn’t, but you would have.”

Bucky licked his lips and dropped his gaze to the counter, not risking the chance the truth could be seen in his eyes. He couldn’t lie and say he didn’t think about it after Steve proposed. That he didn’t let it play out like some romantic drama in his head where he got to her just in time and told her the truth, the whole real, painful truth, and she loved him back all along. 

But she didn’t. She loved Steve, still did. 

It was obvious any time Steve was mentioned or when something reminded her of him. He could see it written all over her how much she still loved Steve, and Bucky couldn’t blame her. He still loved Steve too. Despite everything, Bucky loved them both. 

“Give her time to work through her grief, and I’m guessing you need to deal with your own. Losing someone you love is never easy. The time will come though when you both can move on. I’m not saying you’ll do that together or that I think you should, but there may be the chance to in the future. If you were looking for hope of some sort, well, that’s the best I can offer you.” 

Y/n had found her way back into the kitchen, no smoke in sight and their conversation ended there. It wasn’t one Bucky wanted to continue anyway. Not when the hope he was offering didn’t exist. Bucky tried to leave them alone so she could spend alone time with her dad, but she gave him the look, the one that pleaded with him to stay and tugged on his heart. So he stayed by her side until the stars were shining brightly and they were alone once again. 

Bucky had been more careful with his affection after that. He was meaningful in his touch and waited to make sure he meant each one. Not that it was that hard to do, he meant every one. When it came to Y/n, everything Bucky did had meaning, a purpose. 

Y/n had started asking him to go on a walk around sunset every night. It was getting cooler out now that autumn was right around the corner, and she liked to watch how everything around them changed -- slowly almost without notice.

Their walk tonight felt different. Things had changed between them, when Bucky didn’t know. He wasn’t sure what they had changed to, but he wasn’t going to question it. He was afraid if he did, she would realize her mistake, and all these small moments between them would stop. Halfway through their walk, Y/n had let her hands hang by her side instead of staying crossed over her chest. When they were kids, she would do that when she wanted Bucky to hold her hand, or maybe he imagined that she ever truly wanted to hold his hand. 

Bucky never could figure her out.

He never knew what she meant when she would lean in close to whisper something in his ear and pull away just as fast. When she would tease him and give him that giggle that had his heart stopping and restarting like an old engine that was about to give out. He could never tell if she felt something beyond what they already were; if she wanted him the way he wanted her. 

Her street was just up the hill, and Bucky finally gave in to the screaming in his chest because feeling her hand in his once more was all he could think about. He slowly slid his fingertips down her forearm until he reached her palm. He risked a peek at her as he laced their fingers together and caught the smile she was trying to hide by dropping her head to gaze down to her white high-tops and his black boots. 

Bucky didn’t know if Y/n wanted to hold his hand, and at this point, he wasn’t sure if he knew her as well as he thought, but he sure did love that smile.

Previous // Next

[lovingmyselfcore]

Skate Into My Heart

Chapter Three; Uh oh

BESTIES

I'M ALIVE AND I DID THE WRITING THING

@ciaraloves (or @perseusjackson-jasongrace ig) LOOK AT ME DOING THE THING

As soon as Nico left the locker room, Piper pounced on him. Literally.

He was forced to take a step back and caught her by the shoulders, “What’s up?”

She was practically vibrating with excitement, “Annabeth’s back!”

“Really?”

“Yeah! Come on!” She grabbed his hand and yanked him through the hallways and into the main rink where a crowd of people had formed next to the bleachers.

It was the rest of the team and in the center was Annabeth, a duffle bag slung over one shoulder, looking exhausted as all hell but she was grinning as the team peppered her with questions and play-by-plays of the practices she’d missed.

Piper shouldered them into the center so Nico was directly in front of Annabeth, Piper on one side and Calypso on the other.

“Hey, Nico,” Annabeth said, still grinning. She stepped forward for a hug and he let her, burying his face into her neck and breathing, already feeling the responsibility leaking from his tight shoulders. Annabeth was like a big sister to him, not that he’d ever admit that, but still.

“You want to get out?” Nico whispered into her neck.

“Yes,” She whispered back emphatically. Nico could barely stop himself from laughing but as they pulled apart he saw the genuine relief in her eyes and felt himself worrying. He needed to talk to her, about the team and skating, about Will and of course, if she needed to talk about why she’d been gone for so long, he’d do that too.

Apparently, Calypso recognized that too and, bless her heart, muttered something to Leo, and together they captured the team’s attention, allowing Nico to tug Annabeth away from the crowd and out of the rink. She sighed as soon as they were ejected onto the city streets. Nico stuck an arm out and she smiled and linked their arms.

“Where are you headed?” Nico asked as they walked the short distance to the car garage.

“Oh, probably just my apartment.”

Nico nodded, “I wasn’t sure if you’d be staying with your dad or not.”

She shook her head, “He doesn’t even know I landed yet. I’ll head over in the morning.”

Her voice was stiff and Nico took that as his cue to change the subject. “So I have something to confide in you.”

She perked up almost immediately and he swallowed hard. But she just looked at him with those gray eyes and he reminded himself that this was Annabeth. That she wasn’t going to get angry with him.

At least, he hoped not.

“I’m talking to one of the hockey players,” He said casually.

Her grip on his arm stiffened and he braced himself but she was still just looking at him.

Finally, she grinned, “So when you say ‘talking to’...”

He groaned and felt himself flush, “Oh, shut up! Just friends.”

She hummed and released his arm to dig for her keys in her jacket pocket. “Is he nice?”

“No, he’s a dick,” Nico said sarcastically.

Annabeth rolled her eyes, but she was still smiling. “I don’t know why I even bother.”

“He’s blonde,” Nico offered.

“Oooh,” Annabeth drawled.

He rolled his eyes and she burst out laughing, her voice echoing off the stone walls of the parking garage.

“Is he gay?” Annabeth asked.

Nico nearly flinched and passed it off with another eye roll, “I don’t know, Annie, that’s not something that’s come up in casual conversation.”

She glared at him and Nico, being the mature adult he is, stuck his tongue out at her. She did it back then shook her head. “Too much time with Percy,” She muttered and Nico snorted. She grinned at him.

“So he’s okay?”

That sobered her immediately. “Yeah. Well, as okay as he can be. I’m only here for like two weeks because he insisted I come back, but I’m leaving as soon as possible,” She glanced sideways at him, “Not to leave you alone again, though.”

He shrugged off the flash of selfish hurt he’d felt, “I’m good, Beth.” But he wasn’t good. He’d just told her about Will, and not even the start of the way his stomach would twist when he saw a new text from the hockey player and not the same twist when he panicked. And that also meant his chances of performing solo again were climbing. He didn’t know how to feel about that part.

“Stop that!” She exclaimed, halting once they’d reached her car.

“Get some sleep, Annabeth,” He said genuinely then smirked a little, “It looks like you need it.”

She threw a balled-up receipt she’d found in her bag at him, “Dick!”

~~~~

“Hey, Nico.”

Nico nearly leaped out of his skin, spinning to see Persephone in the living room.

She snorted, “Didn’t mean to scare you, sorry. Did practice go well?”

His phone buzzed in his pocket, “Yeah. Annabeth’s back.”

Persephone hummed, reaching up to untwist her hair, sending it cascading down her shoulders, “That’s good. I know you’ve missed her,” She said with a knowing look in her eyes that made him shift uncomfortably.

“Yeah, definitely, um, I’m tired we learned some new moves for Regionals today, so,”

“Yeah of course.” She was still smiling.

“‘Night Persephone,”

~~~

Nico flopped face-down onto his bed with a groan. He knew Persephone though he had a crush on Annabeth; he didn’t blame her, he’d never really made it a point that he didn’t. He wished he could come out to her and his dad, he didn’t really have a reason why he hadn’t besides the weight of anxiety on his lungs.

His phone buzzed again, and he wriggled upright to yank it out of his pocket.

Will: Distract me

Will: My mom is driving me insane

Nico grinned to himself, both of them were dealing with mommy issues at the moment.

Nico: idk how you expect me to distract you

Will: Just tell me about snakes or smth

Nico: you think i just have fun facts about snakes on hand?

Will: Yeah?

Nico: good

Nico: cause i do

Will: :)

Nico: snakes can slither 12.5 mph

Will: Good lord

Nico: snakes have internal ears but not external ones

Will: ??

Nico: they can’t create their own body heat which is why theyre in the sun all the time

Will: Hmmmm

Nico: they smell w/their tongues

Will: I thought they had nostrils??

Nico: they do

Will: what

Nico: it’s their Jacobson’s organ my dude it works in mysterious ways

Nico: not really but yk

Nico: sCieNcE

Will: ok….

Nico: if you get bored of snakes i’ve also got a bunch of random cheetah facts

Nico: i love cheetahs

Nico: very cool

Nico: fast cats

Will: Lmao go ahead

Nico: but first

Nico: why’s your mom driving you insane

Nico: if you want to tell me ofc

Nico: not trying to be weird

Will: Nah you’re fine

Will: She wants me to focus entirely on med school and not hockey

Will: She’s trying to get me out of it, actually

Will: Do something ‘respectable’

Will: Not turn out like my dad

Will: Even though dad has literally NOTHING to do with hockey

Will: And in my opinion he’s not bad. Not great. Not awful yk

Will: But hockey’s what’s putting me through med school so

Will: Gods, I really just burdened you with that I’m so sorry

Nico: med school huh

Nico: now i can say i know a doctor

Will: In training

Nico: close enough

Nico: you’re a great hockey player and you're going to be a great doctor

Nico: and you can always talk to me, will

Nico: you’re not burdening me with shit

Will: thanks <3

Nico didn’t understand why he blushed. It was a goddamn emoji. Calm down, Di Angelo.

Will: So we’ve been talking for a few weeks now. Can I call you my friend yet?

Nico snorted, feeling like he was fifteen again, sprawled on his bed, in the dark (because for some reason he didn’t turn his lights on) late at night, texting his- well, anyway.

Nico: yea dumbass

Nico: we’re friends

Will: Nice

Will: Now give me cheetah facts you adorable nerd

~~~

WILL

“Will? You good?”

Will blinked, Jason coming in to focus in front of him. “Uh, yeah.”

“That was believable,” Clarisse said sarcastically from behind Jason.

Will attempted to shake the fog from his head, “Yes,” He repeated.

Jason just blinked at him and Will was formulating an excuse for why he was so tired besides the fact that he’d spent all night talking to a cute figure skater with a ridiculous amount of animal facts stored in his small body when Coach Hedge’s voice boomed from his seat on the bleachers, “Solace! You alive?”

“Yes, coach!” Will shot back.

“Then why are you just standing there? Get back to the game! You too, La Rue and Grace!”

“Yes, sir!” They all barked back.

Clarisse gave him a once over before skating back to her goal and Jason went over to Will’s spot with him, “You sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah, just tired.”

Jason opened his mouth, probably to question why the mom friend of their group was tired enough he nearly tripped over his stick but Will just said, “It’s fine, Jase. It’s not a big deal.”

“Grace!” Coach Hedge screeched.

Jason gave up on trying to interrogate Will and skated back over to his spot.

~~~~

“Mama, please,” Will tried, but his mother cut him off.

“Willaim. Hush. How’s that girl you said you were dating?”

What?

He was silent for a beat too long.

“Oh, baby,” His mother’s thick southern accent drenched her words. “You broke up? I’m so sorry.”

Oh gods, Lou Ellen Blackstone.

Will and Lou Ellen had dated for two months a long time ago, and when they were still dating he’d told his mother about her to get her to back off of his personal life a little. Their break up hadn’t had a huge fallout, Lou Ellen had told him through tears in his living room that she was aromantic. They were still friends, had been even before they dated, actually, and talked to each other pretty regularly.

But the problem was, that had been three months ago, and he hadn’t told his mother about their breakup. He knew she’d ask why, and he didn’t want to out Lou Ellen or make her a devil in his mother’s eyes. So he’d procrastinated coming up with a reason until he’d forgotten about it entirely.

And now it had come back to bite him in the ass.

“Yeah we broke up a little while ago,” He forced himself to sound choked up, which wasn’t hard, giving the way his panicked brain was now sprinting in circles on his lungs. “I just didn’t disappoint you.” Probably the most honest thing he’d said in weeks, but that’ll be unpacked later.

“Honey,” She sighed sadly and Will didn’t know whether or not that was on his behalf or hers.

“Well, it’s okay, because I’m dating someone new.”

“Oh?” He could hear her spine straighten. “Is it someone I know?”

No, mom, it’s not one of the country girls I grew up with.

“No,” He winced at how southern he sounded. He’d been talking to his mother for five minutes. “You don’t know him.”

HIM. Good Gods, Will. Yeah, you came out as bi to your mom, but still, you haven’t actually mentioned a guy to her yet.

She was silent for so long his heart joined his brain in the track meet happening on top of his lungs. “What’s his name?”

He was so she’d spoken that he blurted, “Nico.”

What. The. Fuck. Willaim.

Apparently, his heart had won that damn track race.

“Well, what I was leading up to before you told me about what happened,”

Will hummed non-committally, trying not to sound like he was taking relieved breaths as she spoke.

“The family’s come for a reunion and you should bring that boy!” Will choked on his spit.

“Mom, I don’t know about-”

“No, William. There isn’t a set date yet so we can work around your schedule,” Fuck. “I insist, Will. I need to meet this boy you clearly like very much, even though all you’ve said is his name, a mother knows.”

Umm, what.

“Sure,” Will said, sounding a little strangled. “But we have a game this weekend.”

“Alright, William.” She sounded the way she always did when he brought up hockey. “But as I said, we can work around your schedule and his. Talk to him about it, and let me know.”

“Yeah. Yeah,” Will repeated. “I’ll do that.”

She hung up and he was left staring at the wilting daisies at his kitchen table.

What had he just done?