#Since I’m older everyone expects me to be the smarter and more mature one?

[pnuk-r0ck]

Why tf did my parents have to have me first💀

[diremoone]

“make me (yours).” | r. sukuna

w — [ minors do not interact ] modern! AU, hints of sugar daddy vibes ;), older man/younger woman, age gap, everyone is above 20+ and legal age, male masturbation, Sukuna imagining seggs positions and shit like that, Sukuna is around 36 & Reader is around 22/23, tbh sukuna being a comfort character rn. jjk after 235? it’s non-canon lmao

a/n: this is the most I’ve ever written that’s sinful I’m not used to this (it’s been so damn long since i have written anything remotely sinful omfg) and it’s not even that much I’m so embarrassed y’all HELP— also part two depends on you guys and any ideas you want to send in through my ask box :3

part one | part two

[ first divider by @/benkeibear, the second by @/cafekitsune ]

♥️ Rich! Sukuna who meets you through his younger brother, who’s a few years older than you. You’ve been in Japan for a few years now, that much he knows, attending the same school his little brother got into. And now he’s determined to find out everything about you.

♥️ Rich! Sukuna who’s so fucking glad you can speak Japanese. He knows English, yes, but he prefers it when you speak his native tongue, because he fucking loves your accent and gets off on it. It’s exotic — you’re exotic — and he can’t help the temptation of wanting you and more.

♥️ Rich! Sukuna who knows to keep his smug smirk into himself when his little brother finally mans up and finally introduces you to him one day when he comes home to work on a project that you’re helping him with. And he knows that Yuuji knows about the look on his face. Because he knows his history with women. Yuuji knows he’s made a mistake introducing you to each other.

Or so he thinks.

Sukuna is thoroughly amused by you, although there are times where he becomes frustrated. You’re not an easy case to crack, and not easy to tease and rile up. Perhaps that’s the part of you that’s from accelerated maturity.

You’re smarter than the average person, even the people slightly above average. You’re intellectually and psychologically challenging and he very much likes it. It’s been a long time since he’s had the kind of stimulation you’ve brought him. Since his and Yuuji’s father passed away.

He watches from a distance as you and his brother go over notes and work and crack jokes that put a pretty smile on your face. He can’t hear your laughter from where he stands, but he’s positive it’s as lovely as your smile.

As for you, you know you’re being watched. You look to the tall man out of your peripheral vision and halt rolling your eyes.

“Your brother is never subtle, is he?”

Yuuji sighs heavily. “Never.”

♥️ Rich! Sukuna who hates the fact he can’t see you more often. So he digs and digs and then finds out about some old family debts and a couple things for medical expenses he can easily pay off to hold over your head, to use as a means to be something akin to a sugar daddy so he can order you around and see you whenever he wants to.

And it comes as no surprise to him when he mentions it the next time his brother brings you over for schoolwork that you’re startled by him finding out. He only mentions it after Yuuji has fallen asleep on the couch. You give him the wide-eyed expression of shock, probably wondering how he found out about it.

But unlike his expectations, you don’t ask how he knows. you don’t get embarrassed and try to hush it away with the option of using yourself as his favor. You shrug, going a little more into depth and detail about the financial struggle that’s been kept under wraps for several good years.

Sukuna himself is surprised in return, by both you and the way he sits down for you — to listen to you.

♥️ Rich! Sukuna, who finds out that even though you see him as super attractive, you’re not as swayed by his flirting and all of his advances like many women and young women your age are. Yes, you know he’s super fucking stupidly hot, and yes you’ve more than likely thought about certain things while in bed under the sheets, but you’ve got more important things to prioritize than hot men. Which he applauds you for just as much as he despises it. It makes him frustrated, because he’s attracted to you and wants you in his bed so bad; because it should be so fucking easy like it has been with other women. But you’re not the same, and while his lust is as prominent as ever in his older age, he also has the desire for something more than just a fling.

♥️ Rich! Sukuna who manages to get ahold of your schedule through his baby brother (who’s prepping for your broken heart) and asks you out, setting up a date for when he knows you’re free. He much enjoys the look on your face when he brings up the date he’s set, knowing you’re wondering about how he managed to nail the exact day you’re free for the day he’s set for the outing. He enjoys it even further when you quickly deduce how he knows about it.

Goddamn, he loves a sharp woman.

♥️ Rich! Sukuna, who orders you a dress to be made that’s a mix of beautiful deep crimson and black, one that shines but doesn’t shine too much to glare at people eyes. He drums his fingers against his desk in his home office as he sees the notification pop up on his phone that the item has been delivered.

But as usual, you surprise him. You don’t end up wearing the dress he’s made, but something completely different. You arrive to the restaurant he’s bought out for the night in a deep silver-gray tux, hair styled in a simple manner with minimal makeup that he knows you don’t need because he’s already seen and fallen for your natural looks anyway.

Sukuna hates you. He doesn’t, but he doesn’t know what the fuck to do with the feelings he has. You’re so much younger than him, but holy fuck has it been so long since he’s been given any sort of challenge or stimuli, especially from a woman. He both hates and is glad you’re not easy. And it only fuels his drive to get you to give yourself to him.

You drive him up a damn wall.

He’s been in the shower for at least forty minutes, alternating between hot and cold every five minutes. Forty minutes and the painful hard on he’s had all morning still hasn’t gone away.

Sukuna leans his head forward against the wall and cusses at himself. His hand isn’t enough, but there’s some relief as he starts leisurely pumping his shaft. He cusses and swears worse than a sailor as he starts off slow, imagination running wild (at what could be).

He wants you so fucking bad. He wants you on your knees in front of him; on the soft carpet because no way is he going to let his pretty woman have sore knees while taking his monstrous dick down her throat.

He wants to bury his face between your legs and make you cum so much and so hard you see fucking galaxies, then let you catch your breath just barely enough before he uses your juices as lubricant and permanently molds your pussy to the shape of his fat cock.

He wants your legs over his shoulders as you throw your head back and moan as he fucks your better than anyone ever has and ever will. He wants to see a white ring around his cock as he pumps himself in and out of you like he’s a starved man. And that he is. For you, anyway.

Sukuna just knows your pussy is so fucking warm. He’ll bet his dick that you’ll have the tightest pussy he’s ever going to have. The best he’s ever going to have.

His hand pumps his shaft faster and faster, gripping it harder as he nears climax. His massive cock aches painfully, desperate to cum. Fucking hell… He wants you so bad, underneath him, or on your knees, calling him by whatever pet name or name from whatever kink you might have.

Forbid everything if you call him ‘Daddy’ or ‘Master’. Game fucking over.

He doesn’t even care if you have those kinds kinks or not. He just wants the pretty girl that’s done more than caught his attention under him as he makes her feel pleasure that only he can provide.

But the selfish part of him can’t help but hear you call out those names in his head. And that’s what does it.

Sukuna’s thighs and back muscles flex almost painfully as his balls draw up and cums. He tosses his head back, the feeling of his load spurting from the tip making him groan in pleasure. He cums so hard he feels like he’s about to keel over.

“Fuck yeah…” he pants, oxygen finally catching up to his lungs’ need.

But now he’s disappointed and just a little pissed off. Because the cum on the wall shouldn’t be there. It should be on or in you. And he doesn’t like that.

And as he rewashes himself, his jaw clenches, can’t help but thinking determinedly he’s going to change things between the two of you.

Come hell or high fucking water.

♥️ Rich! Sukuna who’s finally shifted the relationship to being something else. Although you can’t tell what it is. The first date he takes you on is to break the ice, getting to know you better as a person. It’s also to see if you’d fuck him, but he knows you’ve got stronger convictions than the women he’s used to.

He takes you on a second date, this time in more casual clothes on a drive to a house he’s set up to have dinner and stargaze at.

He gets to tell you he’s paid off your family’s old debts now, relieved them of the medical bills and taxes that haven’t been paid yet. But it backfires, and now he’s left to make you understand that it wasn’t to make you feel beholden to him in any manner, like owing debt to the mafia.

♥️ Rich! Sukuna needs you to understand that despite how much he wants to fuck you, it’s more than just because he finds you attractive and wants to satisfy his dick. He wants you to know you’re not temporary; he doesn’t see you as a quick fix to his primal needs.

Not at all.

You’re the long term fix to his primal needs. And perhaps the only one he’s going to need ever again. And once the expression of understanding crosses your face, he goes to cradle the back of your head and hungrily slots his lips on yours. He may not get to take all your clothes off right now, but he’s happy with his results tonight.

Besides, he knows he’ll get you into his bed with a shiny diamond ring on your left hand eventually.

wheeeew im gonna go take a cold bath

@vagabond-umlaut here’s ur man babe pls enjoy.

& everyone pls feel free to send in more ideas for this series if you want im having fun with this lmao

[oftenderweapons]

Stress Reliever - Jungkook

Pairing: Jungkook x reader (nicknamed Candy)

Wordcount: 5.3k words

Genre: mild angst, smut, romance

Rating: 18+

Hi everyone! It’s the final scenario of Stress Reliever and this time it’s the Golden Maknae!!!

I bet you’re all excited to see what is he going to do to release some frustration with his s/o. Don’t expect him to go easy.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: angst-smut-fluff (the profane trinity) jealousy and mild angst at the beginning, s/o has a mild age kink and JK is not exactly okay with this. Big fat degradation kink and well... yeah. Unprotected sex within an established relationship (please, be careful!!!), edging, wall sex (yk....,.,..,,,,), kinda hard dom JK but not really? So much dirty talking my keyboard is burning and I had do erase my browsing history, oral (female receiving), ass, tiddies and pussy spanking (ups), anddddd likeeeee,.,.,.,,,,,,..... voyeurism. BUt most importantly PraISe KinNnNNNKKKKkkkkK I’m sorry this one is so bad I have no excuses, I’m a slut for praise kink, please it’s so bad I melt every time someone calls me baby and good girl even in a non sexual context and it’s so embarrassing I’m gonna explode byeeeeee-----

Here is my masterlist ❤

Wordcount: 5.3k, unedited. Enjoy!

—————————————————

“God, he’s so hot.”

Jeongguk ignored whatever it was that you were talking about on the phone with your best friend. It wasn’t his business anyway. 

Both you and the voice on the phone giggled. You were probably talking about some film or something. “Bet he could go for hours.”

Jeongguk tutted at that, his snack almost ready in the microwave, hoping he’d be able to leave the kitchen as soon as possible. 

“Yeah, I have Googie, and I would never make a move on anyone else, but what’s wrong with innocently commenting on some older dude? He’s absolutely daddy material, let me fantasise a little about that.” Again you giggled. 

Jeongguk frowned at that. He wished he didn’t have to listen. He felt guilty since you thought he wasn’t in the room. 

“Koo is wonderful. A dream, truly. Still I love me a tough, mature man, at least in my imagination, every now and then.” You sounded coy. 

Really? Jeongguk’s frown intensified. He felt like he didn’t want a snack anymore at this point. Like he wanted another kind of snack.

“And I love Koo. Don’t forget that.” You continued.

He cocked his head to the side and nodded at that. That was a good sign. 

“Still… Damn, look at him. He’s in his forties and looks like a sex god.” You commented about the male lead actor. 

Jeongguk snorted and huffed at that. One more minute, he considered, watching the timer of the microwave.

“No. Listen. Consider this. He’s the kind of man who can lead. You can tell. How could he be eager and impatient? He knows good things take time. That’s the thing about older men. Maturity. Experience. They know they need to take their sweet time. That was the only good thing about my ex. You know it.” Your voice was plain, almost neutral as you said this. Matter-of-factly. 

Jeongguk was sick of this by now. Did you think he was too eager? Too impatient? Too young and naive? That he couldn’t lead you? That he couldn’t take his sweet time?

Well, now he was in a mood and he had each and every intention to take it out on you. He propped himself against the entrance of the living room, waiting for you to notice him. 

Unfortunately for you, you continued your conversation. 

“Yeah, sometimes Koo has his teenage shenanigans. Tantrums and shit. But he’s my boy.” You confessed, voice slightly lower. “Still… Yeah, sometimes I think ‘what if…’”

What if what? He cleared his throat. 

You lifted your head and finally spotted him. Your mouth opened, and so did your eyes, wide like saucers. 

“Get off the phone.” He growled. 

You closed your mouth. “Gotta go.”

“He’s there, isn’t he?” Your friend asked. 

You nodded, then, realising you needed to verbalise, you whispered a little ‘yes’. 

Your friend wished you good luck before disconnecting the call. You put your phone down.

“Need to tell me anything?” Jeongguk asked, arms crossed and tattoos showing. You spotted the almost invisible initial of your name hidden in one of the black swirls of ink. 

“It was nothing serious. Just gossip.” You defended yourself. 

“Teenage shenanigans. Tantrums.” He recalled. “Guess this is one of those.” He accused. 

“It’s… not like that?” You tried finding an apology, realising how cliché it sounded only the moment it left your mouth. 

He moved closer, expression dark and upset. “How do you want to solve this?”

You bit your lip. “However you want to.” You were testing the waters, seeing what his mood was. 

“Then stand up.” He ordered. 

You blinked a couple times before following his direction. “Koo?”

“No talking.” he replied. “You already said enough.” He threw you over his shoulder, exasperated at your scene. 

You squealed and huffed in surprise. “Jeongguk!”

“Quiet.” He secured with his arm, landing a loud spank on your ass. 

Again you squealed. “What are you–”

“Can’t you understand ‘no talking’? I thought an experienced girl like you had to be smarter than this.” His anger was beginning to show and you were actually somewhere between turned on and scared. You had seen him sweet and enamoured and insecure and upset, but rarely truly angry. 

“Sorry.” You murmured softly as his steps made you wobble against his back. He was carrying you to bed. For sure. 

A few seconds later you recognised your bedroom, and you felt your body being thrown down, landing on the mattress. In a blink you found Jeongguk’s heavy body on top of yours, his mouth at your ear. “Am I not good enough for you?” He teased. 

“You know I love it.” You replied shyly. 

“You love the sex. But am I good enough for you?” He asked again. 

“Yes. Yes, you are, Koo.” You answered firmly. 

“Let’s see if you hate it so much. Sex with this eager, impatient, younger boy.” He provoked. He was moving so fast. He was moving lightning-fast, one moment he was fully dressed and the following he was shirtless and attacking your own clothes, unbuttoning your jeans, tugging at them and taking them off of you. “Bet you’re already drenched. You were so thirsting after that old man.” He threw your jeans behind him, somewhere off the bed. 

“I only want you, and you know it.” You bit back. 

“Stop lying.” He warned. He took off your shirt with angry pulls, almost ripping it, your body collaborating in fear he would hurt you in the process. “You fantasise.” He reminded you. 

No, you don’t. Not willingly, at least. Of course, you’re an adult woman and you’re free of thinking whatever you want. Of course if you see a charming man, you might think of him sexually. But that doesn’t mean you’re not satisfied with what you have. That you would give up your boyfriend for a fantasy. 

“Koo, you’re the only man I want to fuck.” You reassured him, putting your hands around his face, trying to calm him down. 

“So I’m a man now? Not a boy anymore?” he asked, unlatching your bra. 

“You’re always my man to me, you know it.” You hoped the sight of your breasts would make him sway a little. 

It didn’t.

“You called me your boy. Just back then, on the phone.” He bared you with frustrated tugs and pulls. 

“Am I not your girl?” You asked, touching him on his chest, his shoulders, his neck. Anything to express your need for him. 

“Not like I’m patronizing you.” He turned you around, smacking your ass again as he removed your panties, baring your behind. “So fucking condescending.”

You bit your lip, now profoundly sorry for the way you had treated him. “I said some very dumb things, Jeongguk, and I apologise.”

“Good. Now let me prove my point.” He agreed. 

“Want to fuck me good?” You asked, incapable of hiding your arousal. 

“You were talking so much shit that I think you’ve forgotten what this is about.” Another smack. 

Once more you found yourself lying on your back, your naked body now bare to his stare. His pants were tented at the front, the outline of his cock so delicious, thick and half hard. 

“Love, please.” Your hands moved to his waistline, reaching for his sex. 

“Oh, no. I’m taking my sweet time, ____. Starting from here.” He bent down and pressed a hard kiss to your lips, making you moan and whimper before his own mouth opened, his tongue disturbingly sensual and heavy in his assault to your mouth. You were now eager and impatient, while he took everything deliriously, deliberately slowly. “What next? Do you want your nipples licked?” He murmured.

You only nodded, your chest already feeling heavier and oversensitive. 

“Oh, no. That’s for boys. Boys latch onto their mommy’s tits. Men don’t do that, do they?” He replied, grabbing your breast aggressively, parting from your mouth before delivering a quick slap on the skin there. 

You barked out in pain, the sensation not unpleasant but rather surprising. 

“You like it?” He waited for your nod before repeating the gesture. “Is it how a real man would do this?” He asked. 

“Want your mouth, Googie.” You begged. 

“Googie… Ridiculous. Even in bed you treat me like a child.” He hit you again, this time harder. “Can’t take me seriously, can you?”

You were already on the verge of begging. 

“Such a lame show.” He let his hand venture down to your navel, down to your mound, and dive between your thighs. “Tell me, what is it that made you wet?”

You whined at the sensation of his fingertips there, incoherent babbling leaving your mouth. 

“Answer me, babe.” He urged.

Your eyes went wide at the word. He was using every single one of your earlier mistakes against you. Reminding you exactly what you’ve done wrong, but also showing you everything that had hurt him.

“You made me wet.” You informed him. 

“Me slapping your tits?” He snickered darkly.

“You wanting me. You looking always so fucking hot. You giving me everything I need. You being everything I’ll ever need.”

His eyes turned into cold slits. “You sure know how to sweet talk your ass out of problems, don’t you?” He cupped your heat, at which you parted your legs to invite him to make himself comfortable there, to give you his attention. In response he lifted his hand, only to let it land harshly on you. You screamed. Pleasure. Echoing through your veins. Running like wildfire inside your limbs and finally concentrating in your lower belly. “That might work with your boys. Remember? I’m your man tonight. And you’re in trouble, you silly, silly girl.”

Your first reaction was to fill your lungs with some fresh air, before writhing against his grip, the sheets burning your skin. "Jeongguk." 

"Yes?" He replied, looking you in the eye as his palm brushed against you. 

"I wanna be yours." 

"You want this impatient boy?" He asked, the muscles of his jaw tense. 

You tried kissing him, only brushing your lips against his. “I need you, Jeongguk. All of you. Now.”

“Don’t you want me to take my time?” He asked, slowly, oh-so-slowly, caressing your sex. “Don’t you want me to make you wet? Get you all ready and messy?”

“I love my impatient boy. And my meticulous man.” Your lips left a butterfly kiss just shy of his mouth, eyes closing. 

“Tell me how you want me.” He groaned. 

“However you want, Koo. You’re always so good.” Your hips pushed harder against his digits. “Do your best.”

“Then let me show you I’m always the best.” He murmured, his breath fanning over your face. He was laying on his side, hand still dipped between your thighs. He got rid of his sweatpants quickly, his underwear coming off in the same movement. You couldn’t help but watch, eyes entranced to the beauty of his nakedness. You could stare at him for hours. Unfortunately, he had other plans. 

Standing up from the bed he circled around it, looking at you like you were his prey, his prize. 

“Sit.” He ordered, pointing at the edge of the bed, right in front of where he was standing. Of course you were going to obey. His chiselled body was right there, for you to watch, touch and worship, your mouth just in front of his navel. His sex looked awfully flush, tip red with excitement, beaded in precum. You wanted a taste; however the palm reaching for him was stopped by his wrist. “My rules, brat.”

You inhaled sharply while he bent down, securing your legs around his waist. “Hold on tight, ____. Not gonna say it twice.” and with that he picked you up, like you weighted nothing.

Your arms snaked around his neck, legs tightening at his waist, crossing behind his back. 

“First here. Then we’ll see.” And with that he placed you against the wall, his mouth joining your neck, placing sloppy kisses and licks. “Do you want me to mark you or is it too childish?” He growled hard behind your ear. 

“Bite me, mark me, do whatever you want, I just need you inside, Koo.” You moaned, trying to lure him in. 

“Such a needy slut, uh?” He whispered at your ear. “This what you want?” And with that he pinned you hard against the wall, one hand guiding himself at your entrance and sliding into you in one smooth stroke, perfectly hitting your sweet spot at the first go. 

The small humming sound that rumbled in your throat found its twin on his lips. 

“I said, is this what you want, slut?” He teased you again. 

“Yes, Koo.” You muttered, only half coherent. 

He snickered. “Great.” Placing his hands on your ass, helping you up, he pulled out of you, his tip almost slipping out before entering again in full force. “That feels nice, doesn’t it?”

You murmured in confirmation, pressing harder against him. It was different from usual. He was thrusting in slower and deeper, enjoying your tightness, his eyes closed, his hair falling forward as he pushed into you. 

“So tight, baby, how come you’re still so fucking tight?”

“God, you’re so big.” One of your hands moved to his behind, grabbing his ass, groping it, enjoying the flashing of his muscles. His forehead fell on your shoulder, mouth wild on every single inch of your skin he met. 

“Like it?” He picked up the rhythm, just slightly, spurred by your moans and your dishevelled expression. Your bum kept hitting the wall, the thumping now obvious and obscene. 

“Harder.” You begged. 

“Dirty mess.” He giggled at your ear, looking at you and kissing you until you were breathless and your head was spinning. He parted from your lips and stared into your eyes, intensity pouring out of his obsidian stare. “Want more?”

“I need you to touch me there, love, please.” You asked, eyes closing as you implored. 

“Not yet, baby.” His pace was delirious by now, his legs growing tired but headstrong on reaching his orgasm. 

“Please, Jeongguk.” You whined, digging your heels in his back. 

“No can do, sweet thing. Now shut up.” And with that he rammed inside, using your upper back to keep you on the wall as his arms pushed and pulled your hips, fucking you onto him. “Grown men take what they want, don’t they?” He bit into your collarbone and let his mouth open wide, howling in pleasure, his cum filling you up. 

You were hanging on the verge of sanity. “Koo, no, please.”

He was leaning heavily in your arms, your body hanging like a picture from the wall. “That was so fucking good, ____.”

“Koo, please.” You cried out.

“You wanna cum, baby?” He teased. “Want me to make you cum, slut?” He bit your cheek playfully. “Take it to bed? D’you want that?”

Your body tensed again for his not-so-kind nickname. “Yeah, Koo.” You whined. 

“Good.” Little did you know that half a minute later he would still be inside you, sitting you on the soft headboard of the bed. He moved out of you, spinning you around and placing you bottom-up bent over the soft material of the board. “Be a good girl for me. Man, look at that ass. So hot, baby.” He slapped it playfully. “You ready baby?”

“What are you doing?” You asked, your ass up, your legs slightly dangling from the headboard as the tips of your toes brushed the floor, your stomach pressed against the dark leather. You tried shifting your weight to your arms, but Jeongguk trapped one of them behind your back. 

“You can use one to hold yourself up. No more than that, bitch.”

His filthy mouth made your blood feel inebriated, almost like being tipsy. 

Your hips were conveniently exposed, his mouth immediately identifying its target as he crouched down and started rubbing his lips against your sex. “Good?”

“Yes, yes. Yes...” You whispered, still chasing the high he had taken from you earlier. 

“Want me to make you cum?” He asked.

“Please.” You whined. 

“Such a cock hungry little thing.” He let his tongue loll out, the tip going to your front, rubbing against your clit. He kissed the skin there before speaking into your skin: “Be good.”

His tongue slipped inside you, licking away his seed, then spitting it out all over your slit, lubricating you again. “Can you cum without my fingers on your clit, baby? Can you come for an impatient boy licking you?” He bit into the curve your ass. 

“Jeongguk, I’m sorry. Please.” You implored.

“You consider yourself a woman when all you truly want is for me to turn you into my little girl.” He kissed the side of your thigh, his right hand heavily palming and groping your ass. By now you felt like bursting at the seems, arousal coming off your limbs in waves. Jeongguk, buried between your legs, took your salty scent in, delivering small bites to your labia and sucking your clit viciously. 

You only needed more pressure. 

“Come on, slut, cum for me so I can get inside you again.” He teased, repositioning you with his spare hand and now adding more strength to the movements of his tongue. 

The change was immediate. You could feel it in your belly. “Koo, I’m—” next thing that left your mouth was a long scream, rattling your bones, resetting you entirely. 

“That’s a good girl.” He said in the most patronising, condescending and sarcastic tone he could muster. You felt your lungs ignite. “Are you gonna stay still now after you got what you wanted? Let me fuck that need for older men out of you?”

He was angry again. He was angry still. 

“I said dumb stuff.”

“‘Cause you’re a little dumb doll, aren’t you?” His voice came from somewhere behind you, above you. You turned to search for his face but he used his big hand to press your face against the pillow below you. “Dumb, disobedient doll. Stay put.”

You closed your eyes and tried to press your behind to his pelvis. “I’m begging. Jeongguk. I love you.”

“Oh, so you love me now.” His length lingering on your entrance suddenly slammed into you. “You love me?”

“Yes!” You screamed, hoping that the walls would keep your sounds inside the room.

His hand pinned both of your wrists behind your back. “More than your ex?”

“Yes! I’ve never loved anyone like you, Koo.” You mewled, desperate.

"Has he ever fucked you this good?" He grunted, bending down to your ear. 

"No Jeongguk, I swear. You're the best."

"That’s right. I'm the fucking best." He rammed into you recklessly, his head falling forward as he stood and helped your hips back, the tip of your feet now pressed more steadily against the floor, removing some pressure from your abdomen.

He probably didn't even realise that the position was getting uncomfortable, and you were grateful for the shift, even if it made his thrusts deeper and more difficult to resist. 

“How can you want it calm and patient when you love being my fuckdoll, uh?” He pulled out and smacked your ass hard, then plunging in again. “When you need a young—” thrust— “inexperienced—” thrust—“impatient little boy—” thrust— “to fuck your brains out?”

You moaned and pushed yourself toward him, the sound of your flesh squelching and smacking echoing in the room. 

His hand climbed around your waist, dipping down your navel and meeting the apex of your labia. “Did your ex ever fuck you like this?”

“No Jeongguk.” You replied meekly. 

“Did he ever make you cum like this?” He asked, torturing you with his devious fingers. 

“No, Jeongguk.”

“Did he ever make you speechless with his cock?” He growled, sinking into you and shifting his hips to push small little circles deep against your cervix. 

“No…” you hummed, barely responsive.

“You’re gonna cum so good on my cock, doll. You’re gonna be a slut for it, drool on it for the rest of your life.” He swore, filthy and almost unconscious. 

Were you more coherent, you would have realised how fucked out he was, but unfortunately you were twice as gone as him and in no time your mouth formed his name in a strangled breath before your body twitched around him, your hands gripping on your forearms, still in the position he’d put you in even though his grip was no longer controlling you. 

“Cumming on my dick. Such a dumb little girl for it, uh?” He provoked you, even though your mind was miles high, seeing stars dance in your peripheral. “Take it all. Enjoy it. It’s the only one you’re gonna get, slut.”

And with that he grabbed hold of your hips and started bouncing your bum against his crotch, hammering into you, lasting only a minute before grunting your name and growling against your spine, falling forward and then snapping back, head bent away from you as he used you as his personal toy. 

When you felt him stop you dared turn around. He was magnificent. 

Hair plastered to his forehead, face and torso glimmering with sweat, the veins of his arms popping out like highways under his skin. 

“Koo.” You murmured, looking for your boy, your comfort, your safe place. 

“Only a second, sweetheart.” He exhaled, his skin blushing with exertion. “I know I can get another one, just give me time, baby.”

“Koo, I—“ You objected, but he stopped you.

“It’s not you. It’s me. I want it.” He warned with a stern tone. “Don’t you dare think this is about you, doll. Can you choose where you want it or are you too fucked out for that?”

Jeongguk helped you up and pulled you to his chest, the pose half affectionate and half controlling. “You know me best. I know you’ll choose what is best for me.” You whined in an attempt of flattery — even though it was absolutely true. He does know you best. You know he will always choose what’s best for you because he loves you. He adores you. 

He carefully drew out of you, kissing your spine delicately. You still had to understand what was his current mood. “Turn around.”

You obeyed, your eyes naturally focusing on his chest, right in front of your face. He pinched your neck and turned your head upwards, toward his awaiting gaze. You knew there were many things he was trying to say right in that moment with nothing but a glance. You knew how the words got stuck in his throat and how they would stumble and shake before falling from his lips, how they would sound tiny and hurt and heartbroken, but also fond and fiery and faithful. 

You knew all his favourite words, the ones he spoke so little, the ones he kept closer to his heart in fear that their power would diminish once they finally made it out.

He kissed you one, two, five, ten, twenty times, small pecks and butterfly kisses, Eskimo kisses with the tip of his lovely nose, and wet, sloppy kisses on your neck. He combed your dishevelled hair and kissed it too, then your hands, then your wrists and then your eyelids. Your forehead and your brow, the tender skin behind your ear, the softness of your cheeks. 

Picking you up, he kissed you again, his mouth possessing yours, lost in the tenderness and passion of you. You felt like a small boat in a wide, calm sea, nothing but the horizon all around you, his waves lulling you, his voice and his lips leading you towards a safe haven, surrounded in peace. 

“I love you, Googie.” You breathed softly against his open mouth. 

“Let me show you.” He replied, again carrying you exactly where he wanted. 

Your walk in closet was enormous, with wide wardrobes along the walls, a couple mirrors multiplying the images of you and him. 

“Here.” He said, placing you on the comfy seat in the middle of the small room.

In here he would see your every angle and reaction. There would be no escape from the blatant ruination he would unleash over your body. 

His hand was already cupping his sex, palming and pumping it as he used his other arm to pry your legs open, his head sinking there. He bit into the skin of your thighs, sucking and kissing with a hunger you had never thought existed. His favour stopped just shy of your entrance, watching as his release spilled and stained your skin. 

“Amazing.” He murmured reverently, leaning into your knee as if he was on the verge of sanity and you were the only thing pinning him to reality. “Tell me I’m the only one you want.”

“You’re the only one I want. The only one I love.” You wasted no time as you comforted him, giving him that safety net he so desperately craved.

“Tell me you won’t leave me,” he begged, closing his eyes as if the thought caused him physical pain. 

“I’ll be by your side, always.” You promised, caressing his hair. 

“Look,” he pointed to the mirror on your side, to your seated figure and his kneeling one. 

“Koo. Are you ready? I need you so bad.” You whined, your eyes leaving the reflection only as you ended your request.

“Want you on your knees, belly on the seat.”

He gave you the space to manoeuvre down from the seat, on your knees, right as he wanted you.

“Look straight ahead, doll. Look at that.” He teased, his hand pointing towards the mirror in front of you. “Look at your tits pressed up against the seat. They’re so soft… They must be so fucking sensitive by now.” His hand stroking himself dragged his tip against your skin, moistening you evenly as he got ready once more. 

“I’ve neglected them today.” He caressed your back and kissed your neck. “I’ll take good care of them tomorrow morning. Would you like that?” He asked, mischievous. 

“Yes, Koo.” God, you weren’t even sure you knew other words by now, so possessed by your need for him. 

He put just the head of his cock inside you, enjoying the immediate fluttering of your insides. “Want more, doll.”

With a humming, senseless groan you backed your ass into his groin. 

He snickered sarcastically. “Fuckdoll.”

You felt every inch of him enter you, violating your flesh. 

“That’s it. I’m gonna ruin you.” Jeongguk growled visciously as he bottomed out. 

“Please.” You moaned as you looked at his face from the reflection in the mirror. He was using his hand to press against your lower back.

“Taking me so well, slut. So hungry for it.” He was lost in the reflection too, moving slow and deep. 

“Only for you.” You whined, praising him. 

“No one can do it like us. No one.” He twisted your head to the side, the other mirror welcoming you. “There’s no one else for us.”

God, he was wordy today. You were basking in it. You loved how he wanted you to see, to hear everything. He was often wild but shy and today was truly exceptional for many reasons. “Googie, touch me, I’m getting close, please.”

“You keep saying please, baby. So polite today, uh? Might have to fuck you like this more often.” He provoked you. 

“Look how fucked out you are, doll.” He snorted. “You’re so hot.” He keened.

You watched the way his muscles moved, his pecs flexing and relaxing as he dragged your hips along his shaft. “No one can get you this hot.”

“No.” You whined out, desperate for more, for anything, for everything he was willing to give you. 

“You’re a slut for me alone, uh?” He smacked your ass once more, pulling out of you entirely and slapping his length over your soft backside. “Dirty fuckdoll.”

“I’m your toy, Koo. Use me.” You pleaded, searching for him with your hands, needing him close, closer, melted into you. “Please.”

“How can I say no to my needy slut.” He giggled before changing his angle, his arm infiltrating beneath your torso, between your breasts, towards your neck.

His other hand slithered to your front, his thrusts more subdued now that his leverage was weaker between your thighs and against your collarbone. The slow-down however helped you focus on your clit, on his fingers there on the way he was touching you in that “I’m not playing, you’d better cum in the next two minutes” mood. 

“You’re getting tighter, doll. D’you like my hand so much?” He teased with an accusing tone. “You must be close, mh?”

“So close, Koo.” You chirped.

“Come on, then.” His thrusts slowed even more, making you feel full to the brim and once they paired with his fingers you found yourself coming apart. 

“Yeah, babe. So fucking tight. Cum for me.” He spoke on your skin, body completely twisted and twined with yours. His tongue ran against your spine, his throat producing small, deep grunts as his pleasure exploded and spilled inside you. “Yes, doll. Fuck babe. Amazing.” He howled, arching into you, sticking to you like a second skin. 

“You look so damn lovely, doll. I love you so fucking much.” He whispered, heavy at your back, his hips stilling. “I bet nobody’s ever fucked you like this.”

“No.” You confirmed. “Nobody has. Nobody ever will.” You pressed a kiss to his hand, close to your face and cupping your cheek. 

As if coming back from a trance, he batted his lashes intensely, kissing your face. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, Googie. It was… incredibly hot. Definitely on your top three best performances. I will definitely write this day down on the calendar. We can celebrate it like an anniversary.”

“Hot fuck in the closet day.” He murmured, half asleep on top of you. “I like that.”

You smiled. “Can we get to bed? My knees are a bit sore. Actually I’m a bit sore all over.”

He nodded, waiting a couple seconds before parting from you and helping you up, carrying you to the bathroom and cleaning you up silently, taking care of you before dropping both of your heavy bodies on the bed. 

“I said ugly stuff.” He confessed. 

“I did too.” You admitted. “You know, I might think that older men are charming, but that’s as far as it goes. And I might have said stuff about my ex, but hey, there are multiple reasons why he’s my ex.” You caressed his face and kissed his hair as he laid his head on your chest. “And I’m here with you. No charming old man, no patient ex will ever change the fact that I love you.” You reassured him. “That you’re a dream come true.” You held his hand and intertwined your fingers. 

“I just… I’m always afraid of the things I can’t give you.” He whispered, insecure. As if he hadn’t given you his everything… 

“I will love you for all the things you can give me, Googie. And we will learn to compromise about the things we can’t give each other. That’s how it works.” You brought his hand to your lips, pressing them against every inch of it. 

“I’m sorry about the bad words.” He said with big doe eyes, lined with silvery tears. “I hope I didn’t insult you or upset you.”

“Would you worry if I said I liked that a bit?” You looked into his eyes tenderly, trying to dissolve his shyness. “But I hurt you with my words, so I want to know now.”

Your conversation went on for almost half an hour, his body warm and comfortable next to yours, the feeling of safety encouraging him to bare himself, showing you his darkest, most vulnerable sides.

By the end of the afternoon you both felt loved and appreciated, cared for and adored. With his head heavy on your chest, your heartbeat playing in his ear, Jeongguk realised you would always be his one.

[cipheress-to-k-pop]

Eduardo Dorado Jr. with an s/o who is a Scientist

amateurwriterbigdreamer said: Could I request Eduardo dorado jr with a university student who is a metahuman and a scientist so she gets along with his father causing Eduardo dorado jr to feel left out?

You were interning at S.T.A.R. labs

That’s how you met Eduardo

You were a couple years older and an incredibly intelligent, beautiful woman

It was no surprise that Eduardo developed a huge crush on you

At a young age, he thought he was handling it well but, on your side, it was painfully obvious

He would get super blushy and embarrassed and still try to flirt with you

Which was kind of adorable

Because he was no nervous, he would end up messing up his lines

“Um, did it hurt?”

“What?”

“Did it hurt when you became an angel?”

“.... Do you mean ‘did it hurt when you fell from heaven’?”

“Because you look like an angel!! Thank you!!”

“Sure.”

You indulged him of course because you just couldn’t bear to break his little heart

But you never ever returned his flirting

You just listened to them

One of the reasons that you never shot him down was because his father told you not to

Ed was always more compliable and cooperative during routine checks

He tried to impress you and didn’t lose his temper as quickly as he used to

And that helped with the experiment, which you were hired to do so you agreed

And however pathetic it may sound, you felt special that someone was so infatuated with you

He would hover around you, asking questions about what you’re doing even though he’d never understand what when you did explain to him

He’d still offer his opinion though even though it wasn’t really appropriate

“I think you look really hot next to that thing, babe.”

“It’s a particle collider, Ed. And don’t call me babe.”

“Noted.”

He’d get really jealous too when you would hang out with his father because at the time, he wasn’t on good terms with him

He’d get huffy and upset

“Ed, your father is my boss, I kind of have to.”

“I know...”

Your relationship just remained that way because you knew nothing would ever come from it

He was way too young for you and it was creepy

And even though you were expecting a confession from him, when you finally received it you were incredibly surprised

“I like you, (Y/N), will you please be my girlfriend?”

You really didn’t want to shoot him down because he would never forget it

“Um, you know I’m too old for you, Ed. It’s not right.”

“Age is just a number.”

“So is 911.”

He looked so disappointed; you just couldn’t find it in your heart to leave him then

So, you just ruffled his hair and said

“Tell you what, you ask me again when you’re a few inches taller than me and I promise I will think about it.”

He sent you such a blinding grin you thought a little fib was worth it

Besides, when he actually got to the height, he would totally forget about this

At least that’s what you thought

You saw him for the last time when he was escaping

You were on the phone with his father, looking around for the Runaways

And you did find them

You just stared at Ed for the longest time as he silently pleaded for you not to say anything

“Yeah, I’m here, no, they’re, they’re nowhere to be found.”

He gave you a huge hug and you ruffled his hair again

“Be safe, okay?”

“I promise I’ll come back and ask you when I’m taller.”

“Haha, I’ll hold you do it.”

You don’t see him again for a couple years, you were sent to another country to intern

But you returned after learning something very important

You were a meta

The first person you thought to contact was Ed Sr. because he had the most experience with this

That was when you met Ed again

And oh boy

Puberty was extremely kind to him, and you felt extremely disgusted with yourself when you couldn’t seem to get your eyes off him

“It’s good to see you again.”

“You too.”

“So, am I tall enough for you yet?”

“Kind of sudden don’t you think?”

“I don’t think so, I’ve been waiting 4 years.”

You couldn’t really tell if he was being serious or joking but you chose to ignore it

You just couldn’t get past the fact that he used to be so tiny

You couldn’t stop seeing him that way

To no one’s surprise, you still hover around the labs

You help the justice league by performing DNA fingerprinting and such

As always, Ed still helps you around

He’s become more mature than you realize

Earlier he always used to flirt with you and it sometimes seemed like his life revolved around you

But now it was different

You could speak like equals now

It made you realize how much you would just brush him off as a kid

Everything he used to think and say at the time was just something that he’d grow out of

Now you’re realizing that he’s much more profound and intelligent that you gave him credit for

It makes you see him in a different light

Then you begin to feel all awkward and embarrassed around him

And extremely annoyed with yourself that you like a kid

So, you begin to avoid him until these feelings go away

But Ed quickly corners you and asks you why

“I just, I’ve been having feelings for you lately.”

“And you don’t want that?”

“You’re just a kid, Ed.”

“I’m not a kid anymore...I’ve grown up now.”

“I still see you that way though, and it’s embarrassing and weird that I’ve begun to have feelings for you now.”

“Well instead of making yourself feel guilty, you should try and look at me differently.”

He waits until you’re ready

Extremely patient and it makes you fall even more to be honest

Since him being taller that you was basically what started this whole thing

You better believe he is making some short jokes

“How’s the weather down there?”

Uses your head as an arm rest

Sometimes pretends not to see you

But also uses your shorter self to an advantage

Corners you against the wall

Towers over you many times

Does that thing when you’re reaching from something, he just comes behind you and then you’re all close and warm

He still spends time with you in the lab

Until he’s caught making out with you on the table and then gets banned

He also helps you train and get control of your powers

Makes out with you on the training mats too

He gets insecure that you may still think of him as a kid

How does he get rid of those fears?

By kissing you until you can’t feel your legs

And therefore, everyone finds you making out most of the time

He loves that you’re so intelligent

Like loves it

So much so that he actually brags about it

Also talks about you a lot to his friends who are not impressed

“You know, (Y/N) said this the other day.”

“She would look so good in that.”

“She loves to eat that.”

“Maybe I should bring something home for her?”

“We get it, you have a girlfriend!”

People would expect you to mother him and you do most of the times

But Ed also takes care of you a lot

You get stressed and sometimes extremely overwhelmed because your career is just as important to you as your abilities

Ed is the one who keeps track of your self-care

Also fusses around you like his abuela when you’re not taking care of yourself

He also feels extremely comforted by the fact that you’re older than him because he knows whenever he needs advice, he can go to you

Because you’re more experienced and a lot smarter than him

He never makes you feel the age gap though

And when people make jokes about it, even though they meant for it to be harmless, Ed is there just looking like they might as well have shot you

All in all, regardless of age, he is a great boyfriend

[ghostpeblewrite]

Paradoxical - Chapter 12

~~~~~~

Soon enough Ghost’s got everyone working on things. Spooker went off with Colon to prepare the secret plan, leaving him and Toast working on the main plan.

They’re currently taking stock on which weapons they can use.

“Is Gavin human?” Ghost asks, pulling a normal pistol out of their storage.

“What do you mean, sir?” Toast asks, glancing over at him.

“He…” Ghost pauses, looking up at him, “Wait, do you know what he can do?”

Toast raises an eyebrow, “No…? I mean, I know he has… Powers, but… Not what they are.”

“Forget I said it,” Ghost says, looking away.

“No- Sir, what do you mean,” Toast says, walking closer to him.

“Drop it, I can’t tell you,” Ghost says, putting the pistol into his bag.

“You keep saying things like that. What happened, sir?” Toast asks, turning Ghost to face him.

Ghost sighs, looking at him. Toast sees… exhaustion on his face. Sure, Ghost is usually tired, but this is on a whole other level. He looks like he’s been through hell and back, and all Toast wants to do is reach out and hold him, but he feels like that would scare Ghost off so he holds back.

“Johnny,” Ghost says, and then surprises Toast by reaching out to hold him, his hands going to either side of Toast’s face. “If I could tell you, I would. I promise. But I’ve probably already said too much already, and I can’t risk doing it again.”

Toast smiles sadly, looking into Ghost’s eyes. “Well, I’m at least glad you’re still alive, Sir…” he places a gentle hand over one of Ghost’s.

“Me too,” Ghost says, going to pull his hands away. Toast frowns at that.

“Sir, you’ve been a lot more… affectionate. What happened? Or is that another thing you don’t wish to talk about,” Toast asks.

“I uhm… Let’s just say I … I realized how much I cared for you, Johnny,” Ghost mumbles, turning away.

Toast’s heart hurts with recognition at the tone Ghost uses. The grief laced through it. Toast knows it all too well. He pushes down the feeling of Ghost being scared off, reaching out and pulling Ghost into a tight hug. Ghost tenses at first, but then to Toast’s relief he relaxes into it, his arms wrapping around Toast to return the hug. The two stay like that in silence for a bit before Ghost breaks away, looking up at Toast with a solemn smile.

“Thank you, Johnny,” He says quietly. “I needed that.”

“Of course, sir,” Toast says, “I… I lo-”

“Oh shit-!” Ghost cuts him off, glancing at the clock. “We gotta move.” He turns away from Toast.

“Oh- Um- R-Right! Of course, what’s, uh, the plan?” Toast asks quickly.

“Grab that, please,” Ghost says, pointing over to the shotgun that Toast’s been carrying around since he got locked in the house. Toast does so, feeling the familiar weight in his hands. Ghost heads for the door.

“You didn’t tell me the plan-” Toast says as he hurries to follow.

“Don’t need to! It’s your plan, Johnny,” Ghost says as he heads for the front door.

“Sir, wait-!” Toast grabs his shoulder. “We can’t go out there-”

“And why’s that?” Ghost raises an eyebrow, with a face that says he knows exactly why.

“There’s- There’s undead out there-” Toast says. Ghost smiles.

“Ohhhh, didn’t know that,” he says, grabbing Toast’s hand, “Guess we have to go out the other way then!” He pulls Toast towards the back door. Toast stumbles along, confused.

“Sir-?” Toast starts, but Ghost cuts him off.

“So glad you brought that up, so we’ll go out the backdoor now!” Ghost says, speaking louder than normal.

Toast is about to say something when he hears shuffling outside the back door. Ghost drags Toast to the door, letting go of his hand to hide next to the door, motioning for Toast to open it. Toast does.

Outside, he sees a gap in the undeads outside the barrier. A long, thin path, leading somewhere. Ghost peeks around the corner, then looks at Toast.

“Do we… Go?” Toast asks, looking at him.

“I can’t tell you, it’s your choice,” Ghost says. Toast studies him for a moment.

“Okay, then let's go,” he grabs Ghost’s hand again, walking out of the house. Ghost just goes along with him, not bothering to close the door behind the two.

They follow along the path, the undead watching them idly. Toast can’t fight the smile on his face.

He’s holding hands with Ghost, who’s been really affectionate with him. He even kissed him twice! Toast is still buzzing from that. He feels like he can take on anything with Ghost by his side.

And Ghost looks like he could take on anything. He has a determined look on his face, walking with Toast. He pulled his pistol out somewhere along the way, pointing it at the floor as the two walk. Toast can’t help but glance at him. He doesn’t even know how long he’s felt this way towards him. Getting cut off earlier hurt, but it almost felt intentional. Maybe Ghost doesn’t want to hear it.

Maybe he’s just putting off hearing it. Until he can bear it. Until he knows Toast isn’t going anywhere. The thought of that hurts Toast’s heart, and he wishes he could tell Ghost he’s not going anywhere, but he’s afraid that if he speaks the undead will attack. So he holds off, for now.

The two walk until they’re out of the horde, waiting a bit longer before one of them speaks.

“Where to now, sir?” Toast asks quietly, glancing back at the horde.

“I can’t say,” Ghost says, though it seems to pain him. “You gotta find it.”

Toast sighs, looking around. He doesn’t even know who they’re following, or why. Just that Ghost wanted to, and Ghost seems to know what’s gonna happen next. Toast then spots some blood on the ground.

“Huh,” Toast looks at it. It looks fresh, and it seems to form a trail further down the block. He glances at Ghost. Despite how hard he’s trying to let Toast take the lead, there are so many telltale signs Ghost gives away that lets Toast know he’s on the right track. Right now, it’s the small smile on his face. Toast smiles too, turning back towards the blood and beginning to walk. Neither one lets go of the other’s hand.

Ghost doesn’t often let Toast take the lead. That thought pops into Toast’s head as he walks. It makes sense though, Ghost takes control like it’s in his nature. He always has. And he doesn’t like taking suggestions. The last time Ghost let Toast take control was during Spooker and Colon’s training.

Ghost wanted to see what Toast could do. So he took a step back, giving Toast simple instructions. Toast kind of butchered it. Despite being smarter than Ghost, he’s much worse at holding his ground. He went along with every little thing Spooker and Colon suggested.

Eventually, Ghost had to step in and save their asses. It had gone too far, and it was starting to get dangerous. Ghost had cleaned up their mess, then turned to the three. Toast expected to get told off for being reckless but instead he turned to Spooker and Colon, yelling at them. Toast felt bad. It was his fault, he was supposed to be watching them.

He looks over at Ghost again as they walk. He looks a lot different now than he used to. He’s matured, even though it’s hard to believe. He’s mellowed out too, his age starting to get to him.

Toast wonders what the future holds for the two of them. They can’t do this forever, they know that. One day they’ll be too old to keep running around. He wonders if he could convince Ghost to retire with him, move out to some old farm, maybe get a few dozen dogs to accompany them on some old fix-me-up farm. He smiles to himself as he looks away, knowing Ghost would never agree to that willingly. Ghost will probably be doing this far into his older years, until he physically can’t anymore. It’s what he loves. Toast doesn’t blame him.

Eventually, the blood trails into a building. Toast stops outside the door, looking at Ghost again. The door was left open. Ghost is tense, reluctantly removing his hand from Toast’s as he readies his pistol, taking the lead again. He steps into the building. Toast follows quietly, also on edge.

The building is old, seemingly an old abandoned warehouse. It’s dark, and dirty. Neither of them thought to grab flashlights though.

Ghost walks down a dim hallway quietly, approaching a corner.

Toast is surprised by a figure suddenly coming around the corner, lunging at Ghost. Ghost stumbles back, managing to dodge the attack before grabbing the figure, smacking them across the face with his pistol. They fall to the floor. Toast moves closer. Only then does he recognize who it is.

There, on the floor, is Jimmy Casket. There’s blood dripping down his face from his nose, and a cut on his arm that seems to be bleeding a lot. He’s probably what led them there.

Toast looks up at Ghost, “Sir, how did that surprise you-??”

Ghost stares down at Jimmy, steadying his breath, “That’s never happened before.”

Toast sighs. That’s great, now there can be surprises, and they’re probably in the place where no surprises would be most useful.

“We need to keep moving,” Ghost says, looking up at him. Toast just nods, moving closer to him.

Ghost begins to walk again, turning the corner hesitantly.

The two continue down the dim hallway until they reach a door. Ghost turns back to Toast, blocking the door.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen in here,” Ghost whispers, looking up at him.

“That’s alright, I don’t either,” Toast smiles a bit. Ghost frowns a bit.

“That’s not- I just, Toast,” Ghost puts a hand on Toast’s arm. “Whatever happens, just know… I’m sorry for being such a dick.”

Toast looks at him. He looks like he expects the worst, and that worries Toast. He puts on a reassuring smile anyway though. “Don’t worry, sir. It’s fine.”

Ghost just nods, looking up at him a moment more before turning away. He readies his pistol, looking back at Toast once more. Toast nods.

Ghost takes a deep breath, opening the door.

Through the door is a big room. There’s a ratty old couch and a dirty coffee table pushed against one wall.

On that couch is a man, and a dark figure.

The man has dark hair, and green eyes. He looks up upon seeing the door open, getting to his feet. The figure gets up as well. The two looked like they were having a conversation before they were interrupted.

The man looks at Toast, a smile breaking onto his face.

“Brother!” he smiles.

“Gavin,” Toast says harshly, raising his shotgun to point it at Gavin’s chest.

“Ah shit-” the dark figure mutters, looking at Toast and Ghost.

“We meet again, Maxwell Acachalla,” Ghost says, pointing the pistol at him.

“You know that won’t work on me, Johnny Ghost,” Maxwell says, tipping his hat at the pistol. Ghost grimaces.

“I’m aware,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Wow, Maxwell,” Gavin turns to look at him. “Here we were, thinking we’d have to go to them to kill them. They came to us!” he laughs.

“What idiots,” Maxwell growls, and the lights in the room begin to flicker.

Toast starts to feel nervous. He trusts Ghost, he does, but this is… It seems like a death wish. Facing off with two very strong people- They don’t even have the right weapons!

He glances over at Ghost warily. Ghost has a look of grim determination on his face.

“Sir,” Toast whispers, “Are you sure-?”

“Trust me,” Ghost says firmly, looking over at him. Toast can’t help but listen. He has to trust him. He doesn’t have any other choice.

“So!” Gavin says, “Let’s get this show on the road!”

And he certainly does so, starting with a very flamboyant show of lighting his hands up with green fire, and then throwing glowing orbs of pure flames at the two. Ghost and Toast split, getting out of the way as fast as possible. Toast turns back to face his brother quickly, trying to aim his shotgun at him. However, he’s suddenly overcome by the stench of decaying meat as something grabs him from behind. He spins around, instead aiming his shotgun at the undead behind him. He shoots, causing his ears to ring. The undead gets blasted back. Unlucky for Toast, there are more than a dozen more.

On the other hand, Ghost turned his attention to Maxwell, watching as the ghost flickered from sight. Ghost looks around frantically, trying to spot him. He doesn’t manage to find him in time, stumbling forward when something hits him in the back of the head. He turns around, pointing his pistol and firing. It goes straight through Maxwell, who laughs.

“You should know better than that, Ghost!” Maxwell laughs, advancing on Ghost.

Ghost curses, moving backwards. He trips on something, falling to the floor. Maxwell laughs more, grabbing him.

It’s over almost as soon as it started, Toast and Ghost thrown into a pile at Gavin’s feet. Maxwell grabs the guns from them as well, handing the pistol to Gavin.

“What do you say we do with them? Kill them slowly? One at a time? Both at once?” Maxwell asks as the undead form a tight semicircle around the two on the floor.

“I say one at a time,” Gavin says. One of the undead lifts Toast, another lifting Ghost, so they’re both on their knees. Toast looks up at Gavin.

“Gavin, please, listen to me,” Toast pleads. “We’re family-!”

Gavin glares at him. “We’ll start with him,” he says, pointing the gun to Toast’s forehead. Toast’s eyes widen, and Gavin smiles a bit. “It’ll be a nice show for his little boyfriend.”

Ghost just stares. He cannot count how many times he’s seen this, but it doesn’t get any easier. He reaches out before he’s even realized what he’s doing, taking Toast’s hand.

“It’ll be okay, Johnny,” Ghost says quietly. He knows he should believe it. He did everything right this time, it has to be right. He has to believe it.

But he finds himself doubting, letting the worry snake into his head, plant it's roots. He can’t watch this happen again. He looks down.

“Aw, look, how sweet!” Gavin laughs, pressing the gun more into Toast’s head. Toast squeezes Ghost’s hand. “Any last words, brother?”

Toast is about to say something, but never gets the chance, because at that moment the saviours of the day burst through the undead circle.

Colon whips out a water gun, aiming it at Gavin and Maxwell. He starts spraying.

Maxwell’s form flickers as he lets out a yell, his skin smoking.

“Back, you ghost!!” Colon yells, continuing to spray. Maxwell’s form flickers more, and then it vanishes altogether right as he goes to attack.

Gavin looks at him. “Really, salt water? Is that all you have??” he laughs, “That’s not gonna stop me from putting a bullet through his head.”

“No, but this is!” Spooker says from beside Colon. He then proceeds to pull out a pistol, shooting Gavin in the shoulder.

Gavin yells, dropping the gun to the ground. He turns to Spooker, infuriated. “YOU SHOT ME!” he roars.

“I shot you!!” Spooker repeats, smiling wide.

“Shoot him again!” Ghost yells. Gavin turns to him, planting a solid kick in Ghost’s stomach before getting shot again, in the leg.

This time, by Toast, who had picked the gun up off the ground.

“NO ONE hurts my husband and gets away with it!” Toast yells as he gets to his feet. He shoots again, hitting him in the leg once more.

“Johnny!” Ghost forces out a yell, “Stop!”

Toast looks down at Ghost just long enough for Gavin to make a limping break for the exit. Spooker and Colon watch him go as Toast drops the gun, kneeling next to Ghost.

“Oh- Goodness, sir, are you alright?!?” Toast cries, grabbing his arms.

“I’m fine,” Ghost wheezes, holding his stomach. “Just… Winded.”

“Thank god,” Toast says, then pulls him into a tight hug. “You- You lunatic! You could’ve gotten yourself killed-!”

Ghost lets out a light chuckle, patting Toast’s back, “Hey, it’s okay, Johnny. I told you to trust me.”

“And I did!” Toast says, pulling away from the hug a bit. “But I was about to lose it!”

Ghost just chuckles. Toast moves to stand up, helping Ghost up as well.

Once he’s on his feet, he turns to Colon and Spooker.

They tense up, looking at each other. But when they look back at Ghost, they’re both surprised to see a look of fiery pride on his face.

“Hey, you two did great,” he says, smiling a bit. He holds out a fist to Spooker, who excitedly bumps it. Colon does the same when it’s his turn. The two smile.

“It was great thinking on the salt water,” Ghost says, “and Spooker, those were some great shots, thought you could work on your gun safety. Did you just take the safety off when it was in your pocket?”

Toast watches as Ghost continues talking to the two. This is… new. Not unwelcome, just new. He gets the urge to plant a kiss on his forehead again.

This time, he doesn’t resist. He wraps an arm around Ghost’s shoulders to bring him closer, using his other hand to tilt his head towards him. He plants a soft kiss on Ghost’s forehead, pulling away smiling. Ghost smiles as well.

“Alright, let’s go home, yeah?” Ghost says, looking at the other two.

They nod.

The four start the slow walk home, picking off the few remaining undead that remain, that Gavin didn’t get rid of.

Toast doesn’t take his arm from Ghost’s shoulders once.

~~~

so anyway one last chapter after this one :)

[rawliverandcigarettes]

Mass Effect Retribution, a review

Mass Effect Retribution is the third book in the official Mass Effect trilogy by author Drew Karpyshyn, who happens to also be Lead Writer for Mass Effect 1 and Mass Effect 2.

I didn’t expect to pick it up, because to be very honest I didn’t expect to like it. 9 years ago I borrowed Mass Effect Revelations, and I still recall the experience as underwhelming. But this fateful fall of 2020 I had money (yay) and I saw the novel on the shelf of a swedish nerd store. I guess guilt motivated me to give the author another try: guilt, because I’ve been writing a Mass Effect fanfiction for an ungodly amount of years and I’ve been deathly afraid of lore that might contradict my decisions ever since I started -but I knew this book covered elements that are core to plot elements of my story, and I was willing to let my anxiety to the door and see what was up.

Disclaimer: I didn’t reread Mass Effect Revelation before plunging into this read, and entirely skipped Ascension. So anything in relation to character introduction and continuity will have to be skipped.

Back-cover pitch (the official, unbiased, long one)

Humanity has reached the stars, joining the vast galactic community of alien species. But beyond the fringes of explored space lurk the Reapers, a race of sentient starships bent on “harvesting” the galaxy’s organic species for their own dark purpose. The Illusive Man, leader of the pro-human black ops group Cerberus, is one of the few who know the truth about the Reapers. To ensure humanity’s survival, he launches a desperate plan to uncover the enemy’s strengths—and weaknesses—by studying someone implanted with modified Reaper technology. He knows the perfect subject for his horrific experiments: former Cerberus operative Paul Grayson, who wrested his daughter from the cabal’s control with the help of Ascension project director Kahlee Sanders. But when Kahlee learns that Grayson is missing, she turns to the only person she can trust: Alliance war hero Captain David Anderson. Together they set out to find the secret Cerberus facility where Grayson is being held. But they aren’t the only ones after him. And time is running out. As the experiments continue, the sinister Reaper technology twists Grayson’s mind. The insidious whispers grow ever stronger in his head, threatening to take over his very identity and unleash the Reapers on an unsuspecting galaxy. This novel is based on a Mature-rated video game.

Global opinion (TL;DR)

I came in hoping to be positively surprised and learn a thing or two about Reapers, about Cerberus and about Aria T’loak. I wasn’t, and I didn’t learn much. What I did learn was how cool ideas can get wasted by the very nature of game novelization, as the defects are not singular to this novel but quite widespread in this genre, and how annoyed I can get at an overuse of dialogue tags. The pacing is good and the narrative structure alright: everything else poked me in the wrong spots and rubbed how the series have always handled violence on my face with cruder examples. If I was on Good Reads, I’d probably give it something like 2 stars, for the pacing, some of the ideas, and my general sympathy for the IP novel struggle.

The indepth review continue past this point, just know there will be spoilers for the series, the Omega DLC which is often relevant, and the book itself!

What I enjoyed

Drew Karpyshyn is competent in narrative structure, and that does a lot for the pacing. Things rarely drag, and we get from one event to the next seamlessly. I’m not surprised this is one of the book’s qualities, as it comes from the craft of a game writer: pacing and efficiency are mandatory skills in this field. I would have preferred a clearer breaking point perhaps, but otherwise it’s a nice little ride that doesn’t ask a lot of effort from you (I was never tempted to DNF the book because it was so easy to read).

This book is packed with intringuing ideas -from venturing in the mind of the Illusive Man to assist, from the point of view of the victim, to Grayson’s biological transformation and assimilation into the Reaper hivemind, we get plenty to be excited for. I was personally intrigued about Liselle, Aria T’loak’s secret daughter, and eager to get a glimpse at the mind of the Queen Herself -also about how her collaboration with Cerberus came to be. Too bad none of these ideas go anywhere nor are being dealt with in an interesting way!!! But the concepts themselves were very good, so props for setting up interesting premices.

Pain is generally well described. It gets the job done.

I liked Sanak, the batarian that works as a second to Aria. He’s not very well characterized and everyone thinks he’s dumb (rise up for our national himbo), even though he reads almost smarter than her on multiple occasions, but I was happy whenever he was on the page, so yay for Sanak. But it might just be me having a bias for batarians.

Cool to have Kai Leng as a point of view character. I wasn’t enthralled by what was done with it, as he remains incredibly basic and as basically hateable and ungrounded than in Mass Effect 3 (I think he’s very underwhelming as a villain and he should have been built up in Mass Effect 2 to be effective). But there were some neat moments, such as the description of the Afterlife by Grayson who considers it as tugging at his base instincts, compared to Leng’s description of it where everything is deemed disgusting. The execution is not the best, but the concept was fun.

Pre-Reaperification Paul Grayson wasn’t the worst point of view to follow. I wasn’t super involved in his journey and didn’t care when he died one way or the other, but I empathized with his problems and hoped he would find a way out of the cycle of violence. The setup of his character arc was interesting, it’s just sad that any resolution -even negative- was dropped to focus on Reapers and his relationship with Kahlee Sanders, as I think the latter was the least interesting part.

The cover is cool and intringuing. Very soapy. It’s my favorite out of all the official novels, as it owns the cheesier aspect of the series, has nice contrasts and immediately asks questions. Very 90s/2000s. It’s great.

You may notice every thing I enjoyed was coated in complaints, because it’s a reflection of my frustration at this book for setting up interesting ideas and then completely missing the mark in their execution. So without further due, let’s talk about what I think the book didn’t do right.

1. Dumb complaints that don’t matter much

After reading the entire book, I am still a bit confused at to why Tim (the Illusive Man’s acronym is TIM in fandom, but I find immense joy in reffering to him as just Tim) wants his experimentation to be carried out on Grayson specifically, especially when getting to him is harder than pretty much anyone else (also wouldn’t pushing the very first experiments on alien captives make more sense given it’s Cerberus we’re talking about?). It seem to be done out of petty revenge, which is fine, but it still feels like quite the overlook to mess with a competent fighter, enhance him, and then expect things to stay under control (which Tim kind of doesn’t expect to, and that’s even weirder -why waste your components on something you plan to terminate almost immediately). At the same time, the pettiness is the only characterization we get out of Tim so good I guess? But if so, I wished it would have been accentuated to seem even more deliberate (and not have Tim regret to see it in himself, which flattens him and doesn’t inform the way he views the world and himself -but we’ll get to that).

I really disliked the way space travel is characterized. And that might be entirely just me, and perhaps it doesn’t contradict the rest of the lore, but space travel is so fast. People pop up left and right in a matter of hours. At some point we even get a mention of someone being able to jump 3 different Mass Relays and then arrive somewhere in 4 hours. I thought you first had to discharge your ship around a stellar object before being able to engage in the next jump (and that imply finding said object, which would have to take more than an hour). It’s not that big of a deal, but it completely crammed this giant world to a single boulevard for me and my hard-science-loving tastes. Not a big deal, but not a fan at all of this choice.

You wouldn’t believe how often people find themselves in a fight naked or in their underwear. It happens at least 3 times (and everyone naked survives -except one, we’ll get to her later).

Why did I need to know about this fifteen year’s old boner for his older teacher. Surely there were other ways to have his crush come across without this detail, or then have it be an actual point of tension in their relationship and not just a “teehee” moment. Weird choice imo.

I’m not a fan of the Talons. I don’t find them interesting or compelling. There is nothing about them that informs us on the world they live in. The fact they’re turian-ruled don’t tell us anything about turian culture that, say, the Blue Suns don’t tell us already. It’s a generic gang that is powerful because it is. I think they’re very boring, in this book and in the Omega DLC alike (a liiittle less in the DLC because of Nyreen, barely). Not a real criticism, I just don’t care for them at all.

I might just be very ace, but I didn’t find Anderson and Kahlee Sanders to have much chemistry. Same for Kahlee and Grayson (yes we do have some sort of love-triangle-but-not-really, but it’s not very important and it didn’t bother me much). Their relationships were all underwhelming to me, and I’ll explain why in part 4.

The red sand highs are barely described, and very safely -probably not from a place of intimate knowledge with drugs nor from intense research. Addiction is a delicate topic, and I feel like it could have been dealt with better, or not be included at all.

There are more of these, but I don’t want to turn this into a list of minor complaints for things that are more a matter of taste than craft quality or thematic relevance. So let’s move on.

2. Who cares about aliens in a Mass Effect novel

Now we’re getting into actual problems, and this one is kind of endemic to the Mass Effect novels (I thought the same when I read Revelation 9 years ago, though maybe less so as Saren in a PoV character -but I might have forgotten so there’s that). The aliens are described and characterized in the most uncurious, uninspired manner. Krogans are intimidating brutes. Turians are rigid. Asaris are sexy. Elcors are boring. Batarians are thugs (there is something to be said with how Aria’s second in command is literally the same batarian respawned with a different name in Mass Effect 2, this book, then the Omega DLC). Salarians are weak nerds. (if you allow me this little parenthesis because of course I have to complain about salarian characterization: the only salarian that speaks in the book talks in a cheap ripoff of Mordin’s speech pattern, which sucks because it’s specific to Mordin and not salarians as a whole, and is there to be afraid of a threat as a joke. This is SUCH a trope in the original trilogy -especially past Mass Effect 1 when they kind of give up on salarians except for a few chosen ones-, that salarians’ fear is not to be taken seriously and the only salarians who are to be considered don’t express fear at all -see Mordin and Kirrahe. It happens at least once per game, often more. This is one of the reasons why the genophage subplot is allowed to be so morally simple in ME3 and remove salarians from the equation. I get why they did that, but it’s still somewhat of a copeout. On this front, I have to give props to Andromeda for actually engaging with violence on salarians in a serious manner. It’s a refreshing change) I didn’t learn a single thing about any of these species, how they work, what they care about in the course of these 79750 words. I also didn’t learn much about their relationships to other species, including humans. I’ll mention xenophobia in more details later, but this entire aspect of the story takes a huge hit because of this lack of investment of who these species are.

I’ve always find Mass Effect, despite its sprawling universe full of vivid ideas and unique perspectives, to be strangely enamoured with humans, and it has never been so apparent than here. Only humans get to have layers, deserving of empathy and actual engagement. Only their pain is real and important. Only their death deserve mourning (we’ll come back to that). I’d speculate this comes from the same place that was terrified to have Liara as a love interest in ME1 in case she alienated the audience, and then later was surprised when half the fanbase was more interested in banging the dinosaur-bird than their fellow humans: Mass Effect often seem afraid of losing us and breaking our capacity for self-projection. It’s a very weird concern, in my opinion, that reveals the most immature, uncertain and soapy parts of the franchise. Here it’s punched to eleven, and I find it disappointing. It also have a surprising effect on the narrative: again, we’ll come back to that.

3. The squandered potential of Liselle and Aria

Okay. This one hurts. Let’s talk about Liselle: she’s introduced in the story as a teammate to Grayson, who at the time works as a merc for Aria T’loak on Omega, and also sleeps with him on the regular. She likes hitting the Afterlife’s dancefloor: she’s very admired there, as she’s described as extremely attractive. One night after receiving a call from Grayson, she rejoins him in his apartment. They have sex, then Kai Leng and other Cerberus agents barge in to capture Grayson -a fight break out (the first in a long tradition of naked/underwear fights), and both of them are stunned with tranquilizers. Grayson is to be taken to the Illusive Man. Kai Leng decides to slit Liselle’s throat as she lays unconscious to cover their tracks. When Aria T’loak and her team find her naked on a bed, throat gaping and covered in blood, Liselle is revealed, through her internal monologue, to be Aria’s secret daughter -that she kept secret for both of their safety. So Liselle is a sexpot who dies immediately in a very brutal and disempowered manner. This is a sad way to handle Aria T’loak’s daughter I think, but I assume it was done to give a strong motivation to the mother, who thinks Grayson did it. And also, it’s a cool setup to explore her psyche: how does she feel about business catching up with her in such a personal manner, how does she feel about the fact she couldn’t protect her own offspring despite all her power, what’s her relationship with loss and death, how does she slip when under high emotional stress, how does she deal with such a vulnerable position of having to cope without being able to show any sign of weakness... But the book does nothing with that. The most interesting we get is her complete absence of outward reaction when she sees her daughter as the centerpiece of a crime scene. Otherwise we have mentions that she’s not used to lose relatives, vague discomfort when someone mentions Liselle might have been raped, and vague discomfort at her body in display for everyone to gawk at. It’s not exactly revelatory behavior, and the missed potential is borderline criminal. It also doesn’t even justify itself as a strong motivation, as Aria vaguely tries to find Grayson again and then gives up until we give her intel on a silver platter. Then it almost feels as if she forgot her motivation for killing Grayson, and is as motivated by money than she is by her daughter’s murder (and that could be interesting too, but it’s not done in a deliberate way and therefore it seems more like a lack of characterization than anything else).

Now, to Aria. Because this book made me realize something I strongly dislike: the framing might constantly posture her as intelligent, but Aria T’loak is... kind of dumb, actually? In this book alone she’s misled, misinformed or tricked three different times. We’re constantly ensured she’s an amazing people reader but never once do we see this ability work in her favor -everyone fools her all the time. She doesn’t learn from her mistakes and jump from Cerberus trap to Cerberus trap, and her loosing Omega to them later is laughably stupid after the bullshit Tim put her through in this book alone. I’m not joking when I say the book has to pull out an entire paragraph on how it’s easier to lie to smart people to justify her complete dumbassery during her first negotiation with Tim. She doesn’t seem to know anything about how people work that could justify her power. She’s not politically savvy. She’s not good at manipulation. She’s just already established and very, very good at kicking ass. And I wouldn’t mind if Aria was just a brutish thug who maintains her power through violence and nothing else, that could also be interesting to have an asari act that way. But the narrative will not bow to the reality they have created for her, and keep pretending her flaw is in extreme pride only. This makes me think of the treatment of Sansa Stark in the latest seasons of Game of Thrones -the story and everyone in it is persuaded she’s a political mastermind, and in the exact same way I would adore for it to be true, but it’s just... not. It’s even worse for Aria, because Sansa does have victories by virtue of everyone being magically dumber than her whenever convenient. Aria just fails, again and again, and nobody seem to ever acknowledge it. Sadly her writing here completely justifies her writing in the Omega DLC and the comics, which I completely loathe; but turns out Aria isn’t smart or savvy, not even in posture or as a façade. She’s just violent, entitled, easily fooled, and throws public tantrums when things don’t go her way. And again, I guess that would be fine if only the narrative would recognize what she is. Me, I will gently ignore most of this (in her presentation at least, because I think it’s interesting to have something pitiful when you dig a little) and try to write her with a bit more elevation. But this was a very disappointing realization to have.

4. The squandered potential of Grayson and the Reapers

The waste of a subplot with Aria and Liselle might have hurt me more in a personal way, but what went down between Grayson and the Reapers hurts the entire series in a startling manner. And it’s so infuriating because the potential was there. Every setpiece was available to create something truly unique and disturbing by simply following the series’ own established lore. But this is not what happens. See, when The Illusive Man, our dearest Tim, captures Grayson for a betrayal that happened last book (something about his biotic autistic daughter -what’s the deal with autistic biotics being traumatized by Cerberus btw), he decides to use him as the key part of an experiment to understand how Reapers operate. So he forcefully implants the guy with Reaper technology (what they do exactly is unclear) to study his change into a husk and be prepared when Reapers come for humanity -it’s also compared to what happened with Saren when he “agreed” to be augmented by Sovereign. From there on, Grayson slowly turns into a husk. Doesn’t it sound fascinating, to be stuck in the mind of someone losing themselves to unknowable monsters? If you agree with me then I’m sorry because the execution is certainly... not that. The way the author chooses to describe the event is to use the trope of mind control used in media like Get Out: Grayson taking the backseat of his own mind and body. And I haaaaate it. I hate it so much. I don’t hate the trope itself (it can be interesting in other media, like Get Out!), but I loathe that it’s used here in a way that totally contradicts both the lore and basic biology. Grayson doesn’t find himself manipulated. He doesn’t find himself justifying increasingly jarring actions the way Saren has. He just... loses control of himself, disagreeing with what’s being done with him but not able to change much about it. He also can fight back and regain control sometimes -but his thoughts are almost untainted by Reaper influence. The technology is supposed to literally replace and reorganize the cells of his body; is this implying that body and mind are separated, that there maybe exists a soul that transcends indoctrination? I don’t know but I hate it. This also implies that every victim of the Reaper is secretely aware of what they’re doing and pained and disagreeing with their own actions. And I’m sorry but if it’s true, I think this sucks ass and removes one of the creepiest ideas of the Mass Effect universe -that identity can and will be lost, and that Reapers do not care about devouring individuality and reshaping it to the whims of their inexorable march. Keeping a clear stream of consciousness in the victim’s body makes it feel like a curse and not like a disease. None of the victims are truly gone that way, and it removes so much of the tragic powerlessness of organics in their fight against the machines. Imagine if Saren watched himself be a meanie and being like “nooo” from within until he had a chance to kill himself in a near-victorious battle, compared to him being completely persuaded he’s acting for the good of organic life until, for a split second, he comes to realize he doesn’t make any sense and is loosing his mind like someone with dementia would, and needs to grasp to this instant to make the last possible thing he could do to save others and his own mind from domination. I feel so little things for Saren in the former case, and so much for the latter. But it might just be me: I’m deeply touched by the exploration of how environment and things like medication can change someone’s behavior, it’s such a painfully human subject while forceful mind control is... just kind of cheap.

SPEAKING OF THE REAPERS. Did you know “The Reapers” as an entity is an actual character in this book? Because it is. And “The Reapers” is not a good character. During the introduction of Grayson and explaining his troubles, we get presented with the mean little voice in his head. It’s his thoughts in italics, nothing crazy, in fact it’s a little bit of a copeout from actually implementing his insecurities into the prose. But I gave the author the benefit of the doubt, as I knew Grayson would be indoctrinated later, and I fully expected the little voice to slowly start twisting into what the Reapers suggested to him. This doesn’t happen, or at least not in that slowburn sort of way. Instead the little voice is dropped almost immediately, and the Reapers are described, as a presence. And as the infection progresses, what Grayson do become what the Reapers do. The Reapers have emotions, it turns out. They’re disgusted at organic discharges. They’re pleased when Grayson accomplish what they want, and it’s told as such. They foment little plans to get their puppet to point A to point B, and we are privy to their calculations. And I’m sorry but the best way to ruin your lovecraftian concept is to try and explain its motivations and how it thinks. Because by definition the unknown is scarier, smarter, and colder than whatever a human author could come up with. I couldn’t take the Reapers’ dumb infiltration plans seriously, and now I think they are dumb all the time, and I didn’t want to!! The only cases in which the Reapers influence Grayson, we are told in very explicit details how so. For example, they won’t let Grayson commit suicide by flooding his brain with hope and determination when he tries, or they will change the words he types when he tries to send a message to Kahlee Sanders. And we are told exactly what they do every time. There was a glorious occasion to flex as a writer by diving deep into an unreliable narrator and write incredibly creepy prose, but I guess we could have been confused, and apparently that’s not allowed. And all of this is handled that poorly becauuuuuse...

5. Subtext is dead and Drew killed it

Now we need to talk about the prose. The style of the author is... let’s be generous and call it functional. It’s about clarity. The writing is so involved in its quest for clarity that it basically ruins the book, and most of the previous issues are direct consequences of the prose and adjacent decisions.The direct prose issues are puzzling, as they are known as rookie technical flaws and not something I would expect from the series’ Lead Writer for Mass Effect 1 and 2, but in this book we find problems such as:

The reliance on adverbs. Example: "Breathing heavily from the exertion, he stood up slowly”. I have nothing about a well-placed adverb that gives a verb a revelatory twist, but these could be replaced by stronger verbs, or cut altogether.

Filtering. Example: “Anderson knew that the fact they were getting no response was a bad sign”. This example is particularly egregious, but characters know things, feel things, realize things (boy do they realize things)... And this pulls us away from their internal world instead of making us live what they live, expliciting what should be implicit. For example, consider the alternative: “They were getting no reponse, which was a bad sign in Anderson’s experience.” We don’t really need the “in Anderson’s experience” either, but that already brings us significantly closer to his world, his lived experience as a soldier.

The goddamn dialogue tags. This one is the worst offender of the bunch. Nobody is allowed to talk without a dialogue tag in this book, and wow do people imply, admit, inform, remark and every other verb under the sun. Consider this example, which made me lose my mind a little: “What are you talking about? Kahlee wanted to know.” I couldn’t find it again, but I’m fairly certain I read a “What is it?” Anderson wanted to know. as well. Not only is it very distracting, it’s also yet another way to remove reader interpretation from the equation (also sometimes there will be a paragraph break inside a monologue -not even a long one-, and that doesn’t seem to be justified by anything? It’s not as big of a problem than the aversion to subtext, but it still confused me more than once)

Another writing choice that hurts the book in disproportionate ways is the reliance on point of view switches. In Retribution, we get the point of view of: Tim, Paul Grayson, Kai Leng, Kahlee Sanders, David Anderson, Aria T’loak, and Nick (a biotic teenager, the one with the boner). Maybe Sanak had a very small section too, but I couldn’t find it again so don’t take my word for it. That’s too many point of views for a plot-heavy 80k book in my opinion, but even besides that: the point of view switch several times in one single chapter. This is done in the most harmful way possible for tension: characters involved in the same scene take turns on the page explaining their perspective about the events, in a way that leaves the reader entirely aware of every stake to every character and every information that would be relevant in a scene. Take for example the first negotiation between Aria and Tim. The second Aria needs to ponder what her best move could possibly be, we get thrown back into Tim’s perspective explaining the exact ways in which he’s trying to deceive her -removing our agency to be either convinced or fooled alongside her. This results in a book that goes out of his way to keep us from engaging with its ideas and do any mental work on our own. Everything is laid out, bare and as overexplained as humanly possible. The format is also very repetitive: characters talk or do an action, and then we spend a paragraph explaining the exact mental reasoning for why they did what they did. There is nothing to interpret. No subtext at all whatsoever; and this contributes in casting a harsh light on the Mass Effect universe, cheapening it and overtly expliciting some of its worst ideas instead of leaving them politely blurred and for us to dress up in our minds. There is only one theme that remains subtextual in my opinion. And it’s not a pretty one.

6. Violence

So here’s the thing when you adapt a third person shooter into a novel: you created a violent world and now you will have to deal with death en-masse too (get it get it I’m so sorry). But while in videogames you can get away with thoughtless murder because it’s a gameplay mechanic and you’re not expected to philosophize on every splatter of blood, novels are all about internalization. Violent murder is by definition more uncomfortable in books, because we’re out of gamer conventions and now every death is actual when in games we just spawned more guys because we wanted that level to be a bit harder and on a subconscious level we know this and it makes it somewhat okay. I felt, in this book, a strange disconnect between the horrendous violence and the fact we’re expected to care about it like we would in a game: not much, or as a spectacle. Like in a game, we are expected to root for the safety of named characters the story indicated us we should be invested in. And because we’re in a book, this doesn’t feel like the objective truth of the universe spelled at us through user interface and quest logs, but the subjective worldview of the characters we’re following. And that makes them.... somewhat disturbing to follow.

I haven’t touched on Anderson and Kahlee Sanders much yet, but now I guess I have too, as they are the worst offenders of what is mentioned above. Kahlee cares about Grayson. She only cares about Grayson -and her students like the forementioned Nick, but mostly Grayson. Grayson is out there murdering people like it’s nobody’s business, but still, keeping Grayson alive is more important that people dying like flies around him. This is vaguely touched on, but not with the gravitas that I think was warranted. Also, Anderson goes with it. Because he cares about Kahlee. Anderson organizes a major political scandal between humans and turians because of Kahlee, because of Grayson. He convinces turians to risk a lot to bring Cerberus down, and I guess that could be understandable, but it’s mostly manipulation for the sake of Grayson’s survival: and a lot of turians die as a result. But not only turians: I was not comfortable with how casually the course of action to deal a huge blow to Cerberus and try to bring the organization down was to launch assault on stations and cover-ups for their organization. Not mass arrests: military assault. They came to arrest high operatives, maybe, but the grunts were okay to slaughter. This universe has a problem with systemic violence by the supposedly good guys in charge -and it’s always held up as the righteous and efficient way compared to these UGH boring politicians and these treaties and peace and such (amirite Anderson). And as the cadavers pile up, it starts to make our loveable protagonists... kind of self-centered assholes. Also: I think we might want to touch on who these cadavers tend to be, and get to my biggest point of discomfort with this novel.

Xenophobia is hard to write well, and I super sympathize with the attempts made and their inherent difficulty. This novel tries to evoke this theme in multiple ways: by virtue of having Cerberus’ heart and blade as point of view characters, we get a window into Tim and Kai Leng’s bigotry against aliens, and how this belief informs their actions. I wasn’t ever sold in their bigotry as it was shown to us. Tim evokes his scorn for whatever aliens do and how it’s inferior to humanity’s resilience -but it’s surface-level, not informed by deep and specific entranched beliefs on aliens motives and bodies, and how they are a threat on humanity according to them. The history of Mass Effect is rich with conflict and baggage between species, yet every expression of hatred is relegated to a vague “eww aliens” that doesn’t feed off systemically enforced beliefs but personal feelings of mistrust and disgust. I’ll take this example of Kai Leng, and his supposedly revulsion at the Afterlife as a peak example of alien decadence: he sees an asari in skimpy clothing, and deems her “whorish”. And this feels... off. Not because I don’t think Kai Leng would consider asaris whorish, but because this is supposed to represent Cerberus’ core beliefs: yet both him and Tim go on and on about how their goal is to uplift humanity, how no human is an enemy. But if that’s the case, then what makes Kai Leng call an Afterlife asari whorish and mean it in a way that’s meaningfully different from how he would consider a human sex worker in similar dispositions? Not that I don’t buy that Cerberus would have a very specific idea of what humans need to be to be considered worth preserving as good little ur-fascists, but this internal bias is never expressed in any way, and it makes the whole act feel hollow. Cerberus is not the only offender, though. Every time an alien expresses bias against humans in a way we’re meant to recognize as xenophobic, it reads the same way: as personal dislike and suspicion. As bullying. Which is such a small part of what bigotry encompasses. It’s so unspecific and divorced from their common history that it just never truly works in my opinion. You know what I thought worked, though? The golden trio of non-Cerberus human characters, and their attitude towards aliens. Grayson’s slight fetishism and suspicion of his attraction to Liselle, how bestial (in a cool, sexy way) he perceives the Afterlife to be. The way Anderson and Kahlee use turians for their own ends and do not spare a single thought towards those who died directly trying to protect them or Grayson immediately after the fact (they are more interested in Kahlee’s broken fingers and in kissing each other). How they feel disgust watching turians looting Cerberus soldiers, not because it’s disrespectful in general and the deaths are a inherent tragedy but because they are turians and the dead are humans. But it's not even really on them: the narration itself is engrossed by the suffering of humans, but aliens are relegated to setpieces in gore spectacles. Not even Grayson truly cares about the aliens the Reapers make him kill. Nobody does. Not even the aliens among each other: see, once again, Aria and Liselle, or Aria and Sanak. Nobody cares. At the very end of the story, Anderson comes to Kahlee and asks if she gives him permission to have Grayson’s body studied, the same way Cerberus planned to. It’s source of discomfort, but Kahlee gives in as it’s important, and probably what Grayson would have wanted, maybe? So yeah. In the end the only subtextual theme to find here (probably as an accident) is how the Alliance’s good guys are not that different from Cerberus it turns out. And I’m not sure how I feel about that.

7. Lore-approved books, or the art of shrinking an expanding universe

I’d like to open the conversation on a bigger topic: the very practice of game novelization, or IP-books. Because as much as I think Drew Karpyshyn’s final draft should not have ended up reading that amateur given the credits to his name, I really want to acknowledge the realities of this industry, and why the whole endeavor was perhaps doomed from the start regardless of Karpyshyn’s talent or wishes as an author.

The most jarring thing about this reading experience is as follows: I spent almost 80k words exploring this universe with new characters and side characters, all of them supposedly cool and interesting, and I learned nothing. I learned nothing new about the world, nothing new about the characters. Now that it’s over, I’m left wondering how I could chew on so much and gain so little. Maybe it’s just me, but more likely it’s by design. Not on poor Drew. Now that I did IP work myself, I have developed an acute sympathy for anyone who has to deal with the maddening contradictions of this type of business. Let me explain.

IP-adjacent media (in the West at least) sure has for goal to expand the universe: but expand as in bloat, not as in deepen. The target for this book is nerds like me, who liked the games and want more of this thing we liked. But then we’re confronted by two major competitors: the actual original media (in ME’s case, the games) whose this product is a marketing tool for, and fandom. IP books are not allowed to compete with the main media: the good ideas are for the main media, and any meaningful development has to be made in the main media (see: what happened with Kai Leng, or how everyone including me complains about the worldbuilding to the Disney Star Swars trilogy being hidden in the novelization). And when it comes to authorship (as in: taking an actual risk with the media and give it a personal spin), then we risk introducing ideas that complicate the main media even though a ridiculously small percent of the public will be attached to it, or ideas that fans despise. Of course we can’t have the latter. And once the fandom is huge enough, digging into anything the fans have strong headcanons for already risks creating a lot of emotions once some of these are made canon and some are disregarded. As much as I joke about how in Mass Effect you can learn about any gun in excrutiating details but we still don’t know if asaris have a concept for marriage... would we really want to know how/if asaris marry, or aren’t we glad we get to be creative and put our own spin on things? The dance between fandom and canon is a delicate one that can and will go wrong. And IP books are generally not worth the drama for the stakeholders.

Add this to insane deadlines, numerous parties all involved in some way and the usual struggles of book writing, and we get a situation where creating anything of value is pretty much a herculean task.

But then I ask... why do IP books *have* to be considered canon? I know this is part of the appeal, and that removing the “licenced” part only leaves us with published fanfiction, but... yeah. Yeah. I think it could be a fascinating model. Can you imagine having your IP and hiring X amount of distinctive authors to give it their own spin, not as definitive additions to the world but as creative endeavours and authorial deepdives? It would allow for these novels to be comparative and companion to the main media instead of being weird appendages that can never compare, and the structure would allow for these stories to be polished and edited to a higher level than most fanfictions. Of course I’m biased because I have a deep belief in the power of fanfiction as commentary and conversational piece. But I would really love to see companies’ approach to creative risk and canon to change. We might get Disney stuff until we die now, so the least we can ask for is for this content to be a little weird, personal and human.

That’s it. That’s the whole review. Thank you for reading, it was very long and weirdly passionate, have a nice dayyyyy.

[explosionshark]

Hey! Big fan of your writing. :) For the writing prompts, could I request #3 for Chloe Price and Victoria Chase?

hi i’m so sorry it took me a month to do this! thank you for the prompt! i think this is my first chaseprice. originally this was going to be sad, but i didn’t feel like bumming anyone (including me) out tonight so instead it got, uhhh, vaguely smutty. 

3. “It’s three in the morning.”

“It’s August 17th. Grass is green. That sleeve is way more trailer trash than badass punk rocker.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, were we not just reciting a list of the obvious at each other?”

“Fuck, Victoria, just get in the car before I change my mind,” Chloe practically growls, leaning across the cab to throw the passenger side door open in invitation.

“Why would I do that?” Victoria asks, but doesn’t stop, forcing Chloe to keep creeping down the street in her truck with the door open, like some kind of stranger danger-ass creep.

“Because it’s three in the morning and you’re walking down the street alone at night by yourself, like an idiot,” Chloe barks. She’s trying to do the right thing, trying to be like… all conscientious and shit. It hardly feels worth it, when once again, Victoria Chase finds a way to make her feel like a totally useless idiot the moment she opens her mouth. “Why are you walking down the street alone at night by yourself like an idiot?”

“Why are you stalking me in your truck?” Victoria tosses back. “You know, you’re not doing much for all those awful stereotypes about predatory lesbians, Chloe. What’s next? Going to offer me some candy? What, are you a friend of my mom’s?”

“Your mom and I aren’t friends, she just eats me out when your dad’s not home,” Chloe says and the tension in her shoulders, the sharp sting of humiliation reddening the back of her neck eases when Victoria chokes out a laugh. “Now stop being a bitch and get in the fucking car. It’ll be faster. Put us both out of our misery.”

Victoria actually pauses this time, glancing around the street before eyeing Chloe’s truck with suspicion. 

“No one’s gonna see,” Chloe rolls her eyes and leans back into her seat. “Literally everyone smarter than you’s at home in bed right now. So, like, the whole town.”

With a huge sigh, Victoria hauls herself into the truck, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the whole cab. She smells like expensive perfume, peppermint schnapps and wood smoke. She kicks her towering heels off immediately, pulling her stockinged feet up onto the bench and tucking herself into the corner of the cab.

Stockings. She’s wearing stockings under that short skirt, riding up even shorter with the twist of her legs. Stockings, like some kind of sexy old-timey movie star fantasy run amok. Chloe wonders how Victoria Chase finds a way to be 18 and 81 at the same time. 

“Whose party?” Chloe asks once she drags her eyes away from Victoria’s legs, pretending she doesn’t see the smirk on Victoria’s face that means she absolutely noticed.

“The Vortex Club’s. Who else?” Victoria asks, running a hand through her hair. It’s shorter now than the last time Chloe saw her, a few months ago. It makes her look older, more mature. It leaves Chloe feeling even more like a stupid teenager, fumbling and uncouth, even though she’s technically older than Victoria.

“Yeah, stupid question,” Chloe mutters. It feels dangerous, just the two of them in Chloe’s truck like this. “Not like you hang out with anyone else.”

“It’s called having standards,” Victoria sniffs. “Maybe if you tried it sometime you wouldn’t be nearly twenty and still getting busted by the cops for smoking pot and blowing up GI Joes with firecrackers behind the Circle K.”

“You heard about that?” Chloe laughs. It’s a little embarrassing, and David had given her absolute hell over it once word got back to him from his little buddies in blue, but Christ, it had been funny. 

“About how somehow you’re an adult who has the life of a Toy Story villain and you’re, like, fine with it? Yeah, Chloe. I heard about it.”

“And you think my life would be, what, different? Better? If I just wanted it to be? If I had your standards?” Chloe asks, pulling into the darkest corner of the Blackwell student lot and killing the engine. The cab is dark but for the light streaming in through the back window from streetlamp a few rows over. The night is silent without the rattle of the truck’s old engine. Chloe slithers across the seat like she’s been wanting to do since Victoria got into the truck. Closer, she can read the expression Victoria’s face a bit better – a little expectant, a little disbelieving, like she always seems to be when they’re together like this.

Like she’s halfway between scared and excited and she likes it best right there, between the two.

“I think our lives are what we make them,” Victoria says, voice even and calm, despite the quickening of her breath. Her makeup’s gently faded from the night, except for the lipstick Chloe saw her touching up on the street before she pulled up alongside her. It’s bright red, applied just a little too thick, Victoria a little too drunk to make it perfect. “I think if you want to be successful and you work hard for it, it will happen.”

Chloe wants to lean in and mess it up. She wants to taste it herself, scrape it off Victoria’s bottom lip with her teeth, smear it messily down her chin, her cheek. She wants that lipstick staining the collar of her shirt tomorrow when she wakes up.

But she waits.

“So people who don’t succeed, it’s just their fault for not wanting it enough, huh? For not working hard enough,” Chloe says and it makes her mad, kind of. But it doesn’t make her want Victoria less. Victoria says nothing, just keeps watching Chloe from across the bench, leg still tucked up under her. “Pretty rich girl like you, you would think that. Mommy and Daddy sending you to a fancy private art school. You would think that.”

“I worked hard to be here,” Victoria says.

“Yeah,” Chloe nods. “You and your standards.”

She leans forward, one hand behind Victoria’s head flat on the glass of the window, the other grasping the inside of a thigh, just under her skirt, just over where the stockings end. She applies the gentlest pressure, feels Victoria turn for her, legs falling open for her, hears the breath catch in Victoria’s throat.

Chloe knows an invitation when she sees one. She slides her hand higher.

You wouldn’t know how she was being touched from that perfectly cool look on Victoria’s face. Smug, almost bored. Chloe kind of admires her for it, even though she wants nothing more than to ruin that poise. It’s the challenge, the vaguely adversarial nature of the sex that keeps these encounters, brief and few that though they’ve been, interesting. 

It doesn’t take long, really. Chloe’s good enough at this by now and Victoria’s drunk enough to not care that she’s being obvious. Within minutes she’s writhing against the door, shaking and swollen, dripping down Chloe’s wrist and begging to come.

So, of course Chloe pulls away.

Victoria keens, scrabbling desperately at Chloe’s retreating arm, panting and lipstick-smudged and nearly delirious. “Fuck. Fuck. Why’d you stop?”

“Well, I figured you wouldn’t want any handouts, right?” Chloe drawls, and reaches over her shoulder for a fistful of her tanktop. She yanks the shirt up and over her head, liking the sound her necklace makes when it falls against her bare skin. And yeah, technically, this is a tremendously bad idea because they’re in the Blackwell parking lot and there’s security wandering around out there somewhere but, well. Fuck it. Life’s a risk.

“Are you serious right now?” Victoria glares, looking very regal and pissed off for a girl with her skirt hiked up over her hips. All the incandescent rage in the world couldn’t disguise the way her eyes keep drifting down to Chloe’s exposed breasts, though, the way she has to fight to meet Chloe’s eyes when she speaks.

“Well, it wouldn’t have been very fair of me not to give you a chance to earn it,” Chloe shrugs. “But, y’know, most people don’t know this about me but I’ve actually got a pretty fuckin generous spirit and shit. So, like, if you were to ask me nicely, I’m sure I could…”

“Oh fuck this,” Victoria snarls and for a moment Chloe thinks she must have finally pushed too far, that Victoria’s going to fumble her way out of the cab and stalk back to her room.

But instead she launches herself across the cab, shoving Chloe up against the other door so hard and clumsy and fast her elbow bounces hard enough off the steering wheel to make her whole arm go numb. But before she has a chance to complain about that Victoria’s in her lap, grinding against Chloe’s bare stomach while her fingers tug insistently at the metal bars through Chloe’s nipples.

She’s rough and pissed off and neither of them is going to last like this but, well. Victoria’s kind of a perfectionist, control-freak weirdo, right? Chances are she’ll want a few more rounds, to make it perfect.

Chloe’s never been one to back down from a challenge.

dialogue prompts

[uppercuts-and-undercuts]

Harry Hart, Eggsy Unwin, and Hartwin Fangirl/Rant/Headcanon dump

I seriously have so many feelings about these two, I don’t even know where to start. I’m talking full-on emotionally compromised. I can’t even. I am unable to can. Ever since I watched TSS, I’ve been reading and re-reading everything I could get my hands on. Even things that really aren’t my usual preferences. I’ve read everything from time-travel AUs, to fics with kinks I absolutely don’t have (and ones I absolutely do have), ones where Harry is a dragon, or Eggsy gets temporarily turned into a dog... angels/demons, A/B/O, bakery AUs, coffee shop AUs, same age!AUs, soulmates, serial killers, vampires, domestic, PWP, fluff, and essentially every trope I can think of - and probably a good few I can’t even remember. The point is? I love both of these dorks, and Hartwin.

I even force myself to keep reading when things descend into heavier angst than I expected. Too much angst leaves me a total mess. Hence, I try to stay away from anything with tags indicating an enormously bumpy ride. That being said, I’ve fought through a fair few heavy angst pieces, partially because they’re so well written, and partially because I’ve been invested enough to want to see everything work out. Believe me when I say I avoid the ‘unhappy ending’ and ‘major character death’ tags like the fucking plague (unless the MCD tag is accompanied by another tag like ‘but not really’, or ‘temporary’).

But what gets me the most about them, and Hartwin? The many different characterisations all these authors have given them, separately and as a couple, and the fact that they (mostly) just work. Some of them are contradictory, technically. But if you’ve got enough imagination, most of them even work together, even the seemingly ‘opposite’ ones. Some give you the fuzzies, some leave you fanning yourself, and some spark loads of daydreams. It’s gotten to the point where I don’t have a favourite characterisation, or even a complete list of favourite characterisations, because there’s too much! However! I’m going to rant giddily about some for a bit, because I have literally no friends.

Harry Hart:

Brutal elegance in a gorgeous suit

Sarcasm and polite disdain hiding a heart of gold

Morally dubious and manipulative

Daddy AF

Dapper gentleman who says ‘fuck’ a lot

Tall, dark, handsome, and will fuck you up without breaking a sweat

Sex on long legs

Loves all dogs, no matter what size, but weak for the tiny ones

Smoother than smooth

Awkward dork

Has no time for your classist bullshit

Actual tailor

Soft gent with so much love to give

Stoic gent who has no interest in relationships - until a cheeky chav with a heart of gold saunters into his life

King Harry

Makes love gently, coaxing, lovingly

Fucks like he’s being paid for it

Like, seriously, fucks

King of dirty talk

Gently murmuring praise

Loves fiercely

Incredibly possessive, and not even slightly ashamed of it

Repentant dirty old man

Unrepentant dirty old man

Certified Little Shit(™)

Gives zero fucks

Harry Hart-breaker

Super spy

Harry Fucking Hart

Above all, completely gone for Eggsy Unwin

Eggsy Unwin:

Vulnerable smol egg

Heart of gold

Smart-mouthed brat

Experienced street scrapper

Thicc AF

Bloodied knuckles and bleeding heart

Way smarter than people assume

Would literally die and kill for the people he cares about

Friend to animals everywhere - literally a Disney princess

Don’t talk shit about JB, he’ll defend his wheezy baby to the death

Just wants to be loved

Not afraid to tell it like it is - loudly, bluntly, and unashamed

Will ram that silver spoon even further up your arse, if you aren’t careful

Certified Little Shit(™) in training

Plays the idiot so everyone underestimates him

Just as at ease in a bulletproof bespoke suit as he is in trackies and trainers

Just wants to be loved

Prince of parkour

A total nurturer, just wants to take care of the people he loves

Unexpected virgin

Fucks like a champion

Keeps his heart behind heavily fortified walls - until a handsome gentleman in a bespoke suit beats the shit out of his tormentors

Never asks for anything for himself, yet sees Harry and wants

Actually very well read, that you very much

Sugar baby, and proud

Independent and works his ass off to stay that way

Hidden talents - archery, ballroom dancing, circus skills, etc.

Weak for soft older men

Eggsy Unwin, bitches

Head over heels for Harry Hart

As a couple

Disgustingly in love

Domestic husbands

Murder husbands

Both secretly spies

Harry being just as likely to kiss Eggsy’s hand as he is to rim him into next week

Eggsy constantly gets eyed-up by women and (worse, in Harry’s mind) other men. Harry is a jealous little shit, and loves to rub in the fact that Eggsy is completely oblivious to his admirers. Eggsy, of course, is oblivious to his admirers because he’s far too busy admiring Harry

When Harry gets jealous, he’s partial to getting Eggsy into bed (or over his desk, or against a wall, or even on the floor) and fucking him so good he cries. If Eggsy eventually realises what causes those occurrences, it’s only to his benefit.

Eggsy would be jealous over all the people who can’t help but admire Harry, if not for two facts. Firstly, that while he’s oblivious when people are giving him the eye, he’s definitely observant enough to realise that it’s what sets Harry off. Secondly, Harry is so obviously and completely devoted to him that it would be pointless to feel jealous. Why should he worry when he can feel Harry’s big hand settled warmly against the small of his back, brown eyes gazing down at him adoringly, and the smile that he only ever gives Eggsy on his lips?

Harry can’t help but give Eggsy pet names. It began when he first started to become fond of Eggsy it began. My boy, dear boy. Darling boy, eventually. And then, as Eggsy’s cheeky little thieving fingers began reaching out to steal his heart, they came thick and fast. My dear, dearest, darling, sweetling, my love.

Eggsy wasn’t one for using pet names, but he loved when Harry used them for him. For Eggsy, nicknaming was something he did without thought, usually to annoy or amuse. Even Merlin wasn’t safe from his sometimes regrettable attempts at nicknames, Gandalf and Dumbledore being Eggsy’s favourites. But his other half, the love of his life, only had one name Eggsy called him. Because he was Harry. and to Eggsy, Harry meant all the love in his heart, with every breath in his body

Everyone assumes Harry will be the sensible, restrained one of the two. Partially because of their age difference, partially because he always just looks so put together - of course he’d me the more mature. They assume incorrectly. Eggsy is surprisingly good at organising and doing what needs to be done, and can absolutely be serious when he needs/wants to be. Harry, obviously, can’t resist teasing him and making his life difficult during those times. He also finds it hilarious when Eggsy tells him off in front of people who don’t already know their personalities and dynamic

Harry spoils Eggsy whenever the boy lets him. Attention, affection, baths together, cooking for him, bringing him flowers, buying him things, trips and holidays, mind-blowing sex, everything he can think of. Eggsy never asks for anything at all, but Harry would never deny him anything if he did. Harry honestly just wants to give him the world anyway. He would tear the stars from the sky, if he thought Eggsy would like them.

[marquiswrites]

Out of Time [1/25]

Masterlist

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)

Characters: James “Bucky” Barnes, Sam Wilson, Rhodey, 

Relationship: James “Bucky” Barnes/Reader,

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 2155

Warnings: language, mentions of death, dumbassery

Author’s Notes: Day 1 of @panicfob‘s 25 Days of Fics, Prompt: Snowflakes 

Summary: After the final battle with Thanos, Bucky finds himself struggling. Trying to fit in with the Avengers without Steve, trying to maintain a life out of the shadows, trying to stop himself from spiraling back into darkness. And then, the team finds a woman encased in ice, buried beneath a castle. Maybe it was just that he remembered his own time in Cryo, maybe it was the way she was so obviously outside of her own time, maybe it was just because she was beautiful… But something about this woman drew him to her. 

And Bucky needed to find out why.

Chapter 1: Snowflakes

“We’re picking up a lot of energy readings.” 

Bucky sighed, wiping a hand over his face before leaning over to see what exactly Rhodey was talking about. It had been difficult to keep the Avengers going after the final battle with Thanos. Even more difficult now that Steve was gone. 

For Bucky at least. 

“We’re gettin’ pop ups like this three times a week, how’s this one any different.” Sam jerked his chin towards the map, arms crossed over his chest. 

Maybe Bucky wasn’t the only one having a hard time coming to terms. 

Rhodey glanced up between the two of them before sighing, reaching a hand to point at the location. “This isn’t some city that’s dealing with a surge of power. And it’s definitely not some punk kid trying to make up for lost time with his pranks. That right there, that’s a castle in the middle of scotland. Satellite imaging is picking up nothing but a ruin, but it’s lighting up brighter than a christmas tree on the scanner.”

Bucky frowned, looking closer at the map. Letting out a soft huff. “That’s Buchanan Castle… Got turned into a hospital during the war.” He ignored the prickling of his skin that meant both men were looking at him with interest. ��Lots of men were brought there. But I was never close enough to have been there. Just remember reading some reports offhand, made me smirk because of the name.”

“You just… remember off hand reports?” Rhodey raised a brow before shaking his head. 

“And this coming from the guy who can’t remember who he is half the time.” Sam smirked playfully, bumping his shoulder to Bucky’s. Making Bucky roll his eyes. 

“Don’t have to remember that, to remember that I kicked your ass.”

“Whatever you say, Barnes.” Sam snickered once more, then nodded to the screen. “Alright, so what’s got a pile of rubble that is probably more than a little haunted going off like that Rhodes?”

“Honestly… I have no idea. It’s sending off power surges like crazy. But there’s nothing there. Literally. Just rubble.” Rhodey knotted his brow before looking up to the other two. “Think we need to call in a strike?”

Bucky wet his lips before shaking his head. “No… No, me and bird brains can handle this. Everyone is still licking their wounds. But get Shuri on call. If it’s technical, she’ll be our best option.”

Rhodey gave a signal nod. 

Bucky gave an apologetic smile to Sam when he caught his wry smile. 

“Hey, I might be the one with the shield now, but we’re a team Barnes. And that means if you know weirdly specific shit about haunted castles that are surprisingly older than you, you get to take point.”

Snorted, Bucky pushed away from the table. “Whatever you say, bird brain.”

“Alright asshole, get geared up, we’ll take the big bird for the drop.”

 __

Bucky met him at the Quinjet exactly an hour later, both of them in their gear. It felt odd to be in something so similar to what he had worn during the war. 

At the same time, it felt like coming home. 

Nodding to Sam before they climbed aboard, a pilot setting their destination while the two took their seats. “So, any idea of what to expect?” “Don’t have a clue, we’re going in blind here.” Sam turned his gaze to the front, and Bucky knew him well enough by now to know what was weighing on him. 

“You’re not him.” 

Sam’s gaze jerked back to Bucky immediately, it was the first time either of them had brought him up since the funeral. 

“That Punk would drop in without a parachute and just find a way to make things work. Idiot that he was.” Bucky turned his gaze down to his hands. Watching as his fingers twisted and fidgeted. Swallowing past the lump in his throat. Though he managed to let out a huffed laugh. “Never thought twice when it came down to it. Took all the stupid with him…”

Sam remained quiet, watching Bucky closely. Then offering a softer smile when Bucky finally met his gaze. “You’re an idiot too, don’t get me wrong. But you’re also the type of man to take a parachute. That’s why he left you the shield. You’re some of the best parts of him, but smarter, more experienced…”

“You talk about me like I’m an old man, old man.” Sam’s lips turned up in a wry smile before offering Bucky a solemn nod. “But I appreciate the pep talk.”

“That’s me, smooth with the words.” Bucky chuckled. Letting them both fall into a comfortable silence. Considering how different it was compared to that first car ride together. When the only thing that they had had in common was Steve, and their joined job of trying to protect the punk. 

He didn’t realize when he had let his guard down around Sam, but he knew that he was the better for it. Better for being able to work beside the man who had taken up his best friend’s shield. Better for being able to help support him. 

In a way, Bucky thought it was healing. 

It was that thought that lingered as he started to doze. 

Even two years ago, the thought of relaxing enough around other people to let his guard down enough to do so would have been impossible. Maybe Steve had gotten something right after all. 

He hadn’t realized how much time had passed when a hand clapped to his shoulder, startling him out of the dreams, hands flexing in an attempt to keep from reaching for the knife at his belt. 

“Redwing is doing recon. We’re hovering above the landing sight for now.” Sam spoke quickly, reading whatever information was being fed across the red lens of his goggles. Taking a seat beside Bucky. “Nothing on the surface so far. And still no source for the power spike. Rhodey?”

“Comms are live. We’re not picking up any interference, which is, to put it plainly, weird. A spike like this should make it almost a dead spot.”

“Unless it’s trying to communicate with something.” Bucky spoke softly. His gaze gliding over the floor by his feet. Trying to work out the possibilities. 

“You mean, like a signal being sent out? But what would use an electrical spike for that?” Rhodey questioned softly. Sam turning his gaze to the Soldier. 

“We live in a time where there are actual Asgardian Gods and men who can wield magic. Are we able to rule it out?” Bucky shrugged. “Don’t know why I feel like it’s a message, just do.”

Sam nodded. “Alright, Rhodey, see if we can analyze the spikes. Or if there are any other sorts of waves that we can pick up. If this is a message, I really want to be sure that it’s not warning us that we’re about to go all Independence day again.”

Bucky frowned sharply, his gaze twitching to Sam.

“Hell man, have you watched any of the movies I suggested to you?”

“Can you two figure out your movie night dates later… We’re picking something up… It’s… It’s morse code.” Rhodey sounded almost impressed. Or maybe it was afraid. “I wasn’t taught this, sending you the data.”

“I can read it. Sam?”

“What, am I supposed to just make a sound or something?” Sam baulked, incredulous at the prospect.

Bucky grit his teeth. “Tap it out against the floor or something. Or just say dot and dash. And I need a piece of paper.” Pushing himself to stand and heading for the front. He exchanged a few words with the pilot that led to him taking his seat beside Sam once more, armed with a notepad and pen. “Alright. Start now.”

Sam started to tap out the morse code against the wall, carefully reading the spikes and drops to translate. Letting Bucky scribble each note as he did. The signal repeating over and over through the energy spikes that Rhodey was picking up. 

“--. . .-. -- .- -. ... / .- .-. . / -.-. --- -- .. -. --. .-.-.- / ... - --- .--. .-.-.- / .--. .-. --- - . -.-. - .. -. --. / - .... . / .... --- ... .--. .. - .- .-.. .-.-.- / ... - --- .--. .-.-.- / ... . -. -.. / -- . -. .-.-.- / ... - --- .--. .-.-.- / ... --- ... .-.-.- / ... - --- .--. .-.-.-” 

“It was a call for help…” Bucky let the pen fall to the floor as he stared at it. “But… There were never any bombings there. The germans never hit it… It was a place where prisoners of war were taken as well as our soldiers.”

“Hey… you alright?” Sam leaned closer, concern written quickly over his face before glancing down to the translation that Bucky had written beneath the morse code.

“Germans are coming. Stop. Protecting the hospital. Stop. Send Men. Stop. SOS. Stop.”

“Maybe they managed to keep it from being bombed?”

Bucky shook his head. “There wasn’t any anti-aircraft positioned there. They would have been sitting ducks…”

___

The two of them dropped to the ground. Each fingering their guns, sweeping forward from the quinjet to head towards the castle. Bucky turned his gaze up to it, looking at the way that it had crumbled, covered in moss and other growth. Something in his chest squeezing tight at the thought of what it might have looked like filled with the wounded and nurses. Barely coming back to his senses when Sam pressed past him. 

“Nothing yet. Seems like the readings are coming from below.” The bird brain said softly, apparently feeling the same sort of reverence for the place that Bucky was. 

“Guess we better find a way d-” Bucky grunted out the last word as he felt the floor crumble around him, scrambling as he fell to try finding a grip on the loose stones. Sam diving to his knees beside the other and clasping tightly to Bucky’s arm with both hands. 

“I think you found it.” Groaning as he helped tug Bucky back onto solid ground inch by inch. “What the hell do they feed you?” 

Bucky grit his teeth to bite back the remark he wanted to make. Instead turning on his knees to glance down at the hole that had just opened up. “Gimme your flashlight.”

“Use your own.” 

Rolling his eyes, Bucky nodded to the dark space before them. “Bit hard to do that.” Sam rolled his own eyes in turn before handing over the flashlight. Both peering in at what was exposed. Sweeping the light to try getting any sense of what might be hidden beneath. 

“Oh look, more moss.” 

“Fuck’s sake, Bird Brain, can you keep your beak shut for five minutes?” Bucky snarled, undoing the straps of his harness, carefully unclipping each section from the others before he was tying the ends together. 

“So… boy scouts?” Sam was grinning playfully once more, already taking up the slack to tie to the nearest mound that looked like it wouldn’t fall apart on them. Testing the pull while Bucky tossed the makeshift rope down into the hole. 

“Don’t even start. Keep in contact.”

Sam nodded, taking hold of the rope to help brace it as Bucky began his descent, the flashlight gripped between his teeth to keep both hands free, sweeping it back and forth in the hopes of actually finding whatever it was they were looking for. 

But so far all he could see down here was mist. 

Landing lightly on his feet, Bucky reached for one of the fallen guns. Switching the flashlight to his nondominant hand. “Doing an initial sweep. Nothing yet.”

There was something disconcerting about the mist. The way that it seemed to roll out from the opposite end of the room. Or how thick it was considering there wasn’t any sign of a source of water. Bucky frowned to himself, glancing over his shoulder to check his bearings before continuing forward. 

It was colder down here, cold enough to bring a chill to even Bucky’s skin, something he wasn’t used to with the serum burning through his veins. And it seemed to only get colder with each step. The mist taking on an almost unnatural glow. 

Bucky felt himself drawn further, his steps coming without thought, his attention focused inexorably ahead. The further away from the surface, the harder it was to ignore the pull. By the time he reached the end of the space, he was hardly aware of anything beyond the need to find the source. The coms nothing more than a mild buzz in his ears. 

He gasped softly at the sight. Soft pulses of light coming from within what appeared to be a coffin made of ice, the frost grown so thick he couldn’t see what, or who, was inside. He could have sworn that he saw snowflakes flurrying just beneath frost, dancing in time.  The pulses matched the energy spikes that Rhodey had found, matched the morse code warning about the germans. 

His hand moved of its own accord, wiping a clean streak across the top of the coffin. Leaning forward until he could make out a face. His breath catching at the sight, heart stopping in his chest. 

And then your eyes opened.

[nightklok]

Nathan/Abigail if you wanna?

Ultimate Ship Meme [Open]

Oh of course!!! Thanks for asking!! :D

General:

Rate the Ship -   Awful | Ew | No pics pls | I’m not comfortable | Alright | I like it! | Got Pics? | Let’s do it! | Why is this not getting more attention?! | The OTP to rule all other OTPs

How long will they last? - Probably an incredibly long time, by then they would have both been able to overcome everything and become incredibly close as a result. Nathan probably ended up maturing and genuinely wanted to be a good boyfriend w

How quickly did/will they fall in love? - I don’t think there’s really much room to put an opinion here as it’s pretty much confirmed Nathan fell for her at first sight while Abigail was more of a gradual thing.

How was their first kiss? -  They had their first kiss at the dethsub, right? Was kinda hot. (pun intended)

Wedding:

Who proposed? - Nathan-though poor thing was so incredibly nervous he probably nearly lost the ring during the Light Parade in Disney World (Because he would, of course, propose in Disney World; he has class-)

Who is the best man/men? -  Nathan would obviously choose Pickles as his best man, hands down.

Who is the braid’s maid(s)? - Abigail would have probably picked any off-screen friends she had!

Who did the most planning? - They hired a wedding planner because who wants to stress about that?

Who stressed the most? - Nathan-because he genuinely wants everything to be perfect and is afraid that if the wedding fails than that means his love life is doomed 

How fancy was the ceremony? - Back of a pickup truck | 2 | 3 | 4 | Normal Church Wedding | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Kate and William wish they were this big.

Who was specifically not invited to the wedding? - Rockso (Magnus too if you go by the headcanon he lived)

Sex:

Who is on top? -  Abigail-it’s a fem-dom/sub-male relationship you can’t tell me otherwise-

Who is the one to instigate things? - I think it kinda depends? Probably both would on their own separate times/occasions

How healthy is their sex life? - Barely touch themselves let alone each other | 2 | 3 | 4 | Once a couple weeks, nothing overboard | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They are humping each other on the couch right now

How kinky are they? - Straight missionary with the lights off | 2 | 3 | 4 | Might try some butt stuff and toys | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Don’t go into the sex dungeon without a horse’s head

How long do they normally last? - I think it depends on what they plan on actually doing, whether it’s something entirely new or something that’s comfortable for both of them. 

Do they make sure each person gets an equal amount of orgasms? - definitely! Even if Nathan is the sub in the relationship, he just wants her to be happy so he does his best and Abigail wants the same for him too even if she does tease him more than what’s expected.

How rough are they in bed? - Softer than a butterfly on the back of a bunny | 2 | 3 | 4 | The bed’s shaking and squeaking every time | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Their dirty talk is so vulgar it’d make Dwayne Johnson blush. Also, the wall’s so weak it could collapse the next time they do it.

How much cuddling/snuggling do they do? - No touching after sex | 2 | 3 | 4 | A little spooning at night, or on the couch, but not in public | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They snuggle and kiss more often than a teen couple on their fifth date to a pillow factory. (It’s Nathan that takes up more of this-he’s just a big ol’ teddy bear-)

Children:

How many children will they have naturally? - Probably 1-2

How many children will they adopt? - If they can’t conceive, probably 1-2

Who gets stuck with the most diapers? - Nathan; I can see him being more of a stay-at-home dad so he’d be unfortunately stuck with that (he probably asked to adopt an older kid just to avoid doing that all over again when they wanted more kids-)

Who is the stricter parent? -  Abigail definitely is the stricter parent and runs a tight ship but she does at least plan at least once a week family outings which is mainly Disney World or a park which is a nice way for everyone to spend time together.

Who stops the kid(s) from doing dangerous stunts after school? - Abigail

Who remembers to pack the lunch(es)? - Nathan

Who is the more loved parent? - I’d say they’re both loved equally for different reasons-

Who is more likely to attend the PTA meetings? They tried to go together, got banned before the first meeting even ended. Apparently, people don’t think having a battle of the bands via hovercrafts is ‘safe’. Lame.

Who cried the most at graduation? - Nathan

Who is more likely to bail the child(ren) out of trouble with the law? - Charles 

Cooking:

Who does the most cooking? - Nathan; he’s surprisingly a great cook since his mother taught him and he kind of just went from there!

Who is the pickiest in their food choice? - Nathan; there are some food textures/flavors that he just simply doesn’t want to eat at all. 

Who does the grocery shopping? - Abigail

How often do they bake desserts? - They probably don’t have much time or desire to bake desserts, either ask Pickles to make them something or use a  pre-made cake/ cake mix like heathens.

Are they more of a meat lover or a salad eater? - I’d say they’d do both? Nathan probably is a bit harder to cook for considering how he doesn’t like certain textures for food, including how meat is prepared so probably anything with vegetables or soft textures is used more often to prepare quick meals.

Who is more likely to surprise the other(s) with an anniversary dinner? - Nathan 

Who is more likely to suggest going out? - Abigail; definitely more active so she’d be more into actually going outside whereas Nathan is totally fine with just staying inside and watching movies.

Who is more likely to burn the house down accidentally while cooking? - Nathan-sometimes if he has a really good song idea, he’ll just write it down and then end up forgetting about what he was doing earlier-it happens

Chores: 

Who cleans the room? -  Nathan (reluctantly) 

Who is really against chores? - Nathan

Who cleans up after the pets? - Nathan

Who is more likely to sweep everything under the rug? - Nathan

Who stresses the most when guests are coming over? -  Abigail

Who found a dollar between the couch cushions while cleaning? - Nathan 

Misc:

Who takes the longer showers/baths? - Abigail

Who takes the dog out for a walk? - Dog? I’m positive you mean pet alligator. And it’s Nathan definitely.

How often do they decorate the room/house for the holidays? - They do it for only the major holidays like Christmas and Halloween. Halloween is completely decked out and they’re definitely known as that couple with a 100ft GhostBusters statue or something

What are their goals for the relationship? - They both just wanna make each other happy and honestly live their best lives. Nathan just wants Abigail to know she’s safe around him and that he’ll definitely put on his old battle gear and fight for her to the ends of the earth this time. Abigail wants Nathan to know she too would want to protect him and let him know that he’s definitely smarter than he thinks he is, and he’s doing so wonderful as a boyfriend/husband and doesn’t need to shower her with gifts because she already knows.

Who is most likely to sleep till noon? - Surprisingly, Abigail. When she has her days off and doesn’t need to work, she’s definitely sleeping longer. Nathan lets her and prepares her a brunch in bed if so-

Who plays the most pranks? - They honestly don’t do it-it’s just not in their nature; they will fool around most definitely though Nathan’s version of fooling around are rather -brutal- (”Hey we’re stupid rich right?, Why don’t we just-buy the government? For fun?” “Nathan no-”)

[ihatecoconut]

Other, Intelligent.

Certain things come with living alongside a child genius and nobody was surprised when she blew up the toaster. Or the microwave. Or the oven. Or the panini maker. Or any of the other kitchen appliances she decided needed investigating. Looking back, my parents must have been paying out weekly for new pieces of general home technology, and even if they never complained or told her to stop, it must have been annoying- and expensive. For me, it was an endless source of excitement, entertainment and information- Alice never meant to end her ‘experiments’ with explosions, but we loved it when it happened.

My parents were never strict, they were shockingly relaxed considering I was training to become a world class dancer and my sister was smarter than everyone else in the house combined and, between us, we successfully reduced the value of the house significantly over the course of our childhood. Myself through jumps and leaps and kicks and spins that didn’t end well in my dance shoes, which had hard enough heels to leave dents in many of the walls, and my sister through damaging the electrics, the water pipes, and anything around them, through her attempts to fix them. To her credit, she did end up improving things around fifty percent of the time and that number only increased as we got older. Anyway, my parents weren’t strict, but they did have one rule that was completely enforced and punished severely if we even thought about breaking it- we weren’t allowed to go into the second half of the house where our mother’s lab, and our father’s surgery lay.

Their rule made sense, even when I was young. My father was a plastic surgeon and my mother was a scientist who seemed to specialise in everything, so it was an incredibly dangerous place, and we didn’t care about them anyway- our house was huge and there were basically hundreds of rooms with things we were allowed to touch. That was my thought process, even as we matured into teenagers, and I assumed my sister agreed because she never gave any indication she thought otherwise. Or at least, she hadn’t up until yesterday, when she burst into my room with the same panicked expression that normally preceded the fire department being called.

“I need to show you something.” she said, and then turned around and walked out with obvious expectation that I was going to follow her. I did, because what am I as a sister if not moral support and partner in crime?

She led me to the entrance of the surgery, which also marked the boundary of where we were not allowed to go, and bit her lip. We looked at each other and I felt a sense of doom creeping down my spine to settle, uncomfortably, in the pit of my stomach. I cleared my throat until I could speak again,

“Alice...”

She placed her hand on the silver doorknob and looked at me with a hint of fear in her eyes.

“Alice, what have you done?”

Her only response was a tight smile as she turned the knob and pushed the door open, I followed her through the door because I had followed her this far and couldn’t see the point in leaving then. And, if I’m being completely honest, I didn’t want to leave, I wanted to see what it was that was making her act this way and the dread in my stomach had twisted into a sick excitement at the prospect of entering somewhere forbidden. Alice then proceeded to navigate the corridors with the confidence of someone who had been there many times before, and I wondered when she had found the time to familiarise herself without my knowledge- we had grown apart slightly as we aged but I’d have never thought she was able to do something like that without me noticing or suspecting something.

There’s a recovery section in the clinic where father’s patients sleep off their anaesthesia and rest after their surgeries. It contains ten beds in two rows down the two walls, each with a green curtain that went all the way around to give the occupants some semblance of privacy. I had been in there once before, when I was younger and very ill, so I recognised it. The room was empty since mother and father were away for a month and therefore there were no patients booked, but the curtain was drawn around the bed furthest from the door in a way that stood out in the emptiness and I turned to Alice as soon as I noticed. She was already looking at me, chewing on her bottom lip in a way that told of her inner emotional turmoil. And her guilt. I didn’t bother asking what she had done again, I just prepared myself for the worst possible outcome, strode the length of the room with more confidence than I felt and yanked the curtain open.

When I turned back, my sister hadn’t moved, still standing a foot from the doorway and chewing her lip guiltily. She didn’t look like she would answer any questions, so I turned back to the bed. There was a girl, lying there and hastily clothed in a combination of mine and Alice’s clothing, she seemed to be a similar age to the two of us but there was some odd innocence in her face that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. She was asleep, or potentially unconscious and she was also beautiful- something that I noticed almost immediately- with with the smoothest, clearest skin I had ever seen, sharply prominent cheekbones that were somehow also still as soft as the rest of her face and eyelashes, the colour of a black hole and longer than any I have ever seen. For several moments the room was silent, I stood and stared, mesmerised by the girl’s beauty and on the cusp of starting a new religion. And then, of course, Alice spoke and I watched my new religion crumble before me as I whipped around to stare at her,

“She’s what?”

Alice shifted uncomfortably under the weight of my stare, “She’s an AI. Artificial Intelligence.”

“Where did she come from?” I demanded, even while I knew the answer in my heart; there was only one place an AI- a real one- could have come from and she was standing in front of my looking increasingly sheepish.

We sat down, on the bed next to the one the AI was asleep in, and I listened as my sister quietly explained to me how she had seen an article several weeks back that had detailed how research funding for AI level technology had been stopped in so many places due to the work of a group claiming that AIs would threaten human existence. She showed me some of their writings and, I have to admit, they have some persuasive arguments. The ‘red button’ argument was particularly interesting, and argued that if you created an artificial intelligence that gained pleasure through having a red button on its side pressed, it would eventually evolve to make sure the button was always being pressed and to make sure nothing was there to prevent the red button being pressed, including removing (killing) anything it deemed to be a threat to the button (humans). That was the one that made their argument the most clear to me and I could understand why people wanted this research stopped, what I didn’t understand was why or how that had led to the creation of the girl currently lying on the bed. Alice sighed when I asked her and told me she had just wanted to prove them wrong by creating an AI that wouldn’t bring about the downfall of humanity and who could fit in with humans and learn from them because then their arguments would be useless. As I sat there, on a bed in my father’s clinic, I felt more like the older sister than I ever had, I felt like there was that divide between us for the first time in my entire life.

We sat, side by side and stared at my sister’s creation for long enough that I began to consider the consequences of playing God and then the consequences that would come after our parents found out. The clinic was that certain level of quiet in which your deepest darkest thoughts think they have permission to come out and make themselves thought. I know where my mind went and how awful those thoughts were, so I cannot even begin to imagine how bad Alice’s were or even what she was thinking of. Eventually, something else occurred to me and I cleared my throat, pitching my voice just loud enough to be heard in the quiet room without completely destroying the silence that hung between us.

“Alice,” my voice cracked slightly but I carried on regardless, “why does she have skin?” That wasn’t exactly the question I meant to ask, I meant to ask why she was humanised, why she looked like us, but that was what came out. Alice raised her head and looked at me, and then at the bed with the AI, and then back at me and for a second, and awful second, I thought she was going to cry. But, she threw her head back and started laughing instead- hysterical laughter, but laughter nonetheless- and after another few seconds I found myself joining in. To anybody looking on, we must have made the strangest sight; two teenage girls, gasping for breath through their laughter, leaning on each other for support while the metal, hospital-like bed creaked under their moving weight, alongside a third girl who lay, unconscious in the bed next to them.

I don’t know how long we sat there, gasping and giggling, but eventually our laughter naturally died down and we wiped the tears from our eyes. Silence returned, occasionally broken by a hiccup or a stray giggle, but this time it was the comfortable silence Alice and I normally spent our time together in. Alice sighed, a gentle, happy sound and dropped her head onto my shoulder.

“I wanted her to be like a person,” she began, and I could feel her jaw moving against my bare skin, “so I built her like a person, out of the metal in mummy’s lab.”

She paused and so I made a humming noise of acknowledgement, which seemed to be what she was waiting for,

“But it just looked creepy, you know? I mean, it was just a metal skeleton, so I made a proper skeleton- one shaped like a human- and brought her here to cover that in skin with daddy’s equipment. And then I added the extras, the eyes and hair and now she’s...” Alice gestured at the bed vaguely with her hands in lieu of finishing that sentence and then looked up at me. I nodded because, much like the anti-AI arguments, it made logical sense, even if I never would have thought of it.

Those last few moments, before the AI woke up, were the most peaceful I had experienced in a while. I sat there, with my sister’s head on my shoulder, our fingers laced together, and I was allowed to just be.  

[redhairdontcare732]

Sweet PeaxReader: Riot Night From Hell, Part 2

Author's note:

This is the second part to this, so if you haven't read the first I highly suggest you do, or this won't make sense! I'm trying to figure out how to make a masterlist so that all the imagines will be in one place, but it's not up yet. Again, italicized text indicates a flashback or memory.

AnYWaYs. Here's the last part to this two-shot

TRIGGER WARNING: Violence against women, semi-graphic violence described.

Jughead POV:

“Hello?”, I answered the unknown number with a sickening feeling of dread.

“Juggie! Long time no see”, a very familiar voice practically sang.

“Penny. Called to brag about the impending war?”, I practically snarled. She giggled with her disgusting, sickly sweet facade.

“Oh Jughead, why brag about something so certain? You should know by now that isn't my style. No, I was calling because there's someone here that I thought should get to speak with you before I take care of her”, she quipped.

I furrowed my brows in confusion. Surely she didn't have Betty? I'd narrowly gotten Toni back from those assholes; there was no way that they'd had time to find Bets, right? The growing pit of fear tightened and took hold in my middle. Before I had a chance to formulate any semblance of a response, my anxious mental rambling was abruptly cut off by the angry shouting from an all too familiar voice.

“JUGHEAD DON'T LISTEN TO THIS BITCH”.

“Y/N”, I managed to choke out. My heart had officially sank into the very bottom of my being. They had Y/N. There was an electric crackling sound followed by an agonizing shriek that made my knees turn weak. This couldn't be happening, not to her. Y/N was like the sister that Jellybean never got the chance to be for me; she'd been a constant in my life ever since we were in diapers. Hee homelife sucked, and more often than not she stayed in the trailer with me. She knew me better than anyone, even Betty. She was the first to support my novel about Jason Blossom, the first to welcome me into the Serpents. Hell, on more than one occasion she’d even beaten up the morons that bullied me. All of the memories of Y/N and I flooded my mind; all the times she showed up to my trailer in the middle of the night to escape her father, every movie she and I watched and dissected together, the stupid jokes, each time she fiercely protected me, everything.

I leaned against the wall, arms crossed firmly against my chest as I surveyed the student lounge with my usual mix of disdain and disinterest in equal parts. It was just another day in hell,with the exception of the eerie sense of foreboding; the discovery of Jason’s body had cast a dark cloud over Riverdale High’s student body, that much was clear. Students walked a little faster to class, people walked in groups, and the entirety of the students seemed on-edge. Well, almost everyone.

My attention was fading in and out as Reggie ripped into Moose and Kevin before spouting his insane theories about Jason’s murder. I watched Archie struggle with the vending machine with limited interest, thoughts turning to my own theories and ideas regarding the Blossom investigation, until I heard Reggie utter my own name.

“What was it like Suicide Squad? When you shot Jason?”, the dark haired jock addressed me with a sense of near gleeful malice. I rolled my eyes back so far I almost worried they would get stuck that way like my mom used to tell me. “You didn’t do stuff to the body...like after?”.

“It’s called necrophilia Reggie, can you spell it?”, I replied, disgust and disinterest written all across my face. Reggies face went from smug to angry in seconds, and it wasn’t long before he leapt over the side of the chair he previously occupied and charged at me like a bull released at a rodeo.

“Come here you little--”, Reggie started.

“Leave him alone Reggie”, Archie stepped in front of me, placing himself between the Bulldog and myself. I didn’t quite expect him to step up for me, but I guess it was just part of Archie’s personality. He was never one to allow the Bulldogs to walk all over anyone, unless of course it was only with words.

“Yes Reginald. Do leave him alone”, I heard a voice come from just across the room. I pulled myself out of my musings about Archie to turn and find Y/N leaning against the lounge's doorway. Her arms were crossed, leather jacket pulling lightly against her broad shoulders, and one of her combat clad feet leaned casually against the frame. Her face probably appeared impassive to the rest of the students, but I had known Y/N my entire life and I knew that she was pissed. Her Y/C/E were alight with anger, and her fists were tightly clenched against her arms. Y/N wasn’t fond of any of the Northside kids, but she especially hated anyone that talked down to me or Southsiders in general. She had always been overly protective of me; she always half-teased that she was my ‘big sister’, which I always refused to accept because I was 2 months older than her. She would always say that didn’t matter, it was her ‘maturity’ that made her the ‘older twin’. Regardless, his was going to end poorly for Reggie if he didn’t back off quickly.

Reggie didn’t appear fazed by her sudden arrival for more than a second or two. He scoffed, head turning from Y/N to me and back.

“And what are you going to do about it if I don’t?”, he sneered. Y/N smiled her most terrifying smirk; it was the kind of smile that always looked so out of place on her otherwise sweet face, the kind that should be more than enough warning for it’s target. I noted the way Reggie’s face fell fractionally before his cocky facade returned, and I shook my head. Reggie always was a special kind of stupid, and now it was finally going to get him into trouble.

“Well Reginald, I just thought that you should have a fair warning before I’m forced to step in”, she stated simply, choosing to circle the Bulldog slowly like a snake circling its prey. It was almost poetic really; most Serpents didn’t have the correct mannerisms to actually be compared to a snake, but Y/N fit the gang’s name to a T. She was beautiful, but in a completely different way, cunning, smarter than most people, and always slow to strike-- but when she did, you were going to regret ever underestimating her or not heeding the warnings she was so clearly giving. Reggie snorted once more before turning his back on her and facing me once more.

“What, can’t fight your own battles Jones?”, he glowered. “Gotta get your butt buddy here and your Serpent Slut to step in for you?”.

I shoved to make my way past Archie but the redhead blocked my path. Y/N tapped Reggie on the shoulder in a way that seemed too gentle for the occasion. If I hadn’t been present for the previous events I wouldn’t have thought she was doing anything more than trying to gain his attention. But this was Y/N and Reggie and there was nothing innocent about it. As soon as the football player turned, he received a solid punch to the nose. He immediately reeled backwards, blood spurting from between his fingers and profanities spewing from his lips. Y/N chuckled and kicked his shins, making the Reggie fall to his knees clutching his nose and groaning. Her hand flicked out quick as lightning, long nails digging into the soft part of his right ear causing the bloody boy to howl out in pain.

By now we’d gathered the attention of everyone in the lounge. Moose and several of the other Bulldogs stood and rushed over to their friend, but not one dared step in between Y/N and her target. They all just stood tensely, watching the entire thing unfold with looks mixed between disgust, fear, and slight admiration. Veronica, Betty, and Kevin stood together off to the side watching the chaos with wide eyes. I relaxed back into a bored stance, more than happy to let Y/N do her thing. Most people would be worried about the girl in the midst of a fight with a jock twice her size, but I knew better. I watched with a sort of pride as Y/N leaned in close to Reggie’s ear, fingers still pinching his other so hard that it was beginning to draw blood.

“Now, I can let the Serpent Slut comment slide because, honestly, I don’t put much stock in the opinion of a flea-ridden mutt, but the comments about my brother over there need to stop. So, if you value the use of your pathetic face or dick again, I suggest you leave Jughead alone. Permanently.” she hissed. “And don’t think that just because I don’t go to school in this Pep-filled nightmare that I won’t hear about things. Trust me when I say I have my ways Bulldog. This is your first and final warning”.

She released his ear and stepped back. Then she turned to me with a bright smile and a new twinkle in her eye, all signs of her terrifying persona gone as quickly as it came on.

“Ready Jug?”, she asked kindly. I smirked and headed over to the door with her, exiting the school and leaving behind the still shocked faces of the students left in the lounge.

“You know I could have handled that on my own”, I teased, only half-serious. Y/N laughed out loud and shoved my shoulder with her own as we made our way down the steps outside the school.

“Oh Juggie I'm sure you could have, but what kind of big sister would I be if I didn’t help?”, she giggled, stopping for a moment to pinch my cheeks playfully. I swatted her hands away, smile still planted firmly on my face as we stepped out into the cool fall air.

Y/N was so much more than a sister to me. I'd always teased her about calling us twins, but truth be told she was right. She was my family, even more so than my parents or Jelly, because she had chosen to be in my life and actually stay in it. Y/N was the one constant factor in my life.

“Mhm, I gotta say this girl has more fight in her than the last one”, Penny simpered. “Of course we're obviously a bit more impatient than we were previously, and besides Y/N/N and I have some unfinished business of our own”.

“What do you want Penny? What's the endgame here? You've already got all of the Serpents ready to enter the Colosseum and fight, when you and I both know there's no chance of survival. What more could you possibly want at this point?”, I rasped, still reeling in shock and fear.

“I'll tell you the same thing I told your pathetic, fake little twin: don't play stupid with me Jones, you're too smart for that. You,Y/N, and your teenage wastoids did me dirty and I haven't forgotten”, she snarled. “So you'd better show up soon because while I am loving watching Riverdale burn, my patience with you Joneses is running dangerously thin”.

“Surely you know that this won't end well?”, I stated trying futilely to sound more strong than I was feeling. Penny chuckled darkly.

“Oh I know it won't Jughead, but I'm not the one that's going to lose everything. Because if you bring anyone along with you, including your dad or this one's anger management case of a boyfriend, I'll kill her on the spot. No little Red Riding hood hiding out in the woods either. You come alone or don't come at all” she threatened.

“Whichever works for me really”, Penny continued nonchalantly. “Either way I get a Jones all to myself”.

“So if I come to you, no tricks, you'll let Y/N go?”, I asked evenly.

“Course kid. Just show up alone and I'll let the little Serpent Slut go”.

“NO JUG DON'T. SHE'S A LYING FUCKING--”, I heard Y/N start to shout before her voice abruptly cut off. The sounds of sickening groaning and thudding filled the phone line.

“I'd hurry up and make a decision here Jughead. With the mouth on this one we may have to start the party early”. Penny laughed before ending the call.

My eyes were filled with unshed tears, and I threw my fist against the side of the Wyrm in anger. There were no options left, no reprieve from the shit show that had overtaken Riverdale. Y/N didn't deserve this, none of the Serpents did. I wiped my eyes futilely as the tears continued to stream down my face, and dialed the one number I knew could maybe get Y/N out of there alive.

    “This is Hiram”, Mr. Lodge answered curtly.

    “Fangs getting arrested, the riot, the Ghoulies showing up the night of the riot, with Penny in tow, taking Y/N. None of this is happenstance”, I said, half to Mr. Lodge, half to myself. It was hard to believe that all this could be orchestrated by one mad-man, but then again this was Riverdale.

“Jughead I genuinely have no idea what you’re talking about”, he sighed.

“You’ve been buying up everything you could, but you couldn’t buy us, so you paid the Ghoulies and Penny to go war with the Serpents, so you could finally get rid of us once and for all. How much is this costing you?”, I ground the words out of my mouth, still in slight disbelief that they were even real. But they were. This was real, and Y/N, my dad, and the entire Serpent population were in danger thanks to the coward I was currently speaking to.

“I’m hanging up now”, Hiram replied after a few seconds.

“ ‘Cause I have a counter offer”, I practically cut him off. His line went nearly dead; he was silent. “Mr. Lodge?”.

“I'm listening”, he answered finally.

Y/N’s POV:

    I sat, or rather perched near a crackling fire while I watched, with more hate in my eyes than I had ever felt, Penny who sat calmly across from me. The orange and yellow flames crackled with a relaxing, sweet glow that did not fit the scenario. My hands were bound behind me with the thickest, sharpest fucking rope in existence. I swear Penny had gone and found the oldest, most uncomfortable length of rope in Riverdale just to piss me off and add insult to injury. Speaking of injuries, I was 99% certain that I had a concussion based on the pounding in my head that was unlike any other I’d ever felt before and the blood that I could feel dripping down my neck. It was as if one minute I was riding with FP, and in the next I was awoken in the worst way possible. Malachai had decided that the best way to rouse me was to shove his taser in my ribs. I awoke screaming, confused and in more pain than I could describe. Being tasered was like someone shoving an electrified fork into my core that was ripping my muscles apart. I would have much preferred the sternum rub that cops used to wake drunks, or even a punch to the face over their chosen method.

    “Good morning dollie, did you have a nice nap?”, Penny giggled as I attempted to stand up. I could still feel the remnants of the electric shock coursing through me and it made me feel as if I was going to be sick. One of the two Ghoulies that were holding me up by my armpits decided that I wasn’t moving fast enough. He yanked my head up by the roots of my hair, causing my eyes to water with pain and the wound on the back of my head to throb. Penny walked up to me slowly, eyes staring into mine the entire way. Penny’s eyes were a disgusting pool of emotionless darkness; though her eyes appeared to be a light blue in color, as she got closer I realized that they were speckled with black spots. How fitting. She finally reached me, smiling at me sweetly before sucker punching me straight in the gut. All the breath left my body in a single whoosh, but I refused to cry out in pain. I would not give Penny anymore satisfaction in seeing me suffer. The same putrid Ghoulie grabbed a fistful of my Y/H/C hair and made me look up.

    “Aw, what’s wrong? Nothing to say?”, Penny snarled before punching me across the jaw. Stars danced across my vision and I fought hard not to pass out once more. I used every ounce of strength I had to lift my head on my own.

“Penny”, I growled. “What the fuck do you want?”.

“Awww come on now, don't  play stupid with me love, you're too smart for that”, she pouted with fake concern. “I want payback from you and all your backstabbing teenaged Serpent pals. Although it seems like the town has already taken care of one of you for me. Pity, he would've been such fun to beat; that sweet little face all twisted in pain”, she risked wistfully. Then she grinned like some kind of demonic Cheshire cat, leaning in dangerously close to my face.

“Speaking of sweet, at least I will still have the pleasure of explaining to your loser boyfriend all the ways I'm going to make you scream before these guys-- ”.

I spat at Penny's face, hitting her directly under her eye. My spit had turned bloody from her punch, and it now adorned her scowling face. Though I knew I would pay dearly for my action I couldn't bring myself to regret it once I watched the Snake Charmer's face go from smug and all knowing to disgusted and furious. I felt a twisted sense of pride in that moment. Penny could do her worst to me, but I would die before I let her speak like that about Fangs, Sweet Pea, or anyone else I cared about. The Ghoulies holding me yanked me down by my arms and kicked my knees out from under me; I fell to the ground in a heap, knees taking the brunt of the fall. Penny wiped my bloody saliva from her cheek with the inside of her jacket before chuckling lightly and kicking me directly in the face. I couldn't help but cry out in pain as I felt my lip split in several places and heard the sickening crunch of my nose breaking. Fresh, hot blood squirted and sputtered from my nose like a faucet, and I tilted my head forward in a useless attempt to keep myself from choking on it.

“Think it's time we gave your little brother a call, don't you?”, she asked while cracking her neck in a businesslike manner.

“Leabe him out of this”, I hissed, trying to sound like the bitch didn't just break my nose. Penny laughed.

“Aww that's adorable. You think you call the shots around here doll?”, she asked condescendingly. “Bring her over to sit. Wouldn't want her to pass out again before the real fun begins”.

The men holding me shoved me roughly onto a chair as I fought with every ounce of strength I had not to lose consciousness. I vaguely heard Penny speaking to someone, but largely my thoughts were filled with Sweet Pea. The only reason I was even clinging to reality right now was him; I still wondered if he was okay, and hoped he would be smart enough not to avenge what was about to go down. As I struggled against the darkness that threatened to overtake me, I heard Penny more clearly call Juggie by name, and I fought against all my pain to warn him.

“JUGHEAD DON'T LISTEN TO THIS BITCH”, I screamed with all my might. Surely he must know that there was no way that Penny was going to let me go no matter what he did. I was dead no matter what, but Jughead was an idiot if he brought himself into this too. I didn't have too long to catch my breath before Malachai shoved his crackling  taser into my ribs once more. I couldn't hold back the cry of pure pain that ripped it's way up my chest and out through my bloody lips. The taser had dug into me in nearly the same spot as before, and I vaguely smelt the sickening aroma of burning flesh as I began to black out once again. Malachai was having none of that, and he slapped me across the face in order to rouse me. Through the ringing in my ears that hadn't stopped since I'd awoken I vaguely could make out the sounds of Penny luring Jughead to this pit of terror, using me as bait.

“NO JUG DON'T. SHE'S A LYING FUCKING--”,

I was cut of abruptly by one of the Ghoulies tipping my chair backwards harshly until I felt my back hit the ground with an agonizing thud. As if this wasn't enough, he also kicked me twice in the stomach for good measure. I couldn't fight the darkness this time, and I allowed the waves of numbness to overtake me.

I don't know how long they'd left me unconscious, but I did know that they'd moved me once more. I now sat across the fire from Penny, no Ghoulies holding me up. They'd positioned me awkwardly in a chair, the ground around me filled with the gruesome sight of my own blood. As I waited in silence I internally wondered how much blood I'd lost tonight. If my constant struggle against unconsciousness was any indication, probably a lot.

“Look who decided to rejoin the party”, one of the Ghoulies practically giggled. I struggled against the ties that dug into my wrists futilely, anger reigniting as I recalled the events of the night. Penny laughed from her place across the fire.

“Oh please Y/N, by all means please get out of those ties. I’d love to see what you think you can do with all of us here”, she laughed mercilessly. I huffed, ignoring the screaming protests from nearly every part of my body. I settled myself more comfortably in the chair, although there was no way any position was going to be in anyway comfortable given the state of my injuries. I glared at Penny before sending a sickly sweet smile her direction. If I was going to die all because of this raging bitch I was at least not going to afford her the satisfaction of seeing me fall apart.

A twig snapped from somewhere behind me.

Jughead entered the grounds through the brush and for the first time since I was brought here I felt my eyes fill with hot, salty tears. I couldn’t believe he was stupid enough to come here, without any backup. He was going to end up with the same fate as me, and the unnecessary sacrifice from the boy I considered closer than family was too much for my heart to bear.

“You fucking moron”, I mumbled, unable to think of anything else to say. Jughead eyed me up and down with a look of pure sorrow as he assessed my injuries. I briefly wondered if I looked worse than I felt, but quickly dismissed the thought. Nothing could possibly look worse than the way my body was feeling at the current moment.

“The sacrificial lamb arrives”, Penny exclaimed as she stood. Ghoulies flanked her on either side, and the orange glow from the fire made her gaunt face seem even more evil. Jughead reluctantly turned his attention from me and he turned to face her, his expression stoic.

“I’ll remind you of the deal I made with your boss, Hiram Lodge”, he stated lifelessly. “I turn myself into you tonight and there’s no bloodshed tomorrow. Y/N goes free”.

“Yes, apparently getting you two out of the picture is more important to him than an all out Serpent annihilation”, Penny replied. “Kudos”.

“What do you mean the two of us?”, he ground through his teeth. “Y/N is leaving. Now”.

    Penny just laughed, the sound of her witches cackle echoing throughout the clearing.

    “Let’s just say that Mr. Lodge and I may have, re-negotiated a bit after you called. We agreed that one less Serpent to deal with tomorrow the better off we’ll be”, she sneered. Jughead hung his head, eyes closed and lips pursed in a thin line. “Come on kid, did you really think your sacrifice was really going to save anyone? Y/N gets it, she’s known from minute one. You really should have listened to her”.

“You son of a--”,

    “So do I at least get one last cigarette before this thing or what?”, I interrupted Jughead, voice hoarse from screaming. His face snapped up to meet mine, blue eyes filled with so much sadness that I couldn’t help but send a small smile his way. I was really going to miss him.

    “That’s your last request?”, Penny chuckled with disdain. I held my ground, staring into her empty eyes with as much contempt as I could possibly convey. Penny shrugged, and motioned to one of her tagalongs. He stepped up to my now standing form, switchblade flicking out in what I’m sure was meant to be a threatening motion as he waved it in front of my face tauntingly. Did he really think the threat of death was really going to faze me at this stage of the game? His uneven teeth glinted against the flickering light from the fire as he leaned down and swiftly cut the ties binding my hands. I grabbed my pack from my back pocket, lighting up quickly and walking slowly over to Jughead, unsure the whole way if my legs would really be able to take me all the way there. I savored the taste of the sweet nicotine as it hit my throat, blowing the smoke out through my nose.

    I reached Jug after some difficulty; the eyes of every insane asshole in the clearing were trained on each of my movements, but I mentally blocked them out as I took in the boy in front of me. He looked about twenty years older than I’d last seen him, and I felt a pang in my heart at his change in demeanor. I brought my hand up to his arm, gently squeezing it and smiling lightly.

    “Y/N…”, he started, voice cracking. I held up my other hand as a way of silencing him.

    “Me too Juggie”, I said simply, trying to show him how much he meant to me through my eyes. Being my twin had its perks, and Jug seemed to understand what I was getting at immediately. He brought his arms around my shoulders gently, hugging me to his chest like he used to when we were kids and I was hiding out from my father. After what felt like only seconds, I disentangled from my brother and turned back to the group with as much strength as I could muster. I took one last puff from my cigarette, flicking it absentmindedly into the fire.

    “30-2 huh. You guys that scared of us?”, I sniggered. Malachai and the rest of his posse stalked towards Jughead and I slowly.

    “The only scary thing is what we’re going to do to your not-so-little boyfriend when we find him”, he snarled. I blinked once, turning to Jug and giving him a blank look. Then I felt all the rage that had been building all night, hell my whole life, snap from inside me like a rubber band. I was nearly blinded by the intensity of the anger that was aching to come from every pore in my body.

    “DON’T YOU FUCKING TOUCH HIM”, I bellowed as my fist swung out of its own accord and landed solidly in the center of Malachai’s ugly painted face. From that moment all hell broke loose; all the Ghoulies attacked Jughead and I with a kind of insane vigor that I couldn’t describe if I tried. I attempted to fight back at first, but waves and waves of blows were coming down on me like the downpour of rain during the sad montage part of a rom-com. After the first few hits my body became mercifully numb, and I just lay on the ground waiting for the comforting curtain of darkness to overcome me once again.

    As I faded in and out from consciousness my mind was flooded with thoughts of my Sweetest Pea. I'd always thought it was all bullshit when people claimed they saw their life flash before their eyes during experiences like these. I also never dreamed that this kind of thing would ever happen to me. But it was, and I could confirm that my entire life with Pea was playing through my mind as I lay brokenly on the cold ground. I couldn't really feel my face at all, but in my head I was smiling as I enjoyed watching each of my memories like a comforting movie.

I recalled the way Sweet's dark curls bounced across his forehead as he laughed that truest laugh that only a select few, me included, could draw from him. I thought of the way his smooth lips would perk up into a smile whenever he saw me and the way his strong jaw felt under my fingers as his lips connected with mine. I heard the moans of pleasure that I took such pride in pulling from him in our more intimate moments. I re-lived the countless lazy days that we spent in our trailers, his strong arms holding me protectively. Nestled in the way I loved to lay on his solid chest when we cuddled in bed; how he would always tighten his hold around my middle and whine whenever I attempted to get up. I was soothed by the memory of his steady heartbeat against my cheeks as his fingers grazed over my back and arms gently. I felt the way his calloused fingers felt when they danced across my cheeks, leaving a small trail of electricity in their wake no matter how many times he repeated the action. I heard the deep, soothing bass of his voice, lips tickling the shell of my ear as he told me he loved me. But above all, I heard my own voice echoing as I promised him that I would never leave him. Tears filled my eyes as I realized that I would be breaking my promise tonight, and I prayed as the world faded from view that he could find some way to forgive me.

Sweet Pea's POV:

I skidded to a stop and barely switched my bike off before I began sprinting to the spot Toni had identified. There was an abandoned fire crackling, with no sign of Penny or her Ghoulies. FP and I shared a glance; his eyes were open as wide as they could go, and he looked almost as terrified as I was betting I probably looked. I only spared a second before sprinting off into the thicket, FP hot on my heels as we entered the brush to search. My head whipped around frantically for any signs of Y/N. I probably looked like a fucking mental patient with the way I tore through the uneven terrain, but I couldn't be bothered to care. The fires of anger in my chest had died down to make way for the anchor of fear, guilt, and panic that was weighing me down the longer I went without Y/N in my arms.

“PEA”.

FP's frantic howl rang in my ears like the sound of the shot that killed Fangs. I whipped around to find him kneeling on the ground a couple of yards away from where I stood. I sprinted faster than I ever had, ignoring the way my legs screamed in protest and the way my heart sank into my feet. I dropped to my knees as soon as I reached my destination, giant unshed tears forming in my eyes and the back of my throat burning at the sight before me.

Next to a badly beaten Jughead lay my beautiful Y/N. Her face was nearly unrecognizable with the multiple cuts and swollen bruises forming across her once gentle features. The plump lips that I loved so much were nearly indistinguishable from the rest of her face they were split so badly, and there looked to be teeth marks on her slender neck. Her Serpent jacket was missing, and I could see several areas of her exposed skin had been either burned or slashed in some way. Her long Y/H/C locks were matted and covered in blood and dirt, and there was blood under some of her nails. The knuckles on her right hand were swollen and bloody; I noted with a sick sense of pride that she likely fought back against the Ghoulies, even though she was outnumbered. That's my girl, never one to go down without a fight. Her body was still, and even as I gently scooped her into my lap she remained cold and motionless; I felt my breath hitch and a sob leave my body when I found that I could not tell if she was still breathing. My shaking fingertips lightly grazed the spot where her once smooth cheeks resided.

“Y/N, baby please. Don't do this to me, you've gotta wake up princess”, I pleaded softly while standing and gathering her up in my strong arms. I began running out towards help. The way I felt her long limbs dangle lifelessly from my hold nearly tore a hole in my heart. I couldn't be too late, it just wasn't possible. She swore she'd never leave me. She promised.

“Pea…”, I almost missed the nearly inaudible rasp that came from her lips as I ran. I came very close to stopping when her unusually tiny voice reached my ears, but I kept going towards the area where I knew Toni had brought her truck.

“I'm here babydoll, don't worry. Everything is going to be alright”, I choked out. She tried to speak again, but I shushed her gently.

“Don't speak Y/N, I'm getting you help. Just stay with me doll. Can you do that for me baby? Just open up your beautiful Y/E/C eyes and stay with me, okay?”, I pleaded, moving more quickly as I spoke. Her dark fan of lashes fluttered weakly as she struggled to do as I'd asked. My heart broke, and I wished with everything I had that my Y/N would be alright.

It’d been an agonizing 2 weeks spent in the confines of a tiny, white, too sterile looking room in Riverdale General. Y/N had been rushed into surgery as soon as Toni and I brought her to the hospital, and since that day had undergone 3 others to attempt and repair the damage that those Ghoulie scum had inflicted. Her internal bleeding was out of control when she arrived, and her lung had all but collapsed from the blunt force she was subjected to. She had nearly half her ribs broken, a broken wrist, broken orbital bone near her eye, and a severely sprained ankle. Her skin was slowly recovering, most of her bruises shifting from deep purple to light shades of yellow and green as time went on. Her skin was stitched in multiple places from either the surgery or the cuts she sustained that night. In total she had over one hundred stitches covering her once smooth skin. She’d also required a skin graft to her upper rib area from some burns that the doctor said were likely from some kind of electrical element. Despite all this, as I sat next to her in the most uncomfortable plastic chair I’d ever encountered and stroked her hair gently, I still couldn’t help but feel like she was the most beautiful girl I’d ever known. Her swelling had gone down significantly, and the splits in her lip had all but healed. I spent hours stroking the back of her hand with the pad of my thumb, staring at those gorgeous lips and wishing that they would part and begin speaking to me in that musical voice that I missed so dearly.

I hadn’t left the hospital for more than an hour at a time since she was admitted. I missed everything from the rumble with the Ghoulies, Jughead’s release, and even Fang’s discharge from the hospital. The others came and visited nearly everyday, most of them trying to gently pry me away from the room for any length of time. I refused each time, berating anyone that would even try to take me away from my Y/N. How could I leave her? It was my fault she was even in here, laying in this bed, broken. I should have protected her better, should have rushed to find her as soon as we got separated at the Sheriff’s station. Guilt washed over me in giant waves as I thought of all the ways I could have saved her. But she swore to me that she would never leave me, and I believed her. She was going to come out of it one of these days, and I was going to be there to hold her once she did.

Currently, it was day number 16 of Y/N’s stay, and just like all they other days she laid motionless on her bed with her chest lightly rising and falling with each breath she took. They’d taken her breathing tube out a few days ago and ever since then I’d sworn I’d never take any of her soft breaths for granted ever again. I used to lay with her on my chest as she slept, my hands lightly resting on her waist as I relished in each gentle snore and soft sigh that left her. If she ever laid on my chest it was an inevitability that she would end up sleeping at some point. Not that I really minded, she was adorable when she slept. She used to say that it was because she loved the feeling of my heartbeat against her face; she said it reminded her that I was still there with her, that I was safe. I always teased her about it, taking pride in the light blush that adorned her face as she stated proudly that my heartbeat was like her own personal lullabye. Now I as I listened to the steady beat of her heart monitor I understood more and more what she meant. I yearned to go back to that time and savor in the moment more than I had. I was situated on one side of her with her smaller hand nestled into mine as I sat and stared quietly at her beautiful face.

Jughead sat on her other side, hands folded across his lap as he stared off silently into space, seemingly lost in his thoughts. Jughead visited more than anyone else, even after he was discharged himself. He always sat stoically on the other side of her bed, and he was the only one who never pressured me to leave the room. I appreciated his silent support more than he could ever know, and I took a large amount of comfort in the fact that Y/N would be so proud to see her “two best boys” getting along for once. I only wished that it were under different circumstances. Jughead seemed like he understood how I felt better than anyone else.

The amicable quiet of the room was broken as he cleared his throat and shifted in his chair, rising slowly. I didn’t even have to glance at the clock to know that it was nearly 9pm. Though they’d made a special exception for me, most visitors were booted from the room at 9. Jughead put his coat on slowly, and bent down to press a light kiss to Y/N’s temple.

It was funny, I’d never pegged Jones for a softie, but when it came to Y/N he seemed like the most affectionate person. I wasn’t very fond of him at first, but over time I came to understand that he and Y/N really did care about each other like, well, twins. They had an odd relationship, that was for sure, but I was more okay with it than most people would probably assume. I trusted Y/N with every fiber of my being, and if she said that Jughead was nothing but a brother then I believed her. With one last nod in my direction, Jones exited her room and I was left alone once more with my girl. Grabbing her hand in both of mine I began to smooth out the rings that I’d insisted be placed back on her fingers. Y/N was so particular about her rings, even more than me, and it seemed wrong that her hands should be bare. It just didn’t fit her. I sighed brokenly as tears filled my eyes for what felt like the millionth time since she’d been here.

“Hey babydoll, it’s me, Pea. I don’t know if you can hear me or not, the doctors claim that you can, but I’m not sure if I believe that or not. But anyways, I just wanted to ask you again to please come back to me. Please”, my voice cracked as my tears fell like rain onto her soft hands, soaking down into the thin hospital sheets that covered her. I went through this speech each night, begging for her to open her eyes and look at me. Begging for her to squeeze my hand or give me some sign that my Y/N/N was still in there. Each night I lost a little more hope that she would respond, and each day the cement block that had lived in my stomach since the day I carried her here in my arms became just a little heavier.

I continued to speak to her until my voice was hoarse. I talked about whatever I could think of, rambling on for as long as I could. Sometimes Betty or Jughead would bring by some of Y/N’s favorite books, and I would spend the lonely nights reading out loud to her. Some nights, like tonight, I just spoke about nothing like we used to do together.

Eventually I faded off into a restless sleep, head laying on her lap and hand still connected with hers. My dreams, if I had any at all, were always filled with her smiling face. Tonight was no exception, and my head was filled with images of her smiling face. She was just as beautiful as ever, clad in her favorite outfit with her radiant laugh echoing over and over. She held me close to her, and she seemed as happy as I’d ever seen.

“Pea…”.

I heard her musical voice call out to me as she beckoned me closer to her.

“Y/N…”, I murmured.

“Sweet Pea... handsome…wake up”,

I frowned. What did she mean? I didn’t want to wake up, my dreams were the last place I still had with her. I shook my head sleepily.

“No…”, I muttered stubbornly, reaching out for her quickly. Her dream-face broke out into a devious smile and she quickly hopped away from my reach. I stared in utter confusion, and it wasn’t long before I heard her beautiful chuckle echo and felt the ground around me shake lightly.

“Baby, please wake up”.

I groaned and sat up slowly, neck sore from the position that I had slept in. My eyes blinked rapidly as I tried to re-adjust to the bright lights of the room. And once they had, I needed a double take to ensure that I was really seeing what it looked like I was seeing.

Y/N was sitting up, albeit a bit awkwardly, in her bed with her eyes wide open and a fond smile on her face. Her hands were tangled in my dark, unwashed locks as she brushed my hair back from my face. Her eyes were filled with such love that it took all the breath I had in my body away for a moment as I gaped dumbly at her. She chuckled lightly, removing her fingers from my hair and taking my hand in hers.

“Boy, and here I thought you’d be happy to see me”, she croaked playfully, squeezing my hand. I finally snapped myself out of my trance and practically attacked her with a hug. I couldn’t believe it, she was finally awake, and I had almost fucking slept through it. I held her in my arms for an immeasurable amount of time, taking absolute pleasure from the way her arms tightened around my body and her slender fingers danced through my hair once more in a soothing motion. I could’ve held her like that for the rest of my life, but after what felt like only a moment I heard her slightly muffled voice come from the depths of my chest.

“Uhm carefully Pea, ouch”, she muttered. I immediately pulled back from her as if shocked by an electric current. Of course that hurt moron, I thought to myself. Sitting myself on the edge of her bed, I decided to gently rest my hands on the sides of her face instead, thumbs gently rubbing across the healing bruises on her smooth cheeks.

“It’s really you”, I murmured softly, still not convinced totally that this wasn’t just a dream. I felt her smile against my hands before she took one of my hands and kissed my palm lightly before returning it to its place on her cheek.

“Of course it’s me baby, who else would it be?”, she whispered. As she leaned her face further into my hold, her eyes fluttered shut slowly, and I panicked.

“Y/N?!”, I cried. Her eyes shot open and she frowned resting her hands over the tops of mine, rubbing soothing circles with her fingertips.

“What? What is it?”, she exclaimed, eyes wide. She removed her hands from mine in order to grasp my face gently, mirroring my previous position. Her soft hands stroked against the tense muscles in my jaw, patiently waiting for my response. Realizing I had overreacted I cast my gaze downward as I removed my hands from her face and attempted to slow my now shallow breaths. Y/N was having none of that, and she brought her two fingers to tilt my head back by my chin.

“Pea, handsome?”, she questioned softly. I sighed.

“I just...please don’t close your eyes like that”, I muttered, slightly embarrassed. “I thought I lost you again”.

Her eyes were immediately remorseful, and I nearly got lost in the deep pools of emotion that I had been missing for far too long. She patted the spot next to her in her bed.

“Come lay with me Pea”, she said nearly inaudibly. I shook my head.

“Not a chance babydoll. You’re still too injured for me to pull that off without hurting you”, I reasoned, grabbing her hands in mine and squeezing them softly. She frowned.

“I don’t care Sweets. I just want you to be here with me, that’s all I’ve wanted for the last however long it’s been”, she said softly, tears forming in her big Y/E/C eyes. My resolve nearly crumbled at the sight of her sadness, my heart screaming to do whatever she said. But my more rational side wouldn’t let this go on without a fight.

“Babydoll… “, I started to argue with her, but she shook her head wildly.

“Sweet Pea please….”, she pleaded. I sighed once more, any ideas of denying her what she wanted out the window. I slowly slid up the bed and gently brought Y/N to my chest, tucking her head gently under my chin and savoring the way she let out a sweet sigh of contentment. I nestled my face into her hair, and she mirrored my action but into the crook of my neck. For the first time in nearly 3 weeks I felt at peace. We laid like this for a while, Y/N’s hand circling the place over my heart lovingly like she used to do back in my trailer. I nearly fell asleep once more, but fought the urge in favor of savoring the moment for as long as it lasted. I’d waited half a month for this day, and I was damned if I was going to let sleep ruin it. I was so lost in my musings for a moment that I almost missed the soft words that came from Y/N’s mouth.

“Pea…”, she murmured sleepily.

“Yeah baby”, I answered softly. She yawned.

“I’m going to fall asleep handsome. Please don't be scared”, she said, eyes nearly closing again. “I meant what I said when I promised not to leave you. It’s gonna take a lot more than Penny fucking Peabody and some Ghoulie trash to take me away from you. I love you Sweet Pea”. My heart soared as she slowly moved to kiss my neck, just where my Serpent tattoo was placed. I unintentionally shivered and she smiled her trademarked little smirk, though her eyes remained closed.

“I love you so damn much Y/N”, I murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head gently. She tightened her hold around me slightly. “Get some rest babydoll, I’ll be here when you wake up”.

“You promise?”, she muttered, already halfway asleep. I chuckled lowly.

“Yeah baby, I promise. I’m not going anywhere”, I vowed.

“I don't want you to worry”, she whispered. I chuckled lightly, placing the gentlest kiss I could muster to her forehead.

“Little late to that game babydoll”, I teased lightly. My cheeks hurt from the smile that had been etched on my face since she woke, but I couldn't bring myself to care. “It's alright beautiful, sleep. I'll be here when you wake up”.

“I know you will be”, she muttered, eyes finally creeping shut as she snuggled in closer to my side.

“Sweets…”, she breathed after a few minutes of silence. I'd thought she'd fallen asleep in all honesty, and my eyes were closed too as I sank into the easiest sleep I'd had in weeks.

“Mmm”, I answered quietly.

“I promised you I'd always be there”, she murmured against my neck. “I still will be, I love you Sweetest Pea”.

I opened my eyes to see her, seemingly asleep. Her hair was covering part of her face, and I gently brushed it to the side. She didn't stir at my action, and I took it to mean that she was now fully asleep. I smiled once more in utter peace as I whispered in her ear.

“And I love you my gorgeous, smart, badass, loveable babydoll”.

[doctornitrusbrio]

((this is EXTREMELY long winded and i don’t expect anyone at all to read it, or agree with all the shit in it, which is why it’s going in a post rather than as a permanent page on my blog, BUT. here’s my whole idea on what all Brio’s whole backstory is. it draws info from the design docs, and various pieces of lore throughout the series. obviously you don’t have to agree with anything posted here, but this is all the information i’m operating on when I write for Brio))

Brio grew up with a mom and dad who loved him very much and were super proud of him and his intellect. They were incredibly supportive of everything Brio did and wanted to see him go far in life. Because he was such a wiz kid, they enrolled him in high school when he was only 11. However, as fate would have it, Cortex happened to place himself at the same high school not too long after his family's circus "accident". Brio only being 11 and Cortex only being 6, they were both bullied a lot, but found companionship in each other. Brio was the one to initiate the friendship, he was incredibly eager to meet someone as smart as him (possibly smarter, since Cortex was even YOUNGER than Brio yet already at the same schooling level as him). Cortex definitely never had a friend before (for obvious reasons), but Brio didn't really have any friends either. He was considerably more mature than everyone his own age and older kids didn't really want to hang out with just some kid so Brio found himself alone a lot.

They were all each other had, but Cortex was definitely toxic in a lot of regards. He would go out of his way to isolate Brio, try to convince him that he was the only person Brio could trust, tried to make Brio hate humanity as much as he did. Near the end of the school year he finally managed to convince Brio to hatch a plan of revenge on their schoolmates with him. Brio (unknowingly at first) helped Cortex rig the school to explode.

After that Brio went into a panic, and Cortex convinced him that he can never go back to his family or home town again, because then they'd find out what he did to the school and he'd get arrested and there goes his whole future! So Brio stuck with Cortex. And together they skipped town. Until they found themselves at a new school: Madame Amberly's.

Brio didn't like the idea of going to an "evil" school, but Cortex convinced him that it was the only school that would accept him after what he did to his old school. And despite the atmosphere, it had a fairly decent curriculum. Having no where else to go, and with Cortex constantly manipulating him to stick around, Brio stayed with Cortex once again. At this point in his life he started experimenting more with mutagens, using them on himself to transition, and also toying with the idea of the evolvo ray. Which Cortex would "borrow" and use to experiment on his pets with.

After graduating Madame Amberly's both Brio and Cortex went off to college, each majoring in something different but still sticking with each other. As the years go on, Brio starts losing himself more and more. He gets so much more cold and emotionless, just coldly walking through life doing whatever Cortex tells him to. He still considers him a friend, and is even afraid of losing him at any point, but the years of constant abuse have started taking their toll (though he's probably not fully aware of it).

After graduation, they are finally full fledged scientists, and immediately Cortex has his sights set on getting revenge on the world. Brio has become a husk of his former self, almost blindly following Cortex, but even so this was just too much for him and he had to put his foot down. He didn't want world domination, he didn't want to make anyone suffer, he just wanted to be a scientist and maybe win a Nobel prize or something and be recognized for his achievement. And of course, this back talk super did not sit well with Cortex at all. Aaaaaand that's when it happened.

During an argument in their lab/workshop about whether of not Brio would help Cortex pursue world domination, Cortex gave him the ultimatum "If you're not with me, then you're against me" and grabbed him, overpowered him, and slammed his head onto a drill press and..... well you know.

After that, Brio never questioned Cortex again. Over the years Brio would go from considering him a friend, to only thinking of him as his boss.

From that point they traveled all around to different parts of the world. Not a single place accepting them or tolerating them. They were run out of pretty much every place they tried to set up shop, and Cortex would blow up most of these locations before leaving. And then of course they started attracting police attention from that, so they eventually fled to the Wumpa Islands where Cortex would finally put his evil schemes into motion.

Brio is put to work collecting animals for his former friend's plan, and getting the Evolvo Ray into working order. Things seem very bleak for him, until something happens.

Crash escapes, Cortex calls out his army to swarm the islands and crush him. Meanwhile, Brio is charged with watching over another mutant creation: Tawna. For some reason or another, Tawna took pity on Brio. Maybe she could see how much he was hurting, maybe she saw him as a weak point in Cortex's army that should could take advantage of. It might have been a mix of both. But whatever the reason, Tawna was one of the first people in literal decades to show Brio any kindness at all. She would try to explain to Brio that he didn't have to stay here working for Cortex, that he could escape with her and Crash. She tried to reason with him.

It took quite a while for Brio to take Tawna's words seriously, but at the defeat of Crash in his lab at Castle Cortex, he finally understood. He finally couldn't take it anymore. He finally knew it was time to get up and leave Cortex for good. But... not before setting the place on fire.

After fleeing Castle Cortex he was in a CONSTANT state of panic. He'd worked up all his courage and spite to finally get away from Cortex, but it was the absolute hardest thing in the world for him. Following Cortex was literally all he'd known his entire LIFE. He fled through the jungle and tried to hide out there for a few days, but... it didn't take long before he actually crawled his way back... to the remains of the lair. As fate would have it, no one was there anymore, and Brio was all by himself once again, he had no choice but to go on without Cortex now.

Eventually, Brio made himself a makeshift lab somewhere deep in the swamps of the jungle on N. Sanity Island. Using spare parts he salvaged from the old lair and broken Lab Assistants. Being free from Cortex was good for him, but it was also extremely hard to adjust to. He grew so bitter, so spiteful, he's finally realizing now just how much of his life he completely wasted. He can't go back to civilization, because the cops are most certainly still after him for helping Cortex blow all those locations up. So he stayed there, on the island, in his crummy little hide out. Until.............. his various lab equipment started picking up strange signals. he discovered Cortex was sending signals to crash from the safety of his orbitting space station. And Brio, after enduring so much shit, after going through so much, and not having anywhere else to go, stepped up to put a stop to this once and for all.

That's about where his story ends. Brio would go on to help Tropy and N. Gin in Twinsanity, but it was only a means to an end as he wanted that treasure because he's dirt poor. He attacked Crash because he saw that, once again, the boy was aligned with Cortex, and Brio couldn't have that. Aside from that, he is on good terms with the bandicoots, and occasionally steps forward to help them throw a wrench into Cortex's plans.

I also have this headcanon in here somewhere, when they were still blowing up every place they tried to settle in at. At one point Cortex tries to get Brio to blow one up. He's already planted the explosives and set everything up, all Brio has to do is press the button. He wants Brio to really know what it feels like to get revenge, to be a REAL villain. After some hesitation Brio does it, and he asks what town they just destroyed. And Cortex tells him it was Brio's home town, where his parents lived. So yeah, that's what happened to Brio's parents. Cortex thought that was hilarious.

[fictionxlover]

8x01

Let me start off by saying this was a good episode, especially an opening episode. Now let me just break this down by character so it’s easier.

Arya:

I LOVE how Arya is more happier and she is showing more of a soft side. It makes me so emotional how happy she is right now even though impending doom is on its way. The Jon/Arya reunion was SO BEAUTIFUL! Her jumping into his arms like old times, the smiles, Jon showing her the weapon. I also love how it highlighted that they will ALWAYS love each other but both of them have changed. You saw more of that when Arya defended Sansa. Arya is not that innocent 10 year old who enjoyed talking shit about Sans with Jon lmao like she has grown into a young woman, and has got this closure/closer with her sister. And ik some will be like ‘ARYA WOULD NEVER-’ but...yall said Arya instincts are always right (I saw it particually with last season too during Stark Sis Bowl lol) so if Arya says Sansa is just looking out for the fam, I believe her. And I think it made Jon be like, huh my little sister has grown and I trust her instincts. Also, again before haters jump on um c’mon, realistically at least 8/10 of us as adults see one of our siblings differently than we saw them as children. That’s just a fact. Moving on, um, GENDRYAAAA!! There reunion was more than I EVER expected! Her defending him, teasing him, smiling, gendry smiling, but also like woah is this beautiful lady flirting with me?? It was BEAUTIFUL!! I have some fears but I’m just going to try enjoy them moment. Overall, THIS WAS MY GIRL’S EPISODE YALL-

Sam:

I felt so bad for Sam this episode. At first he is excited to meet another Targaryen then he finds out that she burned his family alive. What I loved about this scene is that it kinda made Sam’s rose colored glasses fall off. I feel like after being friends with Aemon, and learning the stories, Sam saw the Targaryens in just a positive light. It reminded me how young Sansa believed all those stories about true knights but then reality punched her in the face. Just like it did with Sam. Not every Targaryen is a bad person but they do have their flaws. Their way of justice might not be what we think is morally right but in their eyes its justice. Then him trying to pull it together, and reuniting with Jon was beautiful. But...….sorry Sam telling Jon the truth kinda ruined the reveal for me. I can’t even disagree what Sam said about ‘would dany kneel for you?’ but it seemed like his resentment with Dany overpowered the reveal. It made it more about jon might overthrow dany than jon being shocked and trying to process everything. Also BRAN SHOULD HAVE TOLD JON BUT WHATEVER D&D

Tyrion:

Tyrion, Tyrion, Tyrion.....I like show!Tyrion more than book!Tyrion but they really dumbed his ass down. He really thinks Cersei is coming???? WITH HELP??? I can’t tell if he knows the truth and is just playing the game or if he actually believes his sister??? it would work at any of those ways because Tyrion’s fatal flaw is that he always wanted to be accepted by his family. His abusers basically. So, I won’t be surprised if any of these options are true. 

Daenerys:

Let me tell you guys I like Dany, I LOVVEEE Book!Dany more but I have to confess I have Stark stan reactions first. So it takes me while to be like let me take a step back and see this from Dany’s pov. I understand Dany is basically like I am here to FIGHT FOR YOU and yall just disrespectful. I feel bad for her when Jon isn’t really defending her in PUBLIC. I felt bad when Sam cried and she was like fuck. I feel kinda bad for her that Sansa doesn’t like her. But Dany...some of her reactions is....just D&D bs. 

First of all let’s talk about dragons. Dragonriders are suppose to have this special connection with there dragons. Not every random person can just hop on a fucking dragon. With Jon it makes sense he could because he is a Targaryen. However, Dany doesn’t know that! So yeah its cute her FWB is riding her other dragon but its weird she isn’t having alarms ringing in her head. Then why are yall making her sound like a 17 year old ‘we can stay here forever’, sis do you even like the North? You’re dragons are low key dying in this area lmao. And its just cringy. Why can’t yall show Jon/Dany talking to each other. Telling each other about their lives. Why is it just cringy fan fiction bs??? Even I’m like let me try get into this rl but they offer nothing and the chem is just not there between these actors. Its not there fault but its hard to even like them when we do not get more intimate moments with them getting to know the other. 

Now lets talk about Dansa. I believe Dany thought Sansa would be more warm to her but once Sansa said ‘Winterfell is yours’ Dany knew, Sansa doesn’t like her. She’s not here because she believes in Dany. Sansa is doing this because she HAS to. And that pissed Dany off. And I think Dany doesn’t like how Sansa brings up stuff in the meetings too. They should be brought up and Dany is like ugh this girl hates me lmao. Its interesting to me because I’m pretty sure this is the first time Dany has to communicate with other rulers/kinda queens. 

I feel like Dany’s journey before Westeros, people bowed down to her or worshipped/believed in her quickly. But in Westeros that’s not how its going to be especially considering her family history. She will have to earn their respect/belief and I think so far Dany hates it and not use to it taking so long. Even with Jon she said Sansa has to respect me or...XD. Listen I’m not saying Dany was threatening to exile or burn Sansa but you can tell she getting impatient. 

I am looking forward to Dansa scenes next episode though. Was this Dany’s episode? A little but I believe like Sam the colored glasses are falling off and she is realizing its not going to be easy. None of it is.

Bran: I really love how Bran is showing more emotion than he did last season. He seemed more emotional reuniting with Jon, got frustrated when they weren’t focusing on the threat. It’s showing that Bran is not dead. He is still in there. What I enjoyed the most about this episode is that it showed that Bran knows what needs to be done. It makes you wonder if he can see into the future or knows something? He knew to wait for Jaime already. It just makes you wonder...how far in the future can Bran see into and what time travel shit is going to happen lol. 

I believe Bran has one goal to defeat the NK and he is going to tell everyone to shut the hell up and get to work. What I didn’t like with Bran was how he said Jon isn’t my brother, you tell him. Does Bran have some resentment towards Ned? Is he going to treat Jon differently a bit? Did he say that because he already knows what will happen???? I just have a lot of questions yall -

Jon: *sighs* There are two well maybe 3 possible reasons for Jon’s behavior. 

1) He has some sort of agenda

2) He just a Northern Fool making the same mistakes Ned/Robb made, death didn’t change him and that’s D&D’s fault.

3) He is a Northern fool BUT the battle of winterfell will shake and fuck him up sm that it will guide him on a path to make better decisions, and growth. 

I loved Jon’s scenes with Arya, Bran, and Sansa. Jon hugging Bran so tight and joking about him being a man now. Then with Arya holding her tight, crying. It was SO emotional. I feel like with both Bran and Arya he saw they are them but have changed just like Jon. He loves all his siblings sm and Ik in his heart the choices he makes is because he doesn’t want to lose them. 

I also enjoyed his scenes with Sansa. I always said since s6, Jon/Sansa show sm vulnerability with their eye contact and emotional reactions, this episode proved its still there. Sansa bringing up her resentment towards Jon bending the knee, him trying to convince her that Dany is good, but then we get that moment we’re he is like do you have faith in me still? And Sansa eyes looked teary and said of course. It shows Jon just wants Sansa to believe and have faith in him. And Sansa just wants to protect the family, which includes Jon, and is sadden Jon doesn’t well not respect her opinion but still doesn’t take her advice to heart? And I feel this showed when he was badmouthing Sansa to Arya and Dany. 

I mean it makes sense to Dany he would be like she didn’t like me growing up, to cool Dany down that Sansa is hard to get to know....but with Arya...it was like he wanted another fam member to agree with him. That Sansa is an arrogant, thinks she smarter bitch and knows nothing. Then when he got a different reaction from a more mature, older Arya, I think it shooked him. He even mentioned Sansa needs remember I am her family. It’s like Jon thought he was in a different time. That its s1 and they all are children. But once Arya defends Sansa, Jon realizes woah things are different, we all are different. It just shows Jon still has some resentment towards Sansa like Arya did last season with Sansa but they all have to move on. Jon still is seeking approval like Tyrion kinda with the Lannisters but they need to stop and move on. 

Jon’s relationship with Dany is up and down for me. I love him getting to know other Targaryen, like in the dragonpit scene in s7 and them riding dragons together but the romantic aspect of their relationship if off to me like I said in the Dany part. They never talk. Yes they talk business, and they say fanfic things but I want an ACTUAL intimate, conversation when they are talking about the past, present, and future. They are trying to understand each other. WHERE THE HELL IS THAT?? 

I loved Jon riding a dragon and his experience was so realistic except I would be having a panic attack after and Dany would have to give me my pill and hold me lmao but I still don’t like how they don’t have a real talk. Also, Jon never defends her in public too???? All he says is I had no choice. BITCH SHE LITERALLY SAID I WILL FIGHT FOR YOU YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO SAY I BEND THE KNEE TILL AFTER WAR DUMBASS-

i’m sorry jon stans but its true. there are just so many times you can say he is doing it for greater good. it just seems like jon caused more drama. then not having a reaction to what sam’s fam went through??? your bff’s fam?? And being like that would be treason, and being like I executed men before. Yes you have Jon but in certain situations. When they are being disrespectful assholes. I’m not saying what Dany did was wrong or right  but we all know the character of Jon Snow. I don’t think he would actually burn someone with a dragon except if he HAS to or he lost his mind. I like the idea of Jon losing his mind but we can’t have nice things in this show djhjfhlfk. 

the reveal again was overpowered by sam and I feel like Jon believed it too easily. yes he knows sam would never lie but he should have stomped over to bran right after. its just TOO EASY. 

Listen, Jon and Dany are flawed characters. I still like them but I’m also not afraid to call them out on some things I don’t agree with. Idc they are song of ice and fire lmao XD

Theon: My boi Theon came through. He is going to fight for the Starks and die for them like he SHOULD HAVE. That’s all I have to say. Also THEONSA MIGHT RISE YALL-

Euron: This Euron is no book!Euron but this man still confuses me lmao. Like he acts like he is in POTC, all he wants to do is fuck the queen which I think is code for I want her to have my baby then ima kill her ass. Like if he actually outwits/kill cersei….I will be mad but also be like well that was expected???

Bronn: This is so predicable I can’t even right now. He’s either going to kill one or both or the Lannister bros , get killed or fight with them. If there’s some other twist? COOL. but rn i’m like really? You want me to believe that Jaime or Tyrion will fucking die by Bronn’s hands? Crossbow imagery is fucking high grade A+ Lannister tragedy excellence but Cersei should pull the trigger not fucking Bronn.

Jaime: Book!Jaime is pulling through rn. I’m not one of those people who are like he is on a redemeption arc. Jaime doesn’t have to do that. But I am interested with his rl with Bran, Brienne, and what he does. Also, I hope he is like Dany sis your father was crazy XD

Cersei: I felt bad when my girl had to fuck Euron. Cersei is on that S3 Azula energy. She is losing her MIND and knows she is losing. And it’s making her more crazier. Then the fact that Jaime left her too. It reminds me when Zuko went on Team Avatar side and Azula was like FUCK YOU TRAITOR I’LL MEET YOU AT DAWN FOR THE FIGHT OF THE CENTURY ASSHOLE XD

Also, Azula lost her mind when Ty Lee and Mai betrayed her too. Cersei has NO one like Azula did and now she is just losing it. I really hope she has more of a plan and is not just going to make impulsive choices then die for it. I need one last thing from Cersei. Kill Euron in bed, do something.

Sansa: It’s funny because Arya seems the most happiest rn while Sansa is more anxious and protective. Sansa is not happy Dany is here. I want to compare this situation to something yall might understand more. 

Modern AU TIME: The stark siblings parents have died and unfortunately the oldest brother Robb has died as well. Robb has the left Jon the Stark family home. Now Jon’s name might be on the deed but he makes mistakes, leaves, and Sansa who cares a lot about the home/family runs it. Then one day Jon comes back and says hey I got married to this girl you never met, her name is Dany, also she owns the house with me now, and will stay with us. Now would you be 110% accepting or would you have some resentments and wary? 

YOU WOULD BE LIKE WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?! WHY ARE YOU IN MY HOME? JON WHERE WERE YOU? WHY DIDN’T YOU SEND A TEXT? WHAT YOU MEAN YOU BEND THE KNEE??? WHAT THE FUCK-

We all know Dany can be sweet and loving but Sansa doesn’t know that. Sansa is one of the last political savvy characters on this show. She said it last season, Dany is here for the throne. She wants people to bend the knee. North is one of those kingdoms. Yes, Dany said she would fight for the North but Sansa isn’t Jon. She doesn’t know Dany and just looks at the facts. 

What I find funny again too because this Dansa war is hilarious is that when Sansa says something in public that is also shady to Dany...its also a subject that needs to be brought up. It’s not like Sansa is saying your a stupid bitch in public. She is saying we need feed everyone and I wasn’t counting on your soldiers and dragons. What do your dragons eat? Dany comeback was KILLER but we also see the dragons are NOT happy and NOT getting enough of food. 

Also, I find it hilarious because last season some of us were mentioning Sansa preparing the North, and some were like that doesn’t matter. But it does???? Which makes sense but I’m also shocked they mentioned it. I think this Dansa war will end but them having conflict isn’t shocking. They have sm in common but they are also very different individuals. Could Sansa be more nice to Dany? Yes, but she’s Sansa and after her experience I can see why she isn’t accepting to Dany. At a young age she was accepting to Lannisters and looked what happened.

I loved Sansa/Tyrion reunion. I loved how Tyrion praised Sansa, how Sansa said sorry even though she didn’t have to, but also her shading Tyrion. It was the BEST. And I think it made Tyrion be like oh shit maybe she right- XD

I already talked about Jon/Sansa scene but again it shows Sansa cares for family/home and it saddens her Jon doesn’t take her advice to heart. Also, I did love she had the guts to say did you bend for the good or cuz you like her? Cuz business and feelings always gets mixed up. It also teases that Sansa is basically saying you did the opposite of what I told you again, you are following robb/ned mistakes.

Some might be annoyed at Sansa like some might be annoyed by Dany but I think this episode showed that Sansa is protective of her family and is doing her duty has a Stark. 

White Walkers: I don’t even know what to say to that. Some say it looks like a Targaryen sigil maybe who knows. I’m just going to wait and see how they explain the WWs.

Basically this episode was a good start to the impending doom but shows it’s not going to be easy for any of them. 

(btw we all have different opinions, i’m okay with talking and agreeing to disagree but no hate please :) )

[mermaidxatxheart]

Some Rules are Never Meant to be Broken Part II

Part I

Pairing: Paramedic!Bucky X Reader

Rating: Mature

Genre: Greek/Roman Gods AU, Drama and maybe some Mystery

Warnings: PTSD, Heavy flirting and still a lot of fluff, and some emotional therapy.

Word Count: 9,041 not nearly as long as part one

Summary: Reader is a Muse living life as a tour guide at a museum. Bucky is struggling with returning home from war and adjusting to civilian life. He used to be a paramedic and now works security, but what he really misses from his pre-war life is his ability to draw. Cue the reader, determined to do her job and get him back to a point where he can do what he loves most. But, spending that much time with anyone always leads to romantic feelings, which is against her laws. Will she be able to resist Bucky long enough to help him and not get her in serious trouble?

You’re unable to say anything for a second, trying to be quick about collecting your thoughts. 

“Back for good?” you ask finally. He looks over at you with a small shrug. 

 “At least for a while. Hopefully, I won’t have to see her much,” he says. You look around the space. You need a distraction from picturing him with the gorgeous redhead. 

 His apartment is spacious with off-white walls and linoleum covering the floor. It’s an open floor plan, no real distinction between what’s living room and what’s kitchen. The entire space feels very industrial, but you can’t put your finger on why. There’s a small dining table, two chairs like yours. A workbench is centered behind the couch, bolted to the floor. It was spotless, though. Not a tool left on it. A metal cabinet was on the far wall, locked shut. A door was shut to the left, his bedroom you assume, since the washer and dryer were in cubbyholes in the kitchen. 

 “You lied to me,” you tell him suddenly. 

 He looks up at you in surprise, his mouth tugging down at the corners. “About what?” he asks, handing you a glass of wine. 

 “You said your apartment was barely functional.” You gesture around the space. “Look, you have some pictures on the walls, a TV, books. I was expecting a sleeping bag on the floor.” 

 He shakes his head, cracking a smile. “It just used to have more stuff in it, is all, and I don’t really like the décor. I just never got around to changing it to my style after Nat left.” 

 “Oh.” you watch him walk back to the island, his back to you. The definition of his muscles is clear even through the fabric of his shirt and you can’t help but stare. 

 “Did you have a good day off? You were supposed to see one of your sisters, right?” he asks, glancing over his shoulder. You blink out of your reverie about his ridiculously good physique to answer. 

 “I think I’d rather spend my next day off with you instead,” you tell him, getting up and moving over to the island. He looks up at you. 

 “That bad?”

 You shrug, leaning over and resting your elbows on the block wood counter. “They think they know everything. It’s frustrating to always be talked down to.” your fingers trace patterns in the wood. 

 “I can understand that. They don’t like you spending time with me.” he guesses. 

 You snort derisively. “They don’t like me spending time with anyone. Our... we have this.... you see, um...” you shake your head. “Let’s just say it’s complicated and leave it at that. They just think that because they’re older it makes them smarter.”

 He watches you for a second and you think you’ve cornered yourself. He’s going to ask why you got so nervous all of a sudden and then he’s going to find out about Crossbones and that’s definitely something that would not help you do your job. But he just tilts his head with a half shrug. “That’s definitely not always true.” 

 You’re anxious to change the subject now. You don’t want to talk about Callie anymore, or your family or your unfortunate situation. “Your ex, she called you Bucky.” you start, tilting your head up to look at him. 

 “A nickname Steve gave me. My middle name is Buchanan,” he explains. 

 “Does it bother you when people call you that?” you ask. 

 He places his metal hand over yours and you realize you had been twisting a napkin nervously. “No, it doesn’t.”

 “So why introduce yourself as James to me?”

 He shrugs and you twist your hand in his, your delicate fingers tracing his cold metal ones. “I have no idea. It just came out. As does most everything else when I’m talking to you.”

 There’s silence for a while as you follow the plate lines on his hand. “How was your day?” you ask. 

 He groans. “Probably just as good as yours.” 

 “Tony still not have anything new?” you ask. 

 He shakes his head, closing his eyes. “And I got into an argument with him about it.” 

 “When he does an update, does he replace the mechanisms inside?” you ask; an idea starting to form. 

 “Sometimes, or the computer chips.” he looks down at you. “Why?”

 “How does he get inside? I don’t see any releases.” You turn his hand over, your fingers trailing up the inside of his forearm. 

 He presses his lips together, reaching over with his right hand. His nails catch on something and a few of the plates pop open like a hatch, revealing the mechanics inside. 

 Having always been fascinated with the advancement of machinery, you had taken its inventors under your flag of a muse. Your sisters claimed medicine advances or something more glamorous. 

 James- Bucky’s arm dominates your attention. You tilt his arm this way and that to see inside better. You lift a finger to nudge aside some wires before pausing. “May I?” you ask, finally looking back up at him. 

 He’s staring at you, his handsome face impossible to read. He nods mutely and you explore a little more, forgetting about etiquette and not being too invasive. 

 “Have you ever taken it apart?” you ask, lifting it to eye level to peer inside further. 

 His voice is uneven when he answers. “Why would I do that?”

 “Well, it’s not completely sealed, which means dust and skin particles can get inside.” 

 He quickly pulls his arm back out of your grasp and snaps the plates closed in one fluid movement. Your hands are left hanging in midair, supporting nothing. He turns his back on you, walking a few feet away and holding his arm to his chest. 

 “Sorry,” you mumble, face heating and feeling foolish. You aren’t sure exactly what set it off. Maybe the digging around inside his arm, maybe talking so casually about it, maybe all of the above. You sit absolutely still, unsure if you should leave and give him space; or just wait and give him some time to calm down. 

 “Okay. I’m sorry,” he says as he turns back around. 

 “I can leave if you need more space.” you offer quietly. 

 “No, please-I’m okay now.” he takes a step back towards you. 

 “Was I too-“ you trail off, unsure of your words. 

 “I did mention I wasn’t completely comfortable with it yet, right?” he chuckles awkwardly. 

 “I should have thought about that.” you sigh. 

 “Y/N, I’m just... you’re so...” he shakes his head. 

 “Infuriating? Dense?”

 “Unreal,” he says finally. 

 “Unreal,” you repeat flatly. That feels like even less of a compliment that infuriating. 

 “You look so mad.” he cracks a smile. 

 “Unreal. How-...” you clear your throat, trying again. “In what way am I unreal?”

 “Everyone, for as long as I’ve had this useless thing, everyone has avoided me, avoided it. Avoided talking about it, looking at it, probably even thinking about it. And then here you come, impossibly open to this horror freak show. So accepting and you just don’t care. Everyone is afraid to say the wrong thing, afraid to upset me. And you just.... dive right in. Do you know, the first twenty times Tony had to open the hatches, he stammered and stuttered his way around it, never even actually saying the words? He couldn’t look me in the eyes. He can’t look at me while he’s working on it, or he can’t look at the arm while he’s talking to me. Steve, god, he tries. He tries to be a good friend but it’s just as much of an adjustment for him and he’s trying not to say the wrong thing; to not remind me of what happened.” he rants, pacing around the kitchen, almost as if he forgets you’re even there. 

 “But you, you don’t pussyfoot around it. You’re all like ‘oh, you have a metal arm? Awesome. You could accidentally kill me with it? Great, let’s do dinner. It opens?! Let me poke around inside.’ Your attitude is so unfamiliar, unsettling, I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to it.” he stops in front you, his beautiful blue eyes finally landing on you. “What are you?” 

 You freeze inside, scrambling to maintain a calm exterior. You feel like the rug has just been yanked out from under you. Then, your mind catches up with your guilty conscience and you realize it was a flippant comment. He doesn’t actually suspect you’re anything but human. 

 “A goddess, remember? You said so yourself not so long ago.” you remind him, gesturing towards the front door. 

 His face melts into a smile, crinkling at the corners of his eyes and he covers his face with both of his hands for a minute, taking a deep breath. 

 “Also, that’s the most I’ve heard you say at once in the entire two weeks I’ve known you.” you comment, setting down your wine glass. 

 “It just... happened,” he mumbles from behind his hands. It should happen more often; his voice is dangerously appealing to you. 

 “Maybe,” you start slowly, taking his wrists. “It’s just a part of you. Maybe I don’t need to separate you from your arm. I didn’t know you before you lost it, so this, to me, is just who you are. And why wouldn’t I accept you this way? And, maybe, if I’m being completely honest, the intricacies of the mechanics and computers inside intrigue me.” you admit as he lowers his hands. “I’ve spent some time in war-torn countries before and amputees are more than the sum of their parts. You’re more than your arm, James,” you say gently. 

 His eyes find yours and he leans forward an inch, two inches, his head tilts towards yours and it pulls you in like a magnet. You find yourself rising up on your tiptoes, caught in the force of him. Your skin burns hot and suddenly, he’s gone, pulled back as his hand digs in his pocket. His wide eyes search yours apologetically as he pulls out his phone. You shiver slightly at the absence of his body heat.

 “Steve, this better be good,” he grumbles. 

 You back into the counter as he turns and steps into the living room, speaking quietly into the mobile. Your heart is racing in your chest and you press a hand to your skin, feeling the thump-thump of it. Calliope’s face swims in front of your vision, her beautiful face smug in a classic ‘I-told-you-so’ fashion. 

 “Shut up.” you mutter, squeezing your eyes shut, forcing her away. 

 “What was that?” he asks, coming back into the kitchen. 

 “Nothing. Is everything alright?” you ask as he stuffs his phone back into his jeans pocket. 

 “Yes... No... Steve needs my help with something. I’ve told him I’m busy,” he starts, dropping his gaze. 

 “What does he need help with?” You ask. 

 “A design for one of his biggest clients.” he sighs. “I can walk you home. Knowing him, it will take a while.”

 “Can I not come with you?” you ask in confusion. 

 His head whips around. “You actually want to?”

 “I would get to spend more time with you, right?”

 “Ye-es.” he draws out the word, taking the question out of the tail end.

 “Then I’m going. Besides, I want to meet your friend,” you say, walking towards the front door to get your coat. “We can do dinner after.”

 “Oh, shit.” he lunges towards the oven and turns it off. “I would have left that on.” he shakes his head before following you over to the door. He pulls his boots on before slipping his arms into his leather jacket. 

 Once outside, he hails a cab, opening the door for you. You slide in first, getting settled as he ducks in. You’re almost surprised that his big frame even fits. He gives the cabby the address and sits back. Confined in such a small space this close to him, you can feel a tension rolling off him that you hadn’t noticed before. Wanting, needing to be even closer to him, you slip your hand into his warm one and lean against his shoulder. You can feel him glance down at you, but he doesn’t pull away. 

 “You were going to ask me something,” he says suddenly. 

 You frown, trying to recall everything you’ve said since entering his apartment. “I was?”

 “Before, when that... guy showed up at your place.” he reminds you. 

 “Oh! Yeah. The museum is having a gala for the opening of a new exhibit next week. I was wondering if you wanted to come with me.”

 “As your date?” he asks after a minute. 

 “No, as my butler. Of course, as my date. I already see you every night, anyway. It won’t be too terrible.” 

 He snorts and you feel him hesitate. “You sure you don’t want to ask anyone else?”

 “James, you don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” you say. 

 He stays quiet for a minute, his thumb tracing small circles on the back of your hand absently. “No, I’ll go,” he answers, his voice steady, sure.

 Your smile hurts your face as you kiss his cheek. “Thank you.”

 The cab stops in front of a building, but as you get out you realize it’s not the SHIELD offices, but another apartment building. 

 “So, when you said we were going to see Steve, for some reason I assumed it would not be at his house.” you chuckle, slipping your hand back into his. He grins down at you and leads you inside, pressing the code to get into the door. He crosses the marble lobby to the bank of elevators and pushes the up button. Inside is quiet, eerily still as the doors closed. 

 “I’m getting a horror movie vibe, here,” you tell him and he laughs, bumping your shoulder gently with his own. 

 “Don’t worry. Steve is probably the nicest guy I know. I would even go so far as to say too nice.” The doors open with a quiet ding and he leads you down a hall before knocking on a door. You tuck behind him slightly as the door opens. A man is on the other side, just as tall, just as wide, just as rock solid muscular. 

 “Thank god you’re here, I’m drowning.” the man starts before turning back into his apartment. 

 Bucky turns to look at you before gesturing you to go in first. His hand on your lower back guides you in and he shuts the door behind you both. 

 “I’m really sorry to pull you out of your hot date, Buck. I hope she wasn’t too mad at you.” Steve turns around, his eyes immediately landing on you. 

 “She wasn’t.” Bucky smiles, helping you out of your coat, although he did look slightly embarrassed.

 “Hot date, huh?” you tease, watching as he shrugs out of his own jacket. 

 “Uh, sorry, Buck.” he turns to you. “I’m Steve Rogers. It’s nice to finally meet you,” he says, holding out his hand. 

 You shake it firmly with a smile. “I never would have guessed. I’m Y/N.”

 “What are you stuck on, Steve?” Bucky asks and Steve gestures for him to follow. They head over to a large art desk with pages spread all over it. You watch them curiously, seeing a little bit different side to James, more animated, slightly more at ease. 

 Steve, on the other hand, is wound tight like a coil. It’s painfully visible under the blue shirt that is almost the exact same shade as his sky-blue eyes. You’re beginning to think that the two men only buy their shirts in extra small, one wrong move and they were going to rip right off. There have to be bigger shirts out there. The contrast between his broad shoulders and his narrow hips is almost comical. He looks like an upside-down Dorito. His short blond hair is a mess as if he’s run his hands through it a thousand times distractedly. 

 “Sorry to interrupt your date, Y/N. Do you want to order food for here?” Steve offers, pulling you out of your thoughts. 

 You glance at Bucky, trying to judge his reaction. “If James wants to order, that’s fine with me. And if he wants to wait until after like he planned originally, that’s fine with me, as well,” you tell them, getting off the couch and walking over to them. You rest your hand on Bucky’s lower back, leaning to peer over the papers they had been staring at. 

 “We can order in,” Bucky says, glancing down at you. 

 “That’s fine.” you agree, tracing the square footage on one of the dimension lines. It takes you a second to convert the numbers in your head, but you’re floored when you realize how big this building is going to be. 

 “Is this a house for someone?” you ask, looking up at Steve. 

 “Yeah. We designed his office space two years ago and now he’s redoing his home. He asked for me specifically, but it’s freaking me out a little. He gave dimensions for the outside, three stories tall.” Steve shakes his head with a small sigh. “I’m worried I may have bitten off more than I can chew,” he says with a glance at his friend. 

 “To be honest, Steve, I don’t really know why you called me, other than the fact that we’re best friends. I’m not a designer or an architect.” Bucky says apologetically. 

 “But you’re an artist.” Steve starts. 

 “Not anymore.”

 Steve’s face colors red and he drops his gaze. 

 “I can help.” you offer. “Do you have a pencil and big paper?” 

 “Yeah. I’ll be right back.” Steve rushes off to one of the closed rooms and Bucky turns to you. 

 “You don’t have to.”

 “He’s your friend and he’s stressed out. I want to help,” you tell him, your fingertips pressing to his forearm, letting the inspiration flow into him. Not too much to drive him crazy without being able to do anything about it, but enough that he could come up with ideas to help his friend. It was a fine line, a useful skill you had learned a long time ago. “It will be fun.” 

 He links his fingers with yours as a small sigh escapes his lips. “Alright.” he holds the backs of your fingers to his mouth for a second until Steve comes back. 

 “Alright, what do you have in mind?” he asks, handing a stack of papers, a pencil, eraser and colored pencils to you. You sit in front of the desk and prop the papers up to draw more easily. 

 “What do you know about them?” you ask Steve, sketching the dimensions of the kitchen first. 

 “He and his wife travel a lot. They love the Mediterranean. They have a ton of pictures of them in Greece and Italy. Um... they love to cook. They have a daughter, she’s getting married. The wife loves to sculpt and garden. He likes golf and soccer... I don’t know what you’re really looking for.” he says with a shrug of his shoulders. 

 “No, that’s perfect. Big kitchen, lots of counter space, storage and a Butler’s Pantry, I think.” you muse, sketching out the stove, the oven, and the fridge. You add details to the sketch like black splash subway tiles behind the stove in traditional blue and white Greek colors. Towards the bottom of the sketch, front perspective is a large island with a vegetable sink.

 “What if you put small columns on the bottom of the island on either side of shelf space, like at the Parthenon?” Bucky suggests, leaning over your shoulder and pointing to it. His breath tickles your ear but you nod, sketching the columns, getting the exact shape of them perfectly. You label the proportions in a small font based on the bigger size of the room. 

 You slide the page over to Steve while you start on the next wall of the kitchen with the sink and the fridge. You sketch a farm sink with an arched bay window that looks out over the backyard, lots of counter space and a hidden fridge. 

 The next sketch is the third wall, which contains the Butler Pantry, even more, counter space and extra storage for whatever. 

 The last wall of the kitchen is next and you draw out a half-wall with a half bar at the far end where the walls connect. 

 “What about an archway, like the Colosseum?” Bucky suggests, pointing to the end of the half-wall. 

 “That’s perfect.” you look over your shoulder at him, grinning. You sketch out the column, supporting a brick archway on both sides. You draw a countertop, with the tops of bar chairs visible on the other side for a breakfast bar. 

 “You’re seriously good at this,” Steve says, studying your sketches.

 “Eh, it’s all your information and I really like Bucky’s idea of the columns and arches. It’s something you can incorporate throughout the place without it being cheesy,” you say; as if Greek or Roman aesthetics could ever be considered cheesy. 

 “What did you want to order, Y/N?” Steve offers. You glance up at him as you start to frame the living room. 

 “Whatever you two want is fine. I’m not picky,” you say, turning back. 

 You sketch out the living room while they order the food. You make it nice and bright and homey, with Roman blinds and a lovely reading cove on a beautiful window bench. You keep with Bucky’s theme of columns separating the front hall from the living room and archways between every column. 

 You’re actually grateful for the break when the food gets there because your hand is starting to cramp. 

 “I’ve got water, beer, milk, soda.” Steve lists off, glancing at you. 

 “I’ll take a beer, it’s fine,” you say, moving over to the couch, sitting at the end and leaving space for the two friends to sit together. 

 Dinner is immensely enjoyable. You find out that Bucky and Steve have been best friends since early childhood, nearly inseparable. 

 “I never would have guessed you were from Brooklyn,” you tell Bucky and he chuckles. 

 “So, Y/N, what are you doing tomorrow? Any chance I can harangue you into doing some more designs?” Steve asks. 

 “So, I have two lectures tomorrow, but you’re more than welcome to stop and you’re more than welcome to harangue me after.” you chuckle. 

 “Sounds fair.”

 “That will give me time to come up with more ideas.”

 It’s late by the time Bucky insists you leave, mostly after a particularly embarrassing story about him that Steve was telling. 

 Your face is flushed from laughing and having a good time as he leads you outside. You slip your hand into his ever-cool metal one and lift it to your cheeks. He watches you for a long moment as you close your eyes. 

 “You feel like you’re burning up,” he comments quietly. 

 “I’m alright, it just feels nice,” you tell him, before allowing your hands to slip back to your sides, still intertwined. “Are we going back to your place?” you look up at him curiously. 

 “It’s already pretty late, didn’t you say you have a lecture in the morning?” he replies, his mouth pulling down in the corners. 

 “Already trying to get rid of me? Doesn’t bode well for us.” you say with a laugh, pushing your sister’s face out of your mind. He gives a small laugh while closing his eyes. 

 “I’m not trying to get rid of you, I just don’t want you to be exhausted for tomorrow.” 

 “I guess that’s an acceptable answer. As long as you walk me home.” you counter and he grins. 

 “What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t do that?” 

 The walk home would be long, but as long as you get to spend more time with Bucky, it’s worth it. 

 “I had fun meeting Steve tonight, I’m glad we went over,” you say, slipping to his right side and pulling his arm around your shoulders, linking your fingers together. 

 “I’m not so sure I’m glad about it, what with him spilling all my terrible stories.” he laughs. 

 “Are you kidding? Those were the best parts.” A tingle crawls up the back of your neck and you turn to look around. The streets are empty, a few cars parked next to the curbs but, not a soul around. And yet, you still have the feeling of being watched. Maybe it’s someone inside their apartment, curious as to who is out so late. 

 “What is it?” he asks instantly, following your gaze. He squints, trying to see into the shadows. 

 “Nothing. I’m just not used to being out so late.” you shrug, not wanting to worry your soldier. He hesitates a second longer but apparently doesn’t see anything. He shifts his arm around you, pulling you closer against him, but the feeling is more protective now as if he’s trying to shield you. 

 You try to lighten the mood as you walk and it seems to work mostly. He walks you up to your apartment and you hesitate outside the door, fidgeting with the keys in your hand. 

 “Are you sure I can’t convince you to come inside and stay a while?” you ask, your hands falling to the sides of his shirt. He smiles slightly. 

 “I think it’s best if we call it a night for right now,” he says. 

 You blow out a sigh. “I suppose that’s fair.” You drop your gaze to the floor, trying to control the wistfulness you can feel on your face. 

 “What’s your lecture on tomorrow?” he asks. 

 “Art history in the medieval era.” you look back up at him. “I don’t suppose you’d like to sit in and listen? It’d be kind of boring, it’s not necessarily my favorite era of art.” 

 “I’d love to watch you bore students to death.” he grins and you laugh.

 “Great. I’ll leave a pass for you at the desk of Jefferson Hall,” you tell him. He watches you for a second, eyes searching yours before he leans down and kisses you. 

 His lips are impossibly soft against yours as heat spreads across your body and the air is pulled out of your lungs. His right hand cups your cheek, pulling you in closer as his tongue swipes across your bottom lip. Your lips part for him as you card your fingers through his long hair as you rise onto your tiptoes. His left hand grips at your waist, squeezing unintentionally hard. He pulls back, his eyes a little wild as he stares at you. You press a softer kiss to his lips with a smile. 

 “Goodnight, Bucky. I’ll see you tomorrow,” you say before turning and opening your door. Once it’s closed, you lean back against it, taking slow breaths. After a minute, you hear him walk away, your smile growing even wider. 

 What is wrong with you?

 You cross your apartment to look out the window facing the front of your building. You see him exit a minute later, pause in the street and look back up to your window. You wave and he smiles slightly, waving back. You turn back into your apartment, but something doesn’t feel right. You turn back to the window. 

 Bucky is walking away, but there’s something... odd. That tingle on the back of your neck is there again, like when Apollo is talking about you. But you don’t see anyone around. 

 “Stop being paranoid,” you tell yourself with a huff and turn back to your apartment to get ready for bed. 

 ***

 The lecture hall is dimmed for your slideshow. You can see maybe ten rows back, but the whole back of the theater is shadowed in darkness. Your students are diligently taking notes as you speak about the history of the pieces. 

 The back door opens and a person is silhouetted against the bright light from the hallway. They approach one of the back rows and you smile to yourself when you see that it’s Bucky. He takes a seat as you change the slide to a picture of a fresco. 

 “This fresco is titled The Effects of Good Government. It was in the City Hall of Siena in 1338 And was completed by Ambrogio Lorenzetti. It is one of six different scenes that are part of a bigger picture. Commissioned by the Council of Nine, the pieces Allegory of Good Government, Allegory or Bad Government, Effects of Bad Government in the City, Effects of Bad Government in the Country, Effects of Good Government in the City and Effects of Good Government in the Country are civic rather than religious. The purpose of so many pieces-“ you cut off as the door opens again and a chill goes up your spine. You squint to try and see who has come in, but they remain in the shadows and you can’t see anything. Bucky is frowning at you out of the corner of your eye, suddenly on alert. “The purpose of these pieces was to remind the Council of Nine what was at stake as they made their day to day decisions.”

 “Maybe somebody should hang those in the White House.” one of the boys laughed. Some of the other students chuckle appreciatively but quite a few remain silent. Politics is never a decent thing to bring up in polite conversation. 

 You change the slide to the next picture, a man with horns, tusks and squinty eyes. “This is the Tyrant in the Allegory of Bad Government.” You try to focus, but you’ve lost your train of thought now. “How about we all take a five-minute break,” you suggest, setting down your clicker. The student all break up into smaller groups and Bucky approaches the stage. 

 “You alright?” He asks as you sit on the edge, dangling your legs over.

 “Yeah, I’ve just lost my train of thought. I think you’re distracting me.” you tease. 

 “I didn’t think you could get distracted.” he chuckles. 

 “Oh, I get plenty distracted.” you return, your gaze dropping to his biceps. “Lots of ways for you to distract me.”

 “Who was it that came in after I did?” he asks curiously, his hands resting on your knees. 

 “I’m not sure, I couldn’t really see. I only knew you came in because you sat in the lighted part,” you tell him, your fingers tracing his hands. “It’s probably just another member of faculty sitting in. They do that sometimes.” you shrug. 

 He glances behind him at the students taking their seats again. “I think your five minutes of distraction is up,” he says with a smirk. 

 You groan and he helps you slide over the edge of the stage. He goes back to take his seat and you’re aware of eyes following him. The guys are intimidated and the girls are drooling. You can’t blame them either way. You take a deep breath, closing your eyes before you go back up there. 

 You are a 5,000-year-old goddess of the arts. You have inspired millions to greatness. You can give one lecture with a gorgeous man in the room. 

 Don’t be an idiot. 

 Bucky

She’s amazing. I never cared about history, let alone boring political art history, but I’m hanging on her every word. 

 After her lecture was over, I waited as the students filed out and she packed her laptop away. I could feel their eyes on me, but I pretended they weren’t there, as I usually did. 

 I’m not sure what changed in the atmosphere, but something was wrong. I looked around, glancing behind me. All I can see are students walking out to go to their next class. 

 “Stop being paranoid, Barnes,” I mutter to myself, pushing the feeling down. It’s not easy, to let go of being hyper-vigilant when you’re so used to it for five or six years. It becomes so ingrained in you that actually admitting you don’t need it anymore is almost as painful. But for Y/N’s sake, I need to move on. I had wanted to do it for Natasha, but I just wasn’t capable then. I think I’m ready now. 

 “Hey.” she appears in front of her, her perfume washing across my face as she pops up on her tiptoes to kiss my cheek. 

 “Ready?” I ask, taking her bags from her. 

 “Yeah, so my second lecture is canceled because they need this room for something else. So, I’m all yours for the rest of the day,” she says and I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. 

 “Oh, scratch that. You’re Steve’s for the rest of the day. You did promise him more drawings.” I remind her. 

 “Oh, right. Well, we have time to go eat first, right? Just the two of us?” she asks, slipping her hand into mine and bumping into me. 

 “How am I supposed to even try to resist that?” I laugh. 

 “That’s kind of the point.” she grins. “How do you feel about pizza?” 

 “Like I could eat two by myself.”

 Her laugh is infectious as we exit the building. “Okay, I know this amazing place. It’s a bit of a walk, but it’s so worth it,” she promises. 

 “I’m fine. Probably better than you.” I tease, looking down at her heels. 

 “Listen, I walk five miles around the museum almost every day in these. I can handle a walk to get pizza. And if I can’t, then I guess you’ll just be carrying me the rest of the way.” 

 I laughed, tipping my head back. “I can handle that.” 

 “What about if I can’t make it? Who’s gonna carry me?” I ask and her head turns slowly towards me before she cracks up. “Will you? I’m very delicate, you know.”

 “I’ll call a cab.” 

 I feigned being hurt. “You wouldn’t carry me?”

 “What’s adorable is that you think I’m actually capable of carrying you. I don’t know if you’ve looked in a mirror lately, but you’re giant. Even if I were to carry you, your feet would still be touching the ground.” 

 I grin and drape my arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer against me. “I suppose it’s the thought that counts.” Her arm snakes around my waist, holding herself tight against me as we walk. 

 “You’re in a good mood today,” she comments. 

 “Well, let’s review. I’m here with you, it’s beautiful outside, and I don’t have to deal with Stark poking me with pliers and wrenches and anything else he can reach. You’re a million times better company.” On an impulse, I press a kiss to the top of her head. “Why wouldn’t I be in a good mood?”

 “I’m glad I can help.” she smiles up at me and standing there, in the sun, her hair all lit up with the reds and golds from the light, I’m completely floored by how beautiful she is. I mean, it’s not like I haven’t noticed before, I’m traumatized, not dead, but there are little moments like this where she looks at me a certain way and I have a hard time pulling my eyes away. 

 “This is it.” she heads into a brick building and I follow her inside. It smells like hot clay, dough and melting cheese. My stomach rumbles a little less quietly than I would like and she laughs at me while my face heats.  “Looks like we made the right call to get food.”

 I look down at my torso, glowering. “Traitor,” I mutter and she lets out a peak of laughter. 

 “To be honest, my stomach has been doing that since this morning. I didn’t have time for breakfast.” There’s a strange look that flits across her face, unease maybe? 

 “Overslept?” I guess. She takes my hand again and we move closer to the counter to order.

 “I couldn’t sleep last night. Too many things in my head, I guess.” she tries to be subtle about looking up at me, but it just ended up giving her this flirtatious smoldering look. 

 God, she’s dangerous.

 “Was the kiss that bad?” I tease and she groans, leaning against me for a minute. 

 “That good actually. I almost called you to come back over and do it again.” 

 “I had the same problem. I guess that’s a good sign, though. Right?” We step up to the counter and realize we haven’t actually discussed food yet. “The sausage and mushroom sounds good,” I suggest. She nods to the guy behind the counter. 

 “A large please.” she reaches for her purse but remembers that I still have it. 

 I pull out my wallet and swipe my card before she can protest. “Go pick out a table.” I nudge her in that direction and she sticks her tongue out at me. I sign my receipt and follow her over. 

 “This blue looks perfect on you,” I say as I sit down across from her. It’s a bright lacy thing that sits lightly against her skin, showing off her toned arms. 

 She smiles widely up at me. “Thank you. I almost didn’t buy it, but I changed my mind at the last minute. Callie was trying to talk me out of it.” her face darkens for a second. 

 I squeeze her hand gently. “Well, good call not listening to her.” She turns her hand over on the table and holds mine. I feel something cold on her finger that I didn’t notice before. I move her hand to the top and notice a spiral ring shaped like an arrow that’s been wrapped around her middle finger. 

 “This is interesting,” I comment. 

 “In honor of a friend of mine,” she says and I suddenly feel guilty for bringing it up. 

 “Oh, I’m sorry. What happened? If you don’t mind me asking.”

 She laughs. “Nothing, he’s fine, but if I didn’t wear it, he’d be upset and then we’d have a real problem.” 

 I tried to control my features. She used the word friend, but bile coated my mouth as jealousy wormed its way into my stomach. I didn’t like that she was wearing jewelry for another man.

 “Bucky?”

 I look up at her and I have another compulsion to tell her the truth, like the other night when she asked so many questions. 

 “I’m... I don’t think I liked hearing that.” I say and her mouth tugs down at the corners. I instantly want to take it back. “I mean, I’m- “

 “Jealous?” The smile is back, reaching her eyes mischievously.

 “Yes.”

 “Is it bad that I really like that?” she ducks her face as our food is delivered. “I don’t get many opportunities to have someone be jealous over me.”

 “And now you’ve had it happen twice,” I say, pulling a slice onto a plate. The crust is hot and puffy, just the right amount of pull as it comes apart from the rest of the pizza. 

 “Twice?” she asks, pulling her own slice and blowing on her fingers.

 “When Rumlow showed up at your place. I really didn’t like it, and you were speaking so quietly. I thought maybe he was your boyfriend, or an ex, somebody who has a place in your life... in your heart. But then you were kicking him out and I loved watching his face as I shut the door in it.”

 She laughs quietly. “Rumlow is a jerk and will never have a place in my life, don’t worry about that. And as for my friend,” she holds up her hand, indicating the ring, “he’s just a friend, more like a brother if I’m being honest.” she raises her eyes to the ceiling for a second before whispering, “a bit insufferable.” 

 I grin and take a bite.

 ***

 Steve isn’t there when Bucky lets us in. 

 “Are you sure he won’t mind?” you ask as he sets your bags down. 

 “Positive. I can’t tell you the number of times he’s been lurking in my apartment when I’m not there.” he grins over at you. 

 “That’s not creepy or anything.” you laugh, taking a seat at the art bench again. You pull your already completed sketches towards you, capturing the feeling of the rooms again. 

 “See any more paper laying around?” you ask. 

 “Hold on. I know where he keeps it.” Bucky disappears as you study the blueprints a little more. You need to make sure you have the dimensions correct. He comes back out and sets several sheets in front of you. “See? I know things.” he presses a kiss to the top of your head and heads for the kitchen. “Want something to drink?”

 “I’ll take some ice water,” you reply, sketching out the walls for the rooms left. 

 By the time Steve walks in, you’re almost done. You can hear him toss his keys into the metal bowl by the front door and kick off his boots. Bucky is stretched out on the couch, arm flung over his eyes, exhausted from watching you draw for the first twenty minutes. 

 “How’s it going?” Steve asks, walking over to you. If he’s surprised to see you there, he’s good at hiding it. He drapes his right arm casually around your shoulders, pulling the sketches towards him with the left. 

 A little bubble of something floats in your chest at his actions. Appreciation, maybe? You’re not entirely sure, but you really like the way he seems to have accepted you in Bucky’s life so easily. He could have been wary of you, warning you to treat his best friend only the best way possible, he could have been rude to you since he probably knows Bucky’s ex. Instead, he welcomes you like he’s known you his whole life. 

 “Wow, you’re almost done.” he muses, lining the frames up. 

 “Do you like them?” you ask, looking up at them. 

 “They’re great. My client is going to love these. I better watch out, you’ll be taking my job soon.” he grins. 

 “Nah. Unless you have any more clients that are really into Greek and Roman revival.” you laugh. 

 “Bucky mentioned you’re from Greece.” Steve nods. “How long had sleeping beauty been asleep over there?” he jerks his head towards the couch. 

 “About two hours?” you guess, rubbing your wrists. You didn’t realize how stiff they had become. 

 “I’m not asleep,” Bucky mumbles from the couch and you laugh loudly.

 “I’m sorry, was that not snoring I heard a little while ago?”

 “Must have been from you because I’ve been listening to you talk to yourself this whole time. Couldn’t catch a wink if I tried.” 

 Your eyes get wide and you look up at Steve. He’s trying desperately not to laugh. “He’s in a mood today,” you explain, sticking your tongue out at the back of the couch. 

 “Be nice to her, Buck, she’s doing me a huge favor,” Steve says once he can control his face again. 

 “I’m always nice to her.” he hooks his hand over the back of the couch and pulls himself up. “Aren’t I?”

 “A perfect gentleman.” you answer deadpanned. Steve snorts and heads for the kitchen. 

 “I’m sure he is. Come on, Señor Simpático. You can help me make dinner.” he claps Bucky on the shoulder as he walks past. 

 “This should be a disaster.” Bucky winks at you and hauls himself to his feet, following his friend. 

 Bucky

“You were totally sleeping.” Steve laughs as he starts pulling things out of the fridge. 

 “And risk freaking out on her? No way. It was hard not to, though. I had to keep pinching my arm.”

 “That tired?” he asks, looking at me with concern. 

 “That comfortable. Being around her is too easy.”

 “Leave it to you to find something too easy. Bucky, come on. She might be more understanding than you give her credit for.”

 “Natasha wasn’t. And she knew me for years beforehand.” I sigh. 

 “That girl in there is not Nat.” he looks at me, a guilty expression on his face. “She was at SHIELD today,” he says and I hang my head. 

 “I know. She was waiting outside my apartment yesterday to talk to me about it. They’ve hired her temporarily.” 

 “Does Y/N know?”

 “Yeah. She showed up while we were... communicating.” I roll my eyes and lean against the counter. 

 “What does she think about it?” 

 “I swear, you’re like a 15-year-old girl at a sleepover, always looking for gossip.” 

 “Just answer the question, jerk,” he mutters. 

 “I don’t know. She seems okay. Hasn’t really acted any different.” I look down at what he’s doing. “Why are you making so much food?” 

 “Well,” he starts and I groan. “Please tell me it’s not Sam.”

 “Would you rather I invite Tony over?” he fires back and I cross my arms over my chest. 

 “What about Lang? He’s always good for a laugh.”

 “Scott? I’m not sure I want a known thief knowing where I live.”

 I scoff. “If he really wanted to steal all of the stuff you don’t have, he could easily find out where you live. Besides, he’s reformed... mostly.”

 “Boy, she’s right, you are in a mood tonight.” he looks at me. “It’s Sam. And you two are going to behave tonight and be civil.”

 “I will if he will,” I mutter and Steve gives me a look. “Yes, mom.”

 “Get out of here.” he sighs. 

 I walk back in to see her rolling her neck from side to side. “Everything okay?” 

 “My neck is stiff from sitting in one spot for so long,” she says, rubbing it. 

 “Here.” I moved over behind her, scooping her hair off the back of her neck. There was a mark there, just at the base, almost faint like an old scar. Only it’s too pretty, not jagged enough to be an accident. “What’s this?” My fingers trace it lightly and her hand flies back to touch it. 

 “Oh, nothing. What were you going to do?” she asks, gathering all of her beautiful hair to the side. 

 I placed my hand gently on her shoulder and squeezed the muscles, beginning to massage them. They were tight, hard to move. She hung her head forward, a small noise escaping her mouth. 

 “Use your other hand, too. I feel lopsided.” she pats her left shoulder. 

 “Y/N, I can’t- I don’t want to hurt you.” I start. 

 “I’m tougher than I look.” she insists, reaching behind her and pulling my hand up to her shoulder. “Besides, if you act like you’re afraid of it all the time, you’ll never get used to it.” 

 I test my pressure with my thumb, pushing it into the fleshy part of her muscle. It’s like using a hand that’s asleep and numb to try and pick up needles. 

 “Mm.” she hums. “Go just a little bit more.” 

 I push slightly harder and she grips the edge of the art desk. 

 “Perfect,” she whispers. 

 I try to keep the pressure the same as I begin to move my hand, left first finding my rhythm before moving my right hand in sync with it. It takes a long minute, but her muscles become pliable under my hands, less like stone and more like putty. I drag my thumbs up the outside columns of her spine with the same amount of pressure and I can feel they’re just as stiff. I focus there for a minute and the muffled noise she makes almost makes me lose all control. 

 “Anybody want a refill?” Steve calls from the kitchen and I jerk my hands away. 

 “Yes, please,” she calls with a sigh and leans back against me. “You have magic hands.”

 I snort, rubbing my right hand down the side of her arm. “I don’t know about that. What are your muscles made of, anyway? It’s like I was touching a statue.” 

 A sort of hysterical laugh escapes her mouth. “Let’s just say it’s been a long time since anyone has done that for me.” she takes my hand in hers, pressing the back of it to her mouth. Her lips are warm against my skin, so soft and silky. “Thank you for doing that.”

 A knock sounds at the door and Steve comes in to answer it. “Hey, Sam. Right on time.” he steps back and lets Sam Wilson in. “Tired already, Y/N?” he comments as he turns back around. “Sam, his is Bucky’s new friend.”

 She gives a chuckle that I can feel in my chest. “Nice you meet you, Sam. Just comfortable, Steve. Do you need help with dinner?” she asks, sitting back up. I wanted to pull her back against me and never let go, the feeling of her touch is becoming addicting. 

 “I’d hate to pull you away, not that Buck would let me.” he laughs with a look at me. 

 I shrug. “I’m capable of letting go,” I say, completely unconvincingly. She laughs easily and stands up, stretching before following Steve into the kitchen. 

 “So, what are we making?” she asks and Steve launches into an explanation. 

 ***

 “Thanks again for dinner, Steve. It was delicious,” you say, pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

 “It was the least I could do since you finished those designs for me two weeks ahead of schedule.” he laughs. “I don’t know how I’m going to explain it.”

 “Oh, that’s easy. You turn in one or two at a time so that it looks like you’re still working on them.” 

 He grins. “Night, Bucky. See you tomorrow.” They shake hands and the door shuts behind you as Bucky drapes his arm around your shoulders. 

 “Is it terrible that I don’t even want to go to work tomorrow? I’d rather just spend all day with you,” he mumbles as you walk. You tip your head up to look at him. “That scares the hell out of me.”

 “That you like a person more than work? Most people would call that normal, babe,” you tell him with a laugh, trying to make him feel better. 

 He looks down at you, a flash of surprise across his face and then he laughs. “Maybe. Maybe I just haven’t been normal in so long that normal is the new weird for me.” 

 “I think it’s high time we fix that, don’t you?” you wrap your arms around his waist and he hugs you to him. 

 “Definitely.” he opens the door to your apartment building for you, following you up to your floor. Not once does he let go of your hand, and no matter what you tell your sister, you know you’re in deep; and that spells trouble for you if anyone were to find out. 

 He lingers outside your door as you search for your keys in your purse. “You need a clip,” he says and you look up at him, confused. “For your keys, to hook them on the strap of your purse so they’re right there.  That way, you don’t have to stand outside your apartment like a lunatic.” he grins impishly. Your mouth slowly falls open in indignation. 

 “I am not a lunatic.” you nudge his rubs and he just grins wider. 

 “If you insist.” 

 You finally find your keys and he takes them out of your hand. “James.” you protest and he sighs slightly, eyes closing, but it certainly doesn’t strike you as annoyed or impatient. 

 “I never really liked going by James, but I’d be willing to make an exception if you’re the one saying it.” he takes a step closer and you roll your eyes. 

 “Again, with the cheesy pickup lines?”

 “Is it still a cheesy pickup line if it’s the truth?” Another step and you’re forced to take a step back or fall over.

 “I think so. That’s the whole reason they become cheesy in the first place, isn’t it?”

 “So, telling the truth is cheesy?” One more step and you’re pressing into your door. Suddenly your shirt feels too tight and the hallway is too small and he’s so big. He smells so good, like soft cologne and bread baking and outside. The smell of him swirls around your head, making you dizzy. And he looks so perfect, just standing there, holding your keys to your apartment, towering over you and suddenly you just want his mouth on yours. But you want him to make the first move, to take the lead. 

 As he stands there, slowly driving you insane, you swear he knows what he’s doing to you. Your heart is pounding and your skin is so hot. He better kiss you soon or you’re going to lose the little self-control you have and it won’t be pretty or graceful. 

 “Goodnight, Y/N,” he says, handing your keys back to you, his mouth twitching at the corners. He turns, leaving you standing there with your mouth open, breathless and anxious. You wait it out for a full minute, thinking he was surely going to come back and kiss you goodnight, but he didn’t reappear at the top of the stairs. You ram your key into the lock and rush into your apartment. Yanking back the curtains, you look out into the street, seeing him grinning up at your window. You throw open the pane and stick your head out. 

 “You vlákas!” you shout and he cackles, taking a step back. 

 “Sweet dreams!” he calls with an infuriatingly attractive wink. You watch him walk away, both furious at him and wildly attracted to him. 

 Your eyes catch a movement across the street and you look over. There’s a man standing there in the alleyway, half hidden in the dark. You can’t make out much of his features, save that he’s looking straight at you, a smirk playing at his lips. You gasp and duck back inside, smacking your head on the wooden frame as you move. 

 “Styx!” you curse, rubbing the back of your head. You shut the window, pull the curtains closed and hurry to lock your front door. The man in the alley has unnerved you. 

 What’s worse is that when you closed your blinds, you were certain he was staring after Bucky. 

  Tags (open)

@everythingisoverrated @thefridgeismybestie @dsakita @part-time-patronus @i-dont-want-to-be-called @ellaenchanted91 

[khaelisfics]

Different

Paring: Giacomo Casanova x Fanny Price Chapter: 1/? Rating: Mature Word count: 2990 Tags: Slow Burn, Fluff, First Meetings, First Kiss, First Time

Summary:

When he decided to come to England, it was for the women. It wasn't to sell the Italian dresses he didn't make. It wasn't to drink champagne in posh garden parties he didn't like. It most definitely wasn't to fall in love with a woman he didn't want.

Read on AO3

New Teninch story I’ve started working on because I’ve wanted to do this for far too long! I know it’s not the most popular pairing, but I love it and I wanted to give it a try!

Tagging both @doctorroseprompts and @timepetalscollective should this fit in any of the ongoing prompts!

I hope you’ll like it! :-)

The hunting horn had blown. The moment he had stepped through the gate of the imposing mansion, the game had started. The first part of the game was setting up the rules. Making sure everyone knew he was a player, better yet, he was the man who would dominate the game. Make sure everyone knew he was the best hunter and would not let go of his preys, no matter how fierce or how cantankerous the opponents.

He had won the first round already. Pretend he was a wealthy Italian fabric merchant to slither his way into the garden, who unfortunately happened to have lost his invitation letter. The natural talent he possessed with his tongue and his charm were his best trumps, of course. His perfectly tailored costume, rich blue silk sewn with gold, white lace collar pinned with a jeweled brooch, knee-length leather boots were just helpful accessories. Outer evidence of a small fortune he only owned in the pompous discourses he had crafted for such occasions. Luxury clothes and precious adornments were but mere illusions. A few of his words were worth more than whatever money he could convince anyone he possessed. His mouth made him rich. His attitude made him respectable. His clothes only gave him the look.

Two young women walked past him, brushed against his arm, giggling and throwing the kind of decent smile high-society girls were taught to smile, but a smile that hid so much more. He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, a grin pulling at the corner of his lips, and picked up a crystal flute from the table. Just half a glass of posh champagne he would nurse until he would find the perfect prey. Obviously, it wouldn't take long. He would have thought British girls to be more… Moderate. Elegant. Smarter, and maybe colder. Obviously, he had been wrong. Or so he thought.

Oh, they were classier, he couldn't deny that. Well-mannered, well-dressed, well-behaved. But he saw it. He felt it. In the way they tried not to look at him but their eyes burnt his body under the heat of a single of their fleeting glances. In the way their fingers slightly tightened around their glass when he walked past them, as if they were struggling to keep their hands from reaching out to him. In the way they shifted in their seats, or shifted on their feet, like little animals who knew they could get bit and dragged into a den, but who would have gladly let themselves be caught. In all of those ways, none of them were better than all the frivolous Italian women who would have sold their mothers and properties just to get a chance to be naked in his bed.

So, he began to seduce. That one woman, with a red corset that puffed out into a large skirt, glorious breasts pushed up so high and so tight her pendant was trapped between the two mounds of flesh. He rather liked it. He didn’t even have to speak. A wink from one of his piercing blue eyes, a tug on a lapel of his jacket, a small bow and a devastating smile. There went his first dance. The first occasion to get a proper feel of British flesh, his long fingers digging into her hip, her supple chest brushing against his despite the expected and required distance between their bodies, the round swell of her bottom under his little finger, just enough of a contact to map out a derriere that was probably just as glorious as her devant. She fluttered her eyelids at him, looked at him through thick eyelashes, a light blush on her cheeks, and he decided he could do better. She was well-endowed, yes, but her face was common. Not particularly pretty, nor special enough to spark his interest. Not yet anyway. He’d have to wait until the end of the hunt and find out which weakened prey he’d pick - he would stop at three, no need to make himself too noticed.

“Remember the name, Mia Signorina,” he whispered in her ear as he let go of her waist on the last note of the song. “Casanova.”

Oh he loved it, how women swooned when he spoke those few words, rolled his letters and made the vowels last - the moment he had set foot on British soil, he had found out his tongue could not only talk his way in and out of things, but could also speak a foreign language. It made it all too easy.

“Ciao Lady, you sure look like, la perfetta stronza, today,” he greeted the older woman who had been ogling his backside for far too long - and chuckled under his breath when she had to fan her rubicon face, most certainly oblivious to the meaning of his words. “Very nice bosom, though too flabby and too vulgar, I don’t even want to think about the rest. Definitely not doable. Buona giornata, eh?”

It seemed her husband had been watching them from afar, because he briskly walked to them when the wife began to shout at him, rise from her chair and threaten him with her pointy umbrella. She was turning even redder, but knew it had nothing to do with either his charm or his backside, this time.

“This eccentric foreigner told me...” she started when her husband asked what was the commotion about in a bark.

“Advised you on your sense of fashion,” he was quick to interrupt with a fake laugh and a dismissive bending of his wrist, the kind of gesture he was sure those British expected from an extroverted Italian designer. “I truly am sorry, Sir, but look. The pompom under the chestline is much too loose, you can see the string about to break. The dress might have suited her a few years ago, but it is now too small and doesn’t hug her shapes in the right places, which makes her look più grassa than she is, and also rather ridiculous. I would suggest adding a ribbon of taffeta here, change that old-fashioned pompom, and have it entirely retailored. Or you could ask me for a brand new dress, of course, I would be more than happy to take her measurements and have my stilistas in Venezia come up with a better model. Half-price, for a gentiluomo like you. Truth be told, where I’m from, such a depraved appearance would be condemned by law, so let’s make a deal. Give me a hundred pounds right now, I’ll take the measurements after the party and your Lady can have her brand new dress by the end of the week.”

“A hundred pounds?” the husband huffed, his eyes travelling from his wife’s dress he had to admit had seen better days but still looked fashionable and reasonably fitted, and this foreigner who tutted and shook his head at his wife, taking in her appearance with sighs of discomfiture. “That’s certainly expensive.”

“The dress I’ll give you is worth thrice that sum,” he smiled, thumbing a lapel of his costume tu push it towards him. “Italian quality fabric, the most renowned couturiers you’ll ever find, a dress your wife can wear until the rest of her days. It’s an investment, but a good one. A hundred pounds, and you leave it all to me. Next wedding, your wife will shine brighter than the bride.”

“I… Suppose it’s been a while since my Lady was gifted with a new dress,” he shrugged, reaching inside his pocket to take out a roll of banknotes.

“I’ll give you the matching shoes for twenty more of these,” he raised an eyebrow - he knew he already had the wife swooning with the promise of that dess, and he congratulated himself inwardly when she purposefully stared at her husband.

“Fine,” he gave up, handing him a thick stack of notes.

“I shall meet you later, Signora,” he bowed, the notes quickly shoved inside the deepest pocket he could find. “My apologies if I chose the wrong words and made myself unclear earlier, English is a rather tricky language. Buona giornata.”

He saluted her with one last bow of courtesy and a charming smile - he knew she was perfectly aware he had meant the offensive words, but he also knew he had just bought her a brand new dress, or so she thought, so she simply smiled back and went away. Those British weren’t shy with money, it seemed. Maybe he could fill his purse by the end of the day and buy himself a first-class ticket for his return to Italy.

Feeling lighter despite the hundred notes protectively shielded in a folded layer of his puff-sleeved shirt, he swanned off in the direction of another young woman who could definitely win her way between his sheets or in a bush somewhere in the back of the luxurious gardens. His first real prey was in his line of sight. The woman with the red dress had just been a mere swim in the shallow pond to taste the waters. But that Lady with the emerald skirt and slightly lighter green corset was most definitely the occasion to make the big jump. Deliciously shaped and the face of Venezian beauty, with that added British grace that made her… Well he didn’t know what that made her, exactly, but he was sure it made him uncomfortably tight in the pants he had worn for the occasion   No full mast before the ship sails , he had to remind himself. Seduce first. That was part of the game.

“Ma ciao, bellissima,” he crooned, leaning against his cane crowned with a silver lion head, crossing an ankle above the other. “Allow me to compliment you on your choice of dress. This is by far the best I’ve seen today, it fits your body rather spectacularly. Molto bella.”

“I am married,” she answered, tugging on her shawl to cover her bare sternum.

“So?” he grinned with a raised eyebrow, almost delighted to be faced with a new challenge. “Can’t a uomo flatter a Lady who deserves it? I’m sure your husband has never told you how beautiful eyes you have, nor how elegant your gait is. I wanted to meet British class and beauty, and I’ve just met British perfection.”

“My husband often compliments me on my looks, thank you very much, Sir…?”

“Casanova,” he introduced himself with pomp, bowing to give the back of her hand a distant smack of his lips. “Forgive my audace, but would you mind if I readjusted some parts of your dress? I am a tailor, you see, dress designer in Venezia, and I’ve spotted a few things that could be improved. Don’t get me wrong, you look positively stunning, Signora, I put the blame on those English dressmakers. They lack the talent and imagination Italian couturiers have. Give me un minuto, and you’ll make all your friends jealous. You could be the queen of the party.”

“I already am,” she pointed out, her features not growing annoyed, but growing suspicious. “These are my gardens, Sir Casanova. My party. Forgive my asking, but I do not remember my husband telling me there would be an Italian tailor invited. Who introduced you?”

“Why, Sir Bellingham, of course,” he lied, citing a name he had heard after stepping into the party. “We met a while ago in Venezia, he told me he’d find me a suitable market for my designer dresses in England, and he invited me to this party to meet my first clients. See that Lady over there? Already bought one of my dresses, you can ask her. Le mie scuse, my Lady, but if you’re not interested in what my talents have to offer, I should go on with my business. Thank you ever so much for the invitation and the fine champagne. Ciao, brutta.”

He clicked his heels together with one last bow of courtesy and hurried to get away, fast enough to deprive her of the time she’d need to realize he was a fraud, slow enough not to arouse any more suspicion from any others. Well, some of those British girls were tough. Nothing like the Italian women he had courted seduced within mere minutes for the better part of his life. It might not have been the best enterprise to try his luck with a married woman who also happened to be the hostess, he reckoned, but still. In his country, he would already be bunching her skirt up to her hips and ravishing her against a tree - no, better not to think about ravishing women against trees just yet. His frustration was a fantastic remedy to his condition, anyway. He had to fight this frustration. He had to keep playing. He had lost a round, not the game. Yet. Because if all the beautiful British women were as uptight and sober as this one, he doubted he’d ever get to shove his pants down his knees, especially not in such ridiculously posh parties. He would give it one more try, maybe two, but if it kept going that way he would rather flee to the neighbouring town and find a brothel. He hadn’t come all this way, travelled several countries and crossed a sea to be disappointed and frustrated.

So, he kept going on his search for a prey. His previous failures made him more careful, however. Spot the rings, spot the husbands, spot those who looked at him as if they knew he didn’t belong. It made the hunt harder. Made him a predator that had to stay hidden in the shadows rather than run and hunt in the open. He had become a prey himself, in a way. He didn’t like it.

He walked for several minutes among the groups of people, occupied his hands with another glass of champagne he didn’t drink, picked up a few nibbles on the tables to pretend he knew what he was doing, only to discard them in the many plant pots disseminated around in the clean-cut grass. And then he spotted her. The perfect prey.

She was alone, sitting on one of the steps that let to the entrance to an appurtenance, isolated from the main hubbub of the party. No ring on her finger. A dress that looked much less elaborated that the others, a dull beige when all the others sported bright colours, a pale maroon tunic going askew on her shoulders. Rather disheveled, compared to the neat hairstyles and carefully pinned hats the other women wore. If he managed to seduce that one, it wouldn’t be one of his greatest achievements, nor one of his greatest prides. But then he saw her face, and an odd feeling coursed through him. A shiver of… Something. He didn’t know what it was, but he knew perfectly well his heart hadn’t beaten harder in his crotch like it usually did when he looked at a woman, but louder in his chest. She wasn’t even beautiful. Pretty, at most, with her blond curls, her full mouth, her round nose. A woman like a hundred many others he had made his bed creak with. No, not like a hundred others. Like a few others, only. Because he felt it from where he was standing, smelled it, tasted it. That young woman with that innocent sad face was a virgin. He didn’t particularly enjoy virgins. He liked his women like he loved his sex. Bold, mature, liberated. That blonde was none of that. The exact opposite, even. Shy, inexperienced, reserved.

Her deep whiskey eyes met his, her thick lips stretched into a small smile, her hand tightened on her tunic. And he saw in her eyes something akin to what he was feeling himself. The feeling that she didn’t belong here, the feeling of isolation, the feeling that she was pretending. Without knowing why, he realized she was a bit like him. A poor girl lost in a world of wealth who had had to learn the rules by herself rather than being taught. A girl that had been thrown into a cage full of hyenas, waiting for her to die to feast on her cadaver and make her disappear, like a nuisance that needed to be erased from the surface of this Earth. He saw it in the way the others looked at her. He heard it in the murmurs behind him. He felt it in the cloud of tension that thickened the closer he got to her. He was in the same kind of cage. Except he’d been lucky enough to be blessed with talents to help him fight off his enemies and fend off his demons. She obviously hadn’t.

“Hello, Sir,” she greeted him with a bow of the head - it was only then he realized his steps had taken him to her, quite against his most sensible reflections. “Please excuse my ignorance, but I don’t remember seeing you before.”

He had never really seen her before either, he thought. Because as he looked down at her face and into her eyes, he was suddenly struck by her beauty. Unconventional beauty, certo , but beauty nonetheless. Before he knew it, he was taking her hand in a gentle hold and brushing his lips against her skin. It terrified him to understand he wasn’t doing it to drag her into an empty room ten minutes later, steal her virginity against a cupboard and ditch her when he’d be done. He was doing it because he wanted to do it. No underlying purpose. He peered at her through his eyelashes, lips still hovering above the back of her hand, and he saw the way she nibbled her lip with an embarrassed grin.

“Più bella cosa, you’ll wish you had never seen me at all,” he said softly, pushing himself up straight with the help of his cane. “Call me... Giacomo.”