#TOMORROW THEY MAY WRAP FISHES IN IT BUT I WAS A STAR FOR ONE HOT MINUTE 🗣️🗣️

[sweetsubharry]

hey ! sorry to bother you but could you reccomend me some fics of footballer louis?? thank you !! love your acc

Hiya!!  💖you can never bother me!! ^-^ ohmgosh I’m so glad you like my blog! I love footballer louis djskasdhjag tysm(sorry it took soooo long!)

please make sure you read the tags and stay safe everyone!💖

Also these are not in any particular order, however I will say the first two are probably my favourites ;) I have to read them again right after this!

freeze this moment in a frame and stay like this by rosesau

Harry (not so) secretly crushes on the cute footie player and fills pages with sketches of him.

Don't Stop Thinking About Tomorrow by 1Diamondinthesun

Harry spends most of his time in an empty house or a lonely darkroom, dreaming of leaving his small town for art school. He's invisible to most people. And then Louis Tomlinson sees him. Life will never be the same.

Or, the American high school AU loosely inspired by She's All That.

Definition of Beauty by zanni_scaramouche

“Your book is upside down.” Harry nods at Louis’ book, his history text now that he sees it too.

“I’d rather study you.”

They both blink, startled by the slip.

“With you. Study with you,” Louis rushes to say. “Liam says I’m shite at history, can you help?”

Louis’ caught off guard by an omega he nearly takes out with an errant footie ball. It’s not that Louis’ never seen Harry before, it’s that he can’t stop looking, and he’s desperate to figure him out.

Coffee Cups and Football Boots by kimtaedumb

Harry’s stood behind the counter again, but this time he’s painting his nails. Louis strolls up to the counter and, thanks to his no brain-to-mouth filter, blurts out, “Isn’t that a little girlish, Haz?” leaning closer to inspect.

Harry lets out a little huff as his hand slips, “Oh, damn, now I’ve messed it up,” he pouts and turns to Louis, “Why should making myself feel pretty be girly?”

Louis holds up his hands in surrender, “’M not judging, jus’ curious is all.”

(The entirely cheesy and cliché Christmas AU, in which Harry doesn’t give a damn what people think about him – mostly – and Louis may be a little bit in love.

Alternatively, the one in which Harry owns a café that’s barely scraping by and Louis is a footballer and he takes Harry away for Christmas.

Featuring Zayn as a cocky little shit that most definitely needs to be put back in his place, Niall as the loveable Irish dude who drinks too much and flirts with Zayn more than the average girl, and Liam who loves everyone but hates them all at the same time.)

Way in the World by flowsque

When Louis Tomlinson enters the waiting room, Harry can distinctly feel his heart sinking to his stomach. The man's hair is ruffled and dishevelled and his red jersey, damp with sweat from training, clings to his perfect and chiseled body. He stands there, almost unreal, against the glass door, peering inside the office. Harry knew this would’ve happened, sooner or later. That he would have bumped into him. They play for the same club after all, even if they’re in different leagues. It’s not weird. It is not. Except it totally is. - Or, the one where Harry has a knee injury and an embarrassing crush on Manchester United's pretty number ten.

I Long For You by AnotherAnonymousWriter

Thirty minutes later, he's sat on a bench in Hyde Park with a book in his lap and a travel mug with hot tea in his hand. Not far from where he's sat, a group of boys are playing football and a bunch of children are chasing each other. Life is good.

Or at least, life is good until he hears a familiar “LOOK OUT!” and sees a football flying in the direction of his face.

And then everything is black.

(Harry gets hit in the head by various objects and falls for a boy with blue eyes.)

ease the quiet and talk me down by cabinbythesea

Harry's a model and Louis' a footie player.

(Louis teaches Harry some football and Harry is insanely good at giving a lapdance).

Baby, It's You by Bearandleonardwrite

"Oh, yeah. Um..” Harry lets his hands fall to his sides. His brows furrow, face full of concern, and he asks, “You’re not, like, stalking me, are you?”

Louis can’t help the loud cackle that escapes his lips and immediately slaps one of his hands over his mouth to muffle the sound. “Oh my god, Harry, no!” Louis tells him, a little breathlessly, giggles still bubbling out of his chest. “Lottie’s one of the makeup artists here today and she somehow got me to agree to come. I had no idea you modeled for, uh.. this brand until I saw you walk.”

“Oh,” Harry says dumbly, eyebrows still pinched. He lets what Louis just said sink in before a bright grin takes over his face and he goes back to doing up the buttons on his shirt. “Well, that’s alright, then. I’m glad you could make it.

(Basically, Louis' a footie player for Man U and Harry's a YSL model. They meet at a masquerade.)

Touch by kotabear24

Harry's shy and virginal with a past, new on the football team; Louis' the (experienced) popular star of the team and Harry's new mentor.

Come In and Change My Life by lightswoodmagic (sarah_writes)

He’d had the same neighbours since he’d moved into the building, a lovely, wealthy couple in their late sixties who had always invited him around for tea on Sundays. Martha had dropped off homemade biscuits the day he’d moved in, so Harry figured he may as well repeat the sentiment. He could hear someone getting closer to the door just as a flush ran through his body; oh fuck. His heat was close, too close to be knocking on a potentially unknown alpha’s door, but it was too late. The door swung open, and Harry’s mouth dropped. He’d never been overly interested in football, couldn’t find the fascination in watching men run around after a ball for hours aside from their uniforms, but he knew who this was. Louis Tomlinson, alpha, captain of Manchester United, star in a number of Harry’s heat addled fantasies, was his new next-door neighbour.

Or, Harry and Louis become friends when Harry looks after Louis' cat during away games, until one night at a party changes everything between them. It's just a shame Louis' going to be away for the FIFA World Cup for three months.

see the truth (it's me for you) by orphan_account

If you asked Louis the first day of his French Literature class what he’d be doing on the last, he’d probably never have guessed it would involve helping a poorly Harry Styles study for the final exam. Good thing he’s not a betting man.

(Or the one where Louis and Harry spend an entire semester ignoring each other after a one-night stand, only to come face to face when Harry manages to catch the stomach flu during finals week. Sometimes fate is funny like that.)

Use Your Words by zedi

based off this prompt: collage au where jock!harry always serenades flowercrown!louis with love songs in their music class. what nobody knows is that harry actually kinda means the words he sings.

But instead it's Louis as the jock and Harry as the flowerchild because I do what I want.

Stop The World (I Wanna Get Off With You) by ilikepianos

"You like this, don't you?", he asks breathlessly.

What? Sucking cock? Being dominated? Yes, all of that. A big fat yes.

Harry nods, lips still wrapped around Louis' throbbing dick.

Louis' lips curl into a smirk. "Keep going then. You're doing amazing, love."

OR: The uni-football AU where Harry may or may not have a minor crush on the captain of the team and suddenly discovers that the feeling is very much mutual.

Picture Perfect by LittleBubbleStyles

an AU where Louis Tomlinson is a misunderstood football player, and Harry Styles is a misunderstood photographer. Somehow, they're understood together.

I just think about my baby; I'm so full of love I could barely eat by mercutionotromeo

Harry and Louis are six hundred miles apart, but they have the same solutions to the same problem.

Or: a masturbation drabble featuring pillow humping, locker rooms, and copious amounts of dirty talk.

into another (another) serotonin overflow by mercutionotromeo

Harry wants this year to be different - wants it to be the year that he finally gets over this stupid crush. He’s going to uni, he needs to decide what he wants to do with his life.

Instead, he’s deciding what he wants to do to Louis Tomlinson.

Or: Sweet first time sex wherein Harry's adorably awkward, Louis is achingly cool, and Harry rides Louis wearing his jersey.

note: it says it in the tag but this is the edited version written in 2019, rather than the 2017 original- so there’s two put I put the link for the newest one :)

need a little sweetness in my life by mercutionotromeo

Harry's always liked feeling desperate and small when Louis touches him, but when he sucks Harry off...it’s fucking otherworldly. Desperate’s not really the word at that point - it’s helpless. Like… like the fucking world could stop spinning and Harry wouldn’t be able to do anything about it until Louis finished him off with his lips and his tongue.

Or, Harry and Louis go to university together. Harry really likes it when Louis sucks him off, and Louis really likes it when Harry calls him Daddy.

(Sequel to "into another serotonin overflow")

I made a map of your stars by brightbluelou

Harry does not have a crush on Louis Tomlinson. Yes, Louis is very pretty and funny, and Harry may have had more than a few inappropriate thoughts about him, but he certainly doesn’t like him. (Except for the fact that he totally does.) or, Harry is the shy boy in the back of the class that no one really notices. Louis is the loud, outgoing football player that everybody likes.

We Made These Memories for Ourselves by supernope

Breath held, Harry squints his eyes open and focuses on the first stick. A blue line. Harry breathes out an unsteady breath. He’s pretty sure he read that one blue line is a negative, but he fishes the box from the bottom of the pile just to make sure.

“Negative,” he confirms, voice echoing around the small room. “Next.”

Now that he’s feeling a little less shaky, he scans the rest of the tests at once, is met with a headache-inducing mixture of pink plus signs and blue double lines. His heart rate picks up until it’s pounding triple-time in the base of his throat and the pit of his stomach, thundering in his ears and throbbing in his temples. He flips over the rest of the boxes slowly, but he knows what they’re going to say before he even looks.

[or, Louis is a footballer, Harry owns a bakery, and they're having a baby.]

Kiss Me on the Mouth and Set Me Free by ls2k14   

Louis has his head thrown back in a laugh, his wet fringe hanging in front of his eyes, and a beautiful flush to his cheeks. From this angle, the sun hits his face just right to where the beams of light are shining in between the spaces of each individual clump of watered down eyelashes. His chest is showing through the soaked material of his white jersey and it seems that his biceps are attempting to break free from the sleeves that are clinging to his skin.

And Harry can do nothing except take it all in. He doesn’t even think he’s breathing at this point. He is literally stuck in place, admiring the true beauty of Louis Tomlinson, while being surrounded by fit footballers and generally attractive people. He doesn’t think he’s ever been in love before, but if Louis let him, he’s pretty damn sure he could change that in the matter of a few nanoseconds.

[poptod]

Pull the Stars Out of the Sky (And Gift Them to Me), pt. 7, (Ahkmenrah x Reader)

Description: Protection.

Notes: idk when i started writing smut so willy nilly but here it is, another fuckening. Pretty big warning though: dubious consent. It’s clearly consensual later on but at first there is no given consent. WC: 6.8k

+

He had yet to leave your side, taking you with him in every which direction as he, in his own words, marketed himself. It was a process that consisted of being charming and making witty jokes; simple things that had people trusting him. You stood mostly silent beside him, wringing your hands, stuck in distant thoughts. If anyone referred to you, you didn't notice.

They did, though––but if anyone asked about you, Ahk would make up a quick explanation, one he knew you wouldn't mind.

Your silence was originally your constant state, traipsing about the palace with a chain keeping you at Ahk's side. Over the short course of time between Amun first awakening and coming to stay with the Persian nomads, he had already grown used to your laughing, the snide comments always on your razor-sharp tongue, and that lively spark that filled your eyes whenever your heart thumped in your chest.

"You're quiet," he murmured as the two of you walked. You gripped reins in your hand, keeping your camel with all your bags beside you.

"I don't... like travelling with people," you said through gritted teeth, side-eyeing a group of whispering friends to your left.

"It's safer, isn't it?"

"For you," you mumbled bitterly.

"Oh, you're above joining in a caravan?" He said with a teasing lilt.

"I am simply experienced in this," you said, sure to speak under your breath, "and I know how to take care of myself."

Due to the size and needs of a caravan such as Mahud's, you would need to stop thrice a day, each time setting up a little bit of a home at the riverside. Inbetween those breaks, your legs ached with a familiar burn. Long walks had been your staple for a long while. Though your long break from the lifestyle had left you a little out of shape, your previous experience allowed you to navigate your way back in without too much trouble.

Ahk was taking the physical exertion overall well, despite his aching hunger. The stops would allow him to eat, a fact he was very happy to learn, going by the massive grin on his face when you pointed it out. At a few points he was partial to complaining, but always ceased if you glared at him.

The next stop for the slow-moving caravan was by an outcropping stream flowing from the Nile and out into the desert, allowing a small oasis to grow further from the river itself. Although there appeared to be no fruits growing on the tall trees, a few men and women took up nets and spears, wading out into the water to look for fish.

Numbness filled up your legs as you collapsed on the ground, leant against your camel who had also drawn to its' knees. Heat had already pooled in your face and in your feet, burning from the long day, and ready for anything to drink.

"Here," Ahk said as he rounded a bush, kneeling beside you in your shady, isolated spot.

He handed a cup to you, filled with hot tea. Not the most satisfying drink, but it was safest, and you dutifully sipped away. As you watched the other travellers Ahk shifted his position, scooting nearer to you and pressing himself to your side. Instantly his heat began to overcrowd your senses.

"Ahk, it's too hot for me to be touching anyone," you said, shifting away with your back to him.

You probably should've expected him to pull you into him and keep you there, which made you feel all the more foolish when he did it anyway and you didn't expect it at all.

"Ahk..." you whined, half suffocated by his arms wrapping tight round your chest, his face buried in the back of your neck.

"Mmm," he hummed as he took all of you in, nuzzling you with his nose. "I am... tired."

"I'd be astounded if you weren't, but you can't sleep. It's still day and we won't stay here long," you said matter-of-factly, pushing his face away from you.

"I'll just keep you here," he decided, his voice muffled through the fabric of your shirt. "Sleep forever."

"Right," you said, rolling your eyes.

You wormed out the moment he loosened his grip, much to his disappointment.

By nightfall the distant murmurs of a city sounded from ahead, blurred with singing crickets and the steady flow of the Nile beside you. Ahk had spent the rest of the day trying to cheer you up, mostly with bad jokes, but the sentiment was nonetheless there. Still, being surrounded by people for the past fourty-six hours had already taken its' toll. You hardly spoke, your chest felt caved in on itself, and your eyes were trained on the ground below you.

The city ahead, while heralding certainly crowded streets and filled taverns, would suffice as a hospice away from people who had come to learn your name. Whispering in your ear, Ahk informed you this was the city Piye had wanted the two of you to stay at for a little while. If things got worse, you'd move further south, and if they got better, you would return north down the nile.

While at first you tried to sneak away without Mahud noticing, Ahk insisted on giving the man a proper good-bye, and backed this up with the fact that you had been lent a camel. You wouldn't be able to take it with, but it was still a nice consideration for the trip to Aswan.

"We'll be stopping here," Ahk said once Mahud's attention was on the two of you. "We're to meet a friend soon."

"Ah, then I wish you safe travels," said Mahud, patting Ahk on the shoulder with a firm hand.

"Thank you. To you and your family as well. Will you be staying here tonight?" Ahk asked as he gestured to the outer markets of the city, filled with traders who came from far away to make their living, and couldn't afford a roof over their heads.

"I believe so. Tomorrow we make our money and head off again."

"Good luck to you then," Ahk said, silently urging you to say your own farewell.

"Good-bye," you said quietly, bowing your head respectfully.

As you entered the outer rim of the city, the first thing you noticed was the quiet. It wasn't all that late––the sun had set only a little while ago, and it always did that much earlier in the day during the colder months. So you kept your footsteps quiet, instructing Ahk to do the same when he didn't pick up on the eerie silence.

With no one around to direct you every which way, you had to rely off what memory you had of Aswan, as little as it was. You had visited several times, but never for very long. Most of the city was still unexplored to you.

The long light of burning torches cast itself upon the street in front of you, approaching from around the house to your right. Instantly you were darting for cover, hiding the whole of your body behind a large barrel, while you watched Ahk look around the corner.

"Ahk, you fucking idiot, get over here," you hissed, the pounding in your heart begging him to listen to you.

He looked over his shoulder, finding you mostly-hidden, and quickly made to do the same. His spot was on the opposite side of the street, guarded by a practical wall of broken-down stalls. Once Ahk was fully secured you slipped back behind the barrel, calming your quickened breath as footsteps passed you by, numbering somewhere in the tens.

Only when you were fully assured that whoever passed you was not coming back, you joined Ahk in the middle of the road and continued onwards.

"Did you get a look at them?" You asked immediately.

"Yes, but... I'm not sure if I actually saw what I saw," he said, his brow furrowed intensely.

"What does that mean?"

"They had these.. heads on them, feathered and beaked, with massive eyes. Fucking jacked, too," he muttered, pausing to check both ways before crossing the next street.

"Like your Gods?" You asked.

"Like Horus," he said with a nod. "What on Earth are they here for?"

"Just guessing right now, but they might have something to do with you."

He took your hand, and after a long while of searching the streets, you found yourself at the step of a tavern whose lights had long gone out. Again, strange; neither of you remarked upon it, but you did turn to each other with dubious eyes. The smell of mead still came from it, not yet soured or rotten.

Ahk took a cautious step forward, reaching for the door and easily pushing it open. Inside there was the expected darkness, surrounding the knocked-down chairs, broken tables, and spilt beer. Both of you stopped, your shadows stretching before you on the wooden floor as you scanned the whole of the abandoned room. The bar, where you were sure there was once an attendant, was left unmanned and covered in shattered cups, sticky with sweetened alcohol.

The door behind you swung shut, making you whip around. Fortunately it was only Ahk letting go of the door, leaving it to join you nearer to the center of the room, where you could try and peer over the counter.

"Um..." you said.

"Good evening," said a voice, accompanied soon by a man popping out from behind the bar. "How may I help you?"

"Uhhh.. what... what, uh, happened here?" Ahk asked, his expression contorted as he glanced around the room.

"Nasty Egyptian soldiers. They've wrecked up the place, and every time I fix it they come back in and ruin it, so I stopped fixing it. The party's upstairs, if that's what you're after," he said with a too-bright grin on his face.

"Really? And they don't notice that you're up there?"

"Well, they are bird brains," the man said as he leant in, though spoke in a much quieter voice.

"Wait, are they the soldiers with the bird heads on them?" Ahk asked as a revelation came to him.

"Yes, sir. Where've you been?"

"Travelling for the last couple days. How long have they been here?"

"About a week or so now," said the man, looking away as he recalled. "Heard they're crawling all over the other cities, too. So you folks want a room?"

"... sure," you said in a quiet, low voice when Ahk failed to answer.

He handed you a wooden coin with a symbol engraved with fire, informing you that the door with the same symbol was yours. There were no locks and he made sure to tell you that, as well. After offering to carry your bags and earning a 'no,' from you, he pointed you up the stairs, and returned to his spot hidden beneath the bar.

"Odd man," Ahk whispered to you as you climbed the steps.

"Ahk!" You scolded, hitting his shoulder. "We're still in earshot."

How the Horus soldiers hadn't managed to find this place was beyond either of you, as the moment you entered the upper floor you were bombarded with the tunes of dancing music, twirling and playing with the veins of each listener. The thick scent of searing meat filled the whole of the room, rivalled only by the scent of sloshed beer. Most of the food and drink came from a single corner, where a large cask of beer had been set up alongside a furnace, where the one manning the food also managed the distribution of drink.

All around you, people sat and stood, dancing in the middle or resting on the sidelines. Every crate and usable chair was taken up, most people taking seats on the floor instead in great groups of public conversation. You instinctively grew closer to Ahk, trying to keep as far away from others as you could, even as he began to wade through the crowd.

"Hey, don't you think it's a little loud in here? Won't the soldiers find us?" Ahk asked a random stranger, who had happened to stand as the two of you passed her by.

"Egyptian soldiers are hardly valued for their intelligence, young man," she said with a knowing chuckle, before continuing on to the bar.

"Told you," you murmured in his ear as you watched her disappear in the crowd.

"Oh, shut up."

After setting away your bags and manually jamming the door, you rejoined the party on the second floor, partaking in what food and drink you could afford. Piye had given you a good deal of money, but you had no way of knowing how many days or months you would have to stretch that amount across. It was better to keep a good eye on your finances, something Ahk didn't know much about, and left in your capable hands. Though, that hardly stopped him from complaining.

"We got more food when we were staying with Mahud," he whined, his cheek squished against your shoulder.

"That's because it didn't cost any money," you said.

"You are a cruel lover."

"I am, but this has nothing to do with that since we are not lovers."

"We're not?"

"No," you stated, leaning your head back against the wall with closed eyes. "We are, at best, accomplices."

There was no ignoring the sudden change in his energy. He grew quiet, as he so rarely did, and hardly moved to breathe.

As he sulked, you took care to remind yourself of what he was capable of––the strange things he'd said to you, even if they weren't entirely harmful, that had set you in a month-long mood of unease.

"You will stay here. Any attempt on your behalf to leave and I will have to punish you. Understand?"

"Then I am a prisoner," you said, your voice hoarse and broken.

"You are what you make yourself," he said in a much more stern tone, looking down at you with knowing, wary eyes. "If it is a prisoner, then so be it. But you will be, throughout all actions and situations, mine."

"I..."

"You belong to me."

He had not relented in his usage of that claim. In times of peace, in political unrest, he had kept you with him. In times of great bounty, of danger and uncertainty, you had not left him once, and you wondered how sick you would've gotten if you were to go back in time and tell your freshly-met self that you would spend the longer half of a year with him.

You supposed that, in the end, you had joined his collection. The only catch was that it cost him everything else in his ownership, including his kingdom. And yet he seemed perfectly content to lean on your side, even if harsh words came before the silence, and to wait till you returned his affections.

As he touched your shoulder, his muscles went lax, letting him fall limp against you. The moment he intook your scent he was gone, hypnotized by his own adoration for you.

Though your mind fell into a quiet stupor, dancers still circled the room in beat with music. For a moment you wondered how they'd react if they found out the Pharaoh was in their midst.

Aswan was a very Egyptian-type city considering it was still within the borders of Nubia. That meant less worker camps, less fear of Egyptian soldiers, and less knowledge on the impact the Pharaoh stressed upon higher up Nubian cities. Keeping that in mind, you assumed they would try to cozy up to him––spend some of his riches, flirt a little––however it was also possible they worshipped Amun and had already heard of Ahk's treason.

Music began to fade from your mind as the faint sound of footsteps sounded from below you, seeping through the cracks in the mud and wood. They appeared more succinctly the closer you listened, and soon you could identify the number, all marching in unison.

"Ahk," you shook him awake, eyes trained intensely on the floor, "we need to get out of here."

"What?" His sleepy face gave way for concern. "What? What's happening?"

"There's soldiers coming," you said, your grip on his arm tightening.

"Well – the man at the front said they come by every now and then. They haven't found the upstairs yet, they probably won't now," he said.

Muffled voices muttered from below the floor. Ahk opened his mouth to speak again, but you quickly silenced him with your hand, carefully tuning back into the conversation beneath you. A loud crash was followed by silence, and that combination had you jumping to your feet.

"What is it?" Ahk asked, much more panicked now that he noticed your own fear.

"They're coming upstairs," you said as you backed up through the crowd, disturbing those you bumped into.

"They're – oh fuck." Ahk's expression dropped. "The soldiers are coming!"

Ahk yelled his warning over the music, certainly loud enough to assure the soldiers that there were, in fact, people up here. Lutes and harps stuttered to a halt, the pounding of footsteps now clear through the walls.

Panic seized the partygoers. People trampled over one another reaching for their belongings casted aside, hurriedly adjusting them back onto their bodies and making for the windows. Like rats they climbed out, writhing over each other into a mass of fabric and limbs, followed eagerly by you and Ahk. Massive backpacks made it so you were the last out and the only two to see the soldiers yourselves.

The pounding door had you stuck in a trance, only able to back up towards the window. As it slammed open, you finally caught sight of the falcon-headed soldiers, their sharpened spears and sharper eyes, staring empty-minded at you as Ahk pulled you out the window.

"This way!" Came a voice from above you.

You and Ahk quickly looked up, finding a young woman offering you a hand from the rooftop. Ahk took no hesitation in grabbing it, allowing her to hoist him upwards. When he reached down to find your hand, he felt nothing, and panic struck his heart like a searing knife. He ducked his head down, watching the room upside down.

Muscled arms wrapped around your chest and face, blocking your mouth from making practically any sounds at all. The only sound you could make was from kicking your legs frantically.

He jumped back to his feet on the roof, spinning round to the woman who had helped him.

"I need a sword," he said in a rush, desperate eyes already begging.

"Um – ask Imar, I believe he has one," she said, pointing to the man who worked at the bar downstairs. Ahk thanked her in a rush and left.

"Imar!" He called as he jumped from one building's roof to another, approaching where most of the party-goers had gathered. "I need a sword, or a weapon of any sort. Crossbow even."

"I've got a sword, but I need it. There's a stock of axes over there. Don't know who they belong to, though, so take at your own discretion," he said. Ahk once more gave his thanks before running off.

The kink in your neck had only gotten worse the more you struggled, spiking pain down your spine and into your skull each time the soldier's golden bands pressed into the side of your neck. Your already travel-worn shoes were now nearly in shreds, pulling and pushing on the rough gravel roads, occasionally cutting the soles of your feet open. Thus far you had not been allowed to speak, one massive arm nearly cutting off your oxygen supply.

Although you couldn't tell for sure where they were dragging you, you assumed it was towards a temple, as the buildings around you slowly grew more complex and well-kept. A temple seemed a proper place where you could be thrown into whatever underworld Amun lived in.

Being a commodity fought over should've scared you more. There was a panic seizing your nerves, but you were numb to the surprise, instead saving your energy till you could outsmart the soldiers.

Squawking interrupted your harsh breathing, crying out from behind the falcon soldier. You opened your eyes to the dark of night, spying through the shadow-filled alleyway a running figure, followed by the heads of soldiers falling from the city's silhouette. It was then you recalled a very important fact––Amun and his soldiers might've been strong, but Ahk held within him a hunger unlike that of the starved. The hunger of the rich––of pigs and cannibals. A hunger that terrified you to your core.

The first soldier in your sight that emerged from the shadow of buildings soon stopped in its' tracks, tumbling down past its' own knees as the falcon head slipped off human shoulders. Your shocked eyes watched intently, darting upwards to see Ahk with a broad axe.

His blade came down on the last remaining soldier walking behind your captor, blood splurting from the veins and splattering on his face. Much of it landed on your foot, leaving a trail of red as you were dragged, legs still shakily kicking.

He held a finger up to his lips, hushing any muffled screams that might've come from you. Whatever he had planned, you let him do what he deemed necessary, and kept quiet to avoid the suspicion of the soldier restraining you. He raised his axe high above his head, as though he were to strike you down. Terror filled your eyes when the blade came screaming down, splitting the soldier's head in two before it could ever reach you, leaving no mark on you but the pouring blood of the falcon head. The grip on you loosened, and as you pushed yourself away the corpse fell to the ground.

Blood and nerves squelched as Ahk tore the weapon out of the skull, a horrible crack resonating in the empty street when the base of the skull finally split. He panted, droplets of blood falling into his open mouth as he turned to you, eyes frozen and wide.

"You alright?" He asked softly, in a tone so out of character from his current state.

"... yeah," you breathed out.

The axe clattered onto the ground, followed shortly by Ahk falling to his knees. From there he crawled the short distance to you, gently wrapping his arms around your middle, and pulling you into his lap. He buried himself in your neck, hid away in your warmth. The blood covering his midsection soaked through your shirt.

"Ahk, we need to leave, you know there's more of them," you said, though you did not cease in stroking his hair.

"I know," he mumbled, pressing himself tighter to you for a moment before releasing. "They didn't hurt you?"

"Nothing but bruises," you huffed. "Let's go."

You kept near the entrance to the tavern as Ahk wandered back inside, checking behind the counters and in the attic for any trace of the fleeing people. From the roof you could hear muttering, though you couldn't see anyone, and you could vaguely make out the words they were saying.

"Are you the one they're looking for?" A woman asked.

"I did anger an Egyptian god, yes," Ahk said with a curt nod.

"Imar!"

The man from the downstairs bar appeared from over the horizon of another tall rooftop. He was drenched in sweat, practically glowing in the dim moonlight.

"Yes?"

"These are the ones they want," she said, gesturing to Ahk.

"Really?" He said as he dusted his hands off. "The hell did you do?"

"I, um, attacked a God in order to save my.. um... Amoke," he answered rather sheepishly.

"You cannot stay here," Imar said firmly.

"I'm sorry, but we have many other people looking for protection. We will not risk them for two people who have private business with whatever kind of God you worship," the woman said.

"I understand. Keep safe. Do you have any ideas on where we could go for the night?"

"Try the old graves up on the hill. They hate desecrating the dead," she said before sending Ahk back off down the stairs.

Footsteps drummed for a moment before the door swung open, revealing the Pharaoh still covered in blood. By now it had dried, leaving much of it to flake off his clothes and skin, now a muddy brown instead of the vibrant red of before.

"Have you ever slept in a grave before?"

"What?"

You had expected him to ask, considering what you heard of the conversation, but you weren't wholly convinced he would actually allow himself to sleep in a tomb.

"A long while ago, I died for a little while. Well, I guess not that long ago. Two or three years. My brother killed me," he began as he started off down the steps, taking you with him as he directed you through the streets, "and I was buried. Piye returned from their banishment shortly after and dug me out of my grave... used their gift to give me life once more."

"... you're really expecting me to believe that?" You asked, almost ready to burst out laughing.

"You saw Amun come to life. There are flowers growing out of your arms. What part of my story is unbelievable to you?"

"Right," you mumbled. "Good point. So... did you sleep in that grave or something?"

"It's complicated, but I was conscious for some time, locked underground. Not Piye's magic. Khonsu's, I believe. Either way, it's not horrid if you have someone with you," he said, patting you on the back with a smile.

"Did you have someone with you?"

His expression fell, the hand on your shoulder going with it.

"I did," he said softly, offering no more than a bittersweet twitch of his smile.

Ahk caught it before you did––the trampling of numbered footsteps, growing steadily louder the closer you came to the upcoming street. You remained within your own thoughts, plagued by questions, and mostly ignorant to the slowing of his pace. Eventually he had to grab your hand, forcing you to hide behind the shadow of a tall building. You opened your mouth to say something, but he set his hand over your mouth, staring at you with an intensity that had terrified you only a little while earlier.

"They're coming," he mouthed in your ear, breath barely passing his lips as he spoke.

Steps grew louder and he pressed himself against you, squishing you to the wall with his chin on your shoulder. Pressure tightened around your chest, constricted your breathing, hastened the beat of your heart as you relied solely on your hearing.

Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.

The clattering of armor, weapons, and shields rang through the marching steps, sending the imagery of shining, sharpened stone and arrows glinting in the moonlight.

"We need to go," he said beneath his breath.

Before you could ask what he meant, his hand encircled your wrist once more, pulling and forcing you down the other side of the alley. Chirps and squawks came from behind, making your pulse rush and swell beneath your skin. They would find you––bird brains though they were, they were still soldiers of a God, with eyes adapted for darkness. They would pull you into their hell and murder your... your Ahk.

Your Ahk.

You arrived back in your body when Ahk turned into an open, empty street, running uphill as he trained his sights on the tomb-filled mountains.

"We're not actually going to stay in a grave, are we?!" You asked as you ran, trying desperately to keep up with the long strides of the former Pharaoh.

"It is our safest bet," he said, tightening his grip on you. You still attempted to squirm out, however fruitless your struggle, and the proceeding panic had you soaked entirely in fear.

He kept you running till your legs burned, till he was fumbling over his own steps, too full of adrenaline to fully control his feet. Pebbles, rocks, and dust filled your sandals, scratching at your skin as it clung to your sweat. Your throat was still too tight to take in enough breath, leaving you part-way wheezing. Soon your own legs began to give way, scraping your knees and palms across rough dirt.

"Come, up," Ahk muttered as he helped you back to your feet, casting wary glances towards the city still ringing with the cries of falcons.

A few more minutes of scrambling up unused paths and you came to the foot of the hill, where the first graves had been set up. The long tunnels led into darkness, to a place you had never been before, where death would paint every wall. Few things in life truly terrified you––death was not among them, but the cruel afterlife of the Egyptians did. The tales you'd heard of the spells necessary to memorize, the weapons, the escorts, the protective magic one needed to have to brave what they called Duat had done that to you.

He didn't take to the first grave you saw, whose door was sealed shut from the outside with rope and wood. In fact he took you past halfway up the hills till he finally found a hole in which to hide, shoving you into the overwhelming darkness, and shutting the door partway.

All that you could hear was the trembling of your own breath, echoing in the empty, dank chamber. Despite the chilling cold the ground beneath you seemed wet, as though it had rained within the earth.

Clicking came from somewhere in front of you. Instinctively you pressed yourself against the wall, surprised to find not a cave wall but a carved granite wall. A flame burst before you as you realized this, revealing the whole of the cave, each wall covered in paintings of life and magic. Hieroglyphs lined every scene, rivalled only by the collection of yellow and white stars painted onto the lapis ceiling.

Your eyes scanned the walls around you and the ceiling, wandering down the pillars and towards the dirt floor. Across from you, Ahk leant his back against the wall, a flicker of light dancing on cloth ripped from his skirt. Now the material covered only the upper half of his thighs, leaving little to your imagination as he drew nearer to you.

"I'm afraid Nubian graves don't quite compare to the luxury of Egyptian graves," he said, setting his hand on your knee and running it up your thigh.

"When will we leave?"

"When our hunger becomes too great."

Ahk might've had good impulse control and lots of self control, but you did not.

"That'll be in days!"

"You're not very patient, are you?"

"Not when I'm stuck in a fucking tomb!"

"Screaming won't do you any favors, Amoke," he reminded you with a quirk of his brow.

Though you hardly had the consciousness of mind to recognize what he was doing, his hands had set to separating your legs, wedging himself inbetween them instead.

"I don't think the volume of my voice has anything to do with our predicament," you said scathingly, crossing your arms and turning away.

"Well, no, but you will hurt your voice. And my ears. This is a small room."

He had a point, but you were adamant in your decision to avoid his gaze. So instead you looked to the floor, your arms still crossed, and a small pout on your lip. Your eyes widened as you felt warmth on your neck, soft and somewhat wet. Ahk was kissing at your neck, one hand dangerously high on the inside of your thigh and the other squeezing your waist, in the middle of a tomb.

"What the hell are you doing?" You asked, beginning to worm in his grasp. The curt movements soon turned to struggle, your heart racing as he simply held you tighter, biting harsher at your neck.

"I could've lost you so easily today," he said softly between the ministrations of his lips.

"Amun almost kidnapped me, too, and you didn't act l –" he bit down and you gasped, "like this."

He simply chuckled and continued.

"I wanted to," he admitted after a moment. "He had no right to do anything to you. I've already lay claim."

"What?"

"You're mine. I found you first." Motions began to grow rougher, hands tightening on you as kisses became hurried and desperate. "My beautiful little toy... I won't let you go, never."

"Ahk, we're in a grave," you said, attempting to pull his hands off you.

In one swoop his hands caught yours, pinning them above your head. The weight of his body still rested between your legs, keeping them apart, and allowing him access to push and grinded himself against you. His strained breathing kept your shuffling feet company, a distraction from the heat welling in your stomach.

"Ahk..."

"You are a most beautiful sight," he murmured against your flushed skin. "Truly fit to be a god yourself."

The fear rushing through your blood was one unfortunately familiar––that same fear when you first met him. When he tied you to his bed for hours. When he stood above you with angered eyes, scanning the whole of your over-exposed body.

"This isn –"

"You told me you didn't love me... do you remember that?"

"... yes," you said, still unable to meet his eyes even as he pulled away to look you in the face.

"Then I suppose I have nothing to lose," he murmured, leaning into gift the softest of kisses, barely gracing the bow of your lip, "as all I want in this realm is your love."

"And what of your kingdom?"

"My kingdom is my duty. I do not enjoy ruling, but it is something I must do for the safety of families who now rely on a government to protect them. You, however..." he trailed off for a moment, biting into his bottom lip with a grin, "... you I enjoy very much."

A quick kiss to your lips and he resumed what he started, letting your entwined hands fall in favor of feeling you. His touch slipped up your shirt, feeling the heat of your skin until it grew too much to bear, and he began untying the knots of your clothes. Once he pulled the fabric off your shoulders, he leant back to pull his own coat off. The space gave you ample time to wriggle out of his weakened grasp, though you barely raised to your feet before he grabbed your ankle, pulling you back down and scuffing you in the process.

You turned onto your back, watching with heavy, quickened breaths as he pulled you to him till your hips met, hands and piercing eyes pinning you into place. For a split second an image flashed before your eyes––rope in his hand, silk beneath you, and a servant watching it happen. You shook your head to clear it away, opening your eyes in time to see him lay you flat on the earth.

"I love you," he murmured with a reverence so deep you could swear there were tears welling in his eyes. The hands on your hips slowly ran up your waist and over your chest, squeezing and teasing your senses. "Beautiful..."

He dipped down, like a hand of God descending from heaven to grasp the unholy that sits beneath. Kisses landed on your sternum, trailing up towards your neck, where his nipping teeth had already left dark marks. Unsure what to do with yourself, you let your hands sit above your head and allowed him to do as he pleased.

"I have waited forever to indulge in you," he said, the heat of his words beneath your jaw.

Your eyes flew open.

Haji warned you about this––or maybe it was Naguib, but he didn't seem to like you all that much. Either way, you recalled a spare bit of information given to you concerning the Pharaoh; he might've originally locked you in the castle to have his heirs. Was this what he was doing? Giving into what he'd first taken you for?

"Will you give me this?" He asked, inches away from your face, your leg kinked up upon his hip.

"What?"

"The easiest form of love," he said through a crack in his voice. From here you could clearly see what you'd spied earlier––tears. "I cannot seem to win your personal love. But I will take anything you give me, and I want this."

"... what?"

He ground his hips into yours, till you could clearly and distinctly feel something hard pressing against you. A soft groan fell from him. Part of you already knew what he meant, but another part was still stunned into stupidity, your wide eyes nothing but empty.

"I need you," he murmured.

Even with all the thoughts in your head, you couldn't manage a single word. Your mouth hung open, gasping when stimulated, but mostly silent with your own confusion. There was an appeal to Ahkmenrah––his beauty, his intelligence, his humor. Quite the array of good traits even without the fact that he held massive amounts of power, or did at one point. Yet you still couldn't let go of what you'd seen him do. It loomed over you like an eclipse, blocking your thoughts and stilling your mind in its' presence.

He didn't have the strength within him to stop himself. He would need your ardent refusal, even though he knew silence was a quiet no, to regain his control. It was a funny thing, seeing him so desperate––a man as composed as him, as aware of himself as him would be remiss to be such a shameful sight.

And it was you.

You driving a Pharaoh to his knees. You taking a man whose very essence was his control over his identity and tearing his image apart. Making him a devil in his people's eyes. You weren't even asking him to ruin himself, to take himself apart just to appeal to you even in the slightest––he was doing that himself. Willingly.

Your chest felt concave upon itself as he continued, numb to the realizations in your head. He pulled off your skirt, the ties in your clothes, till both of you were nude, him still locking your body to the ground. From this angle he could thrust against you, almost fucking your thighs as your wetness grew. Gasps and moans built in your mouth despite your efforts to keep an even expression. He delighted in your own embarrassment, laughing when you squirmed with your eyes shut tight and a hot blush on your face.

"Gods, you are... perfect," he said, devolving into a long, soft moan as the head of his cock began to prod at your entrance.

A rush of excitement––or perhaps just the simpler anticipation––ran through you, and you couldn't stop the sounds that left you as he pushed in. He stretched you, filled you perfectly, and for a moment you wondered if you had been denying yourself a taste of bliss. 

As he kissed you, bitter iron filled your mouth and painted your tongue. At first you wondered if he had bitten too hard (or if you had), but in a short time you realized it was the dried blood, still caked onto his face and body.

Blood passing between your lips. Mingling with your breaths and moans. It became hard to distract yourself with the forceful thrusts of the Pharaoh above you, your mind instead set fierce upon your sense of taste, and the watchful, hooded eyes Ahk looked down on you with.

He soon noticed your sudden daze, and his thrusts slowed down, going deep instead of fast.

"Are you alright?" He asked softly, though he didn't stop his movements entirely.

Your wetness squelched slightly, making you shut your eyes tight with embarrassment, your arms coming to hide your face from sight. Of course, Ahk was having none of that––he took your arms, carefully pinning them to either side of your head.

"A little shy, are you?"

"... this is my first time," you finally mumbled, turning away so you wouldn't have to see his reaction.

"Oh."

He stopped grinding into you. But you couldn't help yourself––you wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling him back into you and moaning when he was fully sheathed.

"Fuck," he groaned, eyes rolling up into his head. "Perfect little pet."

He pinned you to the floor as he finished, keeping you from scrambling away. There he kept you, warm on his cock, filling you with his seed as you whined helplessly.

Although he made an effort to take care of you, gently stroking your skin and kissing away what marks he made, the whole of the day left you both exhausted, and the bout of 'exercise' certainly hadn't helped. In the end you asked him to stop worrying and simply sleep at your side; he acquiesced, using his arm as a pillow as he faced you.

"Still hate me?" He asked, and though they would've been teasing words out of anyone else's mouth, you found sincerity in his expectant eyes.

"No."

[wevegottogetaway]

A hundred percent (Part 2 of Crashing into you)

It looks like the same bottle you had reached for before all hell broke loose. You found it lazing on shore, in that space between water and dry land where objects greet the wet sand but still submit to the waves. Along with the plastic container, you’d encountered a wet blanket you’d immediately laid out to dry, a corkscrew and the ice bucket that had accommodated the champagne you turned down during the flight (you’d gladly have a glass or four now, but alas the Champagne bottle wasn’t accounted for in your scavenger hunt). All things considered, it’s a relatively good inventory; it seems the currents were in your favor.

It makes sense actually, that the waters would shepherd the lightest of items to you. Yet your heart remains heavy with doubts and fears. You’re not versed enough in geography to have the slightest clue as to whereabout you’ve strayed in the middle of the Atlantic ocean. And with that comes the big question: if you don’t know where you are, how the people meant to save you will? Then how much time will it take for them to figure it out and will you be able to hold on for that long?

Everything is a big question mark as of now, and you hate it. You’re resourceful and quick on your feet, but you like to be prepared; you usually study the situation ahead and plan in accordance for every potential contingency, positive or negative. This however, never in a billion years would you have thought, much less prepared for the appropriate M.O. to follow in response to a freaking plane crash.

If anything, it makes you twice as grateful to have Harry by your side. Once for obvious reasons; the mere thought of associating his name with death in the same sentence could make you physically ill. But also, if there were one person that could make this ordeal that much bearable and give you the strength to withstand the pain for that much longer, it was him. He’d done it before; granted times weren’t as critical as they may be now, but he’d always been your beacon of light in the darkest of times. You’d just have to be his as well this time. Like a planet reflecting back the light of the star it revolves around.

Speaking of stars, the sun is unbearably warm. It feels like it is sitting right on top of your shoulders and breathing down your neck, as opposed to hundred millions kilometers away from your sweltering form. You’ve been pacing up and down the shore for over two hours, and you don’t think you’ve ever been so uncomfortably hot. Your skull is throbbing from the heat,(though the brutal impact of the crash and your brief encounter with death probably have something to do with it as well) and your top is positively drenched in sweat. Harry’s shirt didn’t fare much better and is now rolled and folded atop is head in a makeshift hat. You’re both very aware that a sunstroke is highly likely in this sort of climate, and very much the last thing you need in your preexisting predicament.

"Think we should head towards the forest before this heat grills our skin to the crisp, love." It’s the first thing either of you have uttered in a while, but you’re quick to agree to Harry’s proposition.

"You’re right. Let’s see if we can find a water source nearby," you nod towards the stretch of green wildness awaiting you, before shooting one last glance at the ocean behind you.

Harry is closely watching you before putting a hand at the small of your back to usher you both out of the beach. "We can always come back later and see if there’s anything new on the shore," he guesses the reason for your hesitation. You swear this man can read your mind sometimes.

As soon as you cross the border into the forest, the sound of the waves quickly fades to be replaced by the chirps, squeaks and buzzing of the jungle’s inhabitants. It sounds like the all jungle community is in conversation, and you gulp as you wonder what kind of animals are also roaming this place. It’s clear the smartest option is for you to set up camp closer to the beach so you can be safe both from the wildlife and the unforgiving sun, as well as be in plain sight in case rescue is scouring the vicinity. For now though, you have no choice but to wander the very much alive woods if you count on fending dehydration off.

As you weave through the thick and luxurious foliage, Harry is staying glued to your side, not willing to let is sight off of you. His shirt finds its way back over his torso to protect his smooth skin from the somewhat hostile vegetation. From the way nature seems to prevail over every inch of this seemingly impenetrable space, it is clear this land has never witnessed the wrath of human activity. The realization is rather unsettling as it weakens your hopes of finding civilization in this godforsaken place.

Once again, you feel indefinitely grateful for the man walking by your side. You’d always felt lucky to have him in your life, but that soft tug in your chest from his hand grazing your shoulder blades as your tread the muddy earth, has never been so strong and comforting than in this moment.

"Careful, love," he is quick to tug you against his broad frame when you’re about to step on a small snake. The creature hisses as your footsteps disturb its tranquil existence but apart from shooting what you could swear is an annoyed glare, the serpent remains put and lets you go on your merry way.

It takes a second for your heart to calm down from the sudden movement and you realize your fist is still clenching the soft cotton of his shirt. You mutter a small but genuine ‘thanks’ as you quickly remove your hands from him, and despite the tropical heat you find yourselves in, Harry can’t help but feel a coldness on the spot your hand just abandoned.

An hour goes by and you’ve yet to be successful in your quest. The sun is finally starting to relent some of its intensity and the air feels slightly easier to breathe. At least in theory. In practice, every minute that ticks by without you encountering even the smallest of water source, feels like a new brick dropping in-between your ribcage to crush your lungs. You are running out of time for the day and the anxiety that comes with that realization is not one you can gulp down and just ignore.

As the sun slowly retires, so does the light of your surroundings, and it’s enough to have your own light start flickering before finally shutting down. You need to make your way back to the edge of the shore and set up camp before darkness engulfs everything in its black coat. Your hand find Harry’s before you shift your body towards his. "We should head back before it’s too dark," you utter dejectedly.

He nods with the same despondent expression before wrapping an arm across your shoulders and directing you both towards the beach. "Come on, then," a small kiss is pressed against your temple and your heart leaps back out of its gloom for a moment. You’re not a total stranger to gestures like this one, but they’re usually spurred by a drink too many or they occur for these special occasions where joy is so exuberant it pigments your cheeks and leaves you no choice but to show your affection in a more physical manner. You relish those moments as much as you can, wrongly assuming they mean more to you than they do him.

You don’t day anything back as you wrap your arm around his waist and start making your walking again. You’re both in need of comfort right now, is how you rationalize it. Still, it doesn’t stop you from staying as close to him as humanly possible, your body molding his curves better than a puzzle. He doesn’t seem to mind, on the contrary, his grip on your arm tightens briefly, and though you don’t see it, his lips also twitch in a side smile.

You arrive just in time for what must be the most beautiful sunset you’ve ever witnessed in your life. The ocean has calmed some, waves now gently licking at the sand and in the far distance, a large sphere of tangerine flares, rests upon a blue canvas whose only bounds stretch to the horizon. "S’beautiful," Harry softly comments before your eyes meet for a minute. You answer with a small smile, admiring the tenderness of his gaze. It’s partly due to tiredness at this point, which is what you surmise, but you’ve been on the receiving end of this gaze countless and non-tired times before, unbeknownst to you.

Fifteen minutes later, you are trying your best to light a dry piece of wood on fire while Harry endeavors to built some kind of shelter. It takes you both a few attempts and a lot of cussing, but eventually you find yourselves sitting under a makeshift branch-made roof in front of a small fire. Thankfully, the blanket you’d recovered from the crash had dried entirely - one of the few perks of the scalding sun, you suppose - and is now wrapped tightly around you both. If the situation wasn’t so critical, you’d rejoice at the opportunity of being cuddled up with Harry so closely. Every intake of breath he takes you feel against your ribs. Your bones ache from tiredness, thirst and hunger, but as your head lays on Harry’s shoulder, you also feel lightness in your heart. Things will be all right. Tomorrow you’ll go back to explore the jungle and you’ll find water, maybe even catch a fish or two and you’ll repeat the process until the rescue team comes to get you. Soon.

"How’s your leg?" Harry gently breaks the silence. You’d almost forgotten about your respective injuries, and the question has your eyes shift to the cut on your shin. There wasn’t much to do anyway, your fateful time in the angry waters had taken care of all the cleaning that could be done without proper medicine. It’s uncomfortable and the sort of wound that would linger on your mind if you were back home, but there and then, you’d minded the sting for all of 5 minutes before more pressing matters needed your undivided attention.

"It’s fine. I was too distracted to notice the pain, I guess," you answer just as quietly even though you are the only two souls breathing for hundred miles around if not more. The mention of your injury also reminds you of his, though you don’t quite need as vocal a reminder as the gash above his eyebrow is much more conspicuous. "How’s your face?" you decide to return the question even though you have a feeling his answer won’t me much different from yours.

"Itchy but it doesn’t hurt."

Your eyes once again focus on the cut, making sure that no dirt made its way on the damaged tissue. Your lips curls slightly to the side when you take in the probable reason for the itch. "C’mere, your hair keeps falling into it," you say while your hand reaches up to tuck the rebellious curl behind his ear. The strand goes straight back to its previous spot as it lacks a bit of length to obey your ministration. You reach up again, this time running your fingers towards the back of his head to get the curl out of the way. Harry doesn’t dare move an inch, air caught up in his throat as he revels in your tender touch. You’re oblivious to his intense stare, as always, while you inspect the cut. "Shouldn’t leave a scar, I don’t think," you offer in reassurance.

"Well, that’s a relief," Harry answers almost absentmindedly though there’s humor lacing through his voice. He couldn’t care less about a scar, not after everything you’ve been through. Hell, you’re both lucky to have escape the crash with just superficial wounds. Besides, he’ll take a thousand scars over having your unconscious body under his palms again.

The conversation feels much lighter than the ones you’ve entertained all day, so you keep the playful tone going. "I know right, can’t have permanent damage on that Grammy winning face," you quip back with a smirk. Mischief is distinct in your eyes and Harry has never been more thankful to see that sparkle lit up your iris. If he focus hard enough, the sand beneath him can disappear to morph into the fluffy cushions of his sofa back home, and this can just be a regular hang-out where you pretend to watch movies and banter over every character’s decisions.

That’s why it’s so easy for him to indulge in the oh-so familiar back and forth; it’s a dance he could do eyes closed. "My career would be over," he retorts with a faux distraught expression.

You giggle and give him a smile before copying is fake air, "the end of the world."

He chuckles and for a moment there is nothing but silence between you two. You can feel the playfulness dissipate as Harry’s eyes don’t waver from yours. They suddenly hold a fervor that tells you he’s gonna say something serious. And of course he does, you know him so well. "I think my world would have ended today if you hadn’t woken back up on that beach." The statement is uttered barely above a whisper but it echoes like a hundred church bells chiming Cinderella’s midnight in your head.

"Harry…" Needless to say, you are speechless. Neither of you have ever shied away from voicing your affection towards the other, but this, coupled with the intensity of his stare, has your heart stopping for the second time today.

"You have no idea how terrified I was," he continues quietly, like his own heart is threatening to jump out of his throat if he dares speak louder. It’s obvious it’s painful for him to remember, perhaps even more painful than it was for you to actually endure. "The longer you wouldn’t-"

"Shh, stop, stop," you quickly halt him with a hand to his cheek. "Don’t torture yourself with the could haves. I’m here, alive and breathing. All thanks to you. And you are too. Alive and breathing." You say it all in confidence though you have the same chocked up feeling he did when you think of the alternatives. "That’s all that matters right now. You have me and I have you and nobody’s losing anyone." Your thumb is drawing soothing circles onto his skin as he nods at your statements as if to make their truths stronger. A second passes and your eyes shift to the ground before you gulp, "my world would have ended too. Had you not made it to the beach."

It seems the sentiment strikes a chord in his chest too, as Harry pinches his eyes close as if to make sure he is not hallucinating your words. His body is taken by a strong pull to kiss you but he knows his lips can’t quite fall on their most desired destination. He settles for a harsh forehead kiss instead, taking your head between his two shaking hands.

When he leans back, his eyes frantically search your face and you can see his breathing picking up from the motion of his chest. "Y/n, I…Fuck it’s…" the more the words escape him, the more frustrated he becomes, running a hand through his wild curls even though they’d stayed in the place you had brushed them last.

"Shh it’s okay. Harry, you’re working yourself up," you try to calm him down with a hand on his heart. Just as you suspected, the organ beneath your palm is jackhammering against his skin, but Harry shakes his head at your suggestion.

"I just have something that I need to say," he gulps, "and it’s terrifying-"

You can’t stand the way his voice wavers ever so slightly. He looks exhausted despite the wild look in his eyes and you realize that’s probably not helping tame the stormy thoughts in his mind. "M’not going anywhere, Harry," you reassure him, "we can talk tomorr-"

"No. No." He shakes his head forcefully between your hands. "I need to say this now because I already should have done it a long time ago, and as much as it is scary for me to say, today was a hundred times more scary."

You take in his adamant look and realize this is far more serious than you were led to believe. "Okay, you know you can tell me anything."

He nods at your reassurance before taking a deep breath. "You’re my best friend, y/n. The one person I don’t ever want out of my life, the one person that understands all of me and that is besides me for everything." You try to remain impassive and not wince at the f-word as you listen to his sorrows. "And I can only hope that will never change, because like I said, my world wouldn’t be the same if I had you any less in it. And that’s the thing that is scaring me, because as much as I need you as my best friend, I’m also in love with you and that has the power to change everything." He barely pauses before carrying on, still locking eyes with you. "I used to be able to pretend, but earlier on that beach, when your life was hanging by a thread in my hands, all I thought was that I couldn’t ever look at myself again if you left and I was too much of a coward to tell you the truth. I don’t want to be that guy anymore, because now I know. Being that guy is more terrifying than telling you I love you."

The words are buzzing in your mind. Ones you’ve heard before in daydreamings and fantasies but that you never thought you would get to receive in the realm of reality. At least not from the person you wanted them from. "Harry," is all you can muster to say without tripping over the rest of your words. You realize your vision is getting blurrier by the second, and you could swear there were droplets pearling at the corner of his eyes too. You let out a nervous chuckle, quickly wiping a tear from your cheek with the back of your hand. "Fuck, you dumbass, making us cry when we’re already fighting dehydration." The exclamation has him mirroring your smile as his thumb replaces yours at the crease of your eye. "I love you too, Harry," you say shakily through your grin. "So much it is the scariest thing to feel for a best friend. But you’re right, today was much scarier and I don’t want to be that girl anymore either."

Harry doesn’t think he’s ever been this happy and he makes a note to call his Mum as soon as his back on civilized land, to tell her she was right. Love does work in mysterious ways; sometimes you need to be the most lost to finally find it. And part of him hates that he wasted so much time with you everyday he wouldn’t say anything, but the other part of him also feels like it was worth the wait. "Fuck, promise? You’re not concussed from the crash and you really l-"

"I love you, Harry," you don’t let him finish vocalizing any doubt about your feelings. "Hundred percent sure."

"A hundred percent?"

"A hundred percent." He loves how confident you are when you reiterate the affirmation, looking straight in his eyes. Your faces a barely inches apart and your bodies still tightly embraced in the flimsy plane blanket.

"Christ, this is the best day of my life," he marvels before kissing the wrist of your hand still cupping his face.

You raise a brow at the statement, "the day you were in an air crash and found yourself stranded on a desolate island is the best day of your life?" You tease him in humor though you know exactly what he means by it and share the sentiment equally as strongly.

"The day I made you mine," he proudly explains with a smirk.

"Mmm am I?" you tauntingly bite your lip, though you’re not fooling anyone. You are absolutely and irrevocably, a hundred percent his. Knowing this perfectly well himself, Harry doesn’t even give you the curtesy of an answer and kisses the sass right off your mouth. It’s a fierce contact at first, as though he was kindly telling you to just shut up. Then he eases into a slow and emotional kiss, as your lips wrap around each others. He doesn’t pull back until you’re both out of breath and he’s had a proper taste from licking your supple lips. When he does, you only want to dive in for more, and it seems he shares the same desire as he barely retracts from your face.

"You most definitely are," he asserts with that same teasing smirk.

"Hundred percent?"

"A hundred percent, darling," he acquiesces before giving you the second best kiss of your life (the first having occurred a mere minute earlier). This time he drags his hand away from your face to wrap his arm around your small frame. "C’mere, come closer so we don’t freeze." It feels like close enough will never be an achievable concept for you both, but you’ll content yourself with the weight of his limbs intertwining with yours as you lay down besides the small fire. He brings the blanket high enough beneath you so you don’t have your heads directly on the sand, and you don’t realize how physically exhausted you were until your head is tucked underneath his chin and all your muscles loosen up some.

"Comfy?" He inquires as he hears you sigh in relief. You nod against his collarbones a small ‘yeah’ whispered against his skin and the feeling has him shoot a smile to the stars. He’s quite comfortable himself if he may say so.

"Good, now gimme a kiss."

"Making demands already?" You keep teasing him because let’s face it, you’ll never get tired of watching his reactions to your taunts. The cute crease between his brows, the twitching of his button nose or even better, the small pout enhancing the cherry color of his lips are probably the things that made you fall in love with him in the first place.

"You’re not complaining."

You laugh at his self-assuredness, sad not to see his precious pout though the newfound spark in his eyes makes up for it and then some. You can’t help but to confirm the bold statement, "yeah, a hundred percent not," and he smiles at the now familiar words, like it has become an inside joke that only belongs to the two of you.

For a while you just cuddle in silence, reveling in the embrace you’ve shared a couple times in the past but that now beholds an entire new meaning. You’re just about to surrender to Morpheus’ arms when Harry muses aloud, "imagine this was all a dream and we just wake up in LA tomorrow morning."

Paradoxically, the suggestion forms lump in your throat. Had he asked an hour ago, you would have let a wistful sigh and longed for a reality where you didn’t hop on a doomed plane and landed both yourself and you best friend in what can only be the hardest trial of your life. And yet, now you find yourself unsettled at the idea that your very much reciprocated feelings wouldn’t be out in the open if none of this had happened. You wouldn’t know the taste of his lips had you not plummeted in the sea only to wash up on a desolate shore.

"It doesn’t matter. I’ll still tell you." You affirm confidently. Now that you know; not about the mutuality of your feelings, but about how scary it is to find yourself on the precipice of forever regrets, you’ll take the chance every time. Wiser from the same tribulations, Harry just smiles softly before returning a faint ‘me too’.  

"Yeah?"

"Not that guy anymore, ‘member?" He is quick to remind you, eyebrow cocked upwards, to which you simply respond with a whispered ‘good’ against his chest. Harry kisses you on last time and then you both let your unconscious take over at last, still wrapped in each others’ arms and not even caring about your perilous surroundings anymore.

[softykooky]

finite.

☆summary:  it is august and taehyung asks you who you would want to be if you could restart this life. you two are finite lovers in an infinite universe. 1.7k words. 

☆genre: established relationship, semi-angst, fluff, college!taehyung, college!reader

☆pairing: kim taehyung x reader

☆author’s note: something short and sweet to get me out of my funk, and i thought i would share it with you! let me know what you think, and thank you always for your kindness. 

       You met Taehyung in the spring. A connoisseur of baskin robbins ice cream flavors, and had such a zest for life you wondered if he was ever apathetic of the sun, for it never shone as bright as him. He had been fighting a dog in the park. In his defense, the stick he had found was absolutely prime for building a bridge across the creek and there was no other one like it. He found it first, and still thanks you from time to time for defending him against that greedy puppy. You had played together until the sunset and your parents called you back, exchanging names and promising to meet back there the next day. 

       He was so young, then, that it aches your heart to look back at the pictures and see a childlike face staring back at you. Free of the smile lines he’s accumulated through the years, and features softer than they are now. He’s still young now. Just a little more grown. A little more broken and a little less oblivious. But he is your Taehyung, and it’s summer now, yet the stars still shine in his eyes like the spring day you met him.

       Tomorrow, there is an airplane that leaves at dawn for London and a train that leaves at dusk for New York. They travel in opposite poles. You wonder if there will be an extra seat beside his on the plane, in case you change your mind at the last minute and decide to abandon your train ticket to follow him wherever he may lead. Taehyung would never let you, though. He says your dreams are far too important to be impeded by someone like him. The university is waiting for you, and his internship is waiting for him. 

       For tonight, though, you don’t want to think about the distance between the two of you. For tonight, you’re not leaving each other to chase uncertain dreams. Just two bright-eyed lovers sitting on the hood of a car on the outskirts of an airport terminal, watching them catapult to the sky at hundreds of miles an hour and disappear among the stars. 

       “Who do you want to be if we could restart our lives?” 

       The night sky overhead is forgiving. The clouds had drifted away to reveal to two lovers, a scape of twinkling stars and the roundest moon you had ever seen. You juggled his question around in your mind, keeping your eyes on the sky and your hands wrapped tightly around his. Who did you want to be? Where do you want to go? What do you want to do? 

       It’s a little cold. The wind blows through the creases of your arms and legs and cools the sweat. You can feel his even breathing next to you. The rhythmic up and down of his chest. How he avoids looking at you in fear that when you glance into his eyes, you will see the way his heart is breaking.

       “I think I might want to be everything.”

       He giggles at your response. 

       “You can’t be everything, Y/N. Pick one.” Taehyung pulls you closer. Skin to skin, and heart to heart.

       “Maybe reincarnate as a bird and fly and fly until my wings can’t hold up the weight of the wind?” 

       Your involuntary smile stretches the skin of your lips as you stand up from the hood, flinging your arms out as if they were wings. The breeze blows under them. Taehyung laughs at your childlike nature and you swear the sound makes the stars shine a tad bit brighter.

        “Oh! How about an astronaut on a 900 year mission and I discover a new planet outside of the Milky Way? One small step for man…” You turn around and lock eyes with Taehyung. 

       He joins your juvenile daydream. “One giant leap for mankind.” Chuckles bubble from both your chests, and he holds both your hands, twirling in circles on the lawn.

       “Or I could be a suave Hollywood actress, and break the record for most academy awards. Maybe 500 of them.” You know the two of you are being too loud and raucous. But there’s something about a cool summer night that makes a person want to abandon inhibition and just live. Taehyung erupts in innocent laughter. 

       “Y/N, you couldn’t even lie to your mom when I asked you to sneak out past curfew with me last week.” 

       You roll your eyes playfully, punching him in the shoulder which he responds far too dramatically, nursing his fatal wound as if you had just shot him. You realize you haven’t stopped smiling since the conversation started and your cheeks are starting to ache. 

       “I’ll kiss it better.”

Taehyung melts into you when you put your lips on his, feeling the curve of his pout against your own. His hands are on the small of your back and he pushes you close to him. Closer. It feels as it always does. Like honey in hot tea or the way chocolate melts into syrupy sweetness if you leave it under your tongue. Like Taehyung. There is no sound outside of the chirping of crickets and two hearts that seem to beat in tandem. The kiss is bittersweet, though. You both know once the sun rises tomorrow, you won’t be able feel this love anymore in its physical form.

       Taehyung’s smile drops once you pull away, eyes solemnly falling to the ground but hands still gripped onto your’s, as if he’s afraid you will disappear if he doesn’t hold on tightly enough. Like he wants to memorize the feeling of your small hand in his before he leaves. You don’t want to be sad tonight.

        “Hm....I think maybe the queen of England. I’d make it a requirement to always have a cupcake at your disposal, at any given moment of the day.” 

       He throws his head back to face the sky and roars in laughter, the image of you being a monarch and bossing everyone around to entertain him. You reflect his happiness. The conversation circles around like that, as the two of you think of as many lives to live and people to be if this were another dimension, and you could restart. A scientist who figures out how to harvest stars and store the light of the moon. The president of the United States. A jellyfish in the Atlantic Ocean who lazes in a coral reef. A rock at the top of Mount Everest. 

       Under the moonlight, you wonder what nation you had saved in your past life so that you could meet Kim Taehyung. So that you could grow up beside him and fall in love with him and hold him like it’s the only thing your arms were made to do. 

       Under the moonlight, Taehyung wonders if your souls had been the same one, separated by space and time and now reunited again. He stares at you as you ramble on about all the imaginary and impossible things you wanted to be in a different life, and there is lovesick in his eyes. You are oblivious, of course. So Taehyung just continues to admire you. 

       “What about you, Tae?” The nickname sounds so sweet when it slips off your tongue. 

       Your question catches him off guard and he realizes that even though he had asked you this, he had no idea of his own answer. When thinking about his life on a whim, Taehyung is surprised when his mind is only filled with you. Your toothy grin. The cascading wave of your hair. The curve of your hips that imitate Grecian marble cut statues and the freckles on your skin that stir envy in Andromeda’s constellations. He knows his answer. Yet bites his tongue.

       “I’m not sure. I think I’d want to be a merman, and figure out how you would pee with a fish tail.” 

       “Are you serious? Mermen pee how normal fish pee.” 

       “How the heck do normal fish pee?!”

       The rest of your rambling fades away from Taehyung’s mind and blends into white noise. He just leans back against the hood of the car, arms folded over his chest and utter fondness in his gaze. Your words drone and all he can hear is the sound of his own heart that knocks against the walls of his chest to remind him of something that he already knows to be true. He loves you. Irrevocably and unapologetically. 

       Taehyung pulls you by the arm and cradles you to his chest, tucking your head under his chin. He sways you both to the melody of summer cicadas and a humming wind. The sky is a cloudless romance of supposed shooting stars that may just have been a trick of the light. Or a stray airplane. But it’s enough for him to make a wish. He won’t tell you what it is, though, in case it doesn’t come true. 

      To answer your question, in another lifetime, he would want to be him again. And he’d want you to be you again. So that he could meet you again, and love you again. In this alternate dimension, he’d want to take you to an airport terminal on an August evening again, and hear you tell him all the things you want to be. But if you are either a common passerby or the queen of England, it wouldn’t matter to him. His soul would still love you all the same. 

       Taehyung leaves the next morning. When the sun has barely even risen and your lips are bruised from kissing him goodbye so many times. Your arms are sore from holding him so tightly, body subconsciously screaming at you to not let him go because this is the boy that has your heart and he's taking it with him. He wipes your tears when you cry and tucks his face into the crook of your neck to hide his own tears from the world. Taehyung’s plane takes off at 5:31am from the tarmac and as you stare at the piece of your heart that leaves you, you wonder if there are two lovers parked outside the terminal to watch him disappear into the clouds. If they are as devastatingly in love as you are.

       He had told you he wants you to move on. London was too far away from New York and you two were never good with distance. Love stretches too thin across the Atlantic ocean. But even if you died and came back to life in a different form, you doubt that it’s physically possible for you to move on from the likes of Kim Taehyung.  

       So even if the two of you were only finite hearts in an infinite universe, and only first loves in one lifetime. It’s enough for you. You rethink your answer to his question the night before. Maybe you wouldn’t want to be the queen of England or a jellyfish. You’d want Taehyung to be Taehyung. And you’d want you to be you. So that you could meet him again. And you would love him again. 

[damon-rutherford]

The sky was inky black, and so was the water below. The horizon in the distance carried a splash of crimson, and there were no stars in sight. Time had stool still, with only the soft ruffle of waves cutting through the eerie silence. Somewhere deep, he felt longing, a sensation to rage against the toneless, flat, sterile stillness that had engulfed him. 

Hovering somewhere between the reality and the dream, Damon was weightless, and felt no pain, no cold, no exhaustion, only water against his skin. 

“Damon?” The woman’s voice called out to him. 

---

“How am I supposed to do that? How am I supposed to have this conversation with a friend?” Doctor Lina Adler, head of neuro, glanced at Gideon Rutherford, who was scrubbing in for yet another surgery. Nora had passed them in a hallway earlier, too. The woman was slowly starting to resemble a human being after Spencer had woken up. Lina wondered, briefly, if Nora found hard to console Gideon now, that they no longer shared the same burden, that her brother had woken up, but his was still in a coma. “It’s been six weeks. If he passes eight week mark, he won’t wake up the same, even if he does wake up at all.”

The colleague she was venting to gave her a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. “You’ll be fine. If anyone can understand, it’s Gideon. He’s a neurosurgeon himself, after all. He’ll understand that it’s your duty to have that conversation.”

Telling patient’s loved ones that it was time to start thinking about pulling a plug was never easy, but after years of practice, she’d managed to compartmentalise her feelings. Yet, this was different. Gideon was one of them. A friend. As she took a deep breath in, she hoped that today would be the day Damon would show any signs of purposeful eye movement, a slightest hint that there was hope.

“Damon,” the surgeon smiled at the patient, her thumb gently pushed up the eyelid, whilst her left hand moved in a linear trajectory across his eyes, holding a pen light.

No movement.

“Waking up usually happens unexpectedly, with no prior signs,” she tried to reassure his sister before leaving the room and moving on to the next patient. Today was going to be a long day.

---

“Damon,” the flashlight hurt his eyes, “there you are. You should stop going on these midnight swims. You’re scaring the hell out of me, when I wake up and you’re not there.” She put away the flashlight and wrapped herself tighter in a windbreaker. “Come, love. Let’s get some sleep before the kids wake up.”

He started to swim towards the shore. A few strides, and he could feel the sand underneath his feet. His clothes were hanging over a fishing boat. He couldn’t remember leaving them there.  Caroline brushed the curls away from his face and planted a quick kiss on his lips before turning around and walking down a narrow path leading uphill.

Out of instinct, he followed.

“Do you think you’ll go out to the sea tomorrow?” She asked, “The price for cod had gone up, you know. Maybe you and Jaime can try to catch some together.”

“Yeah, Bishop’s been asking about Black bream, too,” he answered, with no recollection how he knew that. He had a feeling he’d woken up from a long dream. Did he fall asleep whilst floating in the water? Strange.

---

“Jesus Christ,” Jacob tried to catch his phone mid-air, but the device slid right through his fingers, hitting Damon’s leg with a thud. 

“Great. I just dropped my phone on my comatose best friend,” he leapt out of chair in frustration and looked at Ava as if she could offer him forgiveness. “Do you think... He can hear us, at all?”

Ava rubbed underneath her eyes. “I don’t know. From what I gathered of what Gideon told me, he can technically hear things, but he may not understand, or remember.”

“He’s lost so much weight. He’ll hate that.” Jacob stared at the arms that have lost most of their muscle mass. Every day he withered away more and more. “Wake the fuck up, man.” Davenport muttered underneath his breath and sat next to Ava. She had a strangely calming presence. 

---

A thud. Something touching his leg. When Damon opened his eyes, the sun was already up, and salty breeze of Ocean air seeped through the open window.

“Wake up, dad.” A eight-year-old tried to sneak away from the bed, grabbing a book he’d just dropped on his father by accident. “Mom said not to wake you, but I wanted you to take me to school. You promised.”

“Alright, freckles,” Damon lazily stretched his arms, before sitting up and putting a t-shirt that lay neatly folded on the nightstand. “Where’s your sister?”

“Crying about the purple dress that mom won’t let her wear for school.”

Damon chuckled and ruffled the soft, dark curls on his son’s head, curls that looked so much like his own. 

It didn’t take long for him to get ready, sip a few quick gulps of piping hot tea, kiss his wife goodbye, rev up his truck and drive his kids to school. And yet, on the drive back, he couldn’t help but feel he was forgetting something. He had somewhere else to be.

---

“Paging Doctor Adler. Paging Doctor Adler. Room 324.”

First, he heard the commotion. He couldn’t quite make out what was happening. He tried to open his eyes, but it wouldn’t come to him easily. A weak flutter of eyelashes. An attempt at moving his finger. Sounds were getting louder. Most of them strange. Some medical terms he couldn’t understand. There was another voice. That one he knew. 

His body wouldn’t listen to him. His muscles had forgotten how to move. There wasn’t much to be felt, except for confusion. The two worlds had merged together. Someone forced his eyes open, and at first, all he saw was a bright light moving from left to right, he followed the movement, instinctively. 

The ceiling was white, walls, too. He couldn’t recognise this place. Damon searched for his wife in the crowd, but Caroline wasn’t there. He could feel someone holding his hand, crying, it sounded like happy tears. That voice again, familiar.

His sister.

“Adr...” The words wouldn’t come to him, either.

“It’s normal. After so long in a coma, it’s hard to form sentences at first,” he heard a doctor say. But he wanted to take control of his tongue, to ask the question he was dying to ask. 

“Where’s...Where... Kids. Caro–Caroline.” Sleep was getting hold of him again. Or was he waking up from this strange dream? He’d be back in his bed, where his son would be waiting for him to take to school. 

“He might be experiencing some hallucinations,” doctor Adler tried to explain, “when they first wake up, this happens quite often. He might be having some trouble telling what’s real and what’s not. Give him some time. Congratulations, Adriana. I’ll let Gideon know.”  

[patchoulimademoiselle]

Bat Shit Crazy (Part 1)

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count: 5.6k

Warnings: language, sub/dom dynamic, large age gap, smut, choking kink, violence/fighting, injuries/blood, hypersexual reader, mentions of death? 

Summary: Bucky is back from a mission he was sent on without you. He works hard to get you back on your routine. 

Notes: This fic is dark, and it only gets darker. This is more Winter Soldier Bucky in terms of behavioral traits and dynamics with other characters. This is not a soft lovey dovey style fic, and if that bothers you DO NOT READ. 

Masterlist

Part One:

The night is young, the summer air is humid, you've swapped out your jeans for a pair of fray end shorts, tennis shoes scuffing against the pavement as you shuffle your feet, waiting.

You've been craving a bit of freedom, some wind in your hair, something intoxicating in your system, and that led you right to Tony Stark. You batted your eyelashes the best you could, pretty please, can we borrow your car for the night? Honestly, you don't have a plan. All you know is that you feel suffocated sitting around on base. You feel old, tired, missing and craving the feeling of adrenaline in your veins.  

So as soon as the jet returns to HQ, you're grabbing Bucky by the collar of his shirt and dragging him out to the sight of a bright orange Audi that makes him groan in disbelief. A knowing look graces his features, and he almost feels bad for the guy. Because if there's anything you're good at, it's getting your way, and Bucky had basically signed himself up for it. But Stark? He had no idea what you were truly capable of.

"I'm not going to ask how you managed to get it," He says, hand catching your waist and pulling you to stop before you can get inside, "But I am going to ask, where are we going?"

He's still in his tactical gear, a gun on his hip, dirt and blood smeared across his skin, he smells like gun powder and sweat, and you can't resist the urge to just kiss him. So you do, hands in his hair, pulling him down into a searing kiss that pulls a strangled sound from the back of his throat. He hasn't seen you in days, and he's more exhausted than he's used to being. But he can tell you're restless, the chaos in your bones convincing you to basically seduce Stark and take his car to do who knows what in the cover of night. He's just glad that you decided to bring him along.

"For a ride." Is all you offer, letting him hike your leg up around his waist. "I missed you."

"I know." His voice sounds wrecked, laced with exhaustion and arousal, and you almost feel bad for keeping him up even longer, because who knows what he just came back from. But you're too excited to turn back now, dangling the keys in front of his face, his grin just as wicked as yours as he kisses you one last time.

"I want to go first, you can drive on the way back."

When you get in the drivers seat and press the button to start the engine, you get why people collect cars like this. The feeling of power, the sense of danger, it's intoxicating, and you start to feel a little breathless when you rev the engine.

Bucky can see it click in your head, he can see the exact moment that you decide that this might be taking it too far.  

There's a wicked glint in your eyes when you turn to look at him. "Oh," You laugh, "I've created a monster."

His eyebrows furrow, fingers wrapping around your wrist to pull you away from the wheel, half bent over the console. "I would prefer it if you didn't get us both killed, so you take it easy, understand?" Because he knows. He knows you could say fuck it all just for the thrill of it.

You click your tongue, "You're no fun." You pout, watching as his eye twitches, a weakness, "But that's okay. I'm sure you'll figure out how to make it up to me."

He smiles at that, and you aren't sure if it's pride or love that has him grabbing your chin and forcing you to look in his eyes. You're a smart mouthed fool, and he knows that you probably got most of your attitude from him. "What am I going to do with you?"

"You can start with fucking me on every surface of this car before we give it back tomorrow morning."

He hums, kissing you once, twice, unable to pull away because he likes the look in your eyes, he likes that you're this comfortable with him, young and wild and trusting him not to judge you. It's harmless fun, he understands, the tedious schedule you follow everyday is eating away at your youth. So he indulges you, letting you put the windows down and drive just a little more recklessly than he should.

The shriek of laughter that comes from your throat is worth the risk, his hand gripping your thigh, watching as you change your grip on the steering wheel. The wind blows your hair, flushes your cheeks, and its a reflex more than anything else when he fishes his phone out to take a picture of you.

This is what you both live for. Moments like this where nothing else matters. You have each other, you've found a perfect medium between work and play, and it works out better than you could have ever imagined.

Keeping up with you is like pulling teeth sometimes, because Bucky just doesn't care as much as you do. He figured that you would be better suited with someone who is equally as high maintenance as you, someone like Tony Stark. The expensive taste and busy schedule could only be understood by someone who lives that lifestyle.

But behind the perfume and lip gloss, beneath the eyelash extensions and layers of designer clothing, chaos awaits. It makes you reckless.

You're hot headed, quick to pull a trigger and abuse your power before the chance can be taken from you. Steve had tried to train you first, but all attempts made to domesticate you failed, the restlessness within you wired deep within your bones, and so you were passed on to Bucky. Because there's a part of Bucky that craves chaos just like you do, the only difference is that he's learned to control it rather than have it control him. You were pushed right into his arms, and it was only a matter of time before he left and impression on you.

The devilment you shared made him putty in your hands. He saw himself in you, a pretty head plagued with torturous thoughts, a pretty girl ruined by this job, and so he trained you accordingly. He told you that there was a trick to it, that he never learned to tame the darkness within him, he just learned to suppress and channel it at the right time, finding constructive outlets rather than being a fucking brat all the time. He could actually handle you, and love hit you hard. You've been inseparable ever since.

Steve was concerned with how quickly your relationship developed, Tony called you both crazy, and Natasha, she may or may not be a bad influence on you. You're a killer, he's a killer, it's like you were made for each other.

But that part of you never went away, and it's times like these that it starts to become a test of his patience.

Eventually, you find yourself at a park, and Bucky is beyond confused when you park the car and actually turn it off. You meant it when you said you just wanted to go for a drive. It's too late to find anything open, he's too tired to go too far, and you would rather sit and star gaze with him rather than do anything to piss him off.

But first, he fucks you. Hard. On every surface, just like you asked. He pulls you over the console, flips your shirt up and presses your tits against the dash, fucking up into you with a strength that you realize you've missed these past three days. Then he gets out, an arm secured around your waist to hold you up as he rounds the car and places you on the hood, palms flat against the polished paint as he continues to fuck you.

It's obscene, your body caving under his weight, cheek pressed flat against the cool metal when he grips the back of your neck, arching you against him further. God, he missed you. You take him so well, always such a good girl for him, and he tells you that, lips pressed against your ear as he grinds his cock into you, and the only response you can give is a moan.

Then he's in the front seat, hands tight on your hips as you ride him, and you could have sworn the car seemed bigger until you found yourself in this position, back arched against the wheel so that you don't hit your head.

He forces you to look him in the eyes, grabbing your throat and tilting your head up, leaving you to find your own rhythm. The muscles in his arm strain at the restraint, because you slow down to a teasing pace, the look in his eyes becoming dangerous as you test his patience, and it doesn't take long for him to grab you up and turn you around, pushing the seat back as far as it goes and pounding you against the soft leather. He's relentless, hips slapping against your ass at a speed that your brain can't keep up with, and you're coming before your body has a chance to warn you.

He comes inside of you soon after, locking your body to his as if you'll disappear, and it makes you wonder what happened while he was gone.

You pull a bottle of liquor from the glove box, he pulls your shorts back up, and together you deposit your tired bodies on the swing set a few feet away. He tells you everything, sharing swigs of whiskey, eyes dancing between you and the night sky above you.

It was supposed to be recon, supposed to be a simple in and out. But Steve fucked up, stepped on a trip wire and gave them away. They had to fight their way out, didn't even get any intel besides the fact that whoever the fuck it was knew that they were coming. Or at least, they were expecting someone to come eventually.

It makes you wish you were there, because Steve wouldn't have been able to fuck up, it's you who goes out on those types of missions with Bucky. You two just work better together, something that maybe now Steve Rogers might finally come to understand. But you were told, more like ordered to sit this one out, and neither of you say it, but you both register at the same time that it was a mistake.

You drink more than you should, the bottle half empty by the time he decides to cut you off. But you don't let it ruin your fun, kicking your legs as hard as you can, the swing lifting higher than the bars that hold it, and for a moment it feels like you're flying before gravity takes over and yanks you back down. But Bucky doesn't let you jostle yourself around too much, arm reaching out to grab the chain of your swing, slowing your speed.

"We shouldn't stay out long." He says. "We need to get up early." You raise an eyebrow in question, he does the same. "Don't act brand new. You do this every time I leave. You fall off your routine and we have to work twice as hard for a couple days to get you back on it."

It makes you groan, makes him grab you by the arm and pull you to sit on his lap, kissing your cheek when you lean your head back against his shoulder.

You don't say anything, because there isn't anything else to say. He's back, he's here with you again and you couldn't ask for anything more than that.

But he seems to have too much on his mind, taking swig after swig until the bottle is empty and there's nothing left to distract him. "Don't do this again." He says. "I'll buy you a car if that's what you want, but don't you ever run to another man before coming to me." You aren't sure if this is an insecurity, or if he's simply being possessive, but either way you take too long to respond, his hands clamping down on your thighs in a grip that has you arching up off his lap to relieve the pressure. "Do you understand me?"

"Yes, fuck."

"Good." He kisses the corner of your mouth this time, smoothing his palms against your skin to soothe the ache he's caused. "Where did you get these shorts from?"

"College."

Your response raises a question in his head, how can you still fit them? But he realizes immediately that college was only a year ago for you, a harsh reminder of your age compared to his, and he simply hums in reply.

The air grows too cold for you to handle, shivering in his arms despite the warmth running through your veins, and he makes the call to wrap it up. But not before he kisses you first, turning you around on his lap and tugging you against his lips by a harsh grip in your hair. You don't get to have many moments like these, so you cherish it, kissing him as long as he needs you to, enjoying the chill that snakes up your spine when his hands round your ass and deposit under your thighs, hoisting you up.

He settles you in the passenger seat, eager for his turn at driving the car, and you could care less given your sudden exhaustion. You admire the way he looks, jaw clenched, muscles taught, arm flexing as he palms the steering wheel, a hand on your head rest as he glances back to reverse the car. His hair is loose for a change, framing his face and whipping back and forth each time he turns his head.

He could use a trim, but you know he'll never let you.

He doesn't lose his mind driving like you did, remaining at a reasonable speed, turning on the radio to keep his mind busy since you aren't doing much entertaining. He doesn't blame you, he's tired too, and you had been waiting up to greet him when he got back.

You start to doze off, the blur of lights and buildings putting your mind at ease. It's not until Bucky's hands are on you again that you realize you fell asleep, which is a bummer, because you won't have this car again come noon.

"I want you to get me pregnant in this car."

He snorts, ignoring your antics entirely, reaching over to unfasten your seatbelt.

He tries to carry you, but you don't let him, settling for holding his hand instead. The compound is quiet except for the sound of the tv on low in the common room, Clint passed out on the couch, the movie he had been watching probably long gone off by now.

It makes you smile, stopping to place a blanket on him. He doesn't move a muscle, and Bucky grows impatient waiting for you, so you carry on. In the privacy in your room, you step your way out of your shoes and kick them into the corner by the door, then you help him out of his gear.

You find a stab wound on his stomach, it's long stopped bleeding by now, not at all infected, and it's already starting to heal. He says nothing, your warm fingers brushing his skin and something domestic washes over you both. It's something soft and unspoken, something the lines of I'm glad your safe.

The tile on the floor is cold beneath your feet, you lead him into the bathroom and run a bath for him, despite his protests of you being too tired. You watch as the water turns milky with dirt and blood, fingertips against his scalp as you clean his hair. It's a side of you that he doesn't see too often, a softer side that you bury under attitude and attention seeking mischief, and at this point he doesn't know which version of you he appreciates more.

You lather a sponge with body wash, a cedar scent you learned to love on him, and you wash him gently, carefully, mindful of his bruising. His wet hands are on your face, pulling you in for an occasional kiss, and it seems that he just can't keep his hands off of you.

He fucks you again, but it's different this time, softer, slower, his eyes locked on yours, fingers gentle just like you were for him, and you feel it in your heart when he tells you he loves you. He fucks you to sleep and tucks you into bed, limbs tangled with yours to keep you close.

He'll never bring it up, but he wasn't sure if he would make it back to you this time. He sleeps better than he had in days knowing that you're close.

It makes getting you up in the next morning is hard. You're a heavy sleeper, something Bucky was always thankful for on nights where he struggled to settle beside you. But when it's time to wake you up, he curses your ability to still sleep soundly like a baby after all the things you've seen, he envies it. He wants to let you sleep in, he wants to stay in bed with you, holding you, because who knows if he'll ever be able to do it again.

But he has to keep things normal. He has to keep you on your routine, otherwise you'll give in to your madness.

You think you're dreaming it, his hands on your side, his lips on the side of your face. You just can't bring yourself to open your eyes, exhaustion keeping it's hold on you. But Bucky is determined, a bit rough as he tugs you to lay on your back, your eyes flying open at being jostled, and he doesn't look apologetic as he smiles down at you.

"Hey, peach." He kisses you quickly, leaving nothing to soothe you back to sleep. "Time to get up."

His voice is hoarse, you realize, he's tired, too tired for your liking, and you wonder how long he's been up.

"A few more minutes?" You pout, curling your body around his, and you can tell he's on the verge of saying yes. "Please?"

But his will is far too strong. "You need to get up." He says, "Now."

And just like that, you're pissed, a sour attitude shifting your expression entirely, and he could care less, standing up to give you room to move. You have a dull headache, a hangover no doubt, but you ignore it as you dig through your dresser for workout clothes to change into.

He shakes his head at you, sensing your attitude, but he doesn't say a word as you stomp your way over to the door, pulling it open hard enough to bang against the wall. It's okay, he knows what you need, and he's been itching to give it to you.

When it comes to training, Bucky tends to be harsher on you, because he knows you can take it. It's the textbook definition of tough love, pushing you beyond your limits to make you better. It's the kind of training that leaves you sore and exhausted and covered in bruises, busted lips, black eyes, you aren't new to any of it. In fact, you're used to the feeling, and that's something most people would find scary. But you need it to stay sane, a distraction from everything else. You like when he pushes you beyond your limits.

You warm up with a jog around the compound grounds, the sun hasn't come up yet, the air crisp and cool and burning your lungs with each inhale you take. He reminds you to breathe slowly, in your nose and out your mouth in pace with each foot fall. He quickly realizes that your endurance has fallen low, his hand on your back to push you to run faster.

He doesn't take it easy on you, not even when you collapse into the ground, your body forcing you to take a break from running.

"Get up."

Your lungs burn, your face is hot, your legs are jelly, you shake your head.

"Look at you, you can't even speak and you have to nerve to slack off." He glares down at you, hands on his hips. "Get the fuck up before I drag you across the concrete."

His threat is very real, so you struggle to rise back to your feet. He continues on, super soldier stamina has him not even breaking a sweat, and you curse the cheating serum coursing through his veins.

"You're cheating, you have an advantage." You pant, fingers barely catching his arm to try and keep up. "I can't go as fast as you for that long."

He slows just a little, your hand wrapping around his bicep. "Which is why I push you. Your muscles won't ever grow past the strain if you don't experience it." He says. "Shape up, we're almost done."

He allows you a five minute break, which you spend chugging as much water as he'll let you have, laying on the floor of the gym to try and catch your break and give your muscles a break.

He starts you on the treadmill, pushing up the incline every ten minutes, and you can feel the strain it's putting you under. You haven't done this in days, and the alcohol that remains in your system doesn't help. You're just thankful that no one else is in the gym to witness your struggle.

Next is ab workouts, he joins you for this one, side by side on the mat as he walks you through each exercise. He flies through them with ease, hardly breaking a sweat. But you on the other hand feel winded, muscles aching as you use them beyond what you have been. He watches, carefully, a knowing look on his face when you start to lose your speed, but he doesn't let you stop.

This is what you need. An outlet, something to exhaust your energy and take the edge off. For the most part it helps. But there's only so much he can do to keep you occupied, so when he has you here in the gym, he makes it count.

He has you on weights, which turns your body numb, and you aren't sure what kind of damage it's doing, but you know that you'll be sore for the next couple of days.

He lets you take a break after an hour, you drink as much water as you can, eager to be away from his scrutinizing gaze, and you find Natasha returning from a morning run with Steve. They look like they haven't done anything a all, but the smell of outside and sweat tells you otherwise.

Natasha has the nerve to smile at you, recognizing the winded look on your face, and she settles next to you in the kitchen, hand on her hip as she drinks from a water bottle.

"I tried to warn you," She says, "He's kicking your ass, isn't he?"

She did try, you'll give her the credit, knocking on your door every day he was gone to at least get you to come out for a jog. But you refused, anticipating this intensity, and while you'll never admit that to her, she assumes you enjoy the torture.

"It's embarrassing." You say. "Even after all this time, he can wipe the floor with me if he wanted to."

She laughs at that, a twinkle in her eye that hints at the history she shares with him. "Yeah. You and me both." Her smile is far from innocent. "But I'm sure you give him a run for his money."

Your grin is wicked, "You can bet your perky little ass I do."

Your relationship with Natasha is complicated. Sometimes she's the older sister you always wished you had. Other times she's the extravagant aunt who teaches you the life lessons your mother was too modest to. Then sometimes, it's hard to tell, she's just an attractive woman admiring another attractive woman, someone with experience gravitating to someone who doesn't, because it's in her nature to enjoy the power play. If you had to guess, Natasha would bend you over the counter if she had the opportunity, just like anyone else living here in the compound. But she respects your privacy, respects the strange relationship you have with a man who is just as deadly as she is, and settles for the mischief you create together instead.

It's fun to feed into it, you always had a knack for sticking your fingers into flames, and sometimes you hold it over Bucky's head. Like last night, you didn't tell him what you did to convince Tony to let you borrow his car, but it's implied in your nature. You tend to be a bit hyper sexual, another trait that sometimes proves to be a pain in the ass. But Bucky has something to handle that too, and sometimes, at times like this, he lets you off your tight leash.

"Who's ass is perky?" He had been watching, of course he had, and the look on Natasha's face tells you that she knew it too.

"Depends on who you ask." You quip, flashing him an innocent smile. "Yours is, mine is, and hers," You spare a glance at Natasha, "Well, you would know, wouldn't you?"

He rolls his eyes, because you already know the answer to what you're implying. Nothing ever happened between him an Natasha. If anything were to happen, it would have been long ago, before they had both reformed themselves into the people they are now. He told you that, confessed his entire life to you, so he knows this is just your way of trying to get him worked up.

"Don't drag me into this." Natasha waves a finger between you both. "Whatever this is, I want no part." Her eyes settle on you. "I also suggest you cool it, because I'm joining you, and I don't want to be forced around awkward sexual tension."

You look at Bucky, raising an eyebrow. He only shrugs. "Steve too." He says. "I figured you needed a change in pace, you're too used to me now, you could use a different perspective."

Your break is obviously over, Natasha follows you as you walk out of the kitchen. "Yeah," She says. "Perspective."

The mood changes drastically, all playfulness gone from her when you step on the sparing mat together. To put it simply, she kicks your ass. You put up a good fight though, you actually managed to make her bleed, but in the end, she's too on top of her training schedule for you to find a weakness. That's the point Bucky was trying to make to you. You know him and his tactics, you know how hard he hits, you know where he'll strike, all you have to do is avoid it and expect it. But with an opponent you've never faced before, you're far too weak at the moment to properly defend yourself.

The next time you hit the mat is your last, nose colliding with the floor, blood gushing, a grunt coming from you that actually manages to distract your boyfriend who stands feet away, sparing with Steve.

You pinch your nose like you've been taught, instantly feeling that it isn't broken, and Natasha has helped you up by the time Bucky makes his way over.

He's actually sweating, panting hard as he takes your chin in his hand, examining your face. "You'll be fine." He says, glancing at Natasha. He nods to her, and you aren't sure what it is, approval, dismissal? "Hit the showers." He says to you, "You're done for now."

For now, there will be more later after lunch you're sure. You leave with Natasha, who reminds you to keep your head tilted, her arm linked with yours as she walks with you to the infirmary. The nurse on duty clogs your nose with gauze, telling you what you already know. It's not broken, but it will be bruised, and after the bleeding stops you need to rinse your nose clear of the blood. Until then, breathe out your mouth, and be cautious of blood that may trickle to the back of your throat.

"Want to step out with me?" Natasha meets you back in the kitchen after you both shower, her hair dark and dripping, and for a moment you think she's kidding.

Your body is starting to bruise, knuckles scraped and angry, nose bloody. But she simply stares at you expectantly, waiting for your answer.

"Okay."

You take her Camero, she lets you drive, and it turns out it's just a grocery run. She wants to cook lunch, macaroni salad, and you both do a bit of personal shopping while you're out. After getting the ingredients, you both occupy the kitchen to make it. It doesn't take too long, but the serving size is large considering how many people will want to eat it.

Tony comes to find you in search of food, and he asks you about his car, a strange smell that he can't quite place. Liquor, sex, sweat? It could be anything, but you decide to play dumb instead, biting your tongue as you smile at him and suggest he go get it detailed.

While the macaroni chills in the fridge, Bucky comes to find you carrying fresh gauze and an alcohol wipe. He gives you his protein shake, chocolate flavored, and you sip from it eagerly. His hands are gentle as he pulls the blood soaked gauze from your nose and you take a deep breath, feeling the dried blood and soreness from the impact.

He applies pressure to the bridge of your nose, stopping when you wince, humming low in his throat as he leans down to kiss you. "It'll be a nasty bruise," He says, "But you deserve it, you fucking brat."

You imagine his opinion will change when the skin on your nose starts to discolor, but for now, he feels proud of himself. You let him have it.

He wipes your nose gently, hand on your throat to tilt your head back, he points the corners of the alcohol wipe and wipes the inside of your nose, eyebrows knit in concentration, and you take the opportunity to feel him up.

Your hands slide under his shirt, the skin is smooth where his stab wound was last night, and once again you're amazed by his abilities. "Did you have fun beating up someone other than me for once?"

His lip quirks up in a half smile, "Nah." He says. "It's not as satisfying."

You smile despite yourself, wrapping your arms around his waist. "What about you?" He asks. "Did you find anything interesting while your head was up Nat's ass?"

"Jealous?"

His grip on your throat shifts, "If I were, this would be a very different situation for you."

He knows you're his, there's nothing to argue, nothing to worry about, even if the entire compound wants to rearrange your guts. A pretty young thing like you, he doesn't blame them. But they wouldn't be able to handle you, you wouldn't enjoy it, and it would send you right back to him.

You both know it.

"You're so scary." You kiss him then, silencing whatever remark he had for you, eyes slipping closed as he tilts his head against yours, cautious of your nose. He tastes like chocolate, and sweat, slipping from your arms to take a shower.

When he returns, the salad has cooled enough to eat, and naturally, Clint already has a mouthful before anyone else can get their hands on it. He too has just returns from a workout, his sweats drenched, Bucky crinkles his nose, scowls at the amount of people occupying the kitchen and opts for lurking in the hall, watching as you portion out bowls for everyone, including him.

He's amazed at your cooking skills, the two of you tucked away out back with bowls of macaroni salad, enjoying the breeze in the shade. You beam at his praise, smiling over a mouthful of food, but it doesn't last long, his finger reaching out to poke your noise.

Don't look too proud of yourself, he says, this isn't approved in your diet plan.

Yeah well, screw him and the diet plan.

He makes you run after lunch, a water bottle in your hand because he isn't going to let you stop for breaks, the only water you can have is what you can hold.

It's cruel, the sun high in the sky and beating down on you with an intensity that makes it hard to breathe, let alone run. But you manage, a familiar exhaustion washing over you as you push your body for the third time today.

He makes you a protein shake, joins you for your second shower of the day, and then he drags you to bed.

"All your hard work means nothing if you don't give yourself a chance to recover." He whispers in your ear, lips pressed to your skin, his arm cold against your side when he spoons you. "I know you're tired, peach. You did good today, now rest."

It makes it all worth it, the torture of exercise, the agonizing exhaustion he puts you through. Getting to lay here like this, the comfort of his closeness, a vulnerability that only you have been allowed to see.

You turn, sealing your lips against his in a sloppy kiss, one that has no real effort behind it but has all the desperation in the world. It makes his grip tighten at your waist, his other hand slipping down to yank your panties to the side.

"Okay, you can sleep after this."

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Masterlist

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[specialagentrin]

dream wanted the glow squid, didn’t he? || Chapter 1 - Update

PLEASE NOTE THAT IS WORK HAS EXPLICT CONTENT BETWEEN DREAM AND A GLOWSQUID. THANK YOU. Read on AO3? Dream and his companions perched themselves on a cliff, waiting for their universe to change as they know it.

The night of the 7th full moon shone bright above the active children simply fooling around, launching arrows at one another, building up their home and completing pathways. And as it shone brighter by the minute, only stopping once Wilbur called it out. A small ping flashed through their universe, their pockets flashing gold as a scroll appeared inside of them.

-

Hello community! This is a notification from the universe itself that your world is about to change in ways it hasn’t before, a long due update that we apologize on our behalf. Tomorrow, the moment the sun begins to set, it will shift to give higher points and darker depths, and a few more creatures to kick off your fight or flight instinct. Please make sure that you are awake at this time, as being asleep may cause corruption to your eye vision for a few days and make you see things that aren’t supposed to be there. Have fun, and we hope you are entertained by our newest update!

- And here they we’re, content to have small talk with each other and enjoy the peace while it lasted. Dream rested in a tree, at first watching Techno but when he realised that he meant no harm, decided to pay his attention to his friends fooling around.

Without any warning - a wave of emotions flooded through their very existence with such power, such intensity, such warmth - that they all collapsed and blanked out. They awoke, one by one, to a sunset that was in an array of colors, much brighter than it had been before. In an instant, they raised their hand and a paper levitated on it - giving off a list of the latest updates in their domain, eyes scanning for anything particularly interesting.

“MOOBLOOMS INTERACT WITH BEES!” Tubbo screeched at the tops of his lungs, giving an apologetic smile when everyone turned to pass him a glare. “Sorry! I just love bees!”

“I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m going to head down to the caves. The fossils sound pretty cool to me.” Sapnap states, and George hums in agreement.

“I’m coming with, then, I’m not going anywhere near plants for the next week.” George says. “I don’t want to think about the fact that tomatoescome alive.”

“I’m going down to the docks, then, I’m desperate to see the glow squids.” Dream states, before sliding down the cliff. From here, the ocean is a more pristine, darker shade of blue, but just enough to see the large abundance of sea life swimming around happily. Walking over to the docks, he plops himself down at the ledge, breathing deeply. He continues to watch the sunset in peace - chuckling lightly when he hears Wilbur scream over something in the distance.

Dream must’ve dozed off, because when he awakened there’s a full moon in the sky, a lot more stars than he remembers, and a soft glow of neon blue in the water coming closer to him.

That’s gotta be the glow squid.

He opens up his inventory in the palm of his hand, clicking the fishing rod with his middle finger and gripping it tightly when it appears in his left hand. The inventory disappears from the plane of existence, swinging the rod around a few times for the string to gain some speed before launching it forward. It doesn’t land too far from the squid, his foot tapping in anticipation to see one close up.

A minute passes.

Then two.

He pulls back the string quickly with his bare hands, as using the reel would take way too long. Dream swings around the hook over his head again, before launching it into the ocean once more.

“Yes!” Dream cheers loudly as it plops right above the luminosity inside the vast sea. In an instant, he feels a tug on the line and he’s reeling it in with all the strength he has. It’s not enough, so he quickly summons his inventory and drinks a strength potion, feeling it’s power run through his veins.

Dream gives one tug and it lands on the docks, the size of it almost coming to his waist. He plops it into a nearby bucket, forcing its body into the cool metal.

He sits crossed-legged on the wood, watching the soft neon glow with fascination. It squirms around in the water bucket for a bit, Dream pushing his mask aside to watch it in all it’s beauty. It eventually stops when he makes eye contact with him, and a shiver runs down his spine.

It’s eyes are... alluring . Heterochromia eyes - infused with all sorts of shades of blue and green that can’t possibly be real. It’s like something that should be treasured, tucked away safely, never to be seen by the naked human eye. Words cannot even begin to describe the mere beauty of it, truly.

His hand reaches out to touch one of the glowing tendrils when he hears a scream ring through his head, coming from his two closest friends. Dream’s eyes turn away from the large squid, pushing his mask in front of his face, where it belongs.

“Are the two of you alright?” He speaks to the sky, for the wind to carry his message.

“No, I’m far from alright!” George screams. “Sapnap attacked a tomato bush and now it’s entire civilization is coming after us!”

“How was I supposed to tell the difference - they’re all red!” The raven haired boy screamed right back. Dream laughed harder when it glanced back at the squid. It wiggled it’s tentacles around in anger, it’s enchantment spell on it’s prey failing for once in it’s life.

“Not so smart, huh?” He snickers.

In a last effort attempt, the bucket falls over and in front of Dream, soaking his jeans and shoes as it latches onto his waist. Dream jumps and falls onto his back, certainly not expecting something that to occur. The two of them are in a staring contest, Dream grinning widely as he watches the glow squid try to hypnotize him once more.

And then a tentacle rubs right against his cock, and he lets out an embarrassing moan.

His hand flies up to his mouth, covering it in shock. He looks up to the sky, praying to Irene that no one heard him. When there's no response or teasing, he looks back at the glowing squid resting on its legs, looking at him in curiosity.

Then one extended a tentacle in Dream’s direction, eyes blinking up at him curiously. Dream looked around to see if anyone was near him, and when he felt no other presence or saw anyone else nearby, he placed the palm of his hand on top of the tentacle. It was - interesting, so to speak. Not slimy, like he had thought, but a smooth, silky texture on it.

Another one wrapped around it’s waist tightly, Dream nearly sagging into the touch. Like a firm, tight hug, reassuring him that everything was going to be okay. It still looked at him questionably, teasingly rubbing a tentacle against his pants.

He could just...shove the creature off. Through it into the ocean. Dream did just drink a strength potion after all.

But he didn’t.

Dream takes a deep breath, cursing himself internally for what he was about to do and if anything, blame it on a witch. Undoing the button and zipper on his jeans, hastily pulling it down just enough to free his cock. It seemed to get the idea, as tentacles wrapped around his legs and wrists, holding him down onto docks. Not too tight where he couldn’t move a muscle, but just lose enough where he could pretend to struggle.

But why would he want too anyway?

A soft gasp leaves his mouth as a tentacle wraps around his cock and grips tightly, giving a tentative jerk. The coldness of the tentacle is still off-putting, and yet his dick twitches and leaks precum from the touch. Dream makes a soft whine at the motion, feeling his face flush a deep red that goes to the tip of his ears down to his shoulders. He’s trying to keep himself still, let the creature take its time - but the amount of pleasure he was getting from just a few strokes of it’s tendril was making his mind go hazy.

He pushed himself up onto his left elbow, other hand adjusting the loose tentacle around his dick. When it’s tight enough he begins to push into it like a fleshlight. His head falls back onto the wood underneath him, thrusting into the tight hold desperately. The wet texture sending sparks all over his skin, hugging his cock like an actual suction cup -

His mind goes white with pleasure. At this rate he’s going to cum quick, like the first time he had fucked one of the villager girls in the forest, just shoving into her with sharp, quick thrusts of his hips. He tries to shave off his orgasm but it’s no use, he’s leaking a puddle of precum onto the tentacle and onto his stomach.

It’s over for him when one pushes against the rim of his asshole, making a shocked noise as he cums all over himself. Hot, thick, heavy streaks of semen coat his sweater.

“Oh my Ender - fuck! ” He pants, and for some reason the damn squid looks cocky.

“Dream?” Fundy’s voice rings through his head. “You okay? You sound like you're in trouble.”

“Oh no no no -” He scrambles to get the squid off of him, pulling up his jeans. “I’m fine! I’m perfectly fine!”

“Are you sure? I’m near the docks, I can quickly detour to check up on you.” The fox hybrid replies. Dream peels off his sweater, throwing it into the ocean and scooping it back up quickly with the bucket. He dumps the water onto himself before getting another pail full of seawater, dropping the squid inside. Just in time, actually, as he can see Fundy coming down the stairs to the docks.

“Hi, Fundy.” Dream says awkwardly. “What’s wrong?”

“If anything, I should be asking you that question. You’re soaked, man.” He states, before his eyes look to the bucket. “No way, is that the glow squid?”

“Yeah.” He states, looking down at it. “I think I’m going to keep it. For...educational purposes, of course.”

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Speak No Evil (Part 12)

Seal hunting, penguin sledding, building snowbenders--it is all such a delight!

The cold is still harsh on her cheeks and nippy on her nose but it is a small price to pay for the frigidly enchanting, mystifying world around her. For the small fluttery flakes that sparkle on her lashes and on the fur of her parka.

And the lights! The lights in the sky that lick at the stars--more of them than she has ever seen!--she feels like she is home. Home and yet the Tribes are nothing at all like the Fire Nation by any means. And maybe that is why she is able to feel as well as she does. That same frosty breeze that bites at her face, is the breeze that freezes all of her stresses and woes to a stand still. Everything is so fresh and so new and like nothing she has ever seen before. And in the open expanse of the rolling, glittering tundra is free! Truly free. And free to be anything she wants.

Today, she wants to be a snowflake on the breeze or a fold in those glowing sky curtains. Perhaps she can’t be either in the literal sense, but she can certainly feel like one. All she has to do is run. Run, light and weightless until her exhilaration reaches a peak. And she does, she takes off into the fastest run, only caring for the world around her insofar as to not get lost. But on a night like this she can’t imagine that she would get lost. She can’t imagine that anything bad could happen because she is so, so far from the places where bad things happen. Away from the people who cause those things.

She might not be lost in the tundra but she is lost in life. And lost in life she may be but she thinks that it might be fun to just wander for a while. Wander with no direction and no goal at all. At first she thought to seek out a daring romance in the cold, cuddling up by a fire and swathed in heavy blankets. Yet the longer she flounces about in the snow, the less compelling that fantasy becomes.

No, she needs a real escapade. One that isn’t bogged down by romance and obligation. She reaches the village and turns to look back. Her footprints in the snow, a map of excitement and hope. She flights herself down and flails her arms and legs, just as she’d seen a few of the village children do. She laughs like them too. Carefree and optimistic.

She laughs like herself.

And she thinks that she knows where she wants to go from here.

.oOo.

For a while, a very mercifully long while, Seicho has kept to her word. She hasn’t asked a single question. Hasn’t uttered a single word. They trek in silence, not that she has any other choice, she ruefully reminds herself. And then she reminds herself that she won’t have to worry about that soon anyhow.

Such have been the nature of her thoughts for the past three days. And the opportunity has presented itself more than once; a particularly high ledge, a poisonous berry or flower, a lethally venomous snake within arms reach…

But they are not for her. Not befitting of her. Not grand enough. She doesn’t want to die spasming in the mud in some Agni forsaken jungle and cliffs and ledges aren’t sure enough. Not like the volcano.

The hike isn’t doing her mood any favors, she is dirty and smells of mud and musk. She is uncomfortably hot and sweat-slicked. Every time she goes to wipe some grime from her face she smears more upon it. She is dirty and loathsome as she feels within. And now, she doesn’t even have Seicho’s incessant chatter to distract her from it.

If TyLee could see her now, the woman would probably wonder what she had ever seen in the her. She isn’t sure what anyone had seen in her. Can’t see why Zuko has bothered to bring her to Ember Island at all, it would serve him much better to personally accompany her to the volcano and push her over the edge. Perhaps she should go back and pose the offer…

“We’re about a day or two away.”

Azula nods. Good.

“Can I ask you something?” She is almost relieved to hear Seicho speak again. So much so that she doesn’t point out that she has already asked her something. Her relief, like much else she enjoys, is cut brief. She supposes that she should have seen it coming, Seicho was bound to inquire eventually.  “Are you going to tell me how you lost your voice?”

Azula pauses to find her parchment. ‘Why would I?’

Seicho shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess…” She frowns. “Sorry, that was a personal question, I should have started with something easier.”

But that’s just it; there is a part of her that is itching to tell her. Perhaps to get it off of her chest. More likely, to show Seicho the kind of person she is. ‘I’ll tell you tonight, after we make camp.’

Seicho grins. “Great! I was also wondering if you’d like to stop at that stream for a bath. I don’t know about you, but I’m getting all sticky and gross.”

In way of a response she makes a brisk break for the river. She thinks that she hears Seicho chuckle and wonders if the woman had made the suggestion more for her than for herself. It doesn’t matter, the only thing that matters is washing the filth from her skin, nevermind the details. So gross does she feel that she doesn’t hesitate to strip her clothes away. If the peasant has any problem with it, she can turn the other way.

“I have some soap, if you need it.”

Azula nods vigorously and holds her hand out.

With a smile, Seicho hands her the bar and leaves her to her undignified backwater bath. She emerges from it smelling less like sweat and mud and more like seaweed. But Agni is it better than being covered head to toe in grime.

“I washed our clothes.” Seicho mentions. “They aren’t dry yet so…”

Azula shrugs, her inhibitions and social graces are well and gone. They’d vacated on her last visit to the institution, whether she was aware or not. She holds her arm out, it is a bumpy mural of bugbites and scratches and a descent bruise from when Seicho had run into her with an armful of firewood.

“Those aren’t painful, are they?”

‘No’.

“You should really take better care of them, so that they don’t get infected.” She holds up some slave and bandages. “Can I?”  

Azula inhales and holds her arm out. Seicho is surprisingly careful. She purses her lips in concentration as she dabs each cut and scrape with with salve. It is overdoing it, but Azula allows her to wrap her entire arm with bandages. She lightly pats Azula’s hand, “there that should do it. We can change the bandages tomorrow.”

‘Sure.’

“Are you feeling better now that you’re all clean?”

‘I wouldn’t say all.’

“Are you feeling better now that you’re cleaner than before?”

She feels no different, really.

.oOo.

The woman keeps her distance, gazing intensely into the campfire, likely because she still doesn’t want to share her story and Seicho can’t bring herself to ask a second time. Evidently she is surprised that the woman hasn’t tried to char her to a crisp yet.

“You hungry?” She asks instead.

Her eyes don’t leave the fire, she isn’t even sure that the woman has heard her.

“I was able to catch some fish, I could cook those.”

The fire gives a loud snap.

“Alright. I’ll cook both fish and if you want one you can have one. But you should eat something.”

The woman averts her gaze at last and feels around for her brush and parchment. Seicho watches the brush bob back and forth for longer than she had expected. The fish are mostly cooked by the time she finishes. She holds out the parchment and grabs the fish. She finishes cooking them as Seicho reads through her note.

“You…” Seicho beings “You wanted the spirit to take your voice?”

The woman takes the first fish from the fire and offers it to her. She nods and takes her own fish.

“But you want it back now?”

The woman nods again.

“Well that was one wild impulse decision.”

She gestures for the parchment. Seicho hands it back and the woman scrawls something else. She holds up the parchment. ‘There’s something wrong with me.’  Seicho takes her hand. “You’re hurt.”

The woman shakes her head. ‘It’s more than that…’

“Then what is it?”

The woman tosses the parchment into the fire.

“Alright, time for a subject change. What’s your name anyways?”

She doesn’t pull out another piece of parchment. But at least she had made some progress. At least she had opened up even a little. “Can we talk about the spirit? That creature sounded terrifying. Terrifying and lovely all at once.” The woman simply nods in agreement. She tries to picture it in her head; thin ribbons of iridescence, curling endlessly and evershifting. Tries to hear it in her head, a voice that is a chorus, that is divine and horrifying in synchrony. “I don’t think that you needed to do that. Whatever you said that made you think that you had too…”

.oOo.

If only it were just one thing, one angry sentence. That could be brushed off, taken as a heat of the moment lashing. Maybe in a sense that’s what it was. But after a certain point, rage driven insults are spoken often enough to become a rather defining trait. An ingrained and deeply innate flaw of character. And to call it a flaw so drastically understands what it is. It is more like a glaring smear on her personality. It is her personality.

“I don’t think that you’re a bad person.”

But she will inevitably, should she be given the chance. Frankly she is surprised that the woman hasn’t found a reason to think  so. At the very least, she must think her rude and unpleasant. Bad company that she is stuck with.

Seicho probably regrets the trip as much as she does. She looks at her arm, at how tenderly it had been tended to. Her stomach flutters, a cross between sadness and discomfort. Perhaps a little fear. She looks up from the fire to see the woman smiling softly at her. “I can tell you a story.” She offers. “It’s a folktale but I haven’t told a campfire story in a while. Maybe you’re more of the listening sort. I’m definitely a talker. I think that you can tell though because I go on and on and...do you want to hear the story?”

Azula’s tummy flutters again and she nods. She isn’t sure why but she nods. She can’t remember the last time anyone has told her a story just to tell one. She isn’t sure that anyone ever has. Seicho’s face lights up nearly brighter than the fire. “Okay so there’s a boy who finds a polished stone on the beach, mom always called it the hope stone. The boy was terribly said, he lost his family to a hurricane. It destroyed his home and his ship too. He was so hurt and so angry that it came out in everything he did. Eventually his friends couldn’t stand to be around him anymore because he was bringing them down. And when his friends went away he had nothing left at all. So he went down to the beach in the middle of the night.”

Azula stares at her palms, shifts in her spot.

“He was so furious. He just started picking up rocks and throwing them. And then he found a really smooth and shiny rock. It looked almost like a mirror so when he pointed it towards the sky it was like seeing a galaxy on the stone. And in that galaxy,  it showed him things. It showed him how to mend his friendships and how to be happy again. It showed him is parents and they smiled up at him. He knew that they wanted him to be happy…”

She doesn’t mean to but she finds herself nodding off. She doesn’t think that Seicho has noticed because the girl is still talking. She must have nodded off in full because she wakes up in the tent, Seicho snoring on the other side of it.

She swallows hard, she can’t place exactly what they are born from, but there are tears in her eyes. She wipes them away.

“You’re awake again?” Seicho mumbles. “You should go back to sleep.” Azula isn’t sure that the woman is fully awake. She is certain that she isn’t when she clumsily swats at her muttering, “lay down, it’s night time, that means lay down and eye shut time.” And yet she finds the coordination to tuck her in when she finally does lay back down.

She hasn’t been tucked in, in ages either. Not by someone other than herself. And her mind wanders. Wanders to a new place. It is just an itch. A small thing in the back of her mind. A small thing that magnifies itself in her dreams.

Tonight she doesn’t dream of volcanoes and blackening skin. She dreams of a galaxy, of a reaching hand.

[benedictsvestcollection]

Chapter Two: Are we written in the stars, baby, or are we written in the sand?

AO3

Warnings: Light angst, Soft Din (b/c he needs a warning for being SOFT) and bed sharing. 

Chapter 1

Aurora had been on the road with Din and the child for about two weeks now. She had learned a bit more about Din in that time. That he was Chilean and spoke Spanish, (she did not know what he was saying most of the time) that he wasn’t very chatty but he was very kind when he did talk with her and that he was a badass bounty hunter and almost always got the job done. Sometimes coming back a little worse for the wear but usually nothing terribly serious.

Din had a job that was taking a few days for him to complete in Northern California. Gone during the day and in the evenings he was on his laptop or tablet doing research on the guy he was hunting to turn into the local cops. So he’d gotten them a campsite in a campground that had a lake nearby for swimming and they could cook on the grill. But Din always insisted on cooking on the grill for them.

It was mid afternoon on the third day and Aurora had taken the boy to the lake for a swim. It was a hot day and they had been cooped up in the van most of the day so far. Her new and clean phone Din had gotten her was on and nearby, in case he called and she had also left a note in case he came back early for the day. She was helping the boy chase fish in the shallow end of the lake when she looked up to hear steps. She assumed it was a hiker, but Din had told her to be careful for both her and the child’s sake, so she was always alert.

She smiled when she saw him. He smiled back from behind his baseball cap and aviator sunglasses but she could tell he was tired. “Hey.” He greeted her, unable to take his eyes off her in her short shorts and blue bikini top she wore while the boy was wearing his dinosaur swim trunks Aurora had bought for him at a Walmart one day.

“Hi. Guess you got my note.” She told him as she helped the boy onto the rocks as he scrambled to get to Din to greet him. He squealed when he was close enough and wrapped his arms around his legs in a hug.

“I did.” He nodded and winced as he bent a bit to hug him back.

“Are you okay?” She asked him as she picked up a towel and dried her top half off before slipping her loose tank top over her. “You look…” She scanned him for a moment and her eyes widened. “Jesus Din, you’re bleeding.” She mentioned to his side where she saw red seeping through his dark grey t-shirt.

“Just a surface wound.” He grunted as he took the towel from Aurora and wrapped the boy up in it before picking him up.

She shook her head at him. “You should let me take care of that.” She insisted as she slipped on her sandals and followed him back to the van. “And you shouldn’t be carrying him either.” She chided him as the boy patted Din’s face affectionately and took his sunglasses off his face and put them on his own, with a giggle.

“I’m fine Aurora.” He reassured her as he opened the side of the van and set him on the steps while he helped him change. All the while letting his wound bleed.

“Like hell you are. Get on the damn bed Din.” She ordered him softly. “I can take care of this.” She insisted as she gently took charge of the boy and changed him quickly. “Take off your shirt.” She told him while she retrieved the well stocked first aid kit she knew they had for incidents like this.

“Stubborn woman.” He muttered but did as she asked, all the while watching as she settled the boy on the ground with his drawing book.

“Yeah well, I’m the stubborn woman who’s gonna stitch you up now.” She tsked at him and carefully threaded the needle before cleaning his wound. “You gonna tell me how this happened?”

He shrugged as she cleaned the wound. “Just an asshole bail jumper. Thought he’d try and slice me open. He got one swipe in before I got him in a chokehold and cuffed him.”

“Is that all?” She asked him wryly, a smirk on her lips as she slowly began to stitch up his wound with the precision of a professional.

“Yup.” He looked down and watched her work. “How do you know how to do this?” He asked her after several moments.

“What? Get a stubborn as hell, bounty hunter to listen to me?” She teased him.

“Mujer perfecta.” He muttered, partly to himself and partly to her. “I mean this.” He nodded to her, stitching him up.

She wondered what the first sentence meant, perfect… Something but she didn’t have time to consider it with his second comment. “Oh… I was in nursing school for a while.” She told him softly. “Was about a year from graduating when my parents died and I had to quit to be able to afford to put my brother in the group home he needed to go into.” She explained, her eyes going up to his for a split second before going back to focus on closing him up. “We uh… My parents couldn’t afford both and I knew I had to give up nursing school to put him somewhere he’d be well taken care of.”

“I’m sorry.” He told her softly. “That you had to give that up.” He wondered how someone as sweet and selfless and kind as her… Ended up being constantly given the short end of life it seemed. Having to give up nursing, losing her parents and then her brother in a way… And having that asshole ex of hers.

“It’s fine. It was a while ago now. Guess I’m able to put my knowledge to some use now, taking care of you.” She teased him again.

He smirked at her. “Me and my stubborn ass?” He teased back.

She finally finished and knotted up the stitch before rooting around the kit for the gauze and tape. “Yup.” She told him and smirked back as the boy stood up and held his drawing book to his chest.

“Hey kid.” He told him fondly as he watched as he noticed he started to cry. “It’s okay.” He assured him and ruffled his hair gently. “I’m fine.” He promised the boy.

Aurora looked up from where she was working and her heart broke a bit at the sight.

Din looked to Aurora and then back to the boy. “See? Aurora helped make me better.” He showed the boy who’s brows furrowed in confusion before he peeked to see.

“Yes.” She turned to meet the boy’s gaze and smiled at him. “He’s fine.” She promised him and then stood to grab the bottle of Advil they kept in the cabinet and gave him a few. “Take these.” She instructed as she watched him for a few moments as the boy crawled into Aurora’s now vacant spot and showed him the fish drawings he did.

“Did he have fun swimming?” Din asked her after a longer silence.

“Yeah. He can’t really swim yet, but he had fun chasing the fish and splashing around. And we laid out on the rock.” She smiled at them.

“Maybe we’ll teach him to swim sometime.” He suggested casually.

“We could, yeah.” She agreed with a small smile.

“I uh… The campsite is paid up till tomorrow so we can stay here tonight.” Din told her. “I’ll take the-”

“I swear to god, if you say you’re going to sleep in the front seat I will rip out your stitches.” She warned him. “Just sleep on the damn bed Din. It won’t kill you.” She insisted.

“Can’t. That’s where you sleep.” He shook his head.

“You’re an idiot. It’s your bed.” She sighed at him. “Just sleep in the damn bed tonight. Please?”

“Where are you gonna sleep mi querida ?” He asked her, the endearment slipping out but he didn’t want to take it back either. Because he had become fond of her, not that he wanted to admit that outloud to her.

She paused, she knew he just called her some kind of a nickname but she didn’t want to ask him either. He would just deny it or change the subject. “We’ll figure it out later. Let’s make dinner for now.” She told him softly.

“Okay.” He nodded at her. “We can do burgers. Grill by the pit.” He nodded outside where there was enough firewood.

She was going to tell him she could do it but she knew she was pushing her luck with bossing him around for the day and had already won the bed argument so she simply nodded. “Sounds great. We have chips and apples. And I may have told him we’d do s’mores one day.” She admitted with a grin.

The boy looked up at the mention of s’mores and squealed in excitement with a grin before going to the cabinet he knew the marshmallows were stored and took them out and shoved them in Din’s lap.

“Okay kid. I promise we’ll make s’mores tonight.” He smiled softly back at him with a chuckle and grunted as he leaned down to pull out a clean shirt and pulled it over his head. “Come on, we’ll give Aurora a break and let her change. You can help me with the firewood.” He told the boy and picked him up on his good side.

“You really shouldn’t be-” She called after him.

“I’m fine!” He called back to her, exasperated huff in his voice.

“Stubborn man.” She muttered to herself as she closed the van door so she could change into dry clothes. She pulled out a pair of yoga leggings, a tank top and her favorite cardigan before slipping on some shoes. She pulled her hair up in a messy bun and stepped out of the van with an armful of groceries for dinner.

By the time she emerged with everything, Din had the fire going and the boy was watching the flames in fascination and delight.

“You uh… Got the burger meat?” Din’s voice pulled her attention away from the boy. She turned to look at him and he was gesturing at her arms full of the food.

“Oh um… Yeah.” She nodded and smiled softly at him as he pulled out the meat and went to work on making patties.

“I’ll just cook all of it and we can reheat them on the road, if one of us is hungry for them.” He suggested.

She kept an eye on the boy as she set everything else out on the picnic table. “Good idea, there’s foil in the van so we can wrap the extras after dinner.”

“Sounds good.” Din nodded and let the boy hold the plate so he could place the cooked patties on them while Aurora put everything on the picnic table so they could eat.

After the burgers were done, Aurora helped the boy fix his up and put all his food on a plate while Din opened up a couple of beers for himself and her. “Thanks.” She told him with a smile as he handed her one and she fixed her own meal. Now that the boy was happily eating his dinner.

“You’re welcome.” He told her simply as they sat and ate dinner in a comfortable silence.

After dinner, Aurora cleaned up and put everything away while Din showed the boy how to toast marshmallows and make S’mores. By nine, he was exhausted and falling asleep in his lap in his chair. So Aurora set up his little bed that was able to sit above the front seats and he could see the stars through the moonroof.

By the time Din got him in his bed, he came back out to see Aurora curled up in a chair staring at the fire. Lost in thought it seemed, almost sad.

“You… Okay?” He asked her softly, not wanting to startle her. She still seemed to be jumpy.

“Hmm?” She looked up to him and nodded. “Yeah just… Thinking.” She finished.

Din could tell something was on her mind, but he decided not to press it. Not right now anyhow. “Okay.” He nodded at her and looked up when he heard a faint rumble of thunder. “Storms coming in. You want to get ready for bed first?” He offered her.

She looked up at the sky and then back at him. “Sure. Thanks.” She told him. “You’re still sleeping on the bed though.” She insisted with a look to him as he started putting the camper chairs away.

He considered her words while she disappeared quietly into the van to change. They were both adults, he wondered how she would take it if he told her they should share. He would never hurt her or do anything to her without her consent. Hell, they were practically co-raising a kid together.

Once she was done changing he slipped inside while she waited outside to change as well. When he was done, she slipped back inside while he did a final check of the campsite before the rain came. “All good.” He told her as he shut the van door.

“Great.” She nodded at him as she took a pillow off the bed and her blanket. Prepared to go to the front seat and curl up. “Goodnight Din.” She told him softly.

“Hey…” He called to her gently, fingers grasping onto her wrist to keep her from going up front. “I don’t feel right, you sleeping up there.” He motioned to the front of the van. “If you’re comfortable with it… We’re both adults and the bed’s big enough for two.” He offered.

Aurora halted when he grasped her wrist, he didn’t touch her often. Usually when he did, it was casually. But this, this was something different. “Oh…” She breathed out, blue eyes wide and staring at him. “Are you sure?” She asked him hesitantly.

“I am. But only if you’re comfortable with it. Just… Thought I’d offer.” He stated bluntly. A long silence filled the van, only interrupted by the steady fall of rain outside and the child’s steady breathing behind them.

“Okay… Yes… Thank you.” She told him as she slowly walked to the bed, where he sat.

“You um… Sleep to the back of the van. In case… Anyone shows up.” He explained. Din was notoriously paranoid. She knew he had at least one hand gun hidden under the mattress and she had a feeling he was worried her ex would show up and hurt her.

She tensed when he mentioned the possibility of danger and he shook his head. “Hey… Look at me, I got you.. Alright? I just want to make sure you’re safe. So I’ll take the side closest to the door.” He promised her.

“Yeah… Okay.” She whispered at him and crawled into the bed. Getting under the covers and laying her blanket over her as well.

Din watched her get in and he followed suit. It had been a long time since he’d shared a bed with anyone, let alone a woman. And he wasn’t sure what to do as he laid on his back.

“Do you really think he’s looking for me?” Her cracked voice breaking the silence.

Din debated on lying to her but he wanted her to be careful and safe if he was on a job. And realistically, he probably was looking for her still. He turned on his side to face her. “Yes. I think he probably is.”

“Is this how it’s going to be from now on? Always looking over my shoulder and afraid of him?” She asked him.

“No.” Din growled in the darkness. “I told you I’ve got you. And if he comes for you, I’ll take care of him myself. You don’t deserve to be scared your whole life.” He could sense she was upset and he was fiercely protective over this woman he’d come to know over the past couple of weeks.

“Thank you.” She whispered out. Tears falling down her cheeks now and she was grateful Din couldn’t see her. “I’m just so tired of being afraid of him.”

“You don’t have to be afraid anymore.” His large hand came to her face and gently wiped her tears. “I’ll take care of you. I promise.” He murmured.

Instinctively, she leaned into his touch. Purely because having a man touch her so tenderly was so rare for her. “Okay.”

“Get some sleep, mi querida .” He told her gently as he stroked her cheek until she fell asleep.

[peter-parcoeur]

“When you’re gone” - part 2

Summary + Chapter 1

Comment if you like it ♥

Chapter II

It had been two weeks now.

Two entire weeks of a world Tony Stark wasn’t part of anymore and still, Peter wasn’t ready to come out and face the emptiness he had left into his own life. It was just too brutal, too confusing, and too sad.

Ned had come to visit almost every day in hope that, at some point, Peter would consider leaving his bedroom and catch some fresh air. Every single attempt failed as he barely had the force to get out of his room to share a meal with his aunt. Sometimes he would simply watch his meal until it was completely cold. His entire world had collapsed and now it felt like he had no goal left. Even thinking about MJ didn’t bring him a single happy thought, he had simply lost interest in his ordinary life.

“School’s starting tomorrow” May stated as she grabbed a few dirty clothes from his bedroom floor “you should get your stuff ready for the big day!”

“You’re calling this a big day?

-          Last year of high school, this is HUGE.

-          Whatever, I’m not going anyway.”

Peter flinched at the sound of the laundry basket being dropped on the wooden floor. When he looked up, May looked furious.

“Okay that’s it, get up, now!

-          Wow, what’s up with you May?

-          I’ve been patient and I know you’re hurt honey but I won’t let you drop out of school and make stupid decisions like this! So you better get your ass out of this bed or I’ll drag you out of your bedroom so fast you won’t get to use your freaking magic spider sense!”

She was sat by his bed now, pulling at the cover so she could finally look into his eyes.

“What happened is truly awful and we’ll mourn Tony for as long as we get to live… But… Life needs to go on. You’re 17. Do you think he saved you so you could spend your days in bed playing Fall of Duty in your boxers?

-          That’s… Call of Duty actually

-          Whatever! This is a stupid game and you’re smarter than this, Peter.

-          I just don’t know how to do it…

-          One step at a time baby.”

With a tender hand resting on his cheek, she pecked his forehead.

“First step: take a shower, you smell like a rotted dead fish.” She winced, “Happy’s coming over for dinner, he’ll be happy to see you looking fresh.”

“Happy’s been coming a lot lately…

-          He’s been really supportive. Now out! Shower!” she snapped her fingers, grabbed her laundry basket and left the room so she wouldn’t have the conversation she was dreading.

There’s was something therapeutic about long, hot showers and though his heart was still heavier than ever, Peter couldn’t deny he was lucky to have May to kick his ass when he needed her to.

Walking back into his bedroom with a towel wrapped around his hips, Peter could smell his aunt famous’ meatloaf cooking from the kitchen. She was right, life would still go on even if it didn’t seem that appealing without his dear friend in it.

As he looked for a fresh pair of pants and some socks, his eyes were inevitably drawn to a few pictures he had pinned on his wall, right above his desk. Every person he’d ever loved was in there. His parents, his uncle Ben and May on their wedding day, Ned, MJ, Happy… And of course, Tony. His heart sunk into his chest as he grabbed a picture of himself holding a little girl wearing Iron Man’s helmet with her hands wrapped around his neck, recognizing Tony’s daughter, Y/N.

If only he had a chance, Peter would go back to this day just so he would get to hang out with Tony and his family again. To think he wouldn’t get to see his daughter grow into a woman (and probably terrorize any man willing to date her) was heartbreaking, especially when he thought of the way she looked at the funeral. She seemed both devastated and angry with no helmet for her to hide her feelings anymore.

He remembered every detail of the day he had met Y/N, 8 years ago.

 ***

 It was the first time Peter ever stepped into Tony Stark’s actual home. So far, they had met at Stark Industries or in random places all over the world but today, Tony had invited his young apprentice into the intimacy of his Home.

The weather was incredible that day, sunny and warm like a summer afternoon even though it was in the middle of March. Peter didn’t know why he’d been lucky enough to be invited here but he felt extremely thankful for it.

“Hi Peter, please come in” Pepper buzzed him in on the huge monitor in front of the main gate. Of course Tony Stark’s house was surrounded by a thousand of video cameras. After all, he was one of the most powerful man in New-York City, not to mention that he was, well, Iron Man.

Stepping into such a huge mansion wasn’t anodyne for Peter, a kid from Forest Hills. This looked nothing like anything he’d seen back in the Queens.

“He’s down in his workshop if you want to join!” Pepper smiled as she seemed busy with paperwork. She quickly led him towards the elevator, giving him the instructions to enter the basement like he was standing in the heart of the SHIELD’s offices. Everything seemed cool and impressive for an ordinary teenager.

Peter could hear AC/DC blasting from afar as he reached the basement. In front of the big steel doors he found a screen, just like Pepper had told him and as soon as he stood in front of it, a facial scan started.

“Welcome, Peter Parker” – with a click, the main doors opened for him.

“Hi kiddo!” Tony was working on a new armor that looked like a bigger, smarter version of his original Iron Man suit. Peter had always been impressed at how easy Tony made it look when it came to technology. As much of a geek he might be, Peter could never be on that level of perfection.

“New suit?

-          Yeah… Well, we’ll see where this goes, I’ve been thinking.”

Tony always seemed to say this. It’s like he never slept at night because somehow, that’s when his greatest ideas came alive. It was just crazy to think that a man could come up with incredible weapons and crazy armors just over a sleepless night. Would he be given the same amount of time, Peter wouldn’t even get through a school assignment.  

“Your house is incredible, thanks for the invite Mr Stark

-          It’s Tony

-          Alright, Tony.” Peter smiled, genuinely flattered Tony Stark himself would consider him close enough to name it anything but Mr Stark.

-          By the way, not that I wouldn’t have you there randomly but… Someone was dying to meet you and you know me, I aim to please.

-          Really, who!?”

Peter was secretly hoping it would be Nick Fury. He was just as scared as an admirer of the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. He couldn’t wait for the day he would make him an Avenger. To this day, it remained his biggest dream.

“Come on out honey, don’t be shy…” Tony smiled in a way Peter had never seen before.

Clearly, he would never call Nick Fury “honey”, so that dream was off the table for today.

Then a little girl came out, fiddling with her hands and avoiding all eye contact.

“Hi?” Peter smiled at her shyness, “is that Y/N?”

“My one and only” Tony stated proudly.

Tony had told him about his daughter, Y/N and how she had changed his whole life. What didn’t matter before, like getting injured or stepping closer to an inevitable death, mattered now. Happy had even told Peter that becoming a father had made Tony more anxious, more stressed. It was a different dynamic now that he had something to lose. Of course there was Pepper too, but she was hot and smart, she’d find a new husband. Y/N would never find a new dad.

Getting down on one knee, Peter welcomed the little girl as warm as possible. She could sense she was a bit star struck for some reason, but he had always been amazing with kids. She wouldn’t be the exception.

“Hi, I’m Peter!” he beamed, reaching for her hand.

“Oh she knows!” Tony chuckled “she’s not usually that shy, she’s just… impressed.” Tony watched the expression on Peter’s face change immediately “Don’t get too cocky, she just likes you very veeeery much, right honey?”

The little girl nodded then went straight into Peter’s arms for a hug.

“Aw that’s cute!” Peter smiled, holding the little girl against him.

“Yeah well, be careful, her dad’s kind of a psycho!”

Looking closer, Peter could definitely tell she was a Stark. She had her father’s eyes and mischievous smile but sometimes she would give you one of Pepper’s famous cocky look. Everything about her screamed “I’m the result of two geniuses’ love” and he could tell she’d become a smart ass in the future. Secretly, he hoped he’d still be around to see that, only because it would mean Tony would still be his mentor.

           The rest of the day went blissfully. Peter learned more about Y/N and had the privilege to see her “astrology” themed bedroom with a ceiling covered with stars that would shine in the dark, her massive telescope her daddy had built for her 8th birthday and all twelve names of her favorite toys. Out of everything, the cutest thing was the spider-man figurine she kept on her bedside table. There was no denying he was for sure, her favorite super-hero.

When Peter left, Tony grabbed Y/N into his arms for her to wave goodbye to her new friend.

“Daddy? She asked after a while

-          Yes sweetheart?

-          When I grow up, I want to marry spider-man.”

Pepper couldn’t help but laugh at Tony’s face, a perfect mix between the astonishment and the one he’d given her when she had keyed his favorite car “just for fun”.

“That kid will have to kill me first” he joked, walking back into the house as he held the most precious gift life had given him.

Thinking about it, Peter probably wasn’t the worst choice she could make… when she’d turn 30.

***

“Peter???”

Peter realized he must have blacked out for a while when he caught a glimpse of his aunt May and Happy at his doorway. How long had he been dreaming?

“Oh errr, sorry, I was just… thinking… Good to see you Happy!

-          Hi kid, I’d give you a hug but you’re underage and shirtless, so that’s weird!” Happy joked, pointing at Peter’s naked chest.

-          Dinner’s ready, May added, whenever you feel like joining us?

-          I’ll be out in a minute.”

Peter sighed as he pinned the picture back on the wall, wondering if he’d ever get to speak to Y/N again.

[its-negans-lucille]

Beyond the Veil

Ships: Mysterio x (M or F) Reader, (M  or F) Reader x  Quentin Beck Words: 1,440 Warnings: cursing and minor violence Category: Angst if you squint Summary: “It was all an act: he had mastered the art of mysterious manipulation”

The cold air caressed your skin, sending goose-pimples up your arms and a delightful tingle down your spine. It was the celebration of lights as rivers of shimmering diamonds and jewels seemed to run through the street, illuminating the sins of man. They reflected what may have been seen were it not for the thick layer of smog that lay upon Prague.

You had expected it to be an average night, simply preparing to watch the droves of tourists be conned out of their money for something as simple as a falsetto-glass light.

That was, however, until a chorus of screams began: a dreadful symphony for the damned.

You leaned forward from where you perched alongside the many gargoyles, mimicking their hunched over form as you surveyed the chaos swiftly unfolding below you. A huge beast, formed from the depths of hell itself was raving around the celebration. It’s fire seemed to dwarf the stars themselves as a cacophony of chaos followed in its wake. You continued leaning forward; if a gust of wind came along you would fall as swiftly as a tower of playing cards.

 Though, soon wind was the least of your problems. You saw out of your peripherals a huge object fly at you. You squeezed your eyes shut, bracing for the inevitable impact that would tear you from this world far too quickly. But, to your immense surprise, such impact was much smaller than you had prepared for.

You were suddenly flying through the air, your hands grasping on anything you possibly could: something, anything for a foothold. You were plummeting downwards while you held onto a small, mechanical objects that, apparently, couldn’t hold your weight. The sound of wind rushing in your ears was only overcome by the immense whirring emitted by the object in question.

You hit the ground with a deafening crunch. You sat up after a few short seconds, rubbing the base of your spine which now throbbed painfully. You slowly opened your eyes, expecting to see the monster ravaging the street just beside you. Through your lashes you made out no monster, no carnage, just a small army of drones humming through the air.

Your eyebrows creased in a frown as you slowly stood up. The street seemed almost untouched.

 Almost being the key word.

A tall man stood in the middle of the chaos of drones. Clad in a suit that would usually be worn for special effects, his face encased in what looked to be a gold-fish bowl while two more drones illuminated his face with blue light, evidently projecting it somewhere. The man was yelling, his voice trembling so that if you didn’t have your gaze fixed upon him you’d think that he were in grave peril. Swiftly, realisation dawned on you.

 It was all an act.

A perfectly orchestrated, beautiful art of manipulation. These monsters, these Elementals, as the news media had dubbed them, were simply pixels and organic sounds put together for such a desired effect that one may get in the cinema. This man, whoever he was, was profiting off the fear of innocent people: people who just wanted to celebrate the stars as they winked in the sky.

Such a fury that you hadn’t felt in a long time began coursing through your veins, keeping you alive just as much as oxygen. You began to advance on the man who had his back turned, blissfully unaware of the hurricane set directly at him.

“Run, Peter!” He sounded positively adamant. “I’ll take care of this!” 

With that, he waved his hand and the drones dropped their magnetic lights. The man took a brief sigh of relief, removing the glass orb that haloed his face. He rolled his head on his neck, just as one does after doing a particularly taxing task before you raised your fist and hit him in the head.

You sent him sprawling to the floor, curses flooding from his mouth as if a dam had broken. You clutched at your dominant hand, rubbing it as a stream of expletives escaped from between your lips. You were positively sure that the crack you’d heard when your fist collided with this mysterious man’s cheek was that of your own knuckles breaking.

“What the fuck?!” The man swiftly regained his footing. He watched you with eyes drowned in madness. “What are’re you doing here?”

You took a step back as he advanced at you but were horrified to feel the cold sting of metal against your back as one of his drones blocked your escape route. You grimaced as this man invaded your personal space.

 “Answer me.” His voice was low with an element that reminded you of cement being mixed. His eyes flashed with something akin to respect as you tilted your chin up at him, finally meeting his gaze.

His sapphire eyes dragged you in, making you briefly forget the chaos surrounding you. His straight nose was framed by magnificent cheekbones. His jaw were coated in a soft dusting of hair which only continued to accent his thick lips. But those eyes. If they were drowned in madness, you were swimming in it.

“Didn’t you hear me?” He growled, his eyes flashing, dragging you in like a black hole, deeper and deeper and dee-

“You’re Mysterio,” You gasped, your eyes flitting wide with surprise.

The man raised his hand and suddenly you felt a cold barrel at the back of your skull. Your heart started beating molten adrenaline through your veins. Your chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Answer. My. Question.” He repeated, his breath on on your ear. 

“I fell! A drone- it hit me and I fell into this-” You gestured widely around at the gestating illusion moving like a wave. “You faked it all, didn’t you?” You asked, finally returning your gaze back to Mysterio’s. 

“Quick to catch on,” He began pacing around you. “The illusion should continue, however, even if one passes the boundaries of the machines.” A finger came up to caress a strand of hair framing your face. “And yet, here you are.”

You had to swiftly accept the whiplash his mood had given you. One moment he looked as if he were going to murder you and the next his hot breath was a hairs breath away from your ear. You remained vigilant, however, of the muzzle of the gun placed at the crown of your head.

“How?” Mysterio asked, finally stopping in front of you. The sounds of screaming became distant, forgettable, even, under his intense scrutiny. He watched you like you were a puzzle he designed to complete. When you didn’t reply immediately he waved his hand and the gun pressed further into your hair. “How?”

“I’m a tech student- I work on animation in film.” You stuttered quickly. “Oh? Well tell me…” He was so close that you had to tilt your face upwards to continue to meet his dizzying gaze. 

“Can we improve?” His lips wrapped around the last word sinuously. How could someone make such an ordinary word sound like even devils would blush at it.

“Well, I-” You tried desperately to think of a way out of this situation with your brains firmly where they had started. “Some of the animation could be- be smoother?” You finally vocalised, watching the volatile man in front of you with a wary gaze.

“Could we now?” He quirked an eyebrow.

“I believe so… yes,” Your voice grew steadily stronger with each word spoken.

“Well, in that case-” He waved his hand and the muzzle of the gun suddenly retracted- “May I be so forward in offering you a position.”

“A position?” You asked, it was your turn to frown now, your brows knitting together in confusion.

“Yes: join my team if you really think we have so much to improve on.” He was enjoying this, the taunting of you. How his eyes twinkled with a mischief far too boyish for your liking. “Unless you want me to… how do I put this,” He tapped his chin in foe-thought, “Dispose of you.”

You stomach dropped with an unpleasant lurch. 

“Think it over, I’m sure you’ll make the right decision.” Mysterio even had the audacity to wink.

“But- I-” You stuttered, your mind blank from all cognitive thought.

“Quentin?! Quentin are you there?!” A young, pubescent voice called from his earpiece.

“Ah, sorry, darling.” He smiled, certainly not sorry at all. “That’s my que to go.”He stepped on a drone, his eyes never leaving yours.“I’ll come for your answer tomorrow.”

With that, Mysterio (Quentin?) left and life would never be the same.

***

thank you for reading!! have a great day!

[gwoongi]

𝗇𝖾𝗆𝗈 𝖾𝗀𝗀 ♡ yoongi

𝗇𝖾𝗆𝗈 𝖾𝗀𝗀 min yoongi / reader genre: mafia + parent au, fluff words: 2907

“Good day?” you ask, pulling back from his neck with your arms still around him. Yoongi settles his hands just below your ribs and looks at you, sweetly pressing a kiss to your mouth. He doesn’t pull away too far, your hands threading in the hair above the back of his neck. “Better now.”

a/n: requested by @slowlyandrogynouskryptonite. thank you for requesting! still working on the other 2 :) if you have a request pls use my ask box + be mindful of my busy school + life schedule!  request: Can i request a scenario with Taehyung, Yoongi, Jungkook or Jimin that the boys (they are very emotional) went to he’s house to visit his wife or girlfriend and his new born child. She is so tired (because of the recently birth) and he would be so protective and be complete in love with his family! Please make that the child is sleeping in his neck or somthing.

warnings: mentions of the mafia. title inspired by the finding nemo soundtrack.

“So what? I want those files on my desk by tomorrow morning, or else you’ll be out of a job and two legs short. Do you understand me?”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, something out of a habit he picked up from his father when he was younger. Presumably something was being said on the phone that he didn’t like, something that very few men in Yoongi’s line of work could say and get away with saying. With a long overdue sigh, Yoongi lifted his arm up to the door of the car and stared at the passing scenery, at how the city smudged into flickers of light, twinkling silvers and burnt oranges, the distant burst of colour from fireworks for somebody’s birthday.

The call doesn’t last for much longer; he said what he had to and threatened who he needed to, finally tossing his phone across the leather interior of the black Audi. From the front seat, Pongo glanced in the rearview mirror and raised his eyebrows. Of course, his real name wasn’t Pongo; it was something of a safety precaution, a hidden identity because once you’re in the Fireflower Mafia of Daegu, you’re never really safe. Just like how Yoongi wasn’t the name he went by during work hours- to his members and his superiors, Min Yoongi was Agust, branded worldwide as Agust D, considering his brother in the Busan branch had adopted the awfully similar Agust B, dependant on location.

“Busy day at work, sir?” Pongo asks. He was old, aged around the eyes with cobwebbed wrinkles strung across his skin. Yoongi admired Pongo’s excessive record of hard work, never missing a day of driving him around like some rich kid, which, in theory, he was. He’d worked for it, debatably, but he was still rich. Comfortable, with a few zeros in the bank for his own pleasure and for-

“Yes,” Yoongi replies tiredly, because now that he’s safe and private in the company of Pongo, he was now Yoongi, Pongo now Jimong. “It’s alright now, though.”

Jimong makes a noise of agreement through closed and thin lips. “Couldn’t agree more, sir!”

“Any plans for this new year?” Yoongi asks conversationally. He knows that his house is coming soon, just past these dense woods and near the private estate, filled with houses he owned secretly, inhabited by people who didn’t know any better. He liked it better that way, it was easier that way. Rival gangs never came looking in unsuspecting suburbs, which is why it works.

“Oh,” Jimong replies, awfully surprised that Yoongi’s bothered to ask. “Oh, yes, sir! Me and the wife are going to the Maldives. Can you quite believe it? Saved some money between the two of us, and we’re finally getting to go. A couple bloody years late, I may add. Ha. Yourself?”

Yoongi smiles in passing, listening but also vacant in his own headspace. Any lingering worries pressing down have suddenly vanished, somehow shifted away as the car rolls up in the driveway of a house near the end of the cul de sac, not directly in the centre of the curve but a little to the right, out of the way. Inconspicuous.

“That sounds lovely,” Yoongi replies honestly with a smile to match. He likes Jimong, likes that he’s happy and getting to do things he previously couldn’t have afforded doing. “As for me...I’ll be spending it quietly. With my family.”

Jimong likes that greatly. He looks at Yoongi like he would his son, a victim of The River Dragon’s crime within Seoul where he had attended University. Behind those thick frames that made his eyes bulge like a fish, he blinked once or twice and nodded, as if approving.

“That’s the way to go,” Jimong laughed. The car pauses, halts forward slightly and Yoongi reaches to grab his phone off the seat before it slides. Before stepping out, he slides his blazer back over his arms and smiles once more at Jimong. He doesn’t expect a payment, but Yoongi always gives extra, slipping a few notes into his hands as money for the Maldives. He pulls open the car door and steps out, turning back to close it when Jimong winds down the window with a fatherly look. “Congratulations, by the way.”

Yoongi bows his head as thanks. He pulls back from the car and steps up onto the pavement and Jimong begins to drive away, the window safely back up and his flat cap twisted forwards, like a disguise, a costume for a fancy dress party. Like always, Yoongi waits until Jimong’s a bit further down the vein of the road before heading inside, taking no chances. Across the street, a neighbour smiles at Yoongi, unfazed by the bitter December wind as they stand wrapped in a cardigan, a cigarette balancing between two fingers with their head tilted up towards the stars. Yoongi acknowledges them, politely, because he can’t afford to make enemies anymore, and he steps backwards onto the grass of his front lawn and towards his front door, a sunflower yellow as promised.

Inside, it smells like humbugs, the faint smell of baby powder from the back bathroom. It’s two in the morning, the clock tells him so, and as quietly as he can muster, Yoongi kicks off his shoes and steps into slippers laid out for him. The kitchen light is still on, but nobody is up; Yoongi doesn’t like when you wait up for him. He likes to get home and unwind in his own way, pouring a mug of coffee and sitting out on the back door step, enjoying the silence that the neighbourhood provides. From where the house is, Yoongi can see the lights of the city but hear no sounds- there are no party cries, or loud sirens, or gunshots. He likes it here, with the sound of cicadas and reckless night birds, the neighbour’s hot tub bubbling with quiet laughter and clinks of wine glasses. He does just that- pours himself a coffee into an obnoxious mug with Iron Man’s face on it, and takes it out onto the back step.

The door pushes open slightly, the breeze smuggling in and blowing out a candle you must have lit before going to bed. He steps out to glance up at the back bedrooms, pleased as always by the sight of closed curtains and the golden nightlight in the room above the kitchen. Yoongi has some time to sit and drink his coffee, crack the discomfort out of his bones, for about three minutes, until a loud cry resonates through the house. Yoongi pauses for a moment, as if debating on what to do. Rising to his feet, Yoongi reaches to pull the door back and locks it when it’s closed. The coffee is too cold to drink, he must have left it to cool for too long and he tips it down the sink, running the evidence away and putting the cup on the windowsill. He hasn’t got the time to wash it up, as he steps out of the kitchen and towards the staircase.

Climbing, Yoongi yawns, feeling the tiredness falling into place like pieces of a puzzle. It was probably the warmth of the house that did it, in contrast to the December bite outside. Once he’s ascended to the top, he walks briskly down the corridor and past the master bedroom, instead heading towards the room above the kitchen, decorated with bees and flowers and a little sign made out of cardboard letters spelling “SUNHEE”. He smiles to himself and pushes the door open gently.

The room smells new, and faintly like piss and shit, the disinfectant smell of marshmallow from a candle lit above her dresser. Yoongi wants to scold the idea of a candle, but he knows it’s safe- it’s one of those candles safe for babies to smell, because he helped buy it, picked out the scent. In the crib, tangled with blankets, Min Sunhee wails for attention, her little feet smacking the air violently. Yoongi wastes no time moving to her crib and peering inside. From the bulge underneath her bum, it’s evident she’s soiled herself, like all babies do, and cried to herself out of pity.

Yoongi coos, seeing her face all squishy and cute in the crib. She looks like him, in the best way, with the round and small nose but eyes like her Mommy, rounder and attentive, almost having the nerve to look like Jeongguk or Taehyung. She fists the blanket with fury, angry that she’s pooped in her sleep! Yoongi smiles.

“Oh, little girl, what are you like, hm?” he asks, in an elevated voice reserved for babies only. You liked to tease him about that, whenever he held her in the hospital and spoke to her in pouts. “Ah, let Daddy help you out of this mess, okay? Okay, it’s okay, don’t cry, baby, it’s okay. Daddy’s here, Daddy’s got you.”

He carefully collects her from the blankets and hoists her into the air. Now that Dad’s home, she’s not crying as much, just staring at him with sniffles and wide eyes filled with tears. He wants to yell with adoration, but he knows you’re sleeping in the room next door, exhausted from work throughout the day. He respects that, and knows that it’s harder for you, especially since you only gave birth a few weeks ago. She’s just passed one month.

Yoongi holds her so that he doesn’t make the mess worse, with one hand grabbing the mat used for nappy changing and tossing it onto the floor, and it sinks flat ready for Sunhee to lie on. A part of him wants to be nervous, because as of this moment, you’ve always been on poop duty, because babies poop several times a day, he’s horrified to discover. For some strange reason, he had never thought about that, not even when you sat him down with a nervous expression and told him that you were expecting. Regardless, he does his damn best, because he’s Min Yoongi for crying out loud, and he’s not going to let a nappy get the best of him. With wipes and baby powder on the scene, Yoongi cleans around the mess, discarding the nappy and replacing it with a clean one that Sunhee gargles at, her legs kicking wildly just to get a kick out of her Dad’s frustration.

“Just a while longer, angry girl,” Yoongi huffs quietly. “You’re so fussy! I don’t know how Mom does this…”

Eventually he gets the hang of it, changing the nappy within minutes and when Sunhee is finally clean, she curls into herself cutely and kicks her feet again. Yoongi suspects that she’s happy, thanking him for cleaning her, and he picks her up to balance on his hip as he carries the nappy secured in a little bag to the dustbin outside. Sunhee likes to be carried around the house, even at night when it’s scary. She stares at Yoongi’s face the entire time, her mouth hanging open like a little Pikachu. He makes sure to lock the door, and wash his hands, and then carries his daughter back upstairs to her bedroom.

Yoongi holds her for a while, because around work and unexpected phone calls, Yoongi feels as though he doesn’t have a lot of time alone with her. She whimpers, stuffing her face into Yoongi’s neck as he rocks her slightly, his arms wrapped around her and holding her up underneath her butt. As soft as silk, Yoongi finds his voice and whispers to her, pausing when he hears the faint ambience of the Finding Nemo soundtrack playing on a little monitor next to her crib.

“Daddy missed you,” he tells her quietly, his lips to her crown. “Mm, yes he did. He did! He missed you so much. Daddy wanted to spend all day with you and Mommy, but he had to go to work.”

Sunhee, of course, says nothing. Perhaps she is sleeping, buried into his neck, most likely drooling on his Alexander McQueen blazer. Course, he can’t complain. He longs for moments like this, flickers of domesticity that he misses out on when he’s busy at work. He could tell Sunhee everything, because she can’t understand what he’s saying anyway, not just yet. But, he wants to keep her as far away from his work as he possibly can. He tried to with you, too, but one photograph proved that it was no longer possible. The gang only got a glimpse of your hair, short and blonde at the time, and since then, you had dyed it dark, grown it out, wearing your own costume for the public.

Yoongi rocks her for a little bit longer, making the most of every moment when he looks over his shoulder as arms snake around his waist. From there, he sees your face, sleepy, pushed in between his shoulder blades. He can just about make out your hair, see the baby blue stripes of your bed shirt.

“Hi, baby.”

He hears you move behind him and press a kiss on his blazer. He hums quietly, pushing back into your arms as if returning the hug. “Hi, yourself. What’you doing up? It’s late.”

“Heard her,” you reply around a yawn. “Heard you come up and get her. Got impatient, I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Yoongi says quietly. “Is she sleeping?”

You move to look at Sunhee, humming with confirmation. “Like a rock.”

“Hm, good,” Yoongi answers, holding her for one moment longer before returning her back to her crib. He sets her down like a delicate thing, because she is delicate, and tiny and light like a bag of sugar, and gently puts the blanket over her feet, because he read somewhere that if your feet got cold then so would you. The windows are shut and the soundtrack loops once more, that strong smell of urine gone with the replacement of a cleansing spray he found on the dresser. Then he turns back to you, inviting you into a hug that you accept. With one face out his neck another is added, as you rise yourself up onto your toes to circle your arms around Yoongi’s neck. He’s warm, and smells faintly like whisky and fire. Nothing unusual, if anything better than the smell of sweat or blood.

“Good day?” you ask, pulling back from his neck with your arms still around him. Yoongi settles his hands just below your ribs and looks at you, sweetly pressing a kiss to your mouth. He doesn’t pull away too far, your hands threading in the hair above the back of his neck.

“Better now,” Yoongi admits quietly. “Come on, let’s get to bed.”

You lead the way, slowly dragging your weight to the bed and sinking down on the sheets as Yoongi b-lines to the bathroom. He looks at himself for a long moment in the mirror, rubbing at his face and brushing his teeth. Yoongi doesn’t stare for too long, he doesn’t like vanity or the way he looks after a day of work. Back inside the bedroom, you’ve settled underneath the white sheets, waiting for him to join you. He does so, after dressing slowly and when he gets into bed, you shuffle close to him, inhaling his warmth. Yoongi likes to be held, and knows you do too. It’s little luxuries like this that he thinks other people take for granted. Lately, these moments and words shared in whispers are the only moments he gets alone with you. Gradually, he learned to live life in gasps, taking what he could when he could.

“You look tired, baby. Try and get some sleep,” you murmur, kissing his chest as you cuddle into his skin. Yoongi grunts as if you’ve said something funny.

“Wanna talk to you,” he insists. “How was your day, good?”

“Mm,” you yawn. “Tell you about it in the morning. You’ll be here, won’t you?”

“Yeah. It’s my day off, I’ll get Namjoon to wear my shoes for the day,” Yoongi promises. “Can finally spend some time with you and the little one.”

A hum is breathed into his chest and he looks down, noticing that you’re not looking back at him and your eyes are closed, your cheek smushed against his cotton tee. “That’s good then.”

He thinks you’ve drifted off, as you say nothing else for a few moments. Yoongi stares intently in the darkness, making shapes out of the little dots when you stir once more.

“I love you,” you mutter. “You’re a good man.”

That’s usually what he needs at night, the reassurance that what he’s done throughout the day was worth it.

“Thank you, baby girl. I love you too.”

Finally, when you’ve drifted off in his arms and the faint sound of snores meet his eyes, Yoongi pulls you closer, as if it were even possible. It’s here that he realises what he has now, and how easy it is for him to lose it. The way he holds you tighter now isn’t out of love but instead fear, fear that one day, his bad mistakes may come back to bite him in the ass, hurting the people he loves most.

He realises what he has and how he’ll do anything and everything to prevent himself from losing it, no matter what it takes.

[jeserai]

bits and pieces (4/7)

catradora week 2019 day 4 - silver/gold

“There are also many comparisons to heavenly bodies—She-Ra, the sun, C’yra both the moon and the stars—showing again that while they were related, they were also enemies. The moon and stars swallow the sun each night, and the sun rises again each morning. Anyway. Another thing that every myth I have read has in common is that C’yra was the only being—divine or mortal—that could mortally wound She-Ra. But other times, C’yra is referred to as She-Ra’s second sword. Their relationship was volatile, built on blood and war, but when their morals—She-Ra’s need for justice and C’yra’s need for retribution—collided, it was said that the earth and even the sky would tremble at their combined wrath.”

This late at night—and on a Friday night, at that—the library is blessedly empty, and Adora deposits her things on the desk before making herself comfortable. Thesis work isn’t due until the end of the year, but she’s seen time and time again how much procrastination had hurt the seniors in the years before her. Besides, she’s actually excited and interested in her topic: a comprehensive study of ancient Etherian gods and how they helped shape modern culture. After going over various research with her professor and his husband, they’d decided that focusing on only a few of the gods would be a much easier task, given the extensive lore and research.

So for now, Adora is researching the most well-known and celebrated Etherian god, She-Ra. She’d been able to peruse her professor’s extensive collection of Etherian artifacts, and at his insistence, even borrow whatever she wanted for her research. (“Anything for a fellow palaeophile—and please, call me George.” her professor had said, beaming.)

All Adora had taken was a small mountain of paintings and texts—both translated and left in their original language—she wishes now that she hadn’t been so shy about it, but the first draft of the thesis won’t be due for about a month, so she has more than enough time.

For now—

Adora begins to look through the pictures she’d taken, trying to get a feel for the god she is now studying; fishes her phone out of her pocket and starts a new voice memo to record her findings. “I’ve just started my research on the Etherian goddess She-Ra for my thesis, a comprehensive study of ancient Etherian gods and how they helped shape modern culture. That title may change later, but for now—She-Ra. From what I already know, she was kind of the leader of all the other gods. Here it says…” Adora skims the glyphs and continues, “she is the defender of order, uniter of all lands, king of the gods. Often times, she is seen with her weapon of choice, the Sword of Protection.”

Adora pauses the voice memo to read through a paperclipped bundle of text; interspersed are sticky notes with scrawled notes and corrections by Lance and George. When she’s finished, she unpauses it to say, “So far, She-Ra is the only god to have a sort of mortal enemy that was also a god: C’yra. Both are Etherian war goddesses, avenger of wrongdoings, night huntress, mistress of slaughter. It seems that while She-Ra fought for balance and good, C’yra fought for whatever side pleased her. She was invoked by the ancient rulers before battles, and demanded a sacrifice upon victory.” Squinting at the glyphs on the well-worn scroll in front of her, Adora reads, “She-Ra never demanded any kind of living sacrifice, only prayers.”

There are paintings of the two goddesses on tablets and scrolls covering her desk; She-Ra holding up a sword, a shining beacon of hope and divine retribution, C’yra, feline-headed, snarling, daggers in both hands. Even from just the images, Adora can feel C’yra’s bloodlust and rage, She-Ra’s cool partiality to justice.

“So far, out of all the Etherian gods that I have studied, C’yra and She-Ra are definitely the most interesting—in most of the myths and paintings of them, they are pictured as mortal enemies, but I have also read that they were comrades, both on the battlefield and off. My professor wrote that some myths say that they used to fight for good together until some major breaking point forced them apart—he only had half of the tablet with the story, so he doesn’t know what—and his husband writes that they were always enemies, and only fought together when their morals aligned. But…there was—here it is,” Adora reaches for another wellworn scroll and reads, “in summary, a legend that when one of C’yra’s eyes was gouged out, She-Ra plucked the brightest star from the sky to replace it. There are also many comparisons to heavenly bodies—She-Ra, the sun, C’yra both the moon and the stars—showing again that while they were related, they were also enemies. The moon and stars swallow the sun each night, and the sun rises again each morning. Anyway. Another thing that every myth I have read has in common is that C’yra was the only being—divine or mortal—that could mortally wound She-Ra. But other times, C’yra is referred to as She-Ra’s second sword. Their relationship was volatile, built on blood and war, but when their morals—She-Ra’s need for justice and C’yra’s need for retribution—collided, it was said that the earth and even the sky would tremble at their combined wrath.” There comes then the quiet tap-tap-tap of nails on the door, so Adora pauses the voice memo again and glances back at the door as it opens.

“Figured you’d be in here,” Catra says. She sounds fond, amused as she sweeps aside a pile of papers to sit herself on the desk. She looks at all the work spread out and makes a disgruntled face before rolling her eyes. “I hope you know what a huge nerd you are, Adora.”

“Shut up,” Adora mumbles, but it’s automatic, and there is no malice in her words. “I didn’t want to wait to start my thesis, and besides, I actually really like what I’m studying.”

“Is that so? What is all this junk, anyway?” Catra picks up the closest paper to her—a copied image of C’yra; from here, Adora can’t tell which one.

“Well, that’s C’yra, one of the Etherian war goddesses. I think you’d actually like her.”

“What do you mean, actually?” Catra sounds offended, but Adora just rolls her eyes and scoots her chair closer so she sits between Catra’s spread legs.

“You’re always telling me how boring class is.”

“Yeah, the class is boring. I would’ve dropped it if not for a certain pretty blonde girl though.”

Adora flushes pink and ducks her head to hide her flustered smile; then leans her head on Catra’s thigh as her girlfriend reads to herself. “Avenger of wrongdoings, night huntress, master of slaughter? I like her.”

“Mistress,” Adora corrects automatically, and then, “I figured you would. I’m telling you, they’re both so interesting!”

“C’yra and…” the sound of more papers rustling, and Catra’s thigh tenses under Adora’s cheek as she shifts. “She-Ra?”

“Yeah, another Etherian war goddess.”

“Yeah, I like C’yra better. Anyway—I’d ask if you ate, but I know you haven’t.” As if on cue, Adora’s stomach grumbles, and when she looks up to give Catra a sheepish little grin, she just rolls her eyes and tugs on Adora’s ponytail. “We’ll stop by somewhere on the way home. I could go for a milkshake—you’re buying.”

“Can I finish this first? Please? Their stories—”

“Will be here for you to decipher tomorrow, nerd,” Catra interrupts. “Even if this C’yra sounds pretty cool. The Bright Star, huh?”

Adora pushes herself to sit up, rests her elbows on Catra’s thighs and ignores the way she hisses (“your elbows are fucking bony, Adora,” Catra always says) and nods. “You’re really getting better, I’m proud of you!”

“Yeah, well,” Catra shrugs. “Nerdy dead languages aren’t my thing.” But Adora can tell that she’s pleased at the compliment by the way the corners of her lips twitch up into a self-satisfied grin.

“Then how about I’ll keep researching and you can listen to me talk?”

Catra huffs out a sigh and shakes her head, amused. “You’re not gonna give this up, huh? Fine, ten minutes and we leave, it’s late.”

“Thank you!” before Catra can change her mind, Adora leans up to kiss her cheek and then grabs one of Lance’s books that he’d bookmarked for her. She stands so Catra can sit in her chair, and when Catra is comfortable, Adora sits as well, relaxing automatically as Catra’s arm wrap around her middle. It should be uncomfortable in the tiny chair, and it is, a little, but the little bit of intimacy makes it more than worth it.

After unpausing the voice memo again, Adora clears her throat and says, “I’m reading Myths of Ancient Etheria, the first section that is bookmarked. In summary, it says that the first time She-Ra and C’yra fought together was to rid Etheria of a scourge on the land. She-Ra, of course, felt it was her duty to restore the balance between good and evil, and the scourge—the Horde—fell out of C’yra’s grace when they destroyed one of her temples and a village that worshipped her. Even the sun and moon paused to watch the battle at its fiercest—Etheria’s first eclipse.”

From behind her, Catra makes a tiny, appreciative noise, and Adora bites back a grin. She knew Catra would enjoy this too. “This was also where C’yra became known as She-Ra’s second sword. The battle was so important to Etherian history because none of the gods worked together, ever. So having She-Ra and C’yra, mortal enemies, fight together on the battlefield, for humans, at that? C’yra was also known to be hot headed, stubborn and prideful, so her coming to She-Ra at all would have been considered something hugely important. I—”

“Second sword,” Catra nudges her, impatient and just a little bit petulant, “what about the second sword thing?”

“Right, right. As I said earlier, She-Ra always carried her Sword of Protection—its jewel in the center was said to shine brighter than even the North Star—and C’yra primarily used smaller hunting knives or daggers. This again perpetuates their sun, moon and stars theme: She-Ra’s sword bright and big, C’yra’s knives smaller and more inconspicuous. But as for being She-Ra’s second sword, this was because of the way they fought together; like they were on the same wavelength. She-Ra was bigger and mainly used brute force—no one else, not even the other gods, could lift her Sword—but C’yra was smaller, and like her title of night huntress, faster, more cunning. Nothing could ever hurt She-Ra, but even if things could, no one could get the chance, because when they fought together, C’yra took any enemy that even tried to sneak passed She-Ra’s line of sight. Her second sword.”

“Oh—another thing to note. The ancient Etherians believe that gold was indestructible, blessed by the gods. This belief was spread because of She-Ra: gold for immortality, blessings, and the sun. C’yra, despite being a god, has no sign of gold anywhere but for her eye, the one given to her by She-Ra. This again perpetuates the idea of gold being a sign of healing and indestructibility. Silver was instead associated with C’yra, for its symbolism of destruction, repentance, and neutrality. Even today, silver can be seen as a symbol for deceptiveness and cold; calling back to C’yra’s neutrality in her morals. Statues of She-Ra and C’yra are done in gold and silver perspectively; their temples were full of riches to show the people’s respect.”

This time, when Catra nudges her, Adora glances up at the clock. 2:46 am. She disentangles herself from Catra’s grip and stops the voice memo for good this time before settling back into Catra’s warmth; suddenly, without the buzz of new knowledge and research, she’s exhausted. “I didn’t realize how late it was.”

“You do tend to do that,” Catra sounds beyond fond, but she lets go of Adora to gently push her up after a moment of quiet. “Now can we go? I’m exhausted.”

“Fine, fine,” Adora huffs. She packs her things as quickly as possible—Catra doesn’t help, just sighs every few seconds as if that will somehow make things go more quickly along—and when she’s done, (“god, finally,” Catra says petulantly,) she reaches out for Catra to hold her hand. “Thank you for coming to get me, and staying with me even though it’s so late…”

“You would’ve done the same for me,” Catra shrugs. “And I guess it wasn’t too boring, besides. You picked a good topic, Adora. You’ll do well on your thesis too, I know it.”

Adora is grateful for the darkness now surrounding them; her cheeks are flushed pink and she knows Catra would tease her endlessly for it. “Thank you, really.”

“I didn’t do anything, dumbass,” even without seeing her face, Adora can practically see Catra rolling her eyes, “you don’t have to thank me.”

(And that gives Adora the oddest sense of déjà vu—she dismisses it, because yeah, of course she’s heard Catra say that before, she says it all the time.) “Then how about I buy you dinner?”

Catra snorts out a laugh and squeezes Adora’s hand, trapping her against the closed car door before leaning in to kiss her quick. “Why, Adora, are you flirting with me?”

“Is it working?”

Adora feels Catra smile wide against her lips before she kisses her again, again. When she pulls back, she looks soft, fond. “Buy me dinner and maybe you’ll find out.”

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[fluffy-marshmallow-heart]

A Twist of Fate ch.20 -The Edge Of Darkness

The Elementalist au

Beckett x MC (Oriana)

Words: 3179

Warnings: NSFW

Master List (Catch up here)

  This AU is set after everyone graduates Penderghast, and Beckett and Oriana were never friends. Fate, however, may have a different plan for them.

   “And what, exactly, are your intentions with our sweet Oriana?”

Beckett blinked at the phone in front of him. “My intentions?”

“Yes. What, pray tell, do you intend with your relationship with our best friend?”

“Oh my god, you guys!!” Oriana shrieked, walking back into the room. “Tell me you’re not interrogating my boyfriend right now!”

  “What do you expect us to do?” Zephyr asked, the faces of him and Shreya looking between Oriana and Beckett uneasily. “You break up with Chase, immediately move in with Beckett, and now you’re a couple? A serious one? What are you doing?”

“She’s obviously on the rebound.” Shreya mused. “And Beckett is clearly taking advantage of the situation.”

They both glared at him, and he felt his cheeks burning. Oriana had a video call with her friends scheduled and insisted that they tell them about their new relationship. It wasn’t going well. So far, they had called him a jerk, self-centered, boring, and now they’ve started in on how he’s using her, taking advantage of her, and he was beginning to get angry.

They don’t even know me. If Oriana can give me a chance, why can’t they?

“This is so irresponsible Oriana. Don’t get us wrong, we couldn’t be more happy that you ditched Chase. But why won’t you come join us on the rest of our trip? You only stayed because of him. And now, you’re going to stay because of Beckett? Can you not be single for 5 minutes?” Shreya scolded, turning her attention to Oriana.

“Guys, I got the job at the aquarium. I’m starting next week!”

Beckett grinned at the excitement in his girlfriend’s voice at the prospect of starting her job. She received the call earlier in the day, calling Beckett immediately after and squealing in his ear. He was so thrilled for her, and he was taking her to dinner to celebrate.

As long as we make it through this call.

As Oriana told them about the job, Beckett studies their reactions. They seem happy enough for her, and there’s just one problem as far as they’re concerned. Him. It was quite obvious with the way they kept eyeing him, full of suspicion. He can’t blame them for being overprotective of her. After everything Chase and his friends did…and Beckett also knew that Shreya and Zeph didn’t even know the majority of it.

“I’m going to get a drink.” He murmured in her ear. “Do you want anything?”

She smiled and shook her head as he kissed her cheek and went into the kitchen. He was thirsty after being grilled with questions and downed a glass of water before returning to the living room, but hesitated just out of sight when he heard the next question.

“Oriana, please re-think this arrangement of yours. Are you sleeping with him just to get a free place to stay?”

“I can’t even believe you just asked me that. Is that really what you think of me?”

Beckett could hear the hurt in her voice, and his fists balled in anger.

“Honestly, Oriana, you spent so much time in an abusive relationship, how do you know this one is going to be healthy?” Zeph asked.

“And this really isn’t so much about you…” Shreya began. “We’re just worried you’re going to lose yourself in this guy. What do you really know about him? He was such a snob, he never talked to us, and I saw him looking at you a lot, it was creepy. He was always around.”

“We went to the same school, of course he was around.” Oriana laughed. “It’s not like it was a huge campus. And so what if he looked? Maybe he just liked what he saw.”

“I think you’re making a huge mistake right now, putting all your trust in him.”

“Well, then, I guess that’s what I’m doing.” Oriana snapped. “Making one huge mistake. Because god forbid someone actually love me for who I am and not who they want me to be. God forbid there’s someone who won’t use me for whatever his dick desires me to do. And god forbid I let my guard down around that person. Yes, I see now how this is just the biggest mistake of my entire life, thank you so much for pointing it out, guys, so so great of you.”

“…Did…you say love??” Shreya gasped. “Oriana…”

“Yes, that’s exactly what she said.” Beckett stepped back into their view, his heart thumping wildly. “I do love her. I’ve always loved her, that’s actually why you would catch me looking, and I didn’t talk because I didn’t know what to say, since I’m such a snob and all.”

Oriana smiled at him gratefully as he sat beside her again, interlacing his fingers with hers, giving them a light squeeze. “So, as much fun as this has been, I’m going to take her out to celebrate her new job now. Since she’s really excited about it and couldn’t wait to tell you until after dinner, I could practically hear her stomach growling from across the room.”

He looked into her big beautiful eyes, that were currently a golden color, the color they turn only for him and when she’s feeling a surge of love. He could lose himself in them forever if she’d let him.

Together they looked back at the screen. “We’re going to say goodnight, now.” Oriana told them. “We have a hot date planned.”

She handed her phone to Beckett. “Anything else you want to say? I’m going to get changed.”

He nodded and once she was gone, he turned back to the two faces gawking at him. “Just so you know, as far as my intentions go…She’s literally the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and we compliment each other really well. And if you guys were here, supporting your friend, you would see that pretty quickly. Goodnight.”

He hung up with a smirk and turned to get Oriana back. He jumped in surprise to see her standing just a few feet away.

“I’m sorry, Beck. I don’t know why I thought that would go well…I should’ve known better, especially since the first time they saw you didn’t go so well, either.” She looked down at the floor. “I’m really sorry they were so awful to you.”

He wrapped his arms around her waist. “They just care about you. They don’t want to see you hurt.”

“But you’re nothing like Chase. You would never hurt me. Why can’t they see that?”

He smiled softly at her. “Because they don’t know me.”

“How are you so calm about this? They ripped you apart!” She buried her face in his neck as he rubbed gentle circles on her back.

“Honestly, Ori, I’m furious right now. I kind of want to throw something. But they didn’t do it from a place of hate. They love you and they’re worried about you. They don’t know anything about me except what they observed in school, and I wasn’t exactly popular.”

“Yeah, well, Chase was extremely popular and look how great he was.” She rolled her eyes, pulling away.

“I love you, Beckett.” She murmured, cupping his cheek in her hand.

He leaned into the touch. “I love you so much, Ori.” He captured her lips with his own for a sweet and gentle kiss. “Do you still want to go out?”

“Actually…not really.” She confessed. “Maybe we can go out tomorrow instead?”

He nodded, seeing sadness in her eyes. “It’s your day, Ori. We can do whatever you want. But…I think I know what you need right now.”

He let her go and walked over to his stereo, selecting a song. “I think you need to relax for a few minutes.”

She looked at him curiously as the song began to play…then broke into a huge smile. “I love this song!”

He grinned at her, offering his hand. “Dance with me?”

She placed her hand in his and he pulled her close, swaying to an upbeat song, “Glad You Came”, by the Wanted.

  The sun goes down

The stars come out

And all that counts is here and now

My universe will never be the same

I’m glad you came, I’m glad you came

  He sang the lyrics lightly to her as he twirled her around the room, her laughter ringing like a bell, her eyes twinkling as she joined in

  You cast a spell on me, spell on me

You hit me like the sky fell on me, fell on me

And I decided you look well on me, well on me

So let’s go somewhere no one else can see, you and me

  When the song finally ended, she threw herself in his arms, kissing him hard. “Thank you. I don’t know how you figure out exactly what I need and when I need it.”

He shrugged. “I just know you.”

“You do.” She confirmed. “Okay. Let’s go out.”

“You sure?” He asked, surprised. “I wasn’t trying to make you…”

“No!” She laughed. “I want to. I really do. And it’s fucking adorable that you chose that song.”

“I guess that makes it ours now?” He asked, hesitantly, his cheeks turning pink.

“You are such a dork.” She responded, as they walked to his car.

“But I’m your dork.” He said proudly as he opened her door.

“Yes, that’s true.” She laughed again.

Arriving at their destination, they walked in holding hands. She looked around in wonder. “What is this place?”

“Hu Ke Lau. Only the best Polynesian restaurant to ever exist, and they actually opened one here not too long ago. I’ve been dying to come.”

“You know, considering it’s my celebration, you probably should have let me pick the restaurant.” She teased.

“But you don’t know the area. Do you not like Polynesian food?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had it, actually.”

“Well, beautiful, you are in for a treat.” He assured.

The server led them through the restaurant. It was extravagantly decorated with large trees, plants, aquariums, and even a little “river” full of fish that they needed to walk across via a mini bridge to get to their seats.

“This is incredible.” She murmured quietly.

“I thought you’d like it.” He said shyly. “I recommend…well…everything. But specifically, the Scorpion Bowl.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What the hell is that?”

He chuckled. “It’s basically a tiki drink. It’s got a few different rums, brandy, orange juice, lemon juice, maraschino cherries, pineapple…and they light it on fire. I know there’s a few more ingredients but I’m not exactly sure what they are. And I think they’re made differently depending on where you go.”

Oriana just gaped at him. “Okay. Well. I’m definitely getting that then. But you need to share it because it sounds like A LOT of alcohol.”

“It is. In fact, they won’t even serve you more than one.”

After placing their orders, they relaxed into light conversation, talking about what her new job will entail and what she hopes to accomplish, the different marine life she will work with. She lit up talking about it, and he absolutely adored her excitement.

When their food and drinks arrived, Oriana gasped loudly. “Beck, this is crazy!”

Together they had ordered quite a few dishes, since Oriana didn’t know what half of them were. The spread consisted of sausage and gravy, purple Uala, Po’e, Loco Moco, haupia, huli huli chicken, and of course, the Scorpion Bowl.

They dug in, each dish more succulent than the last, and Beckett thoroughly enjoyed all the delighted sounds coming from her as she tasted each one. It made him want to take her straight to the bathroom, or his car, and bury himself inside her.

Eventually they were both full and Oriana was slightly drunk, since Beckett only had a few sips and then switched to water as he was driving.

“I’m really glad you liked it.” He said softly.

“Love. I loved it.” She answered, and Beckett nodded in satisfaction.

Beckett’s face was burning as he asked, “Do you maybe want someone to take our picture? It’s really picturesque.”

Oriana but her bottom lip, looking at him mischievously. “Hell yes, I do.”

They had a server take a few pictures of them in different areas in the restaurant, and then as he went to the counter to pay for the meal, Oriana went over to wait by the door. Out of the corner of his eye he saw someone approach her. He turned to fully look and frowned.

Who the hell is that? And why is he putting his hands on her?

Beckett’s feet carried him right over and he glared at the mystery man. He was tall, muscular, and Oriana appeared shrunken in comparison. He met Oriana’s eyes and saw they were almost black, and a sick feeling washed over him. He gasped in surprise, immediately knowing who this is. He felt the hatred creeping into him before turning back to the stranger.

“I don’t believe we’ve met, but I would prefer if you removed your hand from my girlfriend’s arm.” He looked pointedly at where they were still connected.

“Girlfriend, huh? That’s very interesting.”

“Not really sure how. Didn’t your mother ever teach you about attraction? You see, when a male and female are drawn to each other…”

“I’ve already had her.” The man replied. “A couple times. And I really don’t give a fuck about your attraction. So, run along little man. Oriana and I have some…catching up to do.”

“Actually, we don’t.” Oriana replied icily. She winced as the guy dug his fingers deeper into her arm, and Beckett’s blood began to boil as she held him in a laser-like focus.

“Ori.” Beckett said quietly, taking her free hand into his. “Ori, look at me.”

He inhaled sharply when her eyes met his. They were completely black now, and there was only one thing that could mean. She was about to snap, and someone was going to get hurt.

“Breathe, Ori.” He whispered. Ignoring their audience, Beckett stood between the two of them, kissing her deeply. Both her arms wrapped around him in response as she kissed him back, finally free from the man’s grasp. “We’re leaving.” He murmured into her ear, pulling her out the door and back to his car. She didn’t put up an argument as he put her in the passenger seat and drove them home. He felt awful that her entire night had been ruined.

Maybe I should have told her we’d go out tomorrow. That today wasn’t a good day for it, since she was already upset before we even left. But she was doing better. Dancing helped her, I know it did. I wonder who the hell that man is. He must have a name, and I need to find it before he comes around again.

Getting back home, she still was quiet, and he led her up the stairs and into the bathroom. “A shower will help. The warm water will do you good.”

She shook her head and went into his bedroom instead. “I just want to go to sleep, Beck. Thank you, though, for today.”

“Oriana…” He started.

She waved her hand dismissively. “It’s fine. Really.” She avoided his gaze as she stripped down and climbed into bed.

It’s not fine. She’s not fine.

Beckett removed his clothing and climbed in right behind her. “Look at me.”

Oriana sighed, turning around in his arms. Her eyes were still dark, but no longer black. “Do you want to talk about it?” He asked quietly.

“Why? You already know who he is.”

“I figured it out, yeah. But Ori…”

“I would have hurt him again if you hadn’t been there.” She blurted out. “In front of all those people, everyone would know what I’m capable of. There’s no way I would have gotten away with it again, Beckett.”

“But I was there, and nothing happened.” He reassured. “I promise, Oriana, I’ll do anything to protect you.”

“And who’s going to protect you?” She sneered.

His brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Oriana scoffed. “Forget it. Just forget it.”

“I’m not forgetting anything. What were you going to say?”

“Fuck me.” She said abruptly.

Beckett’s head was practically spinning with all the emotions running between them. “…What?”

She straddled him in the bed, rubbing herself against his length. “I want you to fuck me.”

“Ori, I really don’t think…” He groaned involuntarily as she lifted herself up and placed the tip of his dick at her entrance, slowly sliding his shaft inside her.

She rode him, faster and faster, his hands were on her hips guiding her movement.

“Beckett…” She panted. “Beckett, fuck me please!”

He heard the urgency in her voice, and he grunted as he flipped her onto her stomach, and swiftly re-entering.

“Harder.” She commanded, and he braced his hands on both sides of her, slamming deep into her pussy.

“Harder!” She screamed, and he cried out as he went faster, going as deep as he can, his headboard slamming against the wall with every thrust.

“Fuck, Beckett, FUCK!!! HARDER!!!!!!!!”

“I…can’t….” He gritted out. “Fuck…Ori!!!”

She went completely silent as he felt her convulse around him. He let himself go, spilling himself inside her, and he gripped the headboard to bury himself deep inside, deeper than he was sure he’d ever been, before collapsing to the side, completely out of breath.

Both were breathing heavily, unable to speak, but somehow still communicating. She curled into his side and he wrapped his arms around her tightly.

“Did it hurt?” He managed to whisper, afraid of how hard they’d fucked. He was surprised to find himself feeling a bit sore.

“No. For whatever reason, no matter how hard you slammed into me…there was too much love radiating from you.”

He paused, noticing a bitterness in her voice. “You sound upset about that.”

“I’ll let you in on a little secret, Beck. Sometimes a girl just wants to be fucked. And trust me, you delivered. I’ve just never been fucked by someone who loves me before. I don’t know what to make of it. It’s fucking amazing and frustrating at the same time.”

“You want…hate sex…?” He asked, unsure what she was saying.

She chuckled, relieving some of the tension in the air. “More like angry sex. Sex that just makes you forget everything around you.”

“Oh…” He trailed off. “Sorry…”

“Don’t be.” She responded. You did make me forget everything around me. The only thing I couldn’t forget about was how we feel for each other. I love you so much, Beck.”

“I love you too.” He whispered. He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead before she looked up at him. He breathed a sigh of relief seeing her eyes back to normal, her heartbeat returning to regular.

“Hey Ori? I’ll always bring you back from the darkness. I promise.”

“Careful, Beckett. You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep. But I admit, if anyone can do it…it’d be you.”

 @annekebbphotography @gardeningourmet @zigortega4life @eileendannie @thequeenofcronuts @drakewalkerfantasy @friedherringclodthing @coffeebeandragon @drakewalker04 @alesana45 @mfackenthal

@xo-endlessmayhem-xo @divergentofhogwarts @rissah @syltti78  @askdana @giulia2372 @nerdynstoned  @the-writerly-night-owl  

@aworldoffandoms @endlessly-searching-for-you @damienswhore @nerdynstoned

@emerald-bijou @feartheendlesssummer @elainew13 @brightpinkpeppercorn @paisleylovergirl @dottie-minerva-mikas @symonde @kendrasgue @timmagicktoad @pbmychoices @flyawayboo @the-soot-sprite @emichelle

[kpop-sprite]

Want to be your star

part 6 

Those slender fingers slid up my curvy frame, gently caressing the skin on my arms and sliding up until they interlaced with my fingers on either hand. Jinjin’s lips were soft and gentle, pecking delicate petals of love against my supple skin. Bruises of cerise and berry pink adorned my light colored skin, trailing around my bosom as I heaved and gasped, each kiss leaving me breathless and my heart pounding deeper. His hips, God bless those hips, even beneath his jean enclosure his cock raked against me as his hips rocked against mine. My panties not protecting me from his rude ways of torment.

I gasped, rolling my head to the side, my face grazing my arm still intertwined with his as Jinjin sucked my skin above my panty line. His eyes peeking up at me through wire-framed glasses, steamed with his hot breath, his light brown hair in a disarray. He lived to ruin me and I lived to let him.

**Ping Ping**

“Fuck.” I gasped arching my hips up against Jinjin’s face, his ministrations not slowing.

**Ping Ping**

Jinjin paused and looked up at me through disheveled hair, “check it.”

“Ugghhh…” I slammed my hand onto the nightstand until I found my phone, Harley messaging me. “We’re out of cheesecake, fuck.”

“You should go then,” Jinjin teased, his fingers sliding up and down my panties, my essence staining the fabric with the simple touching.

“She can…mmm….manage without me…” I breathed heavily praying he’d end this torture.

His lips pressed deeply into my skin, my thighs quivering from his touch. “You need to go,” he patted my leg before rolling away from me.

“Fuck. I’m firing Harley!” I groaned in defeat.

Jinjin laughed while sliding on a white t-shirt, “you won’t though.”

“You’re right,” I complained, throwing my arm across my eyes, Jinjin chuckling while throwing my pants at me from the door. “Come on then, boss lady.”

 I pulled the last hot cheesecake from the oven and placed it on a cooling rack before removing my oven mitts and apron. I grabbed my jacket and headed to the front of the bakery. “That should last until tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Boss. I’m sorry I had to message you on your day off, I know you don’t get many,” Harley was rough looking, but her heart was always in the right place.

“No worries, Harley. Call me if you need anything else,” I smiled at her before running out the door, Jinjin and Moonbin hanging by the door to pick me up.

“Well?” Moonbin asked.

I looked up at him, confusion in my voice, “Well, what?”

“Where’s the cheesecake you just had to make?!” He exclaimed.

I looked at Jinjin who seemed to shrug at the question. He was too used to this boy.

“It’s in the bakery, if you want some it’s 6 won a slice.”

Jinjin’s laughter bellowed out as he slapped Moonbin in the arm. I walked off, Jinjin trailing quickly behind me down the sidewalk leaving Binnie to stand in his silence.

“So, I’m not getting cake?!!” Moonbin finally running up behind us attempting to catch-up, Jinjin still laughing.

“If you’re that hungry, Binnie, why don’t we go to the street food fair and get some bungeoppang?” I suggested, after all what is better for winter than nice warm fish shaped bread?

Moonbin ran up behind Jinjin jumping onto his back throwing a finger out pointing outward, “FORWARD TO THE BUNGEOPPANG!”

Jinjin’s legs shook as he wrapped his arms around the taller boy’s legs and charging forward down the sidewalk, leaving me to laugh as I trailed behind them.

They were far enough in front of me now, their bodies barely being seen through the crowd of people filling the outside area where the food trucks sat. The smell of food of all varieties emerged from the space, the sounds of children laughing being heard. I smiled, sliding my hands into my pockets to keep them warm, finally spotting Jinjin and Binnie a few food trucks up waiting in line for bungeoppang and topokki.

The hair on the back of my neck raised. Was someone watching me? I quickly scanned the area, I could feel those eyes. The dark eyes that burn right through me like innocence dying. My heart pounded rapidly; my palms becoming sweaty from my nerves. My eyes darted around me, but I couldn’t see him.

Kisu, I know you’re there.

“Y/N?” Jinjin’s voice was filled with concern as his fingers interlaced with mine. His cold fingertips bringing me back to him.

“Ah, sorry Jinwoo…” I blushed trying to refocus my attention on Jinjin and Binnie, whose mouth was filled with spicy Topokki.

“Let’s go for a walk, hm?” Jinjin tightened his grip on my hand as we walked through the crowd heading towards the playground area of the park where the food trucks were arranged. Moonbin caught up with some friends, enjoying the food in the area while Jinjin motioned for me to sit on a bench beside him. His arm laid across my shoulders as I leaned back humming a sigh to myself.

His eyes were gentle, a blessing I didn’t deserve. “So, you going to tell me what’s going on?” He was straightforward.

I swallowed the lump that formed in my throat, my mouth feeling dry suddenly.

“How’d you know something was wrong…” I finally asked, my heart pounding slowly.

“When have you ever called me ‘Jinwoo?” He chuckled, his eyes still easy and relaxed.

My cheeks burned red as I thought about my indiscretion towards his name. “I guess I have some things on my mind.” I fiddled with my hands that rested in my lap, a nervous habit that always presented itself during stressful times.

Jinjin seemed to hum to himself, the sounds of peace relaxing my heart a bit.

“Kisu followed me to the bus stop last night.” I blurted out, a weight being lifted instantly.

“Oh?” His relaxed expression didn’t falter as he listened to me confess what had happened with Kisu.

“Yeah. He, um, well, he brought up a random story from a long time ago and then he confessed he still had feelings for me…” My heart pounded erratically as I confessed to Jinjin. His eyes shut, face pointing up to the clouds. I couldn’t read him. Was this him mad? Why was he so irrationally calm?

“Is that all?” He finally said something.

I leaned forward looking at him stunned, “What? What do you mean is that all?”

“Did you confess to him you had the same feelings?”

“N-no.”

“Did you sleep with him?”

“No! Of course not!” I spouted.

Jinjin opened an eye to peek over at me, “So why are you so worried?”

I bit my tongue, not from fear of saying the wrong thing, but because I couldn’t think of what to say.

He shifted from his place on the bench so he was sitting up to look at me, his hand resting on one of my own. “Y/N, I’m not worried because I already won. I have you.”

I looked into his eyes, the warm cognac color keeping me in place, he leaned in close, our lips interlocking into a kiss.

We stayed in our moment for a while, the cool breeze settling into the sunset that shaded the sky shades of orange and auburn. I closed my eyes as I heard the sounds of people approaching. Moonbin being carried, his body slumping over a friends shoulder. “I may have eaten too much topokki..” He spluttered.

“We better get him home,” Jinjin spoke, I nodded quickly in response helping hold up Moonbin from the right side.

The walk home seemed utterly serene despite the large boy being slumped over our shoulders. Jinjin scolding Binnie all the way to the apartment even though he couldn’t hear him over the heart burn that seemed to overtake his senses. I gazed through the windows of the businesses down the sidewalks of Seoul, hearing the crowd from the food fair falling far into the distance, the mumbling echoing out to the streetlights that started to blink on.

Jinjin continued to anchor Moonbin up as his drunken slumber began to overtake his body. When we finally arrived to the boy’s apartment, I quickly ran up the stairs to open the door so Jinjin could focus on getting the larger boy through the door. It didn’t take much for Jinjin to use his remaining strength to throw Moonbin onto the couch with a ‘Plop!’

I adjusted a pillow beneath the puppitty’s head and covered him with a small throw blanket that was left hanging off the corner of a chair.

“Y/n,” Jinjin spoke quietly.

“Hm?” I shuffled to get the blanket to cover Moonbin’s feet when a hand grabbed my wrist and tugged, initiating me to turn around and look up at Jinjin.

His eyes seemed darker than before, I tried to take in his expression, but before I could think his lips were interlocking with mine. The taste of oak from his cologne mixed with his spearmint toothpaste creating a new taste within my mouth. His hands rubbed up my arms until his hands found my head, his fingers entangling in my waves. I couldn’t move. I was frozen in this moment. My heart racing, eyes blinking slowly, until the intoxication of him enveloped me creating a new sense of euphoria.

The process from the living room to the bedroom was a complete blur. Jinwoo’s hands scooping me up for my legs to wrap around him, running into a wall to continue to make-out, the knocking over of the hallway lamp, my hair hooking into his piercing, and collapsing onto the bed. Jinjin’s fingers trailing over my body removing my clothes until all he could see was my exposed skin, while he kept his boxer briefs on, teasing the idea of his naked frame to me.

His kisses burned into my skin as he left tiny macaron shaped bruises behind branding my body for himself. I ran my hands across his back, the heat of his skin, the firmness of his muscles all being memorized by my sensitive touch. Jinwoo kissed a trail of love to my heated folds, gently stroking the skin towards the opening before looking up at me from below, asking to touch.

I bit my lip and spread open my legs, Jinjin taking in the view before slowly circling the area of skin on the lips, teasing a touch on my clitoris, and then finally sliding a finger towards my now pounding core. He continued to tease the idea of entering my core for a bit until I nodded towards him, allowing him to have full access and thrusting two fingers into me. A gasp released from my lips as I arched my back off the mattress and moaned with each slow slide in and out of my heated core.

Jinjin continues to finger me, his eyes watching every movement of his fingers going in and out of me. I close my eyes as I feel him curve his digits to rub against my sensitive bundle of nerves, moaning quietly with each thrust.

“Ji-jinjin…” I whine out.

“Am I hurting you?”

“N-no, I want to feel you inside me…please…” I whine out, Jinjin slowly sliding out of my core and thinking about what to do next before finally anchoring himself over me, his body still between my legs.

“You’re sure?”

I nod lightly, biting my lip.

I feel Jinjin slide his dick out of his briefs, the head hard and pressed to the opening of my vagina, my walls thumping with anticipation. He hooks his arms underneath mine and grabs my shoulders before bearing down and sliding his erection deep into my heat. I gasp more loudly than I have before, causing Jinjin to look at me with concern.

“Keep going,” I reassure him, allowing him to press his lips to my forehead and thrust slowly at first, then faster until he has gathered a nice quick pace. Tears stream down the corners of my eyes as I mewl out his name begging for more. He thrusts in a pace that seems slow, but quickens before slowing back down. Sweat gathers on his brow as he presses it against my own, his breath filling the air between us. I moan loudly, trying my best to stay in control of the fire growing in my abdomen, the lava like feeling overflowing into my heat.

He grinds slow and deep into my core spouting light sounds of profanities as his high gets closer to being reached. I dig my fingers into his skin leaving little half-moons within his tan skin. I can hear the air being sucked from between his teeth and his grunting as each thrust becomes a disarray of movements.

So close.

I feel him slide slow and deep into me as I reach my limit, my orgasm spilling out like lava from a volcano; my walls tighten around him and he thrusts quicker hearing me scream out his name until finally he pulls out and spills his seed across my bare skin.

 He fell asleep on me.

I smile as I stroke Jinjin’s hair from his forehead, the locks bouncing into place with a flick.

*ping ping*

I slide my body to the edge of the bed to dig my phone from my pants.

*ping ping*

I slide it open to see a face.

 Kisu.

[gillywulf]

Roman Holiday

AO3

Summary: The bird may love the fish, but where would they live?

or

Clarke and Lexa live very different lives and still find a way to fall in love with each other.

~~~

The night was a rare mix of chilly and clear that needed to be taken advantage of. Usually, when it came towards the end of May, the skies opened up and drowned the land in sudden and destructive rainfall. And yet all the pair in the truck bed needed was a tattered old blanket that Lexa kept rolled up in the toolbox for just such occasions. With their shoulders pressed together and the blanket covering their legs, they were almost cozy.

Clarke lived for it.

Nothing in the world made her happier than stargazing with her best friend the night before a tour. It was the moment she thought about when she was on stage in front of 20 thousand people. All of those people shouting her words back for her like they were tattooed on their hearts and her brain could only flash back to this truck bed with this girl and this sky.

A hand nudged hers in the limited space between their bodies.

“Are you ready for tomorrow?” The rumble of Lexa’s voice might have startled her if not for the small movement before it, but it didn’t mean she wasn’t caught off guard anyway. Lexa had a habit of doing that. She responded with a soft hum.

“I think so. I’ve got all my clean underwear packed,” she grinned at the laugh that floated through the empty air around them and felt her heart grow with affection.

“Good to know. You have to make sure you can go as long as possible without doing laundry,” Lexa joked. “but really, it’s a big tour. A long one. I know you can handle the shows and I know you will be okay with the travel, but I worry.” Clarke turned and found Lexa already looking at her.

It was moments like this that made her feelings hard to swallow. Lexa cared so much about her and she always cared about the right things. How could Clarke be anything but disastrously in love with her? But how could she tell her either? Lexa loved the overgrown, back roads life of their half-empty hometown and Clarke loved visiting a new bustling city every night, strange encounters, and finding her face on magazine counters at checkout (they were always full of preposterous things like who she was dating, as if she would date anyone without green eyes and wild brown hair). Her smile was soft as she laced her fingers with Lexa’s.

“I’ll be okay, I promise. And if I’m not, I know who to call,” she answered. Lexa nodded and gave her hand a soft squeeze.

“My only price is a picture of you and J-Lo.” Clarke burst into laughter.

~

Lexa pulled as far forward as the narrow driveway would allow her and cut the engine. She could see the client through the windshield - a middle aged woman who definitely would over-direct this delivery - and sighed. Most days she liked her job, but that didn’t niggling dissatisfaction every time she saw Raven post about a new project, or Octavia’s expanding personal training work, much less reviews for Clarke’s upcoming album in Entertainment Weekly. She was happy her friends were doing things they loved, she just wished she was too.

She followed her partner out of the truck and approached the woman with a smile and her clipboard.

“Good morning, are you-”

“You were supposed to be here an hour ago. Now I’m going to be late to pick up the cake for my son’s birthday party because you couldn’t get here yesterday,” Lexa felt her smile deflate.

“I apologize for the delay ma’am, we work as hard as we can to keep close to the schedule. If you sign here to confirm we are delivering the right product, we will get out of your way as soon as we can.” The woman signed with a huff and Lexa moved around to the back of the truck where she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. Lincoln was till unstrapping the oven on the pallet so she took the chance to unlock her phone. Her face stretched into an immediate grin.

“Clarke?” Her gaze shot up from her phone to meet her partner’s amused eyes. She nodded, her cheeks growing hot. With one last look at Clarke’s selfie with J-lo, she locked her phone again and set about helping Lincoln unload the new appliance.

~

“You know she’s like desperately in love with you, right?” Lexa collapsed against the table in a coughing fit, her eyes trained on Anya.

“What?” she rasped out. Anya gestured to the bar TV where Clarke’s newest music video played, the sound drowned out by the DJ’s party music. Scantily clad and radiating unbridled confidence, the blond was a force of nature and impossible for Lexa to ignore, in-person or otherwise.

“Yeah, she’s been in love you since like, sophmore year of high school. All her songs are about you. Did you not know this? You guys knew that, right?” She looked to Octavia and Raven for backup and found them already nodding casually.

“Oh yeah”

“I think literally everyone knew”

Lexa blinked between them, dazed.

“What- no, she writes about  guys. Why would she want me? I’m nobody,” Octavia barked a laugh and swiftly drowned it in her bottle of beer. She only caught the tail end of Raven’s eye roll.

“She writes about guys because it’s more commercially viable and she’s not out publicly, so, you know. But also you’ve been her best friend forever, you’re hardly ‘nobody’ to her, don’t be stupid,” This was the first night that none of them had to work late in almost a month and Lexa was beginning to regret coming.

“I mean you had to suspect. She’s not exactly subtle,” Anya had turned her whole stool to face Lexa, her eyes narrowed in disbelief. The scrutiny began to make the heat rise under Lexa’s collar. She had to find a way out of the interrogation. “Wait,” her blood ran cold, “you like her too.” Her hand came up to shield her rapidly reddening face.

“No, I-”

“Oh my god”

“Holy shit”

“Lexa-”

“Have a good night, I have to be up early tomorrow. You know, a lot of deliveries,” Lexa slipped off her stool and stalked towards the door, careful not to look any of them in the eye.

“Wait, Lex-” She was out the door before she could catch the rest of the sentence.

It was almost five full blocks before her heart stopped beating directly in her eardrums and her breathing slowed enough for her to take stock of her surroundings. Downtown was small enough that she was already out of any populated areas and she kept walking until she reached the empty field she and Clarke parked her truck only a couple of weeks before.

She let herself get lost in the stars for an hour before pulling out her phone.

“Hey, is something wrong?” The roughness of Clarke’s voice both calmed and excited her. It was so easy to picture her curled up on the sofa of her tour bus, fresh from a shower and wrapped in some comfy sweater. She smiled at the image.

“No, everything’s good. I just wanted to say hi. I saw your new video,”

“Oh yeah?” The smile in her voice peaked out and Lexa stopped holding back her own.

~

The sun was dead above and beating down harshly against the back of Lexa’s neck. She had felt the moisture in her shirt for almost 2 hours, but she wasn’t going to move from her perch on the roof of her truck.

Octavia had strewn herself across the back seat of the cab and Raven and Anya were bickering as they attempted to construct some sort of awning over the bed. Lexa was sure Anya was just sabotaging it to spend more time with Raven, but decided that wasn’t her business.

Mercifully, no one had brought up the night at the bar two months before. She didn’t know what she would even say to them. Admitting it was certainly out of the question, but she wasn’t about to lie and deny it either. Ideally it would just stay a moot point.

“Girls, does anyone want a drink? It’s hot out today,” Dr. Griffin called from her front porch. Lexa’s truck was parked right next to the house where there had been shade earlier that morning. A chorus of ‘yes, pleases’ sounded from the group and Clarke’s mom disappeared with a smile.

Clarke was late, but the two hour radius around their town was a dead zone on their network, so there was no real way for them to know when she got close until they saw a trail of dust up the road. Lexa’s eyes were locked to the spot where she knew the bus would first appear.

Raven must have gotten fed up with Anya’s meddling because the lanky woman was clambering up onto the roof with her.

“Scooch,” Anya dug and elbow into her side until Lexa shuffled over with a huff. “Do you think you’ll tell her?” she asked softly a minute later.

“There’s nothing to tell. Whatever I do or don’t feel won’t change anything,” Was that the bus or just another car?

“You don’t know that for sure,” Lexa hummed and frowned at the shape of the minivan that drove into the driveway down the street.

“It’s too late anyway. Ten years is a lot of time to get over someone,” That was a big cloud. That had to be it.

“It’s also a lot of time to feel more for someone.” Lexa stood as the bus came into view.

“Bird and the fish, An,” Lexa was only dimly aware of Anya’s heavy sigh as she hopped down to the ground  as the bus began to pull up to the house. Dr. Griffin came back outside, drinks forgotten and eyes glued to the door of the bus. They didn’t have to wait long before Clarke burst out of the door and threw her arms around her mother. It was barely a second later that was instead threw herself around Lexa, holding her as tight as her strength would allow. Lexa returned it easily and pressed her face into Clarke’s hair.

“Welcome home,” she murmured.

~

The stars were different from the last time they were there together, but to Lexa, who could hardly string together a constellation on the best of nights, they looked the same. There was comfort in that. An assurance that things could stay the same, no matter what happened. There was a chance that she could always end up here, Clarke in her truck and the stars above them. She wanted that more than anything.

“You should come with me,” Lexa was sure she heard wrong until Clarke spoke again. “It doesn’t have  to be tomorrow, I know traveling the country is a big thing. But one day, I’d like to do it with you,” Clarke wasn’t looking at her, instead she focused on the expanse above and Lexa couldn’t blame her. Words wouldn’t come and there wasn’t any she could even think of.

~

“Clarke?” Lexa answered the phone as she slammed the truck door shut. She ignored Lincoln climbing in to the passenger seat with a raised eyebrow.

“Are you busy this week?” Clarke’s voice sounded shaky and Lexa hated the way it made her jaw clench in fear. Had something happened?

“Besides work, no. What do you need?” she asked. A sigh traveled through the phone.

“I need a vacation. But if you have work, I don’t want you to get in trouble” Clarke mumbled. Lexa’s answer was immediately obvious.

“Hey, do you remember that night you convinced me to sneak into the community pool with you?”

“And we had to run from the cops almost naked? Of course,” Clarke laughed.

“Good. I’ll call you in an hour, okay?” She turned the engine and pulled her seat belt across her body.

“Sure. Oh, and Lex?” Lexa paused.

“Yeah?”

“I miss you,” Her heart clenched.

“I miss you too, I’ll call you back,” She closed the call and moved the massive truck into reverse. “Lincoln, I’m supremely sorry, but I’m driving back to the garage and quitting.” To her surprise, he only laughed.

“Going to rescue your girl?” he asked, giving her shoulder a hearty pat. Lexa grinned, but didn’t respond.

~

Lexa tried not to spend the entire two plane rides worrying about how she was going to get a new job. She ran through the list of possibilities in her head and wrote down a list of the top contenders. The list was underwhelming. With a sigh, she turned her head to look out of the small window and watched as the ground came closer and closer. The last minute cross country flight certainly didn’t help relax her money fears either.

But really it was unimportant. Her boss had been furious and begged her to stay on, but also vehemently refused her a week and a half off to see her friend because they had a schedule they needed to adhere to. So she walked out and could only think about where Clarke wanted to disappear. If there was something Clarke wanted, Lexa was not going to be the one to deny her.

Which meant the tiny Sacramento airport was a bit of a surprise. From the window, Lexa could see the whole thing, small and compact in comparison to Philadelphia International or JFK. She could even see the empty grasslands stretching out for miles around it.

The inside of the airport wasn’t much more exciting. Many of the gates were either entirely empty or halfway there. Lexa shrugged through the early morning haze and made her way down to the baggage claim where Clarke said a car would be waiting. She was barely out on the curb before a body crashed into hers and wrapped her up in a tangle of limbs.

“You’re here!” The familiar raspiness of Clarke’s voice in her ear relaxed her instantly and she dropped her duffel to return the embrace.

“I said I would be,” she laughed, feeling Clarke’s legs fall back to the ground from around her hips. The blond pulled back just enough to take Lexa’s face in her hands and grin.

“And you always keep your promises. C’mon, let’s get on the road,” She grabbed Lexa’s discarded duffel and threw it into the backseat of the closest parked car before swinging around to the drivers’ seat. Lexa let Clarke ramble for almost an hour before asking.

“So I have to ask, why the sudden get away?” She watched Clarke press her lips into a firm line, “you don’t have to tell me, but it might help to talk about to someone who is really removed from the situation,” she said, keeping her eyes on her best friend. The silence was short lived (though palpable, as Clarke had been so excited to get on the road she hadn’t even turned the radio on) as the right words were pulled from her brain.

“I wanted to come out and all of my reps think it’s a bad idea,” Lexa frowned, “they think if I’d started my career that way, it’d be one thing, but my sales will take a hit now that I’m established.”

“Do you agree?”

“No. I mean, yeah, I’m sure there will be some backlash, but I’ve done well enough and built a fanbase that I think will welcome it. It’s not like I don’t bring rainbow flags on stage all the time as it is. I just want to write about girls sometimes too, you know? Maybe there’s a girl where a guy would be in a video. Little things that shouldn’t mean anything, but would let me be more honest,” Clarke gushed and sighed heavily. “I’m just tired of pretending.”

Lexa took in the defeated way Clarke slouched in her seat, how she seemed smaller than she knew she was. She knew her friend to be larger than life and this was not acceptable. How dare anyone tell her to hide parts of herself?

“There was a girl at a show a few months ago and she was telling me about how the new album gave her the courage to come out to her family and all I could do was nod and brush off just how much that meant to me,” she huffed, letting her hands collapse into her lap. Lexa chewed on her next words.

“So do it anyway,” Clarke’s eyes swiveled between her and the road.

“What?”

“You employ these people to manage your career, right? This is their job. Be you and let the rest fall where it may,” she shrugged. She worried for a long moment that what she’d said was totally incorrect for the situation. What was she thinking? This was Clarke’s decision, she had nothing-

Clarke’s hand closed around hers.

~

Job listing sites had plenty of options but none of them seemed to be what Lexa was looking for. Nothing paid enough to support her lifestyle - minimal as it was - or put too many qualifications that no human should be able to match. She sighed in frustration and clicked on the next page. Her phone broke into vibration, startling her.

“Hey, what’s up?” She greeted, skimming the next page.

“You’re joking right?” Anya deadpanned. “You have to be joking. ‘What’s up’ like you don’t already know,” she continued on in disbelief. Lexa blinked.

“No, I don’t know. Did something happen?” She was answered by the sound of Anya grumbling under her breath.

“Jesus, google Clarke,” Lexa’s internal alarm immediately started clanging in her head. Questions and concerns raced through her mind as the page loaded.

Clarke Griffin Comes Out as Bisexual After Weekend with ‘Close Friend’

Just below the headline was an image of Clarke hanging off her back, her mouth maybe a little too close to her neck after Lexa had described the cat lady house she’d delivered a new refrigerator to. They were both sun kissed and relaxed as Lexa carried her towards the beach at Lake Tahoe, Clarke’s choice for a getaway. She had to admit, the angle did make her abs look great.

“Oh,” she mumbled.

“Yeah, ‘oh’, did you guys finally seal the deal? Admit some stuff? Come clean? Please tell me you kissed her.” In all honesty, Lexa had forgotten the phone next to her ear.

“Uh, no. She asked for advice and companionship, so I gave her that. It wasn’t the time,” she explained. The sigh that followed was clearly disappointed.

“If you’re not careful, the timing will never be right.”

~

The night was chillier than the weather channel had predicted, indicative of colder nights to come in the following weeks. But the stars were no different than they ever were as Lexa pulled the blanket tighter around Clarke and herself. She’d remembered another blanket this time, a thicker one to lay under them to guard against both the cold of the metal and it’s hard ridges. Come morning, a sore back would be uncomfortable for Clarke’s transatlantic flight and Lexa’s new job.

“I think about this when I’m on stage, you know,” Clarke confessed into the darkness. Lexa knew that turning to look at her would put her just too close.

“Yeah?”

Clarke hummed. “When I’m on stage and there’s all there people and they’re so excited to see me, all I can think about is this and you and how it’s so much easier,” Lexa did look this time. Clarke’s face was relaxed against her shoulder, her eyes tracing constellations she knew far better than Lexa.

“Is that what you want? Easy?” she asked. The blond laughed and the sound shook her whole body.

“Lex, I’m what they call ‘An International Pop Star’, I don’t think I ever wanted easy,” she answered, burrowing deeper against Lexa’s side. Anya’s phone call a few months prior flashed through Lexa’s mind and she let out a shuddering breath.

“It could be, easy I mean,”

“What could be?”

“This. Us,”

“‘Us’?”

“Yeah, if you want,” Lexa’s heart thumped unbearably loud in her chest, Clarke had to be able to hear it. She was so close. Any moment now the gentle let down would come and they’d slowly and awkwardly disentangle from one another until Lexa decided it would be best to just drive her home.

Clarke’s fingers laced through her own and squeezed.

“Babe, this is the easiest thing.”