#but no one has fucked by chapter four which tries my patience

[libraryofgage]

Addams Family B-Side (3)

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two | Three (you're here!) Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One | Two (on the way!) Harley Quinn One 10th Doctor and Rose One | Two (on the way!) Scooby Gang (there are plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz)

Did I already post today? Yes. Did I also post two chapters of Modern Steve in 80s Hawkins today? Yes. I am just incredibly productive today, who knows when it's gonna happen again lol

Anyway, finally! The next B-Side! This bitch has been stewing my guys, so I hope you enjoy it lol

There are two memes at the very end of this one, so definitely stick around

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't 😘

--------

For four weeks, Eddie feels himself losing his mind. He finds gifts in his locker every other day, and he's convinced they're from Steve Harrington. He now has a taxidermied bat, a fancy-looking vial with a skull and crossbones embossed in the glass and filled with mysterious liquid, an actual human skull that Eddie immediately incorporates into his next campaign, and a spider. An actual spider. A live spider that, after a little research, he learns is a fucking Black Widow that seems unnaturally friendly.

Eddie can't stress that part enough. Multiple people have mistaken the spider for an intricate vest patch because it just sits perfectly still over his chest pocket. It only moves to rub its head against Eddie's fingers whenever his hand passes over it, and even then it's careful to avoid hurting him with its pincers.

He names her Nox.

Those aren't the only gifts he's received, but they're the most notable, and Eddie is overwhelmed and flustered by the positive attention he's suddenly receiving.

The other thing driving him crazy is Pubert Addams, a guy Eddie had never paid much attention to before but now considers his mortal enemy. He's convinced Pubert is, at worst, potentially abusive or, at best, delusional and taking advantage of Steve's kindness and inability to brutally turn him down. Or maybe Eddie is the crazy one; he doesn't actually know. Whichever it is, Eddie is ready to take the very nice dagger he now has (gift number 15; yes, Eddie has been counting) and stab him with it.

Because he can't get more than two minutes alone with Steve before Pubert appears out of nowhere. Eddie runs into Steve in the hall while everyone else is in class? Pubert shows up with a hall pass two seconds later and literally waltzes Steve away from him. Eddie finds Steve camped out in the library during study hall? Pubert materializes in the chair next to Steve before Eddie can sit down, leaning far too close as he asks Steve to explain something from their shared Gothic Literature class. Eddie, by some miracle, is behind Steve in the lunch line (and he calls this a miracle because Steve always brings his lunch in a pink box with black skulls, which Eddie considers incredibly brave of him to carry around like it's nothing)? Before Eddie can do more than say hi and get a blinding smile in return, Pubert fucking Addams shows up and drags Steve away while promising to share his lunch.

Eddie is just about to lose the last shred of patience he's struggling to maintain when Steve finds him. Ironically, it's the same bathroom where they first talked, the one with mysterious mold growing in the corner that Eddie is convinced is some new species. It's the only bathroom with a busted smoke detector, and Eddie goes there to get high during his free period.

He's halfway through a joint, smoke curling around him as he sits on the sink counter and tries not to think about what else has been there, when the door swings open, Steve walks in, and Eddie chokes on his inhale.

"Don't die like this," Steve says, stepping closer and patting Eddie's back like they know each other, "It's no fun."

Eddie finally gets himself under control, taking a deep breath and wincing at the way his lungs burn. "No worries," he croaks out, regretting the departure of Steve's hand on his back. "What are you doing here? Please don't tell me you plan to use this bathroom."

"As curious as I am about the bacteria teeming on these toilet seats, no." Steve sounds genuine, like he really does want to swab the toilet seats and see what grows. Instead, he places his bag on the sink and pulls out a familiar vial with a familiar skull and crossbones. "I just came to drink."

"Oh?" Eddie says, leaning forward with a grin. He looks Steve up and down, taking in the pale blue sweater vest and immaculately pressed jeans. "You don't look the drinking type, Stevie."

Steve hums, popping the cork out of the vial and taking a swig from it. "This isn't exactly hard stuff," he says after he swallows, distracted enough that Eddie thinks he misses his eyes lingering on Steve's throat as it bobs.

"Just beer then?"

"What?" Steve asks, looking at Eddie like he's delusional. "No, it's cyanide and vinegar."

He says it with such conviction that Eddie believes him despite knowing cyanide is poison. "Metal," he says, looking away to take another drag of his joint as he struggles to break through his own awkwardness and hold a conversation that will somehow sweep Steve off his feet and make him forget all about Pubert Addams.

Before he can think of something clever and smooth and funny, Steve leans close and raises a hand to his chest. Eddie is about to warn him that Nox is, in fact, real when the spider scuttles onto Steve's fingers and settles in his palm. She does a little up-and-down motion, circles in his hand twice, and rubs her head against his wrist. "You've been taking good care of her," Steve says.

"Uh, yeah. How is she not biting you right now?" Eddie asks, remembering all the times Nox has warningly snapped at others who tried to touch her.

Steve snorts and allows Nox to return to her spot on Eddie's vest. "I raised her," he says, his tone casual like he isn't admitting to showering Eddie with inexplicable gifts for the past four weeks, "of course, she won't bite me."

"So, it has been you," Eddie replies, wanting to hear it from Steve himself.

With a soft hum, Steve takes another sip from his bottle. "Who else would it have been?"

Eddie licks his lips, takes another drag of his joint to brace himself, and hops off the counter. "So, uh, does that mean you li--"

Before the rest of the question can be asked, the bathroom door swings open again, and Eddie feels his eye twitch as Pubert Addams frowns at them. "So, this is where you were," he says, walking over to Steve and putting an arm around his shoulders.

"I told you I was going to the bathroom," Steve says, rolling his eyes as he stuffs the vial back into his bag.

Pubert looks Eddie over, a derisive huff escaping him as he dismisses Eddie and looks at Steve. "On the other side of the school? Really?" he asks, and Eddie would be overthinking what that means if he weren't sure his veins were about to burst.

"We were talking, you know," Eddie says, gaining Pubert's attention again. Steve looks at him, too, his eyes a little brighter.

"I'm sure," Pubert replies, rolling his eyes as he takes Steve's bag. "And now we're leaving." With that, he leads Steve out of the bathroom, the door swinging shut before Steve can do more than smile apologetically and wave.

Anger surges through Eddie, and the shaky drag he takes to finish off his joint does absolutely nothing to soothe it.

He's going to kill Pubert Addams.

--------

Funnily enough, Steve's mother doesn't learn about his crush until he's five weeks into it. When Debbie finally does discover the crush, it's because she walks in on Fester and Steve decorating homemade cookies shaped like anatomically correct hearts. She pauses in the doorway, looking between the two covered in flour and raspberry jam, and asks, "What on earth is going on here?"

Steve looks up, sees this as his chance to finally tell Debbie, and smiles brightly at her. "I'm in love, Mother. He's allergic to raspberry, and Father agreed to help me make him cookies with raspberry filling, so he can feel the same breathlessness I do when I see him," he explains, using his thumb to wipe raspberry jam off his cheek.

Debbie stares at him for a few seconds before looking at Fester. "How long have you known?" she asks.

"Five weeks," Fester admits, looking apologetic. "I wanted to tell you, Pumpkin! But Steve asked me not to so he could tell you himself."

She sighs and walks over to the island, sitting on the edge of a stool and taking one of the cookies for herself. She bites off a pulmonary vein, looking thoughtful as she chews. "I must admit, these are damn good cookies," she finally says, taking one more bite before passing it to Fester to finish. "Tell me about him."

And Steve does. He gushes about Eddie for a solid hour without taking a single breath, spilling everything he's seen Eddie do and how he's reacted to all of Steve's gifts and how he gets so obviously jealous when Pubert butts into their conversations. He tells Debbie about Eddie not screaming when he saw Nox, about him selling drugs, and about his interest in music. Steve laments his hair but eagerly describes the treatment routine he already has in mind.

By the time he's done, the cookies are decorated and his mother's expression has grown a little pained. "Steve, darling, come with me," she says, getting up from the chair and leading him out of the kitchen while Fester starts to clean up.

Steve waits until Debbie has brought him to her spare room to ask, "Did I do something wrong?"

"Well, did you remember my rules about crushes?"

"Yeah. I've talked to him a lot."

Debbie smiles and brings Steve over to the bed, sitting him down and straightening his hair before perching next to him. "Then, you're not in trouble, but you've been going about this all wrong, dear."

"Should I tell Pubert to stop making Eddie jealous?"

"Absolutely not," Debbie says, shaking her head firmly. "In fact, he could try harder. Nothing gets to a man like someone he can't have, especially if he thinks they're in distress."

Steve blinks, frowning slightly as he tries to figure out where, exactly, he's gone wrong. Eddie seems perfectly enamored with him, after all, and Pubert's goading is encouraging his affections, which is the only reason Steve has allowed it to continue. "Did I give him a live spider too soon?" Steve asks, figuring that's the problem here.

"No, that's not...," Debbie trails off, mutters something about Fester being an idiot, and clears her throat. "Steve, your father is the last person you should approach for love advice."

"But...you agreed to marry him, so he must have done something right," Steve says.

Debbie barks a laugh, waving her hand dismissively. "I married your father for his money. I attempted to kill his entire family and only stopped when he promised to give me everything I asked for. I would hardly call him a casanova."

Steve nods along, smiling a little as she speaks. He's heard their great love affair many times, but he doesn't get tired of it. "But you actually love him anyway, right? Father says it's because he showered you with gifts. So, that's what I'm doing."

"I...do love your father," Debbie admits, sighing as though she doesn't know how that happened either. "But it's less because of his gifts and more because...he gave me the devotion I wanted. Anyway, if you learn anything from us, it should be that love comes second."

"What comes first?"

Debbie smiles, the expression positively devious, and Steve can't help returning it. "Obsession," she says, her shoulders rolling back some as pride fills her. "Occupy his every waking thought. Make yourself irresistible. Make him dream of you at night. Overwhelm him with desire until he simply must act on it."

"Oh," Steve says, thinking of how his father acts around Debbie and realizing that obsession never quite went away. But it's worked out well for them, and he knows his mother has experience with luring men into her arms. He nods once and asks, "So, what should I do?"

"I'm so glad you asked," Debbie says, her smile bright and her eyes filled with excitement. "You'll have Eddie falling to his knees before you in no time."

--------

Eddie didn't think it could get worse. He was already attracted to Steve, already distracted by every little movement.

He was wrong. So incredibly wrong.

Because here he is, his mouth dry and his palms sweaty and his cheeks warm because of Steve. He's not even doing anything. Well, that's not true. Steve is curling his tongue around a lollipop before sucking it into his mouth like he'll die without it. But it's more than that. It's the painted-on jeans that hug his legs; it's the pastel pink hoodie (with little bats on the cuffs) that rides up whenever Steve moves to show off a strip of skin just above his waistband; it's the way he finishes the lollipop and pulls out lipgloss, casually telling Pubert it's raspberry flavored as he puts it on.

Eddie swallows around the dryness in his mouth, gripping his locker door so tight that his knuckles turn white as he looks inside it. Sitting innocently on top of everything is a Tupperware container of cookies with raspberry filling (according to the label), and Eddie is ready to eat one just so he can die knowing what Steve's lips taste like.

That's not even the worst of it. The worst is that Steve transfers into Eddie's Music Theory class, smiling innocently while the teacher introduces him and then directs him to sit at the empty desk next to Eddie. When he's close, Eddie realizes Steve smells like cookies and cream ice cream, and he's tempted to ask if Steve smells like his favorite flavor on purpose.

The teacher saves him from the embarrassment of blurting out the question by announcing a project. The teacher then dooms him by telling everyone they're required to work with their desk neighbor. Eddie grips his pen tightly when the teacher tells them to spend the rest of their class time discussing the project.

"So," Steve says, getting Eddie's attention. When he looks over, Steve is leaning forward on his desk, chin propped in his hand as he looks at Eddie. "Want to come over to my place after school? To work on the project, I mean."

Eddie stares at Steve for a few seconds, his tongue stuck in his throat. To his credit, Steve doesn't say anything or call Eddie out for staring at him. He just waits patiently with a little smile curling his lips. Eddie finally clears his throat, his voice coming out a little strained when he says, "Yeah, sure, sounds good. After school. Your place. Project."

Smooth. Real smooth.

When Steve just smiles wider and stretches his arms above his head, pulling his hoodie up, while suggesting they do the project on the evolution of heavy metal music, Eddie realizes he's probably going to die after school.

He can't wait.

-------

Tag List (I think there's still room for a few more people ^_^)

@estrellami-1, @itsall-taken, @mugloversonly, @fandomcartographer, @hippielittlemetalhead, @agree2disagre-kicks, @ledleaf, @just-a-tiny-void, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @ink1177, @maya-custodios-dionach, @littlebluejane, @steddieonbigboy, @ravenpainter, @read-write-thrive, @deadontheinside20, @yeahhhh-suga, @nectandra, @mogami13, @mx-jinxous, @thoughtfulbreadpolice, @anne-bennett-cosplayer, @xoxoladyclara

@zaddipax, @dycte, @breealtair, @geekymagicalpotato, @janea-grill, @juliasthename-adhdismygame, @yikes-a-bee, @wayward-people, @st-fics, @disrespectedgoatman, @bipusssy, @cottagecorebutnaturescaresme, @nightowl14028018, @that-binchh, @your-confused-friend, @irethsune, @goosesister, @strawberryyyenthusiast, @irregular-child, @theverywest

And, finally, a two-for-one meme special because I couldn't decide which was funnier:

[princesspastel8]

Chapter 10

Third POV

Due to the indecent with Jeff, Tiffany has decided to add hours to Eboni's therapy sessions in hopes that the teen would open up as to what happened that night. Every day after school, Eboni is forced to endure four hours of more therapy.

To add salt to the wound, Tiffany has been watching the girl like a hawk. The woman decides to stay home while her husband Daniel is away on business. The foster mother wants to make sure Eboni is truly okay before she has to leave again for work. Tiffany has been picking Eboni up from school every day for the past week and a half, dropping her off at her therapy sessions as well- making sure the teen didn't miss any.

Eboni is currently staring at the clock on the wall of the room, watching the minutes pass slowly. "Thirty minutes left..." she thought to herself.

"Eboni. You have sat there for four hours and haven't said a word. You need to talk to me." Loraine, the therapist, pressed.

The teen ignores her as usual, frowning under her mask even though Loraine can't see her face. The silence causes the therapist to lose a bit of her patience.

"Your parents are paying a lot of money for you to be here. It would be a shame for that money to go waste Eboni." Loraine said sternly.

That caused the teen to send a rather chilling glare at the therapist. "They aren't my parents. They're just people who took pity on me for their own personal gain. My real parents are six feet under." Eboni snapped.

Loraine raised a brow, writing down on her clipboard, which irks the teen even more. "Talk about your parents. What are the latest memories of them?"

"Fuck off."

"Eboni Brown, you're making this harder on everyone around that's only trying to help you. Please be more considerate." The therapist tries to reason, her patience thinning.

"Loraine, was it? Look, I don't need a person with a piece of paper of their accomplishments to tell me how fucked in the head I am. Since this is a place of honesty why don't you start? You took this profession not to help people, but to stack loads of money in shorts amount of time. It's funny, taking a job that requires bucket loads of patience for their clients, yet you lack even an ounce of that."

The vein bulging from the therapist temple is hilarious to Eboni, but she holds in her laugh. Glancing at the clock, she notices her session is finally over. Eboni stands, placing her hood over her head and hands in her pockets. The teen walks to the door, giving another glance towards Loraine.

"Since you didn't deny anything I said, how about instead of asking me pointless shit you just sit there and think of the money you'll get from our extra hours together." Eboni said before leaving the woman's office and building.

The teen jumps into the back seat of Tiffany's car, hoping she wouldn't ask how the session went - unfortunately, luck is never on her side. "How did it go?" She asked while driving the way home.

Eboni answered the question by placing her airpods into her ears, turning her music to maximum volume. Tiffany sighs, knowing nothing has come of increasing Eboni's time with Loraine- if anything, it made her worse. The teen has become more closed off. Any chances of Eboni opening up to Tiffany went down the drain once she announced the more added sessions.

The teen knows she hads issues. She knows the way her brain operates isn't normal. Yet being forced to open up about her past isn't what she had in mind on 'helping' figure everything else. She wished Tiffany didn't jump to conclusions that night. The woman thought she was going to cut herself. For what? Eboni's skin looks hideous enough. Why make it worse with scars like the ones her face?

Eboni wouldn't have told Tiffany the truth anyway. She didn't want to risk not being about to see Jeff again. Strange, right? Longing to see a serial killer who showed the slightest interest in her. He was right. Everything he said was true, and Eboni no longer has the will to deny it. So she bites the bullet with these sessions, finding a bit on enjoyment in pissing Loraine off. The teen can only hope on seeing Jeff sooner rather than later.

Tiffany parks in the driveway of their home, Eboni jumping out the car and rushes inside. "Eboni, wait, I forgot to tell -!"

Eboni didn't stop, nor could she hear Tiffany. The only thing Eboni wants is a nice shower, some snacks, and a quiet night of rest. However, the teen is greeted by a blonde munching on her favorite chips while laying in her bed, and a quiet girl sitting on her couch.

"Sup." The blonde nods, Eboni having forgotten both of their names. "Had no candy, so I had to eat these." She shrugs.

"I-I'm so s-sorry about her Eboni. I-I tried to tell her how rude she was, but s-she wouldn't listen. Here! I'll give y-you some money to p-pay back for the chips." The other said quietly but shyly.

Eboni was stunned, but that feeling quickly went and was replaced by anger. "Why the fuck-"

"Tiffany let us in. She was almost in tears when we told her we're your friends." Blonde said with a grin.

"We aren't fucking friends. And you have five seconds to get off my bed!" Eboni shouts, clenching her fist.

The goth one yanks the Blonde off her bed and snatches the chips from her hands. She must've felt the rage rolling off of Eboni. "H-Here... we were j-just worried about you. You've been avoiding us at school a-and wouldn't answer our calls or texts so -"

"Why are you two forcing yourselves into my damn life? I didn't ask to be your friend. I don't want to be your friend. I only gave you my number so you bitches could leave me alone! I fucking forgot your names! That's how unimportant you shits are to me!" Eboni snaps at them, her nails digging into the palms of her hands.

The two girls glance at each other before looking at Eboni, both sharing a look of compassion in their eyes. They seem to understand how the teen must feel.

"Well, I'm Taylor. She's Iris." The blonde one said then points at the other.

"We....understand how you feel." Iris said gently.

"How the f-"

"We met more of them." Taylor said, the look in her eyes becoming serious. "Remember I said there's more of 'em."

Eboni raised a brow, feeling herself calm down. She moves to sit at her desk, opening her laptop, and begins typing away. "Yeah, I remember. Did a bit of research...."

"What kind? On who?" Iris asks, moving to stand over her to get a better view of Eboni's laptop.

"All of them. I created a file for each of them. Honestly, there are so many serial killers in one town. Who willingly moves into a shit hole like this....stupid bitch." She grumbles, referring to her previous foster mother- Melissa. "You two encountered one and survived? How?"

"Same way you did. Faught those fuckers." Taylor shrugs. "The one I had the misfortune of meetin' calls himself masky. He has a partner, though."

"He calls himself hoodie. They attacked us at my home during a sleepover over a few months ago..." Iris said softly.

"Mhm... yeah there's a few reports on them always killing in pairs of... three? Sometimes two? The third one would be -"

"Ticci Toby...Iris sister encountered him a year ago before masky and hoodie attacked us that night." Taylor explains, about to lay down in Eboni's bed again until the teen gives her a warning glare.

"This....shit is crazy...and they haven't tried coming after you? Like at all?"

Iris didn't answer. She looks at Taylor, hoping she'd come up with a response. "Nah. I shot masky so I doubt those fuckers wanna to get full of lead." She chuckles proudly.

Eboni knew they were lying. If those killers are anything like Jeff, she doubts they'll just forget about the victims that got away. The teen doesn't care, though. They have their secrets, and Eboni has her own. The teen focuses her attention back on her laptop, clicking on the file labeled 'Jeff'.

She sighs as she reads through his file for what feels like the hundredth time. Eboni couldn't get him out of her mind. The way his hands felt gripping her wrist and throat, the way his breath felt against her ear when he whispered to her, that crazed smile, and those red eyes.

The way his body felt pressed against hers. She's thankful to be wearing her mask since she's biting down on her lip at the thoughts of this serial killer. Eboni longs to see him again. She hates being the one waiting. She hates being the one desperate for him, but she knows she can't hide it from him. She wouldn't anymore. Jeff sees right through her.

It makes her feel vulnerable in the most terrifying yet delicious way. She has this odd feeling that he wouldn't try to end her life again. A game. He wants to play a game with her. With a heavy sigh, she closes her laptop, climbing into bed. Eboni hopes that she's trapped in the smiling killer's mind as he is in hers. The teen has no idea just how much her life will change from their unfortunate encounter.

[sparring-hyena]

the duality of one Poppy Min-Sinclair.

in which there is an abundance of duality in words and their meaning.

OR, my own imagining of post-chapter 6.

-

-

she says i hate you a lot. her therapist explains that it’s all secondary stuff—the rage and anger that simmers behind her eyes—that she’s only trying to protect herself.

“well, that’s bullshit,” Poppy had said the first time her therapist had tried explaining it to her.

her therapist had only hummed and scribbled something on her notepad.

in later sessions, when the i hate yous had been mentioned, Poppy had been met with more scribbled notes and a few questions that toed a very fine line.

and then—then—she lets a name slip.

“sometimes i think she does it on purpose,” Poppy says, itching to just get everything out of her head after the messy day she’s had.

“who?”

“AJ.”

“and who’s AJ?” a note is made. something is circled.

the question gets Poppy to stop, because in the entire time she’s been coming to Dr Limm, she hasn’t mentioned AJ. has made a very conscious effort to not mention her.

“Poppy?” Dr Limm studies Poppy, waits for her in a way that grants her too much patience. “you haven’t mentioned AJ before. is she someone significant?”

her brain laughs and mocks. shouts yes yes yes as she tries to form a no in her mouth.

“Poppy—”

“she’s irrelevant.”

another note is made. fuck.

“why do you feel she tries to deliberately sabotage you then?”

“i don’t,” is Poppy’s clipped response.

another note. another circle. double fuck.

“i’m sorry, i actually—” Poppy gets out of the chair and grabs her purse. her legs feel shaky. “i just remembered i need to leave early today. some compulsory sorority thing. you understand. i’ll see you next week.”

she stumbles out of Dr Limm’s office and claws at the scarf around her neck when she’s finally on the busy street. and before Poppy can think about it, she’s got her phone in her hand and sends a simple you free? text to AJ.

the response is almost immediate.

i can be at your place in twenty.

Poppy answers with a good and immediately hails a cab.

-

they don’t talk. they bite and moan and fuck, and Poppy can feel an i hate you zapping across her veins, sending delicious jolts out to her fingers and toes.

she comes down from her high, realises that AJ’s got her pressed up against the door, and that they never even made it to her bed.

AJ grins in a way that’s much too knowing and carries the heavy promise of a comment that Poppy will pretend to hate. so she kisses her again; swallows whatever words AJ had been about to breathe.

their hands begin to wander again, and Poppy makes quick work of pushing AJ back until they both tumble onto the bed.

-

she texts AJ every night that week.

-

“have you given any thought to what we started discussing last week?” it’s the first question out of Dr Limm’s mouth.

Poppy raises an eyebrow and cocks her head to one side, pretends she has no idea what Dr Limm is talking about, pretends she hasn’t spent the last week being consumed by AJ and the knowledge that come four o’clock on Friday afternoon, she’ll be sitting on a too-soft couch as she’s forced to confront everything she’s pushed into the deep crevices of her brain.

“about how you feel this AJ is deliberately sabotaging you?”

“no.”

“that’s okay. would you like to discuss it this week?”

“no.”

Dr Limm nods; makes a note and circles something. Poppy has no doubt that that little titbit is going to hit her out of nowhere like a freight train.

“that’s okay too. we can come back to it when you’re ready. what about, this week, we follow up on your parents?”

and that’s a whole separate mess that Poppy really doesn’t want to get into, but she’d rather talk about them and maybe make some progress with that, than talk about AJ. so she dumps all the recent developments with her parents onto Dr Limm, and if any of it shocks Dr Limm, she doesn’t let it show.

it’s in the final few minutes of their session that Dr Limm says, “seeking parental approval is a very normal thing that most of us don’t really give a second thought to. but just be careful that you don’t sacrifice your own hopes for life in the pursuit of that approval.”

“that’s not what i’m doing.”

“i didn’t say you were,” Dr Limm says, firm and understanding. “sometimes we just need to be reminded of it every now and then.”

-

Poppy skips the family dinner her parents are now doing every week—an attempt to piece everything back together. she sends a thinly veiled lie in the form of a text to her mother. the response takes a while, but when it does arrive, all it reads is okay. we’ll see you next week.

she goes, instead, to the library. an unusual choice, she knows. but it’s almost six o’clock on a Friday—the library will be the only quiet place on campus.

she wanders the stacks and then, by some strange bout of luck or fate or whatever-the-fuck, finds AJ sitting on the dusty floor with her head buried in her phone.

“what are you doing here, Hughes?”

“huh?” AJ’s head snaps up, her face shifts from confusion to shock to something that almost dares to be fond. “oh, hey.”

“why are you in the library on a Friday night?”

“why are you in the library on a Friday night?” AJ scoots to the side and pats the floor beside her. “figured you’d have a party or something better to do.”

“hardly.” Poppy shrugs and joins AJ on the floor. “in case you haven’t noticed, i’m not the most popular person right now.”

“you’re not wrong there.”

Poppy smacks AJ’s shoulder.

“hey now, you’re the one who said it. i was just agreeing with you. isn’t that a good thing?”

“god i hate you sometimes,” Poppy says, even as she settles against AJ’s side and drops her head on her shoulder.

“i hate you too.” AJ absently plays with Poppy’s fingers. “whatcha been up to today?”

“therapy,” Poppy says in what she decides must be a moment of weakness, because there’s no other way to explain why she admits that.

“i didn’t know you went to therapy.”

Poppy shrugs, tries to play it off and force the moment of vulnerability away. “it was my parents’ idea after everything that happened last year.”

“is it helping?”

Poppy scoffs. “no.”

“then why go if you don’t think it’s helping?”

Poppy doesn’t know how to answer. because, she thinks and maybe feels in some small cluster of cells, that she wants it to help. wants so badly to understand and heal and do better. but she doubts that’s a very good reason, so she shrugs and says, “parents, remember.”

“right.”

a moment of silences passes between them, a beat where nothing happens, and Poppy silently enjoys the way AJ’s tracing lazy patterns on her palm.

“what now?” AJ asks.

“wanna fuck?”

AJ laughs and leans in to kiss Poppy.

-

Poppy continues to unpack the mess with her parents in therapy in the weeks that follow, and is quietly disappointed when Dr Limm doesn’t once ask about AJ.

-

“i saw AJ slip out early this morning,” Veronica says as she pokes through the fridge.

Poppy looks up from her phone, places it facedown on the countertop, and feels her heart pound against her chest—ba dum, ba dum. “oh?”

Veronica hums and spares a glance over her shoulder at Poppy who’s suddenly more alert. she smiles and plucks a fruity drink from the fridge. “since when were you two fucking?”

Poppy schools her expression and it takes a lot to not choke on the air. from the smirk Veronica sends her, Poppy knows she knows it too.

“well?” Veronica has a sip of her drink.

“we aren’t. i hate her.”

“oh?”

“she was just helping me with... a thing.”

“you hate her.”

Poppy shrugs.

“a thing, at six o’clock in the morning?”

“yes.”

Poppy’s phone buzzes on the counter. they both look at it and then at each other like they both know who it is.

“well, the next time AJ helps you with a thing that early in the morning, don’t make her climb through the window when she’s coming and going.” Veronica smirks. “it’s not very subtle.”

when Veronica leaves, Poppy flips her phone over and finds a text from AJ.

you going to the party tonight?

she rolls her eyes but smiles nevertheless and types out a yes.

AJ responds with a winking face emoji and Poppy heart reacts to it.

-

Poppy comes down from her high with her skirt rucked up around her waist and AJ’s fingers inside her. she takes a moment to catch her breath, and once she does, she smacks AJ’s shoulder.

“ow! what the fuck?”

“i hate you.”

“oh, that’s rich—”

“Veronica saw you leaving this morning.”

“oh.” AJ pulls away from Poppy in what little space the tight bathroom affords them. “sorry.” she looks sheepish and genuinely apologetic, and Poppy can’t tell if she appreciates or hates that.

fuck.

Poppy slips off the sink and away from AJ, and for the first time in the whole time they’ve been doing this, it’s awkward between them. the air around them is thick, oppressive, and Poppy wants—wants so badly—to cut right through it with something because she hates this stale stiffness.

they fix their clothes and hair silently, and just before Poppy leaves, AJ speaks.

“hey, um, i am sorry. about this morning, i mean. i was just...”

“i know.”

AJ smiles softly. “i’ll be more careful.”

the next time goes unsaid but the quiet smile they offer each other says just as much.

“thank you.”

-

“why haven’t you asked me about her?” she doesn’t mean to ask it as soon as she sits down in front of Dr Limm. doesn’t mean to show so much vulnerability and openness with the utterance of seven little words.

“who?” Dr Limm asks, calm and patient.

Poppy hates that she has to say it out loud. can’t she just know?

“AJ.”

“ah.” Dr Limm takes her glasses off and folds them neatly on her notepad. “are you ready to talk about her?”

“no, i just— why haven’t you asked me about her?”

“you weren’t ready, you just said so.”

“right, but...” she stops, plays with the ring on her right forefinger, and watches a bird fly past the window. “i hate her,” she says and then she doesn’t stop. everything that’s been quietly building for months comes tumbling out—all the pain and hate and painful wanting longing. it sits between them, and then, as if to prove something to Dr Limm or herself or the fucking universe, Poppy says, “i hate her. so much.”

Dr Limm makes a note and circles something. “remember what i said about hate and anger being secondary emotions?”

Poppy hums.

“so all that frustration you have for AJ, do you think that’s what you show to the world because you’re trying to protect what you actually feel for her?”

Poppy folds her arms over her chest and sits up straight in the too-soft couch. “and what do i actually feel for her?”

“that’s something you need to figure out for yourself. i’m just here to help getting to that point a little easier.” Dr Limm checks her watch. “we are out of time for today, but before next week, i want you to do some homework.”

“homework?”

“next time you think you hate AJ, instead of saying it, stop and think about why you think you hate her.”

“why?”

Dr Limm offers her this odd smile that almost comes across as sad, like she wishes Poppy didn’t have to ask why? “because from everything you’ve told me, i don’t think you hate her, and careful thought might help you realise that.”

“that’s ridiculous.”

“then what’s the harm in giving it a go?”

-

she does give it a go the next time AJ sneaks up to her room for a midnight rendezvous.

they throw their sharp words and kiss and fuck and pretend that it’s hate driving them together. and then they lay together, staring up at the ceiling and quietly enjoying each other’s company. it’s all very strange and Poppy— she wants to understand why she doesn’t hate this time spent with AJ. why she probably, maybe, actually, doesn’t hate AJ at all.

fuck.

“what are you thinking?” AJ asks into the quiet bubble they’ve made.

“do you want to come to dinner with my parents next week?” Poppy doesn’t look at AJ as she asks the question—makes a point not to—but she does feel her move beside her. she doesn’t have to look to know that AJ’s looking at her.

when AJ doesn’t answer, Poppy turns to look at her.

“why?” AJ asks.

“why what?”

“why do you want me to come to dinner with your parents?”

“because...” and she doesn’t know what to say. she thinks i hate you mostly because it’s a reflex at this point, but she holds off on saying it and uses all those things Dr Limm has taught her to figure out what the i hate yous really mean.

“because...?” AJ’s searching for the rest of her answer and looking at her like she knows exactly what it is, like she’s always known what it is. and Poppy’s almost certain she hates that.

“you know what? fuck you.” she gets out of bed and pulls a shirt over her head and realises too late that it’s AJ shirt. she huffs and pulls it off and searches the floor for something that’s not AJ’s.

argh! why are her clothes in my room?

“wait, wait— what?” AJ clambers out of bed and pulls her shirt on when Poppy throws it in her general direction. “thirty seconds ago you asked me to come to dinner with your parents.”

“that’s because— because—” i like you and i love you and i want you and i need you, she thinks and burns to say. she yanks AJ in for a kiss then, hard and desperate and she hopes it speaks the words she just can’t say.

she feels AJ’s hand flail in the air, no doubt trying to understand the last forty-five seconds. but eventually, finally, AJ’s hands settle on Poppy’s waist, and the kiss slows down.

“come to dinner with my parents next week?” Poppy asks again, her mind finally calm and collected and ready.

“why?”

“because it’s about time i introduce you to my parents as my girlfriend.”

“girlfriend, huh?”

“well i’m not introducing you as my fuck buddy.”

“i said that one time!”

Poppy shrugs, amused and suddenly confident in what she feels. “so dinner?”

AJ furrows her brow and purses and lips, like she’s considering something. “i dunno, i’ll have to check if i’m free—”

Poppy smacks her arm, light and teasing.

“ow!”

“just say yes.”

AJ smiles, something soft and sweet that says a lot more than words ever could. “of course i’ll go to dinner with you and your parents.”

“good.” she pulls AJ in for another kiss and feels an i love you thrumming along her veins.

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Fifteen

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: NSFW!!😈😈 please disregard colorado window tinting laws for this chapter

***

Cassian has yet to regret getting Nesta that personalized record, despite the fact that she plays it everyday on repeat with a near obsession. Is this what true love is? Letting your girlfriend blast the same songs through your home again and again, and never tiring of it? Never tiring of her?

He doesn’t get to ponder on it, because while Nesta spends the week lazing pantsless around the house (“I’m getting ready for the party,” she states while he rubs her feet. “Spiritually and all that.”), Cassian has to figure out how to turn the cabin into an inviting space for forty wealthy guests.

All of Nesta’s shit gets shoved in the back of his bedroom closet. Personal items and framed pictures of the two of them are swiped off any surfaces. Lights go up around the house. Catering is secured.

By the time it’s all finished, the cabin has been stripped of all warmth and familiarity and turned into something chic and upscale, suitable for a small gala. Nesta stares around at the space when it’s done, her face revealing nothing.

Cassian points to the small sitting area on the second floor, directly above the open living room, that leads outside to the wraparound balcony. “We’ll be able to see fireworks from there,” he says. He turns to see Nesta’s face is still carefully blank, the way it is when she’s thinking too many things at once. “You sure you want to do this?” he asks. “It’s not too late to cancel the whole thing.”

She looks at him in horror. “It most certainly is. The party’s tomorrow.”

“Still not too late.” Cassian might not have that much power in the overall Night Court hierarchy, but for Nesta he could figure it out.

She smiles wanly but shakes her head. “We’re doing this, and we’re not letting it go to hell like last time.”

***

Nesta knows her sisters are aware that she’s on the guest list for the party (though she can’t imagine what Cassian’s explanation for that one was), but she still stiffens when she enters the cabin through the open door. Her eyes fall on various men and women that she’s never seen in her life, all glammed up and dripping self-importance, until recognizing Feyre and her boyfriend laughing with an older couple in a corner. The only thing that brings Nesta a little peace is that the snide woman, Amren, isn’t here tonight, having chosen to spend New Year’s with her boyfriend in California instead.

Nesta eases up when nobody takes notice of her, though a few nearby guests throw appreciative glances in her direction. She looks like a disco ball in her sequined wrap dress, and a freezing one at that. She shuts the door behind her, sealing the winter air out, but quickly pulls her hand away from the knob. It feels like the door isn’t hers to touch. She realizes that even though the cabin is her home, no one here except Cassian knows that.

Speaking of Cassian, she needs to find him. Nesta is not such an advanced creature that she knows how to survive in a room full of strangers on her own, and she no longer cares if anyone finds her clinging to Cassian weird.

She makes it three feet before she’s accosted by Morrigan, carrying her usual champagne glass like it’s an extension of her.

“Nesta!” she exclaims, loud and bright as ever. She smiles broadly, with too many teeth. “You’re here.”

Nesta blinks in response. She doesn’t understand how Morrigan benefits from this exaggerated excitement. Is it supposed to be insulting or polite?

“By the way,” Morrigan adds when Nesta doesn’t reply, “what exactly are you doing here?”

A heavy arm slides around Nesta’s shoulders, pulling her close. “I invited her,” says Cassian with a smile. “Because she’s my friend, and this place is practically hers.”

“Oh, I think that’s an exaggeration,” Nesta says sharply, trying to step away from Cassian.

He holds her closer. “No it’s not. We were roomies for over two months, remember?”

Morrigan winces, looking between the two of them. “Right,” she says slowly. “I keep forgetting that. Cassian is like this with everybody,” she says apologetically to Nesta. “Don’t take him too seriously.”

Nesta nods solemnly, wanting this conversation to be over. “I won’t.”

Her exit is made clear when the doorbell rings. “I’ll get it,” she says quickly, escaping from under Cassian’s arm.

Hurrying to the door, she swings it open.

Eris Vanserra stands looking irritated on the other side. He freezes when he sees Nesta, and then his face lifts into a smug grin. “Oh, this is too good.”

“So Cassian Madani was your sugar daddy all along?” Eris asks her later.

“Say sugar daddy one more time. I dare you.” Nesta stands near the stairs with her arms crossed, trying to pretend she isn’t associated with Eris. Which is more than a bit difficult when he keeps badgering her with questions, and Cassian is giving the two of them odd looks from across the room.

“I mean, what are the odds?” he laughs.

“My sister is dating his CEO brother.”

Eris throws her a look of surprise, but Nesta says, “How do you even know him?”

Eris sticks an hors d'oeuvre from a nearby platter in his mouth. “He manages security and logistics at every event Night Court is involved in. Can be a real pain in the ass to work with when I’m trying to get shit done for my dad’s company.”

“You’re a pain in the ass,” she retorts.

They’re interrupted by Feyre and Rhys appearing before them, Feyre with her hostess smile and Rhysand with an inquisitive look on his face. Nesta can’t tell which one of them is more attached to the hip of the other.

“Eris,” Rhysand greets smoothly.

“I see you’re already acquainted with my sister,” Feyre says. Her tone is tense, either because she’s still pissed at Nesta or—even worse—she feels protective of her.

“We’re classmates,” Nesta says tightly. “Does it matter?”

Feyre tries not to look hurt. “No—I just didn’t know.”

“Well, now you do.”

“Ladies,” a new voice says warningly. Cassian’s left whatever droll conversation he was stuck in and made his way over to them.

“Is the entire party congregating here?” Eris looks around himself.

“No, we are not,” Cassian says, all his usual friendliness gone around Eris. “I just came to ask Feyre to talk to the representatives from Spellbreaker before they pull all their money out of our latest operation.”

Feyre’s eyes go wide and her tattooed hand goes to her chest. “That’s not really my job—”

“Oh, come on, darling.” Rhysand slides a hand around her waist. “I’ll go with you; the art of negotiating is easier than it looks.”

Nesta nearly pukes in her mouth, but she maintains a careful blank face until Feyre and Rhysand are successfully out of sight. Cassian turns to Eris with a stony look. “You’re still here?”

Nesta sighs internally; this man has never hidden his feelings in his life.

Eris shares an amused glance with Nesta as if he’s thinking the same thing. “Is there anywhere else I should be right now?” he replies.

“Maybe in hell.”

Nesta claps a hand on Cassian’s shoulder and fakes a smile at Eris. “Tell your brother hi for me,” she says while pulling Cassian away. “I miss talking to a sensible redhead.”

“That’s because you have awful taste,” Eris calls after her. Nesta drags Cassian deep into the hallway, where no one lingers.

She releases him without flourish. “Are you doing okay? Because it seems like you’re having a harder time with this than I am.”

“I’m fine,” Cassian defends. “I was just hit with a terrible memory back there.”

“Like what?”

“That you’re friends with Eris.”

Nesta rolls her eyes. Friends is a very liberal term, but she won’t correct Cassian while he’s acting like this. “Thank you for helping with Feyre and Mor,” she says instead. “I didn’t need it, but I still appreciate it.” It’s a hard thing to admit, but she wants him to hear it.

“I was just trying to get you alone,” he says, leaning against the bathroom door. “I’ve been trying to get you alone all night.”

Nesta looks him up and down, from his white dress shirt and tied back hair to his uncharacteristically polished shoes. “For what?” she says warily. “If this is about a sex thing, don’t bother. There’s nowhere in this house for us to go without raising suspicion.”

Cassian pushes off the door with a dark look. “I wasn’t going to suggest staying in the house.” He holds a bronzed hand out toward her. “Wanna get out of here?”

***

Cassian doesn’t remember how he ever managed to fit all six-four of himself into the cramped backseat of his truck when he was fucking girls in college, but for Nesta he figures it out somehow.

Her pretty little dress is shoved down to her midriff, baring her arms and flushed breasts, and her skirt is bunched up high enough that Cassian can watch as he moves his fingers inside her. The glow of lights from the cabin lands on her perfect face as she throws her head back in pleasure, and he can only watch her in awe.

He laughs lowly when she whimpers and eases a third finger into her wet heat, in no rush to return to the party anytime soon. Let them all wonder where he and Nesta wandered off to.

But Nesta has far less patience than him; she pulls him in for a frenzied kiss and uses the distraction to slide her hand into his boxer briefs, palming his cock. He groans into her mouth as she pulls out the length of him from his unzipped pants, and it’s at that very moment that two voices interrupt their panting.

“Thanks,” a muffled female voice says from outside the truck. Cassian looks up through the dark tinted windows to find—Jesus Christ—Mor accepting a cigarette from Rhys. The two of them stand some feet away from the truck, unaware that anyone is occupying it.

“Some way to end the year,” Rhys is saying, watching the clear night sky. Nesta’s gone completely still beneath Cassian, not needing to get up and look to know who stands in the driveway. “Would have been even better without Nesta terrorizing Feyre at every turn.”

Sickness turns Cassian’s stomach at hearing such ugly words about Nesta come from his brother, but that sickness is quickly replaced by rage as Mor huffs a laugh. “She’s not that bad,” Mor says, taking a pull from her cigarette. “Though I could do without the attitude at every damn gathering.”

Rhys clicks his tongue. “She’s always been like that, even when the sisters were kids. It kills Feyre.”

Cassian glances down at Nesta, terrified of what he’s going to find on her face. But Nesta doesn’t look hurt or enraged like he expects. Instead, she’s listening closely with her brows furrowed, studiously intrigued.

Noticing Cassian’s attention on her, she meets his eyes and her breath hitches. A blush takes over her cheeks, and she clenches involuntarily around the fingers still deep inside her. Cassian realizes that his fury is written all over his face. And she likes it.

His anger at his friends flickers—or rather, transforms. Slowly, he pulls his fingers out of Nesta. He sits up a bit straighter and kneels properly on the backseat, earning a curious look from her. Hunching so his head doesn’t hit the truck ceiling, he wraps his hands around her thighs and maneuvers her legs up, up until they’re hooked over his shoulders. She nearly chokes at the new position.

He adjusts them so his cock is pressed right up against her sex, and looks out the window again, where Rhys and Mor are still talking. It’s all idle gossip, he knows, but... “What do you think, baby?” He slides his length over her slick folds. “Should I go out there and defend your honor?”

“Absolutely not,” Nesta gasps, shaking her head.

“And it’s like when she’s not quiet as a brick, she’s being rude,” Mor rants outside, flicking her cigarette. “I know Cass is friendly with everybody, but I have no idea what he was thinking inviting her here.”

“Oh, she’s not so quiet when I have my head between her legs,” Cassian murmurs at Mor. He glances down at Nesta with a knowing smirk. “She’s not so rude when I give her the right incentive, either.” He pats her bottom lip with his thumb, the bright red lipstick smearing. “Isn’t that right, Nes?”

“Bastard.” Nesta squirms, trying to line up her entrance with the head of Cassian’s cock. She’s not even listening to the conversation outside anymore.

“I think he likes her,” Rhys says, his breath clouding in the freezing night air. If only he knew. “We don’t always use reason when it comes to people we like.”

“Maybe,” Mor ponders. “But I can’t imagine it going anywhere. They’re too different.”

“I disagree,” Cassian mutters. He finally gives in to Nesta’s efforts and pushes inside her, sliding to the hilt in one thrust. She claps a hand over her mouth to stifle her moan.

“There are plenty of things we have in common, don’t you think, Nesta?” He sets a steady rhythm with his hips, pumping in and out of her. “Like how well we fit together.” Her head bumps the car door with every thrust.

“You—you’re gonna rock the truck,” Nesta tries to whisper. Cassian hides his smile in the crook of her knee at the rare use of informal contraction. She’s adorable.

“We wouldn’t want that to happen,” he teases, leaning forward to take a pert nipple into his mouth. A whimper slips past her lips; she’s nearly bent in half beneath him. With this new, deeper angle, Cassian moves slow enough that Nesta feels every solid inch of him.

His loose hair falls around his face as he drops his head to the center of Nesta’s chest. It takes every bit of restraint he knows not to suckle at the space between her breasts, not to leave reddened marks there that everyone will be able to see when they go back inside. But damn if this position isn’t driving him crazy.

Mor, Rhys, everything beyond the haven of the truck falls away. He doesn’t know if anybody is still outside, or if people have noticed his and Nesta’s absence from the party. He doesn’t care, not as he swears and thrusts particularly deep into her tight warmth.

Even her hand can’t contain the sound she makes at that.

Cassian moves one of his own hands to the crown of Nesta’s head, creating a barrier between her and the car door. With his other arm, he locks her thighs into place against his chest, and begins slamming relentlessly into her.

“CassianCassianCassian—”

He silences her with a searing kiss, and flicks her clit with a calloused thumb. Nesta scrabbles at his arms, at the seat upholstery, as her orgasm crashes into her. Her walls milk his cock almost painfully, and with a few more thrusts he’s coming, too.

As he rides out his climax, he intertwines their fingers together and presses them to the freezing window. Outside, there is no one to see the handprint they leave on the fogged up glass.

***

Nesta needs a moment to catch her breath while Cassian zips himself up. Leaning against the hard truck door, she achingly fits one arm back into the sleeve of her dress, then the other. “I think I have a bruise from where that seatbelt buckle stabbed me in the ribs,” she mutters.

“Where?” Cassian looks her over, but she waves him away and reaches over to dig in the back pocket of the driver’s seat, finding a packet of makeup wipes she left there some weeks ago. She plucks out a wipe for herself and tosses the rest of the packet at Cassian’s chest, which is covered in her lipstick marks.

He accepts the wipes with a “thanks” and begins rubbing at his reddened mouth and neck. Nesta watches him instead of wiping at her own lipstick, taking in whatever the light of the moon highlights: his unbuttoned shirt, his loose hair that fell forward into her face while they fucked, his skin peppered with her marks.

He notices her stare. “What?” he says, smiling.

“Have you ever done that before?” She nods outside to where Mor and Rhys were standing ten minutes ago. It wasn’t exhibitionism since nobody had seen them, but it still felt... dirty.

Cassian snorts, starting to button up his shirt. “I’ve done far worse.” He meets her eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever gotten off to the sound of other people shit-talking my girl, though, so that’s new.”

Nesta blushes, and pretends to look around for her shoes to hide the reaction. She’s always known her bedroom experience was pathetically limited, but she’s just now starting to realize how much of that was Tomas’s fault. Not only was he boring when it came to sex, but he left her too hurt and untrusting to try anything with other men until Cassian came along.

Cassian nudges Nesta’s knee, and she finds him already holding her heels. Instead of letting her take them, he takes her feet and starts putting them on for her. “Clean yourself up,” he directs as he buckles a silver strap into place. “It’s almost an hour to midnight.”

Right. Cassian tosses her her panties, and she uses them to clean up the mess between her thighs before discarding them on the floor. “Don’t—” he tries to protest, but sighs and gives up. “You’re filthy.”

“You love it.” She picks up her forgotten makeup wipe to scrub at her smeared makeup. “Do I look okay?” She turns her face to him after a moment so he can check.

“You missed a spot.” He takes the wipe and rubs at her chin. “There,” he says softly, gazing more intimately at her than usual. “Beautiful.”

She most certainly doesn’t look beautiful right now, with the mess that’s been made of her face and hair. But he seems to believe it all the same.

I love you. The thought comes to her suddenly, unexpectedly.

“What?” Shock turns Cassian’s face.

Nesta blinks, realizing the words weren’t only in her head. “What?”

“You said—”

“I said ‘Let’s get out of here’,” she says quickly, swinging her legs down from the seat and reaching for the door handle. “Let’s go!”

She shoves out of the truck without waiting for Cassian and foots it for the cabin, breathing harshly like she just fell from a great height.

***

Nesta goes straight to the master bedroom to redo her makeup and pick up a new pair of underwear. She knows it’s cowardly to leave Cassian downstairs, stuck chatting with wealthy donors and unable to follow her, but she won’t let him confront her about the confession that spilled back in the truck. Not yet.

When she finally finds the courage to stick her head out of the room, she nearly jumps at the sight of Azriel leaning against the hallway wall.

“What are you doing in my brother’s room?” he says, as if he was waiting for her to come out.

The best lies are half-truths. “Avoiding people,” she answers vaguely, exiting the room fully and shutting the door behind her. She clears her throat. “What are you doing here?”

“Snooping.” He pushes off the wall and slides his hands into his pockets. “It’s interesting; I don’t think I’ve seen you all night, and now I find you in Cassian’s bedroom of all places.”

What is this, an interrogation? “I’m good at blending in,” Nesta says. “Few people ever notice me.”

“And I’m good at observing,” Azriel retorts, dark amusement gleaming in his gaze. “Where did you run off to earlier?”

Nesta looks him up and down, too bored to bother answering him. “I’m going to go now.” She shoves past his shoulder and walks away, leaving him too stunned to follow.

She comes across Elain near the top of the stairs.

“Nesta,” her sister says in surprise. Her brown eyes flicker past Nesta’s shoulder, to where Azriel still lurks in the hallway. She looks back to Nesta. “I wasn’t sure if you actually came tonight. I haven’t seen you at all.”

“Yeah, I’ve been hanging around.” Nesta waves a dismissive hand. It’s like Christmas Eve never happened between them. That’s the wonderful and terrible thing about sisters, Nesta supposes: there are no apologies, only moving on and moving past.

“Well, you look like you’re doing good.” Elain seems distracted. “I wish we could talk more, but I don’t have time for a fight tonight.”

“That won’t be a problem,” Azriel says, who’s snuck up behind Nesta. “If it’s me you’re worried about, I was just about to leave.” He’s addressing Elain, but won’t quite look her in the eyes. He turns to Nesta instead. “Happy New Year.” And then he’s gone down the stairs.

Elain stands there looking torn, wondering if she should go after him or not, but then Nesta says, “Why do you assume I would start a fight?”

“I—”

“Because if I remember correctly, our last fight was started by you.” She crosses her arms.

Elain sighs. “I just said I don’t have time for this.”

“I’m asking a question in response to a comment you made unprovoked.” When Nesta is calm, she can talk circles around Elain all night.

Elain throws her hands up. “It was just a stupid comment! I said it because we argue all the time. I can’t remember the last time we talked without arguing.”

“September twenty-eighth,” Nesta snaps.

Elain’s mouth drops open. “Are you serious?”

“Yes. You got the loan for your flower shop approved and you called me to celebrate. I was happy for you.”

Elain shakes her head, but Nesta can’t read what she’s feeling. “You remember the most inconsequential things.”

It doesn’t sound like an insult, so Nesta shrugs. “Don’t bother me and I won’t bother you.” She turns to go on her way. Of course, Elain doesn’t stop her. She’s never been one to get in the last word.

***

It’s ten minutes to midnight and Cassian still hasn’t been able to get a hold of Nesta since she ran from the truck. He doesn’t know why she’s running from such a simple truth, but he doesn’t plan on giving her much more time to hide. He has so much he needs to say to her—

A hand comes down on his shoulder as he’s about to slip away upstairs to find Nesta. Cassian turns to find Rhysand there, wearing the serious face he only uses for work-related business. “I need to talk to you about something.”

Cassian is not in the mood. He already had to repress the urge to find Mor and Rhys and tear into them when he returned to the party, and now he’s not sure if he can manage a conversation with his brother without snapping. Without spilling everything he’s worked so hard to hide.

“Not now,” Cassian says, trying to act chill. “It’s almost midnight and I’m trying to catch the...” He trails off as his eyes catch on Nesta, who’s appeared at the second floor sitting area with Eris.

“...fireworks,” he finishes. He turns to Rhys. “Let’s go upstairs to watch.” Half the guests, including the rest of his friends, are probably already outside for the countdown.

He keeps his eyes on Nesta as he climbs the stairs. Watching as she takes notice of him and quickly turns away, smiling at Eris instead. She lets the dickhead place his hand on her back to guide her out to the balcony.

Rage and disbelief take Cassian by the throat. Hiding in another man’s arms to avoid him? Coward fucking move, Archeron.

She steps outside with Eris, and before Cassian can follow he’s stopped once again by Rhys grabbing his arm. “Cass, will you slow down and listen to me for a minute?”

“What is it?” he snaps impatiently. They’re stopped at the top of the stairs, and other guests flow past them as they head for the balcony doors.

Rhys inhales, getting visibly irritated. He says, “I got a call from one of our overseas partners the other day—”

“Rhys!” Feyre calls from the balcony doors, waving her arms at him. “Get your ass over here, it’s almost midnight!”

Rhys turns to his girlfriend, his face lightening. “Be right there, darling.” He gives Cassian a sharp look. “We’ll finish this later.”

Cassian only nods and whirls on his heel, nearly shoving people out of his way to get outside. To get to Nesta.

Up on the wraparound balcony and down below on the frosty ground, guests are lined up with their partners, wrapped up in coats and eagerly awaiting midnight. He barely feels the cold, but he knows Nesta must. He should have grabbed a coat for her.

“Thirty seconds to midnight!” someone announces, answered by loud cheers.

Spotting shining red hair, Cassian grabs Eris by the suit jacket and whirls him around. “Where’s Nesta?” he demands over the loud chatter.

Eris makes a face like he’s been manhandled by a filthy dog. “Clearly not with me,” he retorts, shoving Cassian’s hand off him. “She got all pissy and went that way.” He gestures at a faraway section of balcony where most of the guests are crowding, hoping for an optimal view of the fireworks.

“TEN!” Someone starts the countdown. Others quickly catch on.

“NINE!” Cassian heads in the direction Eris pointed, searching through the sea of glitter and gold for a glimpse of Nesta.

“EIGHT!” He hears his friends calling after him distantly, asking where he’s going.

“SEVEN!” He catches sight of Nesta.

“SIX!” He doesn’t know what he’s thinking as he navigates through the crowd, reaching for her. But he knows she’s shining brighter than the moon right now. He knows he’s been fooling himself since the moment she stepped into his cabin this past September.

“FIVE!”

He closes in on her, her back turned to him.

“FOUR!”

Let’s not go out of our way to hide this anymore, they agreed after Christmas Eve. Let���s just be ourselves around our friends and family, and they’ll find out when they find out.

“THREE!”

In Cassian’s defense, he’s simply being himself in this moment.

“TWO!”

He takes Nesta by the elbow and spins her around. She meets his eyes in surprise. “Cassian. I was looking for you—”

“ONE!”

He pulls her into his arms and kisses her.

***

a/n: punk 57 was a shit book but i gotta give it credit for the truck scene

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[justreadingfics]

It’s a Deal (Chapter 10)

Chapter Summary: What a day.  

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 7.1k

Warnings: mild angst, fluff, confrontation, mention to past relationships that might’ve been a bit toxic, crying, laughing.

A/N: I know, I’m not a fast updater! Thank you all for the patience, and I hope you guys like this chapter. I feel like a should warn you about the level of angst that might be below your expectations, this is me trying to write a romantic comedy, guys, bear with me, lol! Thank you to my sweet Les for always having my back. The link to my masterlist, where you can find the other chapters, is on my description. Feedback is highly appreciated.

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 “Will you marry me?”

Those words replay in your head while your limbs go slack. Eddie kneels before you, diamond ring in hands and an expectant look on his face.  You just stare at him, unsure of what to say or even what to feel among the huddle of sensations inside you… until one of them suppresses the others and your parted lips shut right before your jaw clenches. Anger.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Eddie?”

Completely taken aback by your snap, the man before you flinches and his shoulders drop while the little box shuts when his hand does.

“I-I…” he tries.

“No,” you cut him off, “Seriously,” you swiftly get up from the sofa, and he follows, “You broke up with me after one year or so without properly touching me or even talking to me,” you scoff, shaking your head, “And now you come here and fucking propose after months apart? Fucking propose, Eddie?” You repeat yourself, narrowing your eyes at him, “What the hell are you even thinking? That I would swoon and run to your arms just like that?” You snap your fingers, “That I was here just waiting for this moment?”

The man seems completely startled and lost in front of you, but in your outrage, you don’t find in you to care one bit, “I know I messed up,” he finally speaks, “I know it’s all my fault, I was lost, but this?” he lifts the little box, “This is it, I’m not lost anymore.”

You sigh, running your hand over your face, you put on a calmer voice as the anger guiding your actions and words so far starts subduing, “Listen, I was crushed when you broke up with me, I should’ve seen it coming, maybe I should’ve tried harder when I noticed the distance between us-”

“That’s not true, baby -”

“Eddie,” you raise a hand to interrupt him, “Let’s try to be honest to each other here for once. If there’s something I’ve learned is that we can never do wrong by being honest.”

There’s a crease between his eyebrows as he takes in your words until he breathes in and nods.

“We weren’t ok by the end of our relationship, this time apart made me see that much clearly now. I may have turned a blind eye to it all, but that’s the truth. We weren’t communicating, we were just going with the flow, and that’s on us. Both of us.” Your lips tighten and he keeps his attention on you, “But now…Maybe you didn’t notice or maybe you’re the one turning a blind eye for it now, but don’t you see the timing for this proposal is, in the least, a little off?”

“What? Why?” He tilts his face while the crease on his forehead deepens.

You let out a breath and walk to the sofa. He follows you and you both sit down again. A true and honest conversation with Eddie has been long overdue and you don’t think it’s time to keep postponing it, “We are broken up for months and you’re proposing to me not even two whole days after seeing me close to someone else… after trying to hook up with a woman you’d been flirting and not being able to go through…”

The bone on his throat bobs as he gulps and looks down to his lap.

“You may say this was enough to make you see you were wrong about the breakup and for distancing yourself, but this can’t be enough for a decision like that.” You nod towards the little box in his hand, “Those four months maybe haven’t been what you expected to be for you…And to be honest, they weren’t exactly what I expected to be for me, either,” you falter, but keep your head straight.

His head snaps back towards you and he just observes you for a brief moment, like he’s reading you anew, “What do you mean?” he asks quietly. 

You’re not sure what you should answer to that when not even you have a clear understanding of what this time apart really meant for you. Your lips tighten before you speak, “You keep saying I’ve changed, maybe I did, I don’t know.” You shrug. “All I know is that I can’t accept your proposal. For the sake of us, Eddie. We can’t right the wrongs of our relationship just jumping to that,” you add, hoping that he would understand you.

His head drops and he takes in a shuddering breath, making your heart heavy. Your hands turn into nervous fists on your lap. He is important to you, there’s no way to deny that. Weeks ago it’s possible you wouldn’t even think twice or even consider the problems in your relationship before accepting the proposal with all your heart. But now, like you said, something has changed, something that made you realize all the problems in the path you two drove your relationship to.

Not to say that, in the deepest of your mind, there’s a chanting of another man’s name, a quiet but persistent echo. Still, you keep it aside for later deliberation. Now you focus on Eddie, the man you planned to spend a life with and who is before you, offering you to do just that and hearing a rejection from you.

His eyes close before he looks back at you, “Ok,” he nods, “I’m not saying I agree with all of that, but I accept your decision,” he sighs and you give him a small smile, “This is yours, though.” He takes your hands and puts the little box in it, shutting it so you can hold it.

Your mouth falls open while your eyes rounds, “Eddie, no, I can’t-”

“Please,” he urges, dragging himself closer to you, “This is yours. It doesn’t change by the fact you said no. Regardless if we stay together or not, I want you to have it, please,” he pleads, keeping his hand around yours, squeezing the little box tight in your hold.  

The abandonment etched on his face is what makes you swallow dry and give him a small nod while your chest heavies, “Ok,” you whisper, “But- but it doesn’t change anything, Eddie,” you make sure to add. 

He smiles a breathy smile and withdraws his hand from yours, letting you keep the box while you pull your hand, “I know, it’s ok… Can I ask you one more thing, though?”

“Alright,” you agree.

“You said you don’t wanna jump to marriage, that it can’t right the wrongs of our relationship. But…is there a chance for us at something in the middle? I mean, is there a chance for us to work things out?”

Your eyebrows dart high on your forehead. The question causes a cold pinch in your stomach. You think about all the time you spent together, all the hopes and dreams, the struggles, the good and the bad… Right now, if you dig into yourself and your feelings, he may not feel like the obvious choice for you, but there was a time, not so long ago, that he was and it felt right. You have to respect that, don’t you?

“Listen Eddie,” you speak softly, after clearing your throat, “Maybe we can start by seeing each other more frequently?” Your forehead scrunches after you present your offer, not sure how he’s going to take that. “We can keep talking, not holding back on things we have to say to each other, being honest… We can try to be friends for now, or something like that? And then we see how it all goes?”

“Friends?” Eddie snickers, “We were never friends.” He lets out a skeptical snort.

You shrug, “We can try… I don’t know… All I know is I’m not ready for more now and I need some time to put my thoughts together, and I think you need that, too.”

After just looking at you for a second, he puts on a small smile and covers your hand with his, “Alright. All the time you need. But now, just… let me…”

You watch when he leans over and moves his lips close to yours. After placing a hand on the nape of your neck, he waits for a reaction of some sort, but when you offer none and just stares at him, he kisses you.

Your eyes shut after a few seconds. It feels weird and familiar at the same time if that even makes sense. There’s a longing behind the gesture, a longing that makes your heart beat a bit faster… An urge grows in you, a tingle, a crucial need to...

Pulling away, you quickly turn your face to the other side before covering your mouth with you forearm and setting free the sneeze that was bubbling inside you.  

You sniff and, with a frown, turn to a comically taken aback Eddie, “Alright, if we’re going to be around and honest with each other from now on, I’m sorry but you’ll have to get rid of that damn perfume.”

“Really? But you loved that perfume.”

Your lips form a thin line and you raise an eyebrow.

Realization dawns on his face, “Oh…I guess you didn’t.”

~~~

After promising you the perfume wouldn’t be a problem anymore, Eddie leaves with the compromise of calling you for a coffee soon. You realize you two never really talked about the condo and you wonder if that has anything to do with him being sure you two would end up together again.

If that’s the case, you’re definitely not as sure as he is. And it’s an odd feeling, not being sure about Eddie anymore. Even when things were bad, you were always sure about him.

Finding yourself alone again, you drop your body on your couch. You’re damn exhausted. Tilting your head to the side, your gaze meets the little box over the center table. You reach for it and open the lid. Without the adrenaline from before, you take your time to observe it.

You take in the thin straight white gold band that leads to the halo which holds the round and small brilliant cut diamond. You smile as you can tell he was thinking of you when he picked that ring. It’s simple and beautiful, something that wouldn’t attract much attention to your hand, like most of your jewelry.

Eddie has never been that great with making conversation or opening up with you- and maybe a few other actions - but he always knew exactly what to gift you. He has always been thoughtful with your taste and personality.

Without thinking much, you put on the ring. You sprawl your hand before you and have to acknowledge that it fits perfect. You wonder how much it would make you feel special not much time ago…

Letting out a groan, you drop the little box on the floor in favor to reach for your phone in your jeans’ pocket. Your thumb hovers the name that’s been nagging at the back of your mind this whole time. Without giving yourself much time to think, you press on the name.

Bucky “Soft Tongue” Barnes.  

A little smile curls your lips. You really need to change that.

The ringing tone resounds in your ear as your breathing quickens. Why just the mere thought of talking to Bucky is making you so damn nervous? You wait… and wait. When it goes to the voicemail, you quickly hang up.

That’s the very first time Bucky doesn’t pick up when you call. The small frown between your eyebrows softens at the thought that he’s probably sleeping. It’s Sunday after all.

You huff while you hold your phone against your chest with one hand and digs your fingers into your hair with the other. You stare at the white ceiling above you… Shit… what the hell are you even doing. Calling Bucky right after being proposed by Eddie? And why in the world does your mind keep insisting on the thought of Bucky and you feel the need to talk all about that morning with him, to listen to whatever opinion he might have on that, or anything else he might have to say?

And why does your heart jump so funny when you remember his face… that stupid perfect face… and his smile…

Fuck…

That probably has something to do with the last couple of days you spent with him. First, he was your rock at your party, making it easier for you to have fun, and then taking care of your drunk ass. Then the next day at Brooklyn… and the night after that. It did feel different… maybe more intimate...

But it’s just an impression... The man has always made himself crystal clear – which, by the way, so did you - that what you had was sex, incredible and mind-blowing, of course, but just sex. He has never wanted anything other than that, and you’re definitely sure Bucky Barnes isn’t cut out for what comes in a relationship beyond the sex.

Shifting your gaze to the ring on your finger as you still hold your phone against you, your relationship with Eddie comes to your mind, how you always did everything together, the decisions regarding life, work and everything else were taken together, the dreams and growth, the stability and familiarity…You also think about the arguments… the silence and distance, the loss of the spark and the excitement of being together, the times you ended up erasing your likes and dislikes to avoid confrontation…

With a will of its own, your mind then navigates to Bucky again and what you had together this last month. You can’t imagine him, in all his glorious bachelor lifestyle, engaging in a relationship like that, with all the strings and emotional weight that surely come with it and, by your experience, ends up killing all the fun. Do you still want a relationship like that, though? Of course there’s its positive side, but what about all the negatives that stubbornly resist any relationship?

Also… seriously? Bucky’s the first man who’s nice to you after your break-up… The second you’ve had sex with. Ever. You can’t be so pathetic to the point of having a no strings attached relationship with a guy and start thinking, because he’s nice and kind to you, because you suddenly feel like you shared a special weekend with him, that it could lead to something different than that.  

You groan as it frustrates you to no end the thought that you’re so weak that maybe you can’t be your own person and perhaps need to always be engaged in some kind of relationship or emotionally attached to someone, no matter if you know them for ten years or a month.

If Bucky were there, he would probably say the right thing, about how you’re overthinking all of it and you’re just a couple of rabbits fucking majestically and enjoying each other’s company. He would also say that you two were too smart to trade that for something as boring and dull as love. A loose smile twitches your lips.  

You don’t need to fall for him just because you’re having sex… Just because he’s the most handsome and sexy man you’ve ever seen… Because he’s amazing in bed, respectful, kind, smart, funny, strong, thoughtful…

Jesus…

Immersed in your conflicting feelings and thoughts of Bucky, of Eddie, of yourself… you have no idea of when you end up falling asleep on your couch, but the ding of your doorbell wakes you up in a startle, you squint and brush your hand over your face before reaching for your phone that has fallen over the carpet. Your eyes widen at the clock. You’ve been sleeping for a little more than a couple of hours. As the doorbell rings again, you spot five missed calls. All of them from Bucky. And after swiftly getting up and rushing to the door, that’s the man you find behind it.

“Hey-”

You don’t even let him start talking before pulling him in into a hug, circling your arms around his neck and nestling your head against him. You don’t even know why you’re doing this, but you love the warmth of him wrapping you up, and you love that he holds you back immediately, without questions or further talking.

You let out a deep sigh, before leaning away and smiling at him, which he mimics.

“Hi,” you say.

“Hi,” he says back, gazing at you with a distinguish softness in his eyes and a small but beautiful smile on his lips. “I saw your missed call, I tried to call you back a few times and when you didn’t answer I thought maybe I should drop by,” he says.

“Good,” you breathe and turn, taking his hand and guiding him inside as he shuts the door with his foot behind him.

He pulls your hand, making you stop on your track and face him again. The softness from before gives place to a nervous little frown on his face, “I- I need to talk to you -”   

”Eddie proposed to me.” You don’t know if it’s the little tremble on his voice, his very presence, or the fact that they were choking in your throat, but the information spills from your mouth unannounced.  

The words catch on Bucky’s throat as he inhales sharply. He takes a step back at the same time his rounded eyes drop to your hand, which is still laced on his. The blood seems to vanish from his face.

You follow his stare and that’s when your eyes ball out because you realize you’re still wearing the ring. Acting by impulse, you take your hand away from his and move to pull the ring off your finger, “I-I didn’t say yes,” you quickly clarify, but the damn ring doesn’t budge even with your harsh attempts of taking it off and a desperate feeling lodges at the pit of your stomach because goddammit it had fit perfectly moments ago. You groan in sheer frustration, looking down and pulling even more forcefully, “I was just trying it on-I-“.

Gentle hands cover yours. Your mouth snaps shut and your hasty ministrations halts. You look up and take in the sight of his eyes on you. They are softer now and it calms you down, just like the light massaging circles he draws on your skin. A caress. While you keep your eyes on each other, he twirls the ring, which now moves with ease, and ever so slowly, he pulls it through the length of your finger, till it’s completely off of you.

Holding it with his thumb and index finger, he observes the shiny little jewel between the two of you, his expression unreadable, before he offers it back to you.    

Like waking up from a daze, you’re quick to accept it and place it on the center table at your side.

“I told him this wasn’t the time to think about that...” you say, your voice coming out timid as you fidget with your fingers.

Bucky remains quiet, putting his hands in his pockets, that same unreadable expression still on his face. He nods, though, for you to continue, “We talked a lot. He asked if we still had a chance and I said we should start off by seeing each other more, like friends or something like that, and then see what happens.” You purse your lips.

“Oh…” he mumbles. 

You wait for him to say anything else, but he doesn’t. He just seems lost for speech and that’s news for you.

“It was a hectic morning,” you let out a nervous little laugh, “I called you because I kind of wanted to talk to you… I mean…What do you think?” You bite your cheek.

“Of what?” He blinks.

“All of that… The proposal, my answer…” your voice fails.

Bucky clears his throat before he nods, “Well… what more did he tell you exactly?”

You then pull him to sit on the sofa with you and you tell him everything Eddie had said right there on that same sofa, trying hard to not let any detail out. For some reason knowing what Bucky would have to say about that is all that matters to you right now.  

“Hold on.” Bucky holds up both his hands as a crease appears between his eyebrows, “Are you telling me he decided to break up with you without even trying to work things out, really talk to you about whatever shitty crises he was going through and then comes here after four months of radio silence, right after seeing you close to me and after he tried to hook up with someone else?” He scoffs, shaking his head before getting up, turning his back to you.

You watch, still on your seat, as he runs a hand over his face, before you get up and puts a hand on his back, you’ve never seen him that agitated, “Bucky…”

He swiftly turns to you, gesticulating with his arms and hands as he speaks, “Sounds like this guy’s single life wasn’t exactly what he thought it would be and the moment he realized maybe it was going a lot nicer for you, he decides he better jump in again, that he’s ready and shit? Sounds like he still doesn’t know what he really wants and is taking a shot at you like some impulsive and jealous asshole. Fuck this guy,” he spits as his cheeks flush red.

His reaction takes you off course for a bit. He’s been always honest and straightforward with you, but you didn’t expect such an emotion outrage from him. You talked about Eddie many times with him and it was never like that, “I-I… yeah, I know, Bucky. I’m not blind to that, which is what I told him after he proposed.”

“And yet, you’re talking about starting to see him again,” he states and if he wanted to sound like an accusation you didn’t know, but it sure sounds like it. 

“Bucky, it’s ten years,” you argue, not sure why this seems to be escalating to, not a fight, but at least a heated debate, “I can’t just erase this time and what it meant to me. That’s a great part of my whole adult life. We lived together, did everything together. I loved him. You have no idea what it’s like to have a relationship like that.” 

His jaw clenches, before he gives his back to you. His head drops and he puts his hands on both sides of his waist.

You shift on your feet, wondering whether you have maybe crossed a line there. This kind of heat up interaction with Bucky is news and completely strange to you. But when you’re about to say something, you hear the low groan that come out of his mouth.

“A man who won’t even eat your pussy...” he shakes his head, utter exasperation on his voice.

Your jaw drops before a small gasp slips through your lips. You don’t take it as an offense or anything like that, because when he said it, it wasn’t in an accusing tone like before, let alone aggressive. It’s just like he’s genuinely confused by why you would have such consideration for a man who wouldn’t go down on you.

“Bucky,” you let out a breathy laugh, “What the hell is going on with you?” You tilt your head while he still has his back to you, “If I didn’t know you better I would say you were jealous.”

His head snaps up at your comment and he turns to face you. His lower lip is trapped between his teeth. There’s something of anguish on his eyes and the amusement in your face drops at his demeanor.

“That’s because I am,” he affirms, short of breath.

Your eyes widen for a second before you frown and your head shakes lightly with confusion, “What?”

“I’m jealous, ok? I’m jealous, that’s it.” His face reddens even harder as his voice raises and he gesticulates, indignation pouring out from him, “Your ex is a douche who didn’t appreciate what he had and now decides he can come here and fuck up with what we have?”

A shocked breath comes out of your lips, “What we have? Bucky, you were the first one to be sure our deal wouldn’t be exclusive, and that was fine by me. I talked about Eddie with you countless times and it was fine, I don’t get why you’re saying and acting like that now.”

“Yeah, I know all of that, but things change, I guess…shit.” He curses and covers his eyes with both hands and takes a few breaths before looking at you again, “I didn’t want to tell you like that,” he says in a softer way right before he clenches his teeth again, “But that jerk had to come here first…”

“Didn’t want to tell me what exactly, Bucky?” you question.

He looks at you for a second, the agitation slowly leaving his features before he walks over you and takes you by the hand to guide you to sit on the sofa again, “Listen,” he says, as you sit beside him, intently listening to him, “It’s been some time I’ve been feeling kind of weird towards you. Us, I mean.” He gulps, “A kind of feeling that confused the hell out of me for quite some time.”

“Ok…” Your heart races in your chest, but you still have no idea where this is going, so you decide to not say anything else and let him talk so maybe you can get a better grasp on what the hell is going on.

“You know this morning, when you picked up Eddie’s phone and said he could come over?”

Your eyes move away from his for a second, since you’re not exactly proud of the fact that you did tell Eddie to come over when he was still there, but Bucky said it himself it was ok… clearly it was not.

“We had just had an amazing day and night together and I was even more confused when I got out of here,” he continues, ”I needed to check something, to fully understand what was happening, so I called Amanda.”

“Oh… really?” A piercing ache bites on your chest at the information. Are you the one who’s jealous now? “Were you with her when I called you? That’s why you didn’t pick up?” You ask, trying not to let your unexpected feeling show, but you’re not sure whether you’re succeeding or not.  

“Yeah,” he admits with a small nod.

The answer makes you flinch on your seat, “And you wanna talk to me about jealousy,” you scoff, crossing your arms in front of you, the annoyance slipping through your tone, “That’s really funny, Bucky, don’t you think?”

“But… I-I,” he seems lost for a moment, “Listen, I’m not gonna lie to you. I’ never have, not gonna start now. I called her with the idea of having sex with her, yeah. Ever since I met you I hadn’t slept with anyone else and I thought that maybe that was the reason I was feeling so weird-“

“Wait…Really? You hadn’t been with anyone else?” You interrupt him, since the information piques your interest. Now that he mentions it, you have a vague memory of someone telling you that exact same thing at the party while you were too shitfaced to process the info. What an irony that the someone was precisely Amanda.  

“No, and I still haven’t because I couldn’t even get it up,” he discloses with pure exasperation.

“What?” You lift both your eyebrows, “You couldn’t get it up?” You practically squeal, “Is that… is that even possible?” You reach over his forehead to check his temperature, “Are you ok?”

Taking your hand in his, he lets out a chuckle, but there’s no humor behind it, “I called her because I thought that if I hooked up with someone else, maybe things would be clearer or whatever.  And they did.” He huffs, nodding down to his lower half, “The jerk down there decided to throw on my face something I think I’ve known for a while but had no idea what to make of it.”

He pauses and takes a few breathes, looking down as if he needs to gather some courage and you squeeze his hand, trying to provide him what he needs to keep talking. When he looks back at you, there’s a small reassuring smile on your face waiting for him and the next words he says bursts out from his lips.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

Silence settles in the room. You still have your hand on his while he stares at you expectantly. You stare back at him. Something starts bubbling in your chest. It grows bigger and bigger till it runs up your throat and spurts from your lips in the form of a laugh. A big and hysterical one.  

You let go of his hand to lightly push him on his shoulder, “Oh my God, Bucky,” you say, as tears form in the corner of your eyes of how much you’re laughing, “Only you can come up with a story like that to make me laugh now.” You point at him, “You finding out you’re in love with me because of a limp-dick.” You laugh even harder.

It's when you move to tap on his shoulder again that you focus on his face to see the lack of amusement on it. He has a sad and almost embarrassed gaze fixed on you as his lips form a frown.

The laugh dies on your lips.

“Oh…” you breathe, while realization finally comes to you, “You’re not kidding.”

He gives you a tight-lip smile.

“Oh…” you say again, any other word vanishing from your mind as you shift and lean back on your seat, staring ahead and away from him. Bucky has just said he thinks he’s in love with you.

Bucky…

In love with you…

“I know this wasn’t the ideal way and time to tell you, I know,” he starts talking in a hurry beside you, but you keep staring ahead, unable to move from your position, as a whole new bubble starts taking form in your chest and throat, taking over your senses, “And I know you didn’t expect that from me, hell, I certainly wasn’t expect that myself, but it just happened and I was confused, but I’m not anymore, I know what I’m feeling and… Y/N?” he suddenly interrupts his rambling, “Are you… are you crying?”

You turn to him again and see the widening of his eyes when he catches the evidence for his suspicion, “Yes,” you cry out, as tears run down unbidden your cheeks, “Yes, I’m crying, I’m sorry,” you hide your face in your hands.

“No, no, no, no, sweetheart,” he reaches over you, desperation etched on his voice as he wraps your shaking shoulder in a tight hug, “Please don’t cry… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything…I don’t wanna see you like that. Please don’t cry.” His voice shakes, “Or I’m gonna cry, too.” And as if on cue, you hear the sniffles.

Burying your cheeks on his shirt, dampening the fabric with tears, you let yourself be hugged by him. And, just like that, you live the most pathetic scene of your life, two grown ass adults holding each other and sobbing like babies, without saying anything for God knows how many minutes.

You have no idea what has come over you, but hearing him saying that, right after being proposed by Eddie, after finding yourself with such conflicting thoughts and feelings, must have triggered something inside you.

When your shoulders stop shaking so much and the tears seem to give you two a truce, you lean away from him, “I’m sorry, Bucky,” you say, wiping the wetness from the corner of your eyes with your fingers, “This was ridiculous, God… I guess it’s been an intense day…” you take in a shuddering breath.

“No, no,” He swipes the back of his hand on his cheeks, brushing out the wetness from there, “I shouldn’t have said anything, I’m the one who’s sorry. Let’s forget all about it-”

“No,” you cut him off, “No, Bucky, it’s ok, I’m glad you told me,” you put some softness in your voice for the huge man who has just cried his eyeballs out with you, “But… Are you sure? I mean… it’s you.” Shrugging your shoulder, you gesture towards him with both your hands, “That’s not what you want, it’s against all of your life philosophy, your lifestyle.”

He chuckles and his gaze drops, before they’re on you again, “You know, I’ve never taken anyone else to that burger joint, I’ve never shown that picture to anyone and even less talked about my sisters… my mom... Then our night together, right here in your bedroom?” He points towards the room, “I’ve had tons, I mean, tons of sex my whole life, I don’t need to lie about that. But I never had a night like that with anyone else. That wasn’t just sex and I’m sure you know what I’m talking about.”

You’re entranced by his words and you feel yourself shrinking under the intensity of his gaze on you, of the sentiment that sweeps into his voice. There’s not a bone in you that makes you contradict what he’s saying. It was a special night. Moments ago, you were still daydreaming about it.

“I know it sounds weird coming from me,” he breathes, “I know everything I said and even bragged about before is coming to bite me in the ass right now,” his jaw tightens, ”But I’m certain of what I’m feeling… I think about you all the damn time, sweetheart… I look at you and I wanna laugh and cry all at once,” he scoffs, gesturing towards his reddened eyes, and you can’t help but to let out a breathy smile. “I’m in love with you,” he bores his gaze on you. “Fuck whatever I ever wanted before. I want you now.”

You take in a deep breath, trying to breathe in the air his words knocked out of your lungs. You’re in a loss for words. In all the scenarios you pictured for this deal of Bucky and yours - which weren’t that many, since you jumped in with the mindset of seizing the moment with him – you’ve never seen that one happening: him coming over to tell you he’s fallen for you. As much as his confession sparks something inside you, that’s so unlike him, that you need to be the voice of reason there.

“Bucky…” you call softly, putting your other hand over the one that you’re already holding. You look down at it, before turning to him again, watching anxious blue eyes on yours,  “You said Eddie only decided to come here and propose after seeing me with you and after trying to hook up with someone else. As you said, it shows that he’s just being impulsive and might not know what he genuinely wants, right?”

“Yeah…” He nods after clearing his throat. Apparently, that’s not what he expected you to say after he poured his heart out for you, “Because that’s the truth, the guy doesn’t know what he really wants.” He shrugs.

You offer him a tight but kind smile, “Don’t you see the similarity here?”

His forehead creases at your question.

You keep a gentle gaze on him as you speak, “This morning you went out of here after Eddie called. You knew he was coming. Then, you tried hooking up with Amanda… That didn’t work out…” You shake your head, “Now you’re here, telling me you’re in love with me, after practically seeing me with someone else and trying to have sex with another woman and not being able to go through with it.”

You see realization dawning on his face, as he understands what you’re trying to say, “No… no, that’s different.” He swiftly shakes his head.

“How so?” You insist.

“I know what I’m feeling, Y/n.” He says with firmness in his voice, “I’ve been trying to understand these feelings for a while now. The situation may have pushed me further, but it’s not the cause of anything. I’m not acting by impulse, please believe me,” he begs.  

“I’m not saying you’re not feeling anything, Bucky,” you counter, “Our time together was so special,” you smile, “I’m not blind to that… and I think… I think I-I-“

Your mouth shuts and you bite your lower lip. You almost say that there’s a chance you’ve developed feelings for him, too. But you don’t really know what those feelings mean and what you really want. You don’t really know much about them, but it’s been just one day and one night that have made you notice those sentiments…  you don’t wanna lead him or even yourself on, based on feelings that have just shown up and you still have no idea where this is going.

Plus… there’s Eddie. The mere thought of him drops a weight over your shoulders.

“I-I’m confused, Bucky,” you say, instead of saying all of that, but that’s not a lie. Not at all. “I don’t really know what to feel or think… There’s a great chance you’re confused by your own feelings, too. And maybe after Eddie appeared on the scene those feelings might be doing a number on your mind and making you take them as something deeper than they really are.”

“That’s… you’re wrong, I know what I’m feeling,” he says softly, his head dropping to your joined hands, where he caresses your skin with his thumb.

“Bucky…” you sigh, “Even if you’re really in love with me like you say you are… You never wanted that,” you try to reason, as he looks up at you, “With that kind of sentiment comes commitment, and commitment is not a piece of cake. Most of the time it leads to a broken heart, most likely two. Believe me, I know.”

He doesn’t say anything, just stares at you. Your heart is tight by the traces of sorrow you catch behind the look on his face and you hate to be the one to put it there. But at that moment, that’s all you can give him, 

“As for me,” you nod, as if to engrave the thought into your mind, “I think what I need now is to be alone for a while… My entire adult life I was never single. I need to figure out who I am without having someone to lean on emotionally, physically and… I don’t know...You-you know what I’m saying? But, please, I don’t wanna hurt you, I-” You stammer, annoyed that the air you’re breathing suddenly seems to not be enough to fill your lungs.  

“Hey, hey,” he soothes, dragging himself through the cushions to come even closer to you as he notices your increasing distress, “It’s ok,” he says, taking your hand to his lips and placing a kiss on it, coaxing a short gasp out of you, “I get what you’re saying, and I respect that. I do.” He offers you a comforting smile.

The sorrow you’ve seen moments ago is not on his gaze anymore, and it helps to ease down your breathing and mind, driving you to focus solely on him, his voice and what he’s saying.  

“I don’t want to force myself or my feelings on you, and you don't need to worry about hurting me, sweetheart. It's ok. I promise. I’m a grown ass man, I might’ve been confused, but I can handle my own feelings.” A kind of sweetness you’ve never heard from him laces his voice, “I just need you to understand one thing, though.” His features turn a bit more serious, “I know what I’m feeling, no matter how much time passes and no matter if it’s the same for you or not. It doesn’t change anything for me. I was confused before, I was. But I’m not anymore.”

“Ok,” a low mumble is all you manage to provide as an answer, stunned by both the words and the certainty he reveals through them.

“Are we good?” He checks.

“We’re good.”

He smiles, a bright and gentle grin, and it’s the Bucky you’ve spent almost every day of the last month on his demeanor again. You smile back, feeling your shoulders a bit lighter.  

“I have one more question, though. I’m new to this whole express feelings stuff,” he grimaces playfully, “Did I screw everything up?” He asks, but there’s no weight on his words while his forehead scrunches up a bit, but the smile lingers on his lips.

You laugh a little, before bringing a hand to cup his cheek, “You didn’t screw anything up and I’m not dismissing what you’re telling me you’re feeling, Bucky, it’s not that at all.” You shake your head and it feels cozy inside your chest as he leans his cheek against the touch of your hand, “I just think we both need to take our time and understand our feelings straight. You and me.” You lightly stroke his cheek with your thumb.

“Does that mean our deal is off?” He asks with a cringing curve on his lips.

You let out a chuckle, bringing your hand to your lap, “Let’s call it suspended for now, how about that?”

He shrugs, “Ok, but Little Bucky down there is going to be very upset, he turned out to have a strict preference.”

“Oh my God.” You let out a loud laugh, “Little Bucky? Seriously?”

“Don’t make fun of him, he’s very sensitive today.” He puts on an exaggerated pout.  

Your head falls back from how much you laugh, being followed shortly by him. You don’t know if it’s a habit developed in the last month or something bigger than that, but you can’t help when your lips and his meet. He sighs through the kiss, which starts slow and gentle, but next thing you know, you’re both breathing hard and you have your fingers buried through his locks as he pulls you by the waist, his broad body on yours, his arms around you, his heat burning you up while your heart beats fast against his chest…

You have to put together every little ounce of strength inside you to part your lips from him, letting your forehead rest against his.

“Bucky…” you whisper, trying to catch some hair, “We shouldn’t-“.

“See you around, sweetheart,” he says back and, after placing a long kiss on your forehead, he gets up and walks towards the door, sporting a cheeky little smirk on his lips that makes your heart race even more.   

~~~

To be continued...

[axwalker]

If The World Was Ending: Even if he was wicked

Synopsis: When Bianca leaves her son without looking back, Drake has to live on the streets until he finds a home with Angelica Ortiz--Lexie’s grandmother and a foster mom. With the Ortiz, Drake finds a family and falls madly in love, until a tragic night changes everything, threatening the life Drake fought so hard to get.

To catch up (HERE)

Pairing: Drake Walker x Lexie O’Brien (MC) The Royal Romance.

A/N: This will be a very angsty, full of drama, small town romance.

Words: 4,120

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Pixelberry, except for Lexie’s grandmother and mother.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Child neglect, abandonment, sexual assault, prison and a very entitled, “evil” Liam

Due to the several trigger warnings and some of the subjects I’ll be dealing with, I will only tag people who actively asked for it. If you want to be tagged in the following chapters --or untagged, please leave a comment. 

Drake

2008

When I was 12 years old, my mother took off with my little sister leaving me in Cordonia with my father's best friend. I reminded her too much of my father, too much of a life she would do anything to forget. That "anything" included abandoning her oldest son. I'd like to say I was surprised, but the truth is I wasn't. Bianca Walker had never been a motherly woman. The only reason she had taken Savannah with her was that my Aunt Leona adored her. I was sure my mother would dump my little sister on her and never look back. I hoped that was the case, Leona despised me, but she was great to Savannah. 

A short time after that, Bastien passed away and my mother was nowhere to be found. That's when I started to go from one home to another. The first year and a half were the hardest ones. I lived with four different families, each one worse than the last. First, the Lockes, where the family barely talked to me. Then, the Ruiz that made me take cold showers and sleep on the floor. The Godwins where the “mother” used the check the state gave her to buy alcohol instead of groceries. And finally the worse, the Fields. They seemed nice enough when I met them. Not kind but polite. The first few weeks everything seemed normal. Then one day, I got in trouble at school, and Mr. Fields --the pastor of his community, beat me up to “teach me some manners.” His punishments became a usual thing after that. 

Eventually, I couldn’t take it anymore, so I escaped. Better to be on my own than believe some family was going to love or adopt me. Obviously, there was something very wrong with me. My own mother had left me, and I had never found my place anywhere else. 

I lived on the streets for 6 months. I did all kinds of jobs. Not a lot of them were legal but there were few opportunities for a 14-year-old runaway kid. The most money I got was when I stole car parts that I got to resell to a gang called the Mercy Park Crew. The boss, Mr. Kaneko was fair and paid well enough. I could’ve kept living by myself if something hadn’t got terribly wrong at my last job. One of the boys from a rival gang decided to teach me a lesson and I ended up in the hospital with a concussion. A nurse called social services so here I am in a car with another social worker on the way for another foster home. It doesn’t matter, I know it won’t last anyway. 

When you’ve been in the system as long as I had, you learned to look for certain warning signs when placed in a new home. Drugs, ulterior motives, threatening fathers, drinking mothers. After an hour, we drove through a town looking like something straight out of a movie. Valtoria. I’d heard of it before. The family my dad had been protecting when he died lived there. The house we pulled up to, was a large two-story construction with dark brown siding and an immaculate green lawn. 

Joelle, my new caseworker had popped up out of nowhere in the hospital and told me I was coming with her. Just like that. From the way Joelle talked about the new place, I figured it was some sort of transitional home for rejects like me. Too old to get adopted and too troubled for anyone to voluntarily take on. I didn’t ask her anything else because I knew I didn’t have a fucking choice. Besides, I knew words don’t mean anything. I was a kid in the system. I went where they took me. Sometimes, I hated it. Sometimes, I really hated it. This time was different. In more ways than one. Usually, I was dropped off by my caseworker, and the people receiving me were about as excited as they were about junk mail. No one has ever come out to greet me before. As long as the woman at the door wasn’t sizing me up for a skin suit, it didn’t matter.

The social worker got out of the car as I grabbed the trash bag that I used to carry my shit around. She rang the bell, and a small, older woman opened the door. Joelle had told me in the car that the woman fostered several boys and I knew what that meant. She wanted the money the government gave her for keeping us. Well, I wasn’t going to make it easy for her. If she wanted to cash a check at the end of the month it was going to cost her. I’d make sure of it. 

I had seen it all, but I still was caught by surprise when the tiny woman opened her arms at me and gave me a one-sided hug. A fucking hug. 

“I’m very happy to meet you, mijo,” she said in a strong accent. “My name is Angelica Ortiz but everyone here calls me Abuela. Grandma in Spanish.” 

The woman was deluded if she thought I’d call her grandma. She was obviously trying to impress the social worker with her fake kindness, hugs, and stupid names. I wasn’t going to be fooled that easily. 

I didn’t even answer her as we stepped into the house. Another woman, a younger version of the one staring at me was waiting for us in the living room. 

“Hi, you must be Drake. I’m Elena. Welcome.” She gave me a smile. Fake, I was sure but at least she hadn't tried to hug me. The older woman was talking to Joelle about me. Probably about my problems with authority, anger issues, and lack of communication skills. I knew my file by heart. 

I barely nodded at Elena, and the three women exchanged a look. “Let me take you to your room, Drake. You’ll be sharing it with Maxwell. He’s doing his homework with my daughter in our house across the street. You’ll get to meet all the boys and my daughter Lexie tonight.” 

She walked me to a room on the second floor of the house. It seemed clean and comfortable. Another ploy for the social worker. Two bunker beds with blue blankets and a wooden desk full of books were the biggest pieces of furniture. The left side of the room was covered in posters of who I figured were famous boy bands. There were a few of David Beckham, the only guy I recognized. Other than that there were clothes everywhere. That Maxwell dude was a fucking slob. Great. 

“I told Max to take down some posters so you can decorate half of the room to your liking; This is your room as much as it is his. He's usually much more organized than this." I notice she speaks with a sort of fondness. "It was picture day for the school yearbook and he took hours getting ready. ” 

I shrugged. I wasn’t planning to stay long anyway. I couldn’t care less if that Max kid left his posters on the walls or not. 

She glanced at my garbage bag. “Are those your clothes, mijo?” 

I scowled at her. I knew what mijo meant and I was nobody’s son. “My name is Drake.” 

She smiled. “Of course, Drake. So, are they?”

I didn’t bother with an answer. A nod was enough. 

“I cleared you this part of the closet, so you can keep them there. When you’re ready come downstairs; my mom and I will show you the rest of the house. The boys are out but we’ll all diner together tonight. Do you like Mexican food?”

I shrugged.

The woman smiled. “Shrugging is not an answer, mij- Drake. Either you like it, you don’t, or you haven’t tasted it in which case I can tell you, you’re missing out. Especially when mami cooks.” She winked at me as if we were friends or something. The woman was insane. “So, what is it, Drake?”

I’d never had it before, but she wasn’t going to tell me how to answer a damn question. “I hate it.” 

She frowned --clearly disappointed, and I almost felt bad for her. Almost. “I’m very sorry to hear that. We already made Enchiladas for tonight and we don’t waste food. You can tell us your favorite dish though so we can make it for you.”

I shrugged again. Generally, that's when the person talking to me loses her patience but Elena Ortiz only smiled at me again. “Think about it. Every Sunday night, we pick someone’s favorite and cook it. It’s really fun. Next Sunday will be your first here, so you get to pick. Mami is a great cook and she can make anything from a mean chocolate cake to the best cheese pizza. See you downstairs, honey.” 

Great. I’ve only been in this house for a few minutes, and I already hated it. The only thing worse than a home where you were beaten up as a welcome was a home where people pretended to care. My third foster home had been like that. Ms. Godwin had been all kind and nice at first. I almost felt like she cared about us. A week later, she had gotten drunk. For two days, neither I or the two girls she fostered had anything to eat because she hadn’t bought any groceries. I had to steal a twenty euro bill from her purse to buy food. She got angry and called the social worker who had come for me and taken me to the Fields. The worst home I ever lived in. 

I wasn’t going to go downstairs but I decided that if I wanted a chance to escape it was better if I knew the house. Before I could explore a little, I heard my name from what I assumed was the kitchen. 

Elena was crouching in front of the oven. “Drake has such sad eyes, mami. He’s only 14.” 

The woman that had asked me to call her abuela, answered as she chopped an onion. “This boy has been living in the streets for more than a year. Do you realize it? Pobre angelito. So young and he has already seen more horrors than most people see in a lifetime.” 

“Joelle told me that he had escaped from his last foster home.”

The older woman scoffed. “Home? If that’s how you call people that foster kids only for the money, they get in exchange. I don’t want to imagine why he fled those places." She turned to her daughter who had finished whatever she was doing in the oven and was drinking a bottle of water. "Stop watching me work, Elena and help me with diner, por Dios.”

Why was she pretending she didn’t care about the money? It was obvious. No one did anything for free. There was always a catch. 

“Dónde está mi venadito?”

“Lexie and Max are at our house doing homework, mami. Be careful, though, if Lexie hears you calling her “your little deer” she’ll kill you. The boys called her Bambi for months after they heard you the last time.”

“Nonsense. She’s my venadito and that’s that. You two will come to eat here tonight. I want Drake to meet everyone.”

Elena rolled her eyes but patted her mom on the back. “Yes mami. Lexie is dying to meet him, she and Max made a chocolate cake for him. I’ll call her in a minute. Where are the boys by the way?” 

“Bertie is trying to teach Leo how to drive. Poor boy, I hope he makes it alive.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure Leo will be careful. Bertrand will be fine.”

“Oh, it’s not Bertie I’m worried about, it’s Leo. Bartie has no patience with him.” 

I left the kitchen before they said anything else. I was sure I was going to hate this stupid place. I was angry. More than angry. Furious. After a year of successfully running away, I was back in the damn system. Back in yet another home where people seemed to care about me in front of the social worker just to ignore me –or worse, once she left. I had to admit that my new foster “moms” played their part better than most. The old one had hugged me and the other one had given me a smile that seemed real. But I knew better. No one really cared for me. No one gave a shit where I slept, what I ate, or if I was ill or scared. Not that I was ever scared. I had seen everything. 

The front door was locked so I went to the backyard. I saw a small wooden house on top of one of the trees. I decided it was a good place to hide and be myself. 

I sat there for a few moments when I heard someone climbing the tree. 

“Hi!”

I looked up and saw a girl a couple of years younger than me. She had the biggest pair of brown eyes I’ve ever seen and was smiling at me as if I was her best friend. 

“I’m Lexie! I live across the street. I’m Angelica’s granddaughter. You’re Drake, right?” I didn’t think it was possible to smile more but the girl proved me wrong when her grin widened. I simply nodded. 

“Welcome! I know that it must be hard for you to feel at home because you like just arrived but you’ll love it here. I promise. Valtoria is great. We have lakes and the mountains and when it’s warm enough we can go camping all night. You’ll love the house too. I mean between you and me the boys are kind of a pain in the ass but they’re pretty great when they want to. Or when they're not teasing me. Especially Leo and Maxie. Bertrand is a know-it-all. He thinks because he’s sixteen he knows everything." She rolled her eyes clearly offended by the idea that someone could know more than her. "Abuela, that how we all call her because she’s Mexican and would murder us if we call her grandma, is amazing. I mean don’t get me wrong, she's super strict, and as my mom says the woman is never wrong but she’s the best person I know.” 

I blinked. I didn’t know a person could talk that much without taking a single breath. 

“Do you camp?” She asked as she folded her legs in front of her.

I did before. Before my dad died and my whole life blew up in a million pieces. Not that I would explain any of that to the chatty girl, so I just nodded again. 

“Great! It’s getting warmer and Leo wants to go to a new camping site next weekend. Don’t tell him I said this but he’s like the worst camper ever. I have to double-check everything he does but I don’t tell him anymore because my mom said it wasn’t nice.” 

I wondered how could someone carry a whole conversation by herself. I hadn’t pronounced a single word since the girl had shown up. 

“I want to be your friend but I can see we’re about to have our first fight.” She told me in a teasing tone. “You’re wearing a Liverpool t-shirt. We worship Barcelona in this house. Well, Abuela, Leo and I do. The others couldn’t care less about soccer.” 

I looked at the shirt she was wearing. It read "If they don't have soccer in heaven, I'm not going." 

She noticed I was looking at her shirt and beamed. "Abue said my shirt was disrespectful to God but mom thought that was dumb and bought it for me anyway." 

"Do you like soccer?" I finally asked. 

“Like it? I love it! Did abuela saw your shirt? She hates European teams. She thinks Tigres is the best.”

“Tirgues?”

She laughed, and the sound of it did something weird to my stomach. “Tigres. It’s a Mexican team. She goes crazy when they play.”

“What team you like?”

“Barcelona, obviously.”

“Liverpool made it to the finals of the last Champion’s league.” I pointed out. 

She shrugged. “They lost so it doesn’t count. Do you play?”

“Sometimes.” I tried not to show how much I loved it. It was something else my dad and I shared that had stopped when he died. 

“I play too. How old are you?”

“Fourteen.”

“I'm twelve. Well, almost thirteen, my birthday is in May.”

I frowned. “It’s November.” 

“I know. I’m almost there.” She beamed. "I'm almost closer to thirteen than twelve anyway." 

“Do you always talk this much?”

She laughed and my belly did that weird thing again. “My mom says I was a parrot in another life. I talk more when I’m nervous.”

“You're nervous?” I liked that I could make her nervous but I didn't know why. 

She blushed and I liked it too. “A little. What happened to your eye?” 

“I got into a fight.”

“Wow. You can’t do that here. Leo is always getting into fights and abuela has to ground him.”

She sure mentioned that Leo guy a lot. “Is Leo your boyfriend?”

“Gross!! Leo’s is like my brother. He, Bertie, and Max live with abuela. We’re a family. You’re family too.”

Fuck that. No matter if the girl was sort of cute. I didn’t have a family. “No, I’m not. I’m not staying.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I don’t belong here.”

“Yes, you do; I swear. Plus, I need someone to coach me, so I can get into the school team next year. Leo promised he would, but he never has time.” 

“I suck.”

She shook her head and smiled at me again. “Somehow I don’t think you do.” Then she gave me a conspiratorial look as she pulled out something from her jacket pocket. "You can't tell my mom about this but I took this from her room." It was a white iPod. After scrolling a little through the screen she settled on The Beach Boys. She couldn't possibly know it but they were my dad's favorites. She passed me an earbud and we didn’t talk after that. We just sat together for a while hearing music until we heard our names being called. 

“That’s abuela. We should go. She hates to wait. Plus, I'm starving and we're having enchiladas. You'll love them.” 

Lexie ran to her house to --as she put it-- 'hide the evidence.' I went back to her grandma's house and stepped into the kitchen. 

“Drake, pass me the salt, mijo. It’s next to you on the counter,” Angelica said as she kept on turning the sauce she was making. “You like enchiladas?” 

What was with all these women asking me what I liked to eat? I leaned against the black counter while she opened the lid of another steaming pot on the stove, and stirred its contents with a long wooden spoon. I shrugged. I didn’t know if I liked it. But it smelled better than anything I ever tasted, so it couldn’t be all that bad. My mouth started watering, and my stomach growled. Come to think of it, it had been a while since I’d last eaten.

“You know, I know you feel weird now. And you don’t like to talk a lot. Soon, you’ll learn that this is a safe place. We aren’t gonna judge a single word that comes out of your mouth or any of them that don’t.” 

I suddenly felt like I owed her a verbal response in exchange for her kindness. Fake or not. Besides, I just knew the chatty girl I’ve just met wouldn’t be happy if I was rude to her grandmother. “Yes, ma’am.”

She smiled at my verbal response. “But just so you know. We do have a few rules in this house.” 

Here it comes. The catch. Angelica put the lid back on the pot and leaned over the counter on her elbows. “You just need to go to school, find a hobby or sport you like, don't swear, respect the curfew and keep your room clean. Every child in this house has chores but it’s too soon to figure out yours. For now, you only have to get to know us.” Her eyes crinkled as she smiled at me. At that moment the timer of the oven rang and Angelica took a huge dish out of it. She covered it with more steamy, tomato sauce, sour cream, and grated cheese and put it back in the oven. At least, I might get some good food while I figured what I was going to do next. Because no matter how nice and kind everybody acted, I was not going back to school. I used to be good at it without much effort; I had friends and a soccer team. But I had missed a lot in the last two years. I felt dumb and stupid. 

Suddenly, the front door slammed open. “Cuidado muchachos! Be careful with that door against the wall, or you’re going be spackling and repainting this entire house,” Angelica yelled out. Three teenage boys filed into the house, followed by just as many apologies. 

“Sorry.” “Oops.” “It was Max’s fault.” “

“These are Maxwell, Leo and Bertie,” Angelica introduced. “Boys, this is Drake.” 

“Hi, man!” The blond one said with a shit-eating grin. “Abuela, Lena, you guys didn’t tell me you were buying a Liverpool fan.” 

“Adoption is not a purchase of people, Leo” the oldest one --Bertrand, corrected. 

“Yeah, cause if it was, then you got Leo from the clearance rack,” the youngest one joked, checking his reflection in the hallway mirror, smoothing back an out-of-place dark hair. “I hope you kept your receipt.” 

“Fuck, off,” the blond one replied with a middle finger. 

“Watch it, Leo,” Angelica warned. “Boys.” 

Max kissed her on the cheek. “Sorry, abue.” She forgave him with a smile, then swatted at his hand with her spoon when he dipped his finger into the pot. 

“I’m glad you’re here, bro” Leo said. I stood, and he gave me a fist bump without touching my hand. 

“Me too! And we’re going to be roomies,” the kid named Max said. He grabbed a stack of plates from the counter. I followed him over to the long dining room table and helped set the table for seven people.

2020

I lost count of how many days I’ve been in the hole. It wasn’t my first time in here and it sure as hell it wouldn’t be the last. It was always the same routine. Days and nights blended into one making it impossible to know what day it was or how much time I had been in here. 

I have been in jail for six excrutiating years. I had known from the day I heard the sentencing that the only way I was going to survive was if I didn’t think about her. It was the hardest thing I had to do but after a while, my routine was running smoothly and when my head hit the pillow at night, I was too fucking exhausted. She haunted my dreams and my nightmares, but I didn’t think of her beyond that. Except for the hole. Locked up there, cold, hungry, and utterly alone her face, my memories of her were the only thing that helped me go on. 

I replayed in my head our first encounter, our first kiss, our first time. I obsessed about her full lips, her expressive brown eyes, her gorgeous smile. I could spend hours picturing every single corner of her soft delicate curves. Sometimes, I wondered if --maybe, I didn’t start fights in the hope of being sent to the hole where I could spend my time fantasizing about her. It was pure torture, but I couldn’t help myself. The memories I had of her, of us and our short time together were the only light in my otherwise bleak life. 

She still wrote me every week but I hadn’t open any single one of her letters. I didn’t want to know if she was moving on with her life or worst if she was waiting for me. Because that was what Lexie didn’t understand. Even if nothing happened and I was released in one year, I would never be that boy again. The Drake Walker she had known and loved was dead and she wasn’t going to like the man that had been left in his place. I was damn sure about that. 

Tagging:

@mskaneko

@burnsoslow

@kingliam2019

@kat-tia801

@petiteboheme

@tinkie1973

@twinkle-320

@thegreentwin

@forallthatitsworth

@marshmallowsandfire

@marshmallowsaremyfavorite

@princessleac1

@lilacsandwhiskey

@lovingchoices14​

@lovingchoices14​

@nomadics-stuff​

[witcher-and-his-bard-archive]

Good as Gold pt.23

[part twenty-two] | [part twenty-four] [prostitute!jaskier masterpost]

thanks for all your patience and support guys, this chapter was a menace. 

As soon as the snow starts to melt, Geralt itches to be on his way. The others must notice it, but the only one who brings it up is Lambert. He's constantly smirking and asking what's so important back in the real world, despite knowing exactly why Geralt is so eager to leave.

He holds out until it's warm enough to sleep outdoors, but he's still the first to leave and it doesn't go unnoticed by the others. Geralt doesn't mind much because Lambert is, again, the only one who speaks of it and Aiden smacks him on the arm when he does. Geralt says his goodbyes to his family and heads out onto the Path once more.

As soon as he reaches the end of the valley, Geralt makes for Hagge.

He makes good time, travelling through the night whenever he's able, and he gets to the city much sooner than expected. It's early evening when he arrives, still early enough that he doesn't feel bad about visiting Jaskier. A little voice in the back of his head reminds him Jaskier is usually happy to see him whenever he visits, but he's still relieved that it's not too late. He's certainly not patient enough to wait until morning.

His stomach churns and his skin prickles with anticipation and the only thing that keeps him from bursting apart completely is the knowledge that he has to apologize to Jaskier. Even if he doesn't share Geralt's feelings, Jaskier deserves better than his behaviour before he left for the winter.

He's nervous for the first time as he steps into the brothel.

immediately, he's approached by Vivienne, hands on her hips and the scent of fury surrounding her. He can't even blame her; Jaskier told him he was important to him, Geralt knew that and still left for almost five months without saying anything. Five months when the longest it's been in over a year was weeks and then Geralt just... disappeared.

"Oh no," Vivienne laughs humourlessly, "you're not welcome here."

"I just want to talk to him. Briefly." It's not all he wants, but it's the least Jaskier deserves.

"You're not seeing him ever again if I have anything to do with it." she stares him down, hands firmly planted on her hips, and it's easy to see why she and Jaskier get along so well. He tries to apologize, but he's interrupted as the madame comes over, clearing her throat pointedly.

She's never been happy to see him and she takes delight in kicking him out now. The worst part is, he can't even blame her. If someone had treated his brothers the way he did Jaskier, Geralt would be furious with them.

He walks aimlessly through town because it's too early to turn in for the night, but he doesn't want to leave, either. Roach is stabled and fed and she'll be fine for the night now, so he has a lot of time to think about what he wants to do. And what he should have done already, all the things he should have said. He's not about to give up just because they won't let him into the brothel, but he does wish things had been different, starting with the way he left.

Firstly, he wishes he'd told Jaskier he was leaving, that he wintered in the north, anything. It seems so easy with time and distance between now and then.

He wonders if Jaskier thought about him.

As he considers and regrets, Geralt wanders, and it doesn't take him long to wind up at the field Jaskier took him to before. It's not an intentional choice, but he's not disappointed either. The sun is beginning to set and Geralt has spent enough time in Hagge to know the locals don't take kindly to people out and about after sundown, so he climbs the fence and plops himself down in the middle of the field to watch the sunset. He'll still have to return to the inn later, but for now, he can relax in peace.

He lays his cloak out on the grass and lies down with his arms folded behind his head and he considers how to fix this. The easiest option would be to go to Jaskier's house, but he's not sure Jaskier would even want to see him right now and he understands that. So he sits and contemplates and just before the sun slips behind the mountains, he hears footsteps coming toward him in the grass.

Geralt looks up with a sigh, expecting someone coming to shoo him away, but as he turns his head, he catches a whiff of perfume - Jaskier’s perfume - and his heart stops. The scent is suddenly overwhelming and he wrinkles his nose against it as Jaskier approaches. At first, the intensity of the scent was confusing, but when Jaskier gets closer, Geralt realizes the perfume is a mask against his own scent. But Geralt can still pick it up, even smothered in lavender.

Jaskier drops down on the grass a couple of feet away and Geralt’s fingers twitch against his stomach, eager to reach out to him, but Jaskier is justly angry and he holds himself back.

"So," Jaskier says slow, short, "you were just going to stop by to what? say hello and fuck off again? Pretend like nothing happened?" Geralt winches at the sharpness of the words, but he knows it's what he deserves. He doesn't know how to respond, so he keeps quiet. Evidently, it's not the right choice because Jaskier lets out a heavy sigh. "Right," he says, "guess I'll be doing all the talking then."

"You left me here," Jaskier says, "and I know you've said again and again that it's too dangerous or whatever, but you didn't even-" he pulls in a breath and Geralt clenches his hand to keep from reaching out to him. As much as he wants to comfort him, he's sure it wouldn't be appreciated. "Fuck, Geralt, I thought you were dead. You couldn't have even mentioned the last time that you wouldn't be back?"

"I'm sorry," Geralt whispers. It's not enough, not nearly, but he doesn't know what else to say.

"Yeah. I just-" Jaskier pulls his knees up to his chest and Geralt hates himself for doing this to him. The scent of anger dissipates, and Jaskier's pulse quickens as he speaks, the mingling scents of fear and anguish rolling off of him. Geralt grits his teeth against it. He owes Jaskier a chance to speak - among other things. "I thought that I- I thought that this-'' he inhales sharply and Geralt feels very small. Jaskier has a way with words unlike anyone he's ever met, so for him to not be able to finish a sentence is... worrying. "If it wasn't worth coming back, If I wasn't- Geralt, what the fuck?"

"You are," Geralt says quickly, "I didn't intend to hurt you. I don't deserve you."

"For fuck's sake, Geralt," Jaskier snaps. He shifts and turns his body to face him and for the first time, Geralt brings himself to look at him properly. Jaskier's only in his robe and smallclothes, presumably having left the brothel in a rush. And he looks sullen. His skin is pale, his eyes dull and yet too-shiny - the cause of which Geralt hates to even acknowledge. "I thought you knew that I want you? That this is more than just a godsdamn transaction for me. So what if you don't think you deserve me? You had me anyway."

Had. Geralt winces at the word. He sits in silent contemplation for a moment before Jaskier lets out a shaky breath.

"Geralt, the least I deserve is a godsdamn explanation. I didn't know where you were, if you'd been hurt, or-"

"You're right," he breathes and Jaskier seems a little taken aback at that. His eyes go wide, but he remains quiet, expectant. Geralt sits up and shifts over a little, making space on his cloak for Jaskier. Surprisingly, Jaskier gets up and comes over to join him.

"I'm sorry," Geralt whispers. He wants to touch, to feel, to hold Jaskier and promise him everything will be okay from now on, that he'll never hurt him again - but he doesn't think he's allowed. "We- my brothers and I winter up at Kaer Morhen, a keep in the mountains northeast of Kaedwen. It's where I was trained, where I grew up. I- I should have told you."

"Why didn't you?" to his credit, Jaskier doesn't sound angry any longer, only disappointed or maybe sad.

"I was afraid." Geralt hesitates, hating the way the words feel on his tongue, but he doesn't know what to follow them up with. "I didn't think you'd really want me coming back."

Jaskier sighs softly and shifts to settle on his side next to Geralt. "You're an idiot," he says softly, his tone just edging on fond. Geralt's heart soars, but he tries not to get his hopes up.

"I know."

"And a dick."

Geralt huffs a laugh and when he turns, Jaskier is looking up at him, a faint smile on his face. "And a dick," Geralt agrees. Jaskier's eyes drop to the space between them and he picks at the hem of his robe.

"I was afraid you were dead," he whispers, "I didn't know what to do. I had no one to ask, no one to send word, to make sure you were okay-"

"I know," Geralt says and he can't help but lean forward, cupping Jaskier's face in his hand.

He runs his thumb softly over his cheekbone, relishing the softness of Jaskier's skin under his palm. He's missed him desperately and now he aches to think he ever could have jeopardized this.

"Whatever it takes, I'll make it up to you if you'll let me."

"They won't be happy to see you back at the brothel," Jaskier mumbles, "but I'm sure I can sway them. Viv’s overprotective and she’ll get the others on her side, but she'll get over it. And the madame will let you in if I ask her to-"

"I don't care about them," Geralt interrupts, "just you. If you'll have me."

"Geralt," Jaskier breathes, low and exasperated, "of course I'll have you. You did a stupid, thoughtless thing and scared me half to death when you didn't show up for months but that doesn't stop me from caring about you. I was only worried because I do care about you."

Geralt shuts his eyes against the ache in his chest, wishing there was some way to make everything better. "I'm sorry," he whispers, brushing his thumb over Jaskier's cheek. "I never wanted you to suffer."

"I know, love." Jaskier leans up, pressing a soft kiss to Geralt's forehead before settling down against him. "Let's not talk about it any longer, alright?"

"Jask-"

"I'm glad you're back, Geralt and I'm happy to see you again. And I don't have the energy to think about the rest of it any longer. Why don't you tell me about your winter?"

"Okay," he says slowly, considering his words carefully. "But it's just the four of us most of the time. There's not much to tell." Not, at least, that he would be willing to share just yet.

"Sounds lonely."

"It's not that bad. No lonelier than the Path."

"Geralt," Jaskier huffs, "I'm sure you can find something interesting to say. You were gone for five months." There's a humour to his voice, but the wariness hasn't subsided and Geralt hates it. He'd do anything not to hear it again, but he doesn't know what else he can say.

"I..." he shuts his eyes and lets his fingers press into Jaskier's skin. "I thought about you while I was gone."

"Oh? Tell me?"

"I dreamt about you."

Jaskier hums and when Geralt opens his eyes, he's wearing the first genuine smile he's seen tonight. Jaskier props himself up, running a hand up Gerslt's chest, fingers slipping under the fabric of his shirt to trace along his collar bone. Geralt drops his head back and relaxes into the touch, relishing the soft brush of Jaskier's skin against his own. He's missed this, missed him, more than he should.

It's not until Jaskier's leaning into him, nosing against his neck, that Geralt comes back to himself. He gently curls a hand around Jaskier's wrist, lifting it off of him.

"I can't," he says, "I don't have the coin."

Jaskier doesn't hesitate, even for a second. "I don't care," he breathes and when Geralt meets his eyes, there's nothing but soft sincerity and something that looks like hope. "Geralt, all winter all I wanted was just for you to come back. Don't think I'm going to let anything stop me from being with you now."

Jaskier shifts and Geralt can't take his eyes off him. He knows he doesn't deserve any of this, but he wants it and he wants Jaskier to know that. Without thinking, he reaches out, curling his hand around the back of Jaskier's neck and tangling his fingers in his hair. Smiling softly, Jaskier shuts his eyes and leans into the touch.

Geralt draws him close, pressing their foreheads together and Jaskier hums softly. The overwhelming scent of perfume has partially worn off and Geralt can better detect Jaskier's natural scent beneath it. He focuses on it, breathing it in as Jaskier's hand slides up his chest. He can feel his own heart thudding heavily and Jaskier's is just as frantic and Geralt tips his head, lightly brushing his mouth against Jaskier's.

He stops breathing entirely but it hardly matters because as soon as Jaskier's realized it, he’s pushing him over onto his back and kissing him hard. Jaskier shifts so he's above him and Geralt's free arm slips around his waist, pressing him against him and Geralt's entire world narrows to Jaskiers lips on his own, just the soft press of his mouth and the little moan that escapes him as Geralt deepens the kiss.

His lips are soft and taste of wine and something sweet and Geralt commits the taste to memory. He tries to focus on everything, but it's too much all at once. Jaskier shifts to straddle his hips, reading his elbows on the grass and pushing his fingers through Geralt's hair. He grips tightly like he's afraid Geralt might pull away, but Geralt is just as unwilling to let go.

Geralt raises one knee, sliding one arm around his lower back as his other presses upward, fingers tangling in Jaskier's hair. I love you, his body screams, but his mind isn't cooperating and his mouth is otherwise occupied.

Jaskier only breaks away to breathe, holding himself up on one hand as the other continues running through Geralt's hair. He's flushed a deep red that carries on all the way down his chest and he's entirely breathless, but to Geralt, he has never looked more beautiful than he does now.

He's overwhelmed by Jaskier's scent, the thick spicy sweet of his growing arousal but there's something else there, too. It's a softer scent, sweet and flowery and it’s somewhat familiar, but Geralt can’t place it.

He lays panting for only a moment as the realization of what he’s done settles over him and as Jaskier's lips curve into a smile, Geralt drags him back down. There's a soft groan of surprise, but Geralt nips at his bottom lip and Jaskier goes limp against him, the scent of lust erupting like a cloud.

"Oh," he breathes, muffled against Geralt's mouth, "oh, Geralt." His hips give a little twitch Geralt slips his hand lower, coping Jaskier's ass and encouraging the gentle roll.

Any misgivings he may have had about fucking Jaskier outside at the edge of the forest are silenced with a quick flick of Jaskier's tongue against his own. He feels it all the way down to his toes and his responding whine only encourages Jaskier further.

When he shifts forward into Geralt's touch, Geralt can feel the way Jaskier swells against him, pressing his hips down against Geralt's. He gets a knee between his thighs, steadying himself as Geralt's hands pull back to cup his face.

Geralt kisses him again, quick and hot, but even as Jaskier rocks against him, it turns slow and heady. His eyes drop shut as Jaskier's weight settles against him, his fingers running lightly over his skin before tangling in his hair once more.

They find a steady rhythm and Geralt's body sings with lust and relief and love, his skin tingling with every minor touch. And Jaskier barely takes his hands off him for a second. He's aware of his own arousal - and of Jaskier's - but it's almost a background thought to the warmth of Jaskier's mouth on his own, the absolute thrill of it after what feels like centuries of deprivation.

When Jaskier moves, he has to stretch to keep from breaking the kiss, lifting himself off of Geralt and settling between his legs instead. He keeps one arm on the ground as the other slides down Geralt's chest, eventually reaching the hem of his shirt and slipping beneath it. Jaskier's hands are warm and he maps out Geralt's body like it's the first time, fingertips sliding into the valleys of his chest.

Jaskier hums against him and his fingers slip downward, fiddling with the buttons on Geralt's trousers. It's only playful, but when Jaskier's knees nudge under his thighs, he presses up close and Geralt can feel the thick line of his cock pressing into him. All at once, he's overcome by the need to have him closer and he wraps his legs around his waist and hauls him closer.

Jaskier is jostled in the process and he laughs lightly as he presses his face into Geralt's neck. Soft kisses are pressed into his skin and Geralt squirms, far more affected by it than he reasonably should be.

But that's Jaskier, isn't it? That's why he's here right now instead of on the Path where he was supposed to be. Jaskier is different. He takes things and flips them on their head without a second thought. Jaskier cares for him when no one else will look at him. Jaskier loves him.

The thought nearly breaks him and Geralt tugs him back up, kissing him deeply. When he pulls back, he's breathless and Jaskier is staring back at him with the softest, most beautiful smile Geralt has ever seen.

"I want you," he breathes and Jaskier's grin spreads as he leans up.

"Here?" he asks, "Geralt if I didn't know better, I'd say you were becoming a romantic, wanting to make love in a field under the stars." Yeah, he thinks, that's exactly what he wants, but he doesn't say it.

"Jask," he prompts and Jaskier smiles down at him, dipping to kiss the tip of his nose.

"Of course, my darling, anything for you."

He hovers barely an inch above Geralt's lips and knowing he's allowed to kiss him, the urge is too strong to resist. Jaskier laughs as he's tugged down again, but he quickly regains control, pushing Geralt's arms above his head. He draws back just enough to speak, the words a soft echo on Geralt's lips.

"Let's get this off, hm?" He curls his fingers around the hem, dragging his knuckles over Geralt's skin as he lifts the shirt up and over his head. It's tossed to the side, forgotten, and Jaskier returns to Geralt's neck. "I did miss you, you know," he breathes, lips dragging hot and wet against Geralt's skin, "when you were gone."

"I'm sorry," Geralt breathes, lifting his hands to tangle in Jaskier's hair. "I didn't want to leave you." Jaskier's only gotten as far as his collarbone when he stops and looks up at him.

"Then stay, next time," Jaskier hums, "if you need somewhere to stay, you can stay with me." Jaskier sits up pushing his knees under Geralt's thighs and he runs his fingers down Geralt's chest to the hem of his trousers. He gets them undone swiftly, tugging them open and folding the fabric back on itself to give himself room to touch.

Jaskier slips his hands down, pressing his thumbs into the vee of Geralt's hips and Geralt groans. He's been trying not to let Jaskier's touch affect him, but the lower he goes, the harder it is to keep from getting hard. After everything they've been through together, it shouldn't matter but this feels important somehow and Geralt isn't sure this is totally appropriate.

Not, at least, until Jaskier's fingers slip inside his trousers. Geralt gives in as soon as Jaskier's fingers brush his cock, groaning as they slip around him and tug gently. He drops his head back, looking up and as soon as Jaskier's eyes catch his, their mouths crash together again. Geralt grasps at him, pulling him closer as Jaskier strokes him.

The angle is awkward, but Jaskier shifts to make it easier for them both and when he's kissing him, Geralt can hardly think of anything else. He keeps his hands tangled in Jaskier's hair, keeps him close because he can't bear the thought of losing him, of even coming close again. The thought of it is too much to bear after coming so close already. Jaskier eases back, pulling from Geralt's mouth to kiss his jaw.

"Relax, my love," he breathes, humming against his skin. "I want this just as much as you do." Geralt tries to relax, but there's still the lingering fear that afterward, Jaskier will leave him here alone again.

Jaskier sits up and it's enough of a shock to bring Geralt back to his senses and he reaches for him again. Jaskier just smiles and dips to kiss his nose before shifting so he can tug Geralt's trousers down. As soon as they're off and out of the way, Jaskier pulls off his own shorts and slides back between Geralt's thighs.

He's hard already, his cock peeking through the split in his robe, and Geralt can't keep his eyes off him. Jaskier's hands smooth up his thighs and he presses closer until his cock settles in the vee of Geralt's hip. He rocks forward gently and Geralt's hips twitch up to meet him. It's been so long and he's wanted him so badly, but he doesn't want to fuck this up - not if Jaskier is willing to give him another chance.

Jaskier slips a hand into his pocket and produces a familiar corked bottle. Geralt isn't one to be presumptuous, but either Jaskier was anticipating this, or he always carries a bottle of oil around with him - he's not sure which is more likely. Geralt watches his hands as Jaskier pours a little of the oil into his palm, spreading it around with his fingers. He wraps the same hand around Geralt's cock, stroking him steadily. Geralt's head drops back against the ground with a dull thud as he groans softly as Jaskier's fingers curve around the head of his cock.

"Fuck," Jaskier breathes, "that's it darling, relax for me." The words have barely left his mouth before a slick finger presses back behind Geralt's balls, slipping between his cheeks. Geralt tenses for a moment, but as soon as Jaskier presses against him, he settles.

Jaskier's touch is warm and familiar and Geralt's legs spread involuntarily to give him space. Jaskier hums approvingly and presses further. His other hand moves to Geralt's hip, fingers slipping gently against his skin.

Under his touch, Geralt goes limp, relieved to know that for now, at least, Jaskier is still happy to be with him.

Jaskier presses into him tentatively and Geralt does his best not to tense up again. He needs this, wants this more than he ever has before and yet he's terrified of fucking it up. Jaskier's hand moves against his skin and Geralt's only half-aware of it until Jaskier is on his knees leaning over him, smiling down at him.

"You're in your head, love. Tell me what's bothering you."

"I don't want to fuck this up," he breathes, his words catching at the end as Jaskier brushes against that spot within him.

"Don't leave me again and we'll be fine." He smiles down at him and as Jaskier's lips brush against his, Geralt can't help the little smile that tugs at his lips.

"Never," he whispers. He groans as Jaskier presses deeper and Jaskier drops his head, bumping his forehead against Geralt's.

"Okay?" he breathes. Geralt nods. "You're very sensitive." He bumps his nose against Geralt's and shifts to breathe against his ear.

"Five months," Geralt mutters and Jaskier huffs a quiet laugh. He works into him, letting Geralt adjust to the intrusion before rubbing around his rim with a second.

Geralt rolls his head back, groaning at the stretch. Jaskier touches him gently, steadies him with a warm palm against his hip. Without it, Geralt feels like he might explode. He can't breathe with Jaskier's fingers inside him, can barely think straight. Somehow, over the winter, he'd forgotten how exceptionally talented Jaskier is with his hands and he's been missing this for months.

"Please," he whispers and he doesn't even know what he's asking for, but Jaskier crooks his fingers, rubbing against his prostate, and Geralt arches off the ground.

He's already pushing dangerously, embarrassingly close to the edge. Clearly, he's been more desperate than he thought. And he knows Jaskier can feel it, knows he'll do what he can to bring him off first, but tonight he wants Jaskier inside him, wants to wrap around him and never let him go. Not that he's going to argue with this, but-

"Not yet," he says, but his voice comes out rough and needy, clearly giving away his desperation.

"Oh darling, if you think you're only coming once tonight, you're mistaken," he leans down, letting his lips brush the shell of Geralt's ear. "It's been months for you and I've been stuck here with ancient farmers who can barely get it up and stable hands who come too soon and fuck right off. No darling, I think you and I are both deserving of a good fuck."

Jaskier thrusts into him again, shifting so his cock slides against Geralt's and all it takes is one well-aimed thrust before Geralt is coming. His eyes nearly roll back in his head and he bites down on his lip as he works through it, Jaskier's fingers still working slowly into him.

"Oh," he breathes, reaching up to lace his fingers through Jaskier's hair. He tugs his head up, earning him a cheeky smirk that's quickly wiped away as Geralt kisses him. Hard.

Jaskier moans into his mouth, slipping his tongue between Geralt's lips and dropping so he's pressed against his side. He doesn't let up, thrusting steadily into him even as his cock digs into Geralt's thigh. He's clearly wanting, and yet he's still giving Geralt pleasure first. Part of him wants to soak it all in, to bask in his continued affection, but he wants to give it more. He wants Jaskier to know he's repentant, to know exactly how he feels without having to stumble over the words to say it. Because words he's bad with, actions he can do.

Wrapping both arms around Jaskier's waist, he pulls him up onto him, lifting one knee to hold him in place. Jaskier chuckles softly, nipping at Geralt's bottom lip before drawing back.

"Impatient, darling?" he teases. Geralt just hums, reaching up to curl a hand around the back of his neck.

"Let me make you feel good."

"Oh, Geralt, you do." Jaskier dips, kissing down his chest until he's forced to readjust. He smiles up at him and Geralt grabs him again, hauls him down against him.

He gets a hand between them, wrapping around Jaskier's cock and stroking him gently. He's slow, steady, pressing his fingers into Jaskier's shoulder and squeezing around the head of his cock. Jaskier's breath is hot and wet where he buries his face in Geralt's neck and Geralt has fought soldiers and monsters alike, but he's never felt as powerful as he does with Jaskier in his arms, panting and moaning into his skin. Not as powerful and certainly not as wanted.

Jaskier shifts against him, bringing one hand up to tangle in Geralt's hair. He tugs lightly, apparently pleased with the guttural groan he gets in response, even if Geralt is embarrassed by his own neediness. Jaskier rolls his hips, pressing himself between Geralt's fingers with soft, muted moans. But when Geralt let's free his hand slip, cupping Jaskier's ass and encouraging the roll of his hips, Jaskier stutters to a stop. Geralt's head jerks up as Jaskier rises up off his chest, but Jaskier's expression is still soft when he looks down on him.

"Darling I appreciate that you want to make me feel good, and you do - gods, do you - but," he whispers, shifting onto all fours love him. Jaskier tips his head down, just low enough that his nose bumps Geralt's and Geralt could kiss him if he tilted his head just so. He doesn't, even when Jaskier's lips brush his own. "I want to fuck you tonight. I've been thinking about this for weeks and nothing is going to take you away from me now." He presses the softest kiss to Geralt's lips before drawing away and straightening up.

Knees press under his thighs and Jaskier lifts them, settling so Geralt's legs are draped over his own, spread wide and open for him. Even after so much time, he feels like he should be embarrassed to be seen like this, but Jaskier just makes him feel warm and safe and comfortable.

It feels like an eternity that Jaskier touches him, brushing his fingers along the insides of his thighs and slipping his fingers in and out, driving Geralt to madness. Then, just when he thinks he can't take it any longer, Jaskier relents. His cock is thicker than his fingers, smooth and hot and so fucking good after months of denial.

He presses in slow but steady, holding Geralt's hip with one hand and soothing him with the brush of his thumb against his skin. It's sweet and much-appreciated, but entirely unnecessary. Geralt is needy and wanting, desperate for Jaskier to just get on with it. His skin prickles as Jaskier sinks into him. He reaches up to him, wrapping his arms around his neck and drawing him closer.

As Jaskier settles, he shifts his hips, pressing against Geralt's prostate as he adjusts. Geralt's breath catches and there's a flash of something in Jaskier's eyes. He does it again. This time, Geralt groans loudly and when he arches off the ground, Jaskier slips an arm around the small of his back.

He lowers himself, holding Geralt close as he rolls his hips, slowly at first, but as Geralt reaches for him, grabbing at his shoulders, Jaskier picks up speed. He presses closer, kissing Geralt as he rocks into him and it's so good.

Geralt draws him close, hooking one knee over Jaskier's hip and wrapping his arms around him. Jaskier's body is warm despite the cool night air, soft under his hands, and Geralt's chest swells with an emotion he still barely recognizes in himself.

"Oh, love," Jaskier breathes. He kisses Geralt's jaw, nips at his lips. His breath is hot against Geralt's skin and it's what he focuses on to hold himself together. He feels like he's floating, so overwhelmed with emotion that he's not quite sure what to do with it. And when Jaskier whispers, "I've missed you," so soft and sweet and genuine, Geralt shatters.

He kisses him then, wrapping both legs around Jaskier's waist and pulling him against him. It doesn't matter if Jaskier can move or not, Geralt just wants him close, wants to be able to feel Jaskier's body against him, to know he's there.

They stay like that for some time, Geralt wrapped as tightly around him as he can be and Jaskier still rocking into him slowly. He's resting on his elbows now, fingers tangled in Geralt's hair as he kisses him all over. His cheeks, his jaw, his nose and, eventually, his lips. Jaskier moans as Geralt kisses back rough and desperate, the sound of which only serves to deepen his arousal.

He's already nearing the precipice again and when Jaskier pushes back up to his knees, the new position has him bumping up against that spot with every thrust. Geralt rolls his head back, hair tangling as he bares himself to Jaskier. He keeps one hand around Jaskier's neck, loathe to let him get far away and the other drops to clench around his cloak, groaning with each of Jaskier's thrust as pleasure zips up his spine.

Jaskier's fingers dig into his thighs and Geralt slumps back against the ground. Fuck, he'd forgotten how good it could be with someone you care about - not that he's been with anyone else. Jaskier slips one hand up, bracing himself on Geralt's chest with the other stays on his hip, squeezing and holding Geralt steady as he pounds into him.

He's mumbling, muffled by the way he bites at his bottom lip and drops his chin against his chest, but even through the buzzing in his head, he catches little bits of it. It's nothing out of the ordinary; just Jaskier telling him he's beautiful, that he missed him, that he's so fucking good, darling. But it hits differently tonight, knowing how close he was to losing this wonderful man and fucking up everything they've been through.

When he realizes Jaskier is close, Geralt reaches up to him, cups Jaskier's face in his hand with the last of his remaining strength. Jaskier lets out a little whine and turns into the touch, kissing the palm of his hand.

"Fuck," he groans and his hips stutter. Jaskier presses deeper, leaning over him, and their eyes meet for the briefest moment before he drops to kiss him.

It's rushed and sloppy and Geralt can feel the way Jaskier comes down from the rush as his kisses become slower, more precise. Geralt's fingers slip up through his hair and Jaskier hums as he eventually draws away. He settles against Geralt's chest, pressing his nose into his throat.

The warmth of his breath is calming and Geralt finds his eyes dropping shut. He slips an arm around Jaskier's waist, holding him a little more firmly against him. He won't let himself take this for granted again, he won't let himself do anything more to jeopardize whatever this is - even if it never goes further than this. Geralt is right on the verge of sleep when Jaskier slips away from him, chuckling lightly when Geralt groans at the loss.

"I know my love. As lovely as this is, the nights are still quite cold and the chill will set in soon." Geralt groans softly, making a half-hearted attempt to pull Jaskier back down. "Not yet, love. Come back home with me." He presses a kiss to Geralt's shoulder. "It's warm there and we can relax."

"You're not supposed to be back at the brothel?"

"I'm sure they'll get by without me for one night."

Jaskier rises up to his knees and Geralt shudders as the silk of his robe slides against his skin. His cock gives a twitch of interest and his eyes flutter shut again.

Despite his resistance, Geralt lets Jaskier coax him to his feet and he dresses quickly, picking his clothes out of the damp grass. Jaskier is already half-dressed and he watches Geralt closely as Geralt tugs his trousers up and struggles to get them laced up around his still-hard cock, the intensity of which does nothing to make Geralt's task any easier.

Once he's dressed again, albeit sloppily, Jaskier slips up close again, kissing him softly as he takes Geralt's hand. Jaskier leads him from the field through the streets, but Geralt could find his way around blind by now. He's spent more time in Hagge than any other city on the continent and he hardly needs to be given directions. But he likes the warmth of Jaskier's hand in his and he likes being able to step back and let someone else take the lead.

Jaskier is oddly quiet on the way there, but his scent and his demeanour tell Geralt that he's not upset, perhaps thoughtful. When the house rises up before them, Jaskier pauses and Gerlt halts with him. He waits as Jaskier comes around to face him, twisting the fingers of their free hands together.

"I want to make something clear," Jaskier says, meeting Geralt's eyes in a gesture that seems difficult for him. Geralt remains silent, fighting back a creeping fear that seeps into him. "I know you're a smart man, Geralt, but I also know that sometimes certain feelings stop us from thinking clearly. And after the winter, I-" he exhales slowly and looks up at him with more conviction. "This isn't about sex for me Geralt and it certainly isn't about getting paid. I- I've put aside every mark you've paid me. I haven't spent any of it in case you ever changed your mind about taking me with you."

Geralt's head swims. It's not about the sex for him, either. It hasn't been for ages if he's honest. He loves Jaskier, cares more deeply for him than he has for anyone in a long time. He wants to take him with him. But he doesn't know how to say any of this to Jaskier, so he lets his actions speak for him.

He surges forward, wrapping his arms around Jaskier's waist, and kisses the little oh of surprise from his lips. Jaskier laughs against him and winds his arms around Geralt's neck, using him as leverage to bring himself closer. He lingers for a long time before walking backward up the path and pulling Geralt with him.

They finally break apart just inside the door and Geralt's chest swells when he sees the flushed grin on Jaskier's face.

"It's not for me, either," he breathes and Jaskier seems to understand because his grin only broadens and he tugs Geralt close enough to shut the door behind him.

They stumble upstairs together, still wrapped up in each other, and the only reason Geralt lets go is because Jaskier's hands wander to his trousers and Geralt is eager to be rid of them again. He does his best to relax, but it's difficult with Jaskier's hands all over him. By the time Jaskier has him naked again, Geralt is fully hard again. He squirms as Jaskier presses up from behind, resting his chin on Geralt's shoulder.

"I hate to be the one to ruin the mood, darling, but I can't feel my toes and I'd very much like a bath right now." He kisses his shoulders and slips away. He shoves his shorts down over his hips tauntingly as he steps away and Geralt turns to watch him.

Jaskier is elegant, even when he's being a tease and he makes a show of filling the bath, bending low so that his robe slips up over his ass. It takes all of Geralt's control to keep from picking him up and taking him to bed immediately and he still finds himself drawn close before Jaskier is finished, winding his arms around his waist and bending over him. The robe has slipped from one shoulder and Geralt hums as he kisses the bare patch of skin there.

He moves one hand down, slipping beneath the hem of the robe to run up Jaskier's thigh and he gets a laugh in response.

"Okay," Jaskier grins, turning around to slide his hands up Geralt's chest, "come on then, impatient, let's get you into that tub."

Geralt doesn't need any more convincing than that and he climbs into the bath, sloshing the water as he sits down a little too quickly. Jaskier gets in after him, settling between his legs and leaning back against his chest. It's all Geralt can do not to rock up against him, especially when Jaskier leans back and kisses his neck, but he restrains himself. Instead, he slips his hands between Jaskier's thighs, running his fingers along the smooth skin there.

"I'm sorry I left you," he mumbles. "Really."

"I know," Jaskier says, "It took me a while to realize it, but when I saw you tonight... Don't leave like that again."

"I won't."

"But I suppose you'll be leaving again soon."

"Shortly, yes. I have to take care of something important for a friend. I'll be heading to Skellige."

"Oh wow, that's... far," Jaskier falters. There's a hesitancy in his voice that Geralt dislikes more than he should.

"Yeah, but I- I don't have to leave right away. If you like, I could stay? If you'd have me?" Jaskier pushes off of him and for a moment Geralt thinks he's overstepped, that he's said too much. But then, when Jaskier looks at him with big, shining eyes, he realizes that for once he might actually have done something right.

"My darling," Jaskier whispers, wrapping one hand around the back of Geralt's head. He tips forward, letting their lips brush just lightly before leaning into it and Geralt lets him despite his eagerness to know what he has to say. When he finally pulls away, he's smiling again. "My darling Geralt," he tries again, "it would be my absolute pleasure to have you stay with me."

[mayraki]

✧ chapter four: fire is catching - b. barnes x oc series ✧

-> captain-james’ gif

‘let’s play fire with fire’ series masterlist

my masterlist

summary: the night continues so sam, bucky and sera deal with the big man on his big throne. but when their mission doesn’t go according to plan, blood ends up spilling on the floor as their little team starts to fall apart.

warnings: graphic descriptions about blood.

“Where do you think you’re going?” A tall man with his deep voice asked while putting his hand on Sera’s shoulder as soon as she walked in front of him with the intention to walk inside the VIP area.

Sera, who had her veins still pounding from her fight with Bucky moments earlier, she moved the man’s hand away and looked at him dead in the eyes. “Dude, I’m not in the mood for this so you better fuck off.”

“Excuse me?”

Sera nodded with a smile. “Oh, you heard me.”

“Hey, hey.” Sam appeared from her back trying to calm the situation down like he always did. But before he could let out another word, the big guy on his boy throne spoke while he had three girls around him.

“What is going on with that girl, Jack?”

Sera moved her head to the side to be able to see the guy on the eyes. “We just need to talk to you!”

The man let out a big laugh soon joined by the girls next to him, which lead to Sera feeling her chest being filled with anger and hotness. “And why would I do that, sweetheart? What makes you think a man like me would want to talk to a girl like... you?” He grabbed one of the girls he had next to him and quickly moved her on top of his lap. Disgusted by this man, Sera clenched her jawline and rolled her eyes. “Unless, is not exactly talking what you want to do with me.” The man let out a grin as Sera tilted her head to the side and squinted her eyes when a thought crossed her mind.

Bucky took a step closer angrily but soon stopped once he saw from the corner of his eye the little smile forming on Sera’s lips. “No, you’re right. It’s not talking what I want to do.” As soon as she said those words she opened her eyes normally and felt the hot air going through them.

Sam and Bucky looked at her and carefully watched her moves. But she wasn’t moving a single muscle from her body. Sam, noticing this and her silence, walked to be next to Sera and locked at her eyes. Followed soon by Bucky, but to her other side.

“Careful, now.” Sam said softly. “Just to get us in.”

Bucky heard Sam’s words and furrowed his eyebrows confused still looking at Sera and her red eyes. But before he could let out a word the man letting out a big scream in pain made him turn to him and see how he was grabbing his head as he was kneeled down on the floor.

“Sr? Sr? Are you alright?” The big man quickly walked towards him to try and take him off the floor worryingly. But soon after, the man stopped grabbing his head and quickly looked up with terror in his eyes.

“Just to get us in.” Sera said softly looking at how the man struggled to get up. The girls around him stepped back as they were grabbing each others arms.

As Bucky’s eyes were seeing everything that was happening in front of him, his thoughts about her were slowly coming together. She and her powers were still a mystery to him, the more he spent time with her the more he found out. And this time, he had one thing to add to the list: her saying “I can burn everything that’s on your mind without moving a finger” wasn’t a lie after all.

“Everyone out!” The man yelled after regaining his feet on the floor and started to push everyone out of the way. “Now!” His loud tone could be heard on top of the music gaining some looks from the people dancing. Proudly walking inside that tiny VIP area, Sam, Sera and Bucky stood in front of the man as he sat down once again on his throne, trying to gain his confidence and thoughts back. “Seraphina Thompson. I’ve heard stories about you... I should’ve guessed you were going to come here.”

“And why is that?” Sera asked as she crossed her arms around her chest.

“My name is Zaha and I’m a smart man. Enough to know that I shouldn’t have talked to you like that. And for that, I am truly sorry.”

“You know where you can stick your apology-”

“Sera.” Sam stopped her gaining her eyes on him. “We’re not here to get ourselves into trouble, remember? We just want to talk.” Sera rolled her eyes and went silent, letting Sam take over the conversation. “We need to talk about a guy that calls himself The Red Wolf.”

“I’m sorry. But what makes you think I know about him?”

“Rumours has is that one of his guys worked here for you, and we need to know if you’ve seen or heard about him.”

“I’m sorry... but I don’t. I’ve never heard that nickname before.” Sera squinted her eyes and took a deep breath in, noticing the guy moving uncomfortably on his seat.

“You sure about that?” Bucky said and for the looks of it, he seemed to have caught the same thing as Sera.

“Yes, I am sure. Otherwise I don’t know why I would hide information from you guys.”

“You call yourself smart but you lie about having information,” Bucky said “and I don’t think that’s very smart of you, Mr. Zaha.”

“I’m not lying.”

“Oh, I think you are.” Sera spitted out. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be moving in your seat nervously like you’re doing right now. If you don’t have anything to hide, then don’t be nervous.”

“Oh, I think he is very nervous.” Bucky agreed, getting closer to Zaha.

He crossed his legs to hide his heart beating faster but unlucky for him, nothing passes unnoticed for Sam, Bucky and Sera.

“Nervous like a little chihuahua.” Sam said jokingly. “Shaking like you need to pee right now. Do you need to pee Mr. Zaha? Or that brain of yours is hiding something important and that’s why you’re shaking like a little baby?”

“I think is the second option, Sam,” Bucky said firmly “so you better be smart about this.”

It was obvious that Zaha was caught off guard and didn’t expect to face someone like them on that night. Sera knew that he was a man that liked to be feared and not the one being threatened, so trying to gain control of the situation he let out a grin and tilted his head slowly to the side. “And you are, Mr...?”

“You don’t want to find out.” Bucky said quickly, not wanting to deal with Zaha’s twisted mind.

“Not to be rude or anything,” Zaha said slowly while while pointing at Bucky with his long finger “but why are you the one with the job of intimidation?” He let out a grin and then slowly turned towards Sera, who furrowed her eyebrows angrily. “Don’t you two think that is better to use the girl with fire in her eyes?”

Before Sam or Sera could say anything, Bucky quickly walked towards Zaha and punched the side of his throne making a loud noise once his hands touched the sit and for Zaha to lock eyes with him and regain the fear on his eyes.

“Don’t look at her, look at me.” Bucky said firmly with his jaw clenched and his killing eyes on Zaha. “You better speak and tell us what you know because you don’t want to be on my bad side.”

Sera noticed his big arms under that black jacket he had and felt how her stomach turned once the need of touching them appeared on her mind. Unintentionally, she widen her eyes at the surprise of Bucky feeling angry once again. But this time, Sera wasn’t angry too, this time she felt the hotness growing inside of her as the butterflies were going crazy inside of her stomach. He looked attractive and her mind wasn’t going to let it pass.

So lost in her thoughts, Sera didn’t notice the metal arm showing once Bucky moved closer to Zaha. Before she could do something about it, Zaha moved his eyes towards it since it made a different noise than the other hand. Realising the dark grey color Bucky had on his arm, his eyes went wide open as his back touched the back of his seat, clearly intimidated of what he had in front of him.

“You’re the winter soldier... and you” Zaha turned to Sam, immediately recognising him “you’re the falcon.” Bucky stepped back as Zaha was going back and forth between them all with shook in his eyes. “Seraphina Thompson with the falcon and the winter soldier?”

“Now you see the trouble you’re in?” Sam said nodding his head.

“I knew... The Red Wolf.” Zaha said finally after a couple of seconds and looking down at the floor. “He used to make his reunions here.”

“Why used to?” Sera asked.

“I don’t know. He suddenly stopped needing the place. I- I never stepped inside one of his meetings because he didn’t allow it.” He looked up waiting for one of them to talk but receiving not words he sighed and shook his head. “He is a very dangerous man. And has so many people behind him- even I was impressed. I knew who he was but I never knew or tried to understand what he was planning to do. To be quite honest, I was terrified, truly terrified, when he came here I moved myself out of the way. He once asked me to give one of his men a job here so I did. And that’s it. So, I’m sorry but I can’t help you more.”

“So you let a man have his meetings here for a long time but you don’t know anything about him?” Bucky asked. “It sounds like bullshit.”

“Sera do you smell that?” Sam asked and Sera quickly smelled the air and nodded. “Bullshit.”

“It’s not! I’m telling you the truth.”

“Sounds to me like you’re a coward.” Bucky let out slowly as he was getting closer.

Noticing his eyes on Bucky’s metal arm, Sera let out a tiny grin and slightly tilted her head to the side. “What? Afraid of a little metal arm?”

Bucky let his hands rest on the side of his chair to get his face closer to his, feeling the fear growing inside of Zaha. “Talk.”

“That’s all I-”

“Talk, before you make me lose my patience.”

“I’m being serious! That’s all I know!”

Bucky said something else but Sera didn’t hear it. As soon as he said his next words Sera felt how they slowly faded away as the electricity ran through her veins. She closed her eyes feeling her eyes burn and her throat feeling up with hot air.

“Sam-” She said almost in a whisper but it was enough since Sam worryingly turned to her and quickly walked towards her to grab her shoulder.

“Sera? Are you alright?” He asked but as soon as she locked eyes with him, he understood.

“Something’s wrong.” The second she said those words the sound of a bullet entering the room his their ears and soon ended up inside Zaha’s head, immediately making his body to fly backwards as the blood was pouring from his forehead and slowly covering the floor around him.

Realising what just happened, Bucky turned around to lock eyes with Sera. But when another thing caught his eyes, he immediately ran towards her as the sound of bullets being shot hit his ears. Without hesitating, Bucky covered her body and lifted his metal arm to stop any bullet quickly flying her way.

As Sam threw himself out of the way, Sera closed her eyes once Bucky turned her to the side and with strength pushed her against the wall to cover themselves from the thousands of bullets going their way.

Ignoring the pain Sera was feeling on her back from hitting the wall, she locked eyes with Bucky who seemed to have glued himself in front of her. Their eyes were locked to each other with no intention to move them away. Their faces were so close that their chests would almost touch the moment they filled their lungs with air. Sera widen her eyes at the realisation that Bucky just saved her body from ending covered in bullets.

Even if the loud noises around them were still going, Bucky and Sera didn’t take their eyes away from each other, until Sam quickly ran towards them to cover his body the same way Sera and Bucky were doing.

“Would you two mind stopping with the whole staring thing and help me?! Because I don’t think Mr. Zaha has the intention to do so now!” Sam yelled after taking the gun out of the back of his jeans and trying to hit anyone that had the intentions to kill them.

Going back to reality and what was happening next to her, Sera moved Bucky out the way the moment he took out the guy he had on his back. Feeling the fire on her fingertips grow Sera moved her feet towards the bullets and ignored the big yell of her name coming out of Bucky’s mouth. Lifting her hands to her side the second her eyes turned red, a wall fire started growing in front of her making the bullets towards her, Sam and Bucky melt the instant they touched the burning wall Sera had created.

Bucky seeing what Sera was doing and the second he took off the shook out of his face, he ran towards Sam who was now standing next to the wall of fire with his chest going quickly up and down. He turned to look at Bucky who was still surprised at the way Sera and her red eyes were handling the situation, something that he had never seen anyone do before.

The sound of the melted bullets hitting the floor were now hitting their ears. “I guess she can do a little more than turn into a torch.” Bucky said with his eyes locked on her. When the bullets stopped going through the wall, Bucky lifted his gun ready to face whatever was coming even if it felt like Sera had everything covered. And she did.

Without waiting another second, moving her hands to the ceiling she closed them into fists to feel the burning sensation growing inside her palm. Her chest was filled with hot air as the smoke was quickly coming out of her skin. Silence surrounded the room, but then, quicker as another bullet trying to get through, Sera opened her hands and with a loud noise left the fire of the wall fly like a pheonix towards the man with big guns trying to kill them, making them all fly toward the wall and end up unconscious on the floor, with nothing more than empty gun and burning marks on their skins.

Feeling her hands going back to normal, she turned around to Sam and Bucky who were standing behind her with their eyes locked on the guys at the floor with furrowed eyebrows. Sera did a little smile and shrugged her shoulders once she gained their eyes on her, doing a thumbs up and nodding. “We’re cool now.” She said before turning around and leaving the VIP area to join the now empty dance floor.

“Yeah, more than a torch.” Sam said softly before leaving a confused and still surprised Bucky behind.

“Now what?” Sera asked once she had her two partners by her side on that empty room with lights going all sorts of crazy.

Before Sam or Bucky could say anything, the sound of a door opening hit their ears letting them notice the now four guys with big guns going their way. “I guess is fighting those assholes.” Sam said before they all ran towards a big white column to hide their bodies behind it.

Expecting to hear more bullets going their way, Sera made her hands burn making fire grow out of them, but before she could move her hands to her side, a big ball of fire hitting the side of the column made them all jump backwards as both Bucky and Sam looked at a very confused Sera.

“What the fuck was that?!” Bucky asked.

“Did they cloned you or some shit?!” As Sam asked that questions, Sera looked at her hands glowing and spitting fire, she closed her eyes the second an ugly old memory game back to her head.

“Can’t be.” She said moving her head to the side to have a better look at the men with black suits and big guns on their hands. But they weren’t normal guns... they were white and were as big as their whole torsos combined. It had red lines on each side that Sera knew they glow everytime they charged. The little sound of fire it made when it threw the ball fire hit Sera’s ears once again making her move Sam and Bucky out of the way by pushing them and hitting their backs to the wall by their left.

“What is that and where can I get one!?” Sam asked when another fire ball hit the white and big column.

“It’s a fire arm!” Sera yelled moving the fire growing towards them.

“Yeah no shit, Sera!” Bucky yelled putting off the little ball of fire by his side with his foot. “What do we do now?”

“We need to make a plan!” Sam yelled. “Bucky go left and I go right while Sera stops the fire-!” He was yelling but then shut his mouth when Bucky and Sera completely ignored what he was saying and started to walk towards the big guns throwing fire. “Why the hell did you ask?!” Sam asked but then went back to the wall once another ball of fire went his way.

“This fucking shoes!” Sera yelled feeling the pain on her toes and ankles the second after she moved the fire going towards her and Bucky by her side.

“Give them to me.” Bucky said and without questioning it, Sera lifted her foot and took of the heel and handed the two pairs of shoes to Bucky. As her eyes were slowly following Bucky’s move, she saw how he moved his metal arm backwards and how the shoe left his hand the second his hand passed his head.

Without giving Sera a moment to react, her other shoe was already flying towards another man, ending up inside his eye. Sera’s eyes were seeing how the blood started to pour out of their eyes as slowly as a tear going down their cheeks. “I always knew you could use a heel as a weapon.” Sera said surprised. But that tiny moment didn’t last long since she felt another ball of fire going her way. Lifting her hands to her side she quickly stopped it and pushed it away, making a big explosion and taking down the other men in front of her in the process.

Bullets hitting her ear Sera turned to her side and noticed Sam behind the counter trying to hit the man now going towards him. With quick steps, Bucky walked passed her ready to take the man down. Seeing how the gun he had on his hands was glowing, Bucky stopped with the intention to move to the side and avoid the big ball of fire wanting to burn him. But before it even had the chance, the second it was out of the big white gun, the big ball of fire quickly moved backwards like someone pushed it, making the man fly backwards and hit the wall behind him.

Bucky turned back to see Sera with a little smile on her face as her eyes were slowly going back to normal. “Uno reverse card, bitch.” She said as she was getting closer to Bucky and Sam, who were now standing side by side.

“Having fun?” Sam asked out of breath while Sera was barely different from when the fight started.

“Is it wrong if I say yes?” She answered cheekily. Eating the laugh that came out of Sera’s mouth, the front door opened letting them see another man entering with, this time, an ever bigger weapon. “Holy shit.” Sera said with shook in her eyes.

“Still having fun?” Bucky asked gaining a mean look from Sera.

Without giving them a second to breathe, another big ball of fire was flying towards them but Sera moving in front of Bucky and Sam lifted her hands into the air and quickly stopped it. Feeling the fire inside of her hands and her eyes burning with desire, she pushed the fire towards the wall by her side making a big loud noise in the process.

Punches were being thrown out, bullets flying as well as fire growing each second around Bucky, Sam and Sera. Neither of them expected to end the night like that, or even why they were in that situation to begin with.

After moving another ball fire going her way, feeling her arms getting tired she moved to the side and let her back rest on the wall as the bullets leaving their guns was hitting her ears. She slightly moved her head to see better what was happening as she heard Sam yelling for Bucky. They needed her. She felt her heart beating faster as she saw how Bucky and Sam were struggling to keep up the fight. Her breathing was going quicker as the sound around her was fading away and her sight was becoming blurrier. Her fingertips felt the burning sensation as her eyes wanted to close. But trying her hardest, she moved towards Sam and Bucky to lift her hands and enter the fire about to burn them into her body.

The scene in front of her getting blurrier and blurrier as the seconds were passing, seeing the fire around her and being thrown at her became even more harder. She didn’t know what was happening or how to stop it. Moving her head side to side to see if Bucky and Sam were alright, she felt how her heart wanted to jump out of her chest. Bucky was struggling when three men were grabbing his arm with strength. Sam, by her other side, was still hiding behind the counter trying to move himself out of the way were fire was growing everywhere around him.

With the intention to move, Sera tried to lift her foot but it felt like it was heavier than ever. The pain in her legs turned into feeling like she was glued to the floor down her. The burning on her hands was stronger but nothing seemed to want to come out of it as her eyes hurt like something had stabbed them a second ago. Her head was pounding while she noticed the noise around her was slowly fading away. No bullets, no fire, no voices but complete silence... until she felt something grabbing her neck and pulling her to the ground as she felt an electric sensation against her neck making her breathing cut short and her eyes to fully close, stopping her from feeling anything else and fall unconscious on the floor.

Bucky’s foot quickly flew towards one of the guys’ knee making him quickly fall into the ground. Able to free himself from one of them, he threw his head backwards to hit the guy behind him in the forehead. Having one guy left, he just lifted his hand and quickly punched the guy in the face, leaving three men now in the floor next to him. Wanting to look for his friends, Bucky looked up and noticed Sam trying to fight a man but quickly shooting him to the ground. Nodding once they locked eyes with each other, with the same intention they both looked around looking for the third member of their team. But once they both saw the same thing, it made their quick feet ran towards a Sera laying on the floor with four men around her. But before any of them could make another move, a strange electric feeling hit their skin making them soon fall to the floor.

Feeling his body shake against the floor, Bucky’s eyes were still glued to Sera as his heart dropped to his stomach. “Sera!” He tried to yell but it came out nothing more than a loud whisper with so much pain in it.

“Look at you.... the winter soldier.” Bucky heard with a joking tone as he was laying in the floor. “What a pity.” Soon after a sound of someone spitting by his side hit his ears and then steps moving away.

As her skin was moving uncomfortably on the floor, he managed to keep his eyes on Sera. The way that a man grabbed her body and lifted her on his shoulders like she was bag of some sort, made his inside burn with anger. He felt how his heavy body was starting to hurt him and getting tired the more he spent on the floor with his eyes stuck on one side of the room.

“What are you gonna do now, Winter Soldier?” A guy yelled kneeling down before letting out the biggest laugh ever, shaking the walls around him. “We’re going to have fun with her. Don’t worry.” He said after getting up and letting out another smile seeing how Bucky still couldn’t get up from the floor.

Following the men with his eyes, Bucky felt how his brain was screaming at him to move and save her. But nothing seemed to be working, the electric feeling against his skin was still shaking his body slowly and keeping anything else from hearing the commands his brain was yelling.

Shaking Sera jokingly, the man that just talked to Bucky turned her head and said something that Bucky couldn’t hear. There was nothing he could do about it, they were taking her God knows where and were planning on doing terrible things to her while Bucky couldn’t even get up to try and save her. He felt useless while the pain inside of him was growing as they were taking Sera further and further away out of the building.

Suddenly, when he gain full attention of his heart beating faster he immediately felt something falling from his eyes towards his cheek. He tensed his teeth together while the pain became tighter around his chest and heart. His breathing was cutting short when the air became thicker around him. Closing his eyes when he heard the front door closing and seeing that Sera was no longer inside the building, hearing his breathing was the only thing he could hear next. The thick air, his heavy stomach and the pain inside his chest were growing each second that was passing as a single tear drop was going down his cheek. She was gone. They took her and Bucky couldn’t save her. That was just... it.

>>>

A strong headache appeared on Sera’s head the second she opened her eyes and the white strong light troubled her eyes. She squinted them as they were wondering around the room. It was as white as the light itself and had nothing but the chair she was sitting on and a giant black window in front of her. A tight feeling around her wrist made her realize that she was wrapped at the chair as well as her ankles. The coldness on her neck and being unable to move her head far backwards, she noticed a thick metal necklace covering her neck with a red light that would turn on and off constantly.

The memories before she closed her eyes were slowly coming to her the more she found herself in that room. The fire around her, her burning eyes and... her blurry sight. She still didn’t understand why she felt like that and why couldn’t she control herself. Her heavy body was now gone but she still felt a slightly electric feeling on her neck.

With the intention to move her fingers to feel the burning sensation in them, she took her full attention towards them, but as soon as she tried the white giant door by her left side quickly opened to let her see that ugly face she hated seeing.

“Jackson.” She said angrily as he let out a tiny smile once he closed the door behind him. He had his same long red coat and brown shiny boots. It didn’t matter to the old man that he had a powerful woman like Sera under his power, he still took the time to look good. “I should’ve guessed it was you.”

“Why?” Jackson asked while slowly walking towards her with his hands behind his back. “Because I am the only one who can defeat you?”

“No,” Sera quickly nodded as a grin started to grow on her lips “because I can smell the rotten fish from here.”

Instead of saying something back, Jackson just let out a tiny smile and got even closer to her face. Seeing every detail on his eyes, Sera felt the blood in her veins move faster as his lips were becoming even more into a bigger smile. “Nice to see you again, Sera. And not with those two.”

“Where are they?” She asked moving her body towards him making a loud noise as the chair moved with her.

Seeing how Sera clenched her jawline and the anger Jackson loved so much to see in her eyes, he moved backwards and let out yet another smile. “You really care about them... don’t you?” Not wanting to get an answer from her, Jackson took another step closer and added: “One thing at a time, dear, one thing at a time.”

“Yeah, and the first thing I’ll do is burn everything to the ground.”

“Ah. There she is. I missed you.” Jackson grabbed her chin with strength taking her head backwards as her eyes were burning with anger while looking at him. “But you need to be careful with what you do, dear. I want you to see something. You’re going to love it.” With the same strength as he was holding her, he let go of her chin making her move her head to the side and immediately feel the pain on her skin the moment he let go.

Following Jackson with her eyes, she noticed how his hand went inside his pocket and slowly took out a small controller with a bunch of different color buttons on it. “See this? This, can do a lot of things.” He arrived next to the window and let out a tiny smile while pointing at the blackness next to him. “First of all...” he pressed a button and Sera saw how it quickly turned the lights from the other room. Being the light so bright, Sera squinted her eyes and looked down trying to cover her eyes from the strong and bright light.

But when curiosity became even stronger than the pain she was feeling, she looked up and immediately widened her eyes. The moment she saw those blonde hairs and those green eyes her heart dropped to her stomach. “Angela.” Sera whispered making her throat hurt. Red scratches covered her lips and arms making Sera feel some tears fighting to come out. Her heavy dark bags under her eyes made it seem like she hadn’t slept for days.

Angela, being kneeled down on the floor with chains covering her wrists, looked up and made her face and body even more visible. Realising the shook in her eyes, Sera noticed that she could see her when they both locked eyes with each other. Her skinny lips turned into a smile as soon as her eyes realised that the person she was looking at was Sera, but then noticed Jackson standing in the other room as well, she erased it and rolled her eyes moving her scratched body to the side.

Feeling the anger and pain of seeing her friend all hurt grew inside of her as her fingertips were staring to feel their burning in them. A slight noise hit the room as Sera filled her lungs with fire and tried to free herself, but before she could let anything out, she felt a strong electric shook in her neck, making her body go back to normal and let out nothing but smoke out.

“And that, my dear, is the second thing this controller does. See that fashionable necklace I gave you? Yes, this little thing does the trick but, oh boy, that is the thing that could destroy you. So, if I were you, I would check my options and keep those beautiful fingertips still. We don’t want your sight to her blurry again before you fall on the floor, do we?”

“What do you want?” Sera asked with a firm tone once her neck recovered from the electric shook.

“What do I want?” Jackson asked getting closer to Sera. “I want you, of course.”

“Me?”

“Yeah...” He said softly. “To help me, of course. Like you did years ago.”

“I’m not that same person I was years ago, so fuck off.”

“Oh, language, please.” Jackson said disgusted arriving closer to Sera and stopping right in front of her body. “The old you is still there,” he pointed at her chest “I know it.”

“You don’t know shit, Jackson. You think you do, but you don’t. You want to control something that you can’t.”

“Well, I did controlled you, didn’t I?” He asked softly enjoying the look of Sera’s eyes.

She remembered all those old memories like it was the other day. Her old self being by Jackson’s side and doing whatever his mouth let out. Burning, exploding, tortuning.... it was horrible for her to recall all of those things. Knowing that she was no longer than person was what kept her going, but being in front of him asking her for help, made it more difficult to forget and not get affected by them as they were slowly coming back.

“You were happy, Sera. What happened?” Jackson asked slowly.

“I wasn’t. You manipulated me, you used me. You saw my pain so you took your chance to use what I can do-”

“But, yet, you did them. No questions asked. I never pointed a gun to your head. Did I? Don’t make excuses for the things that you did, dear.”

“I’m not. Believe me. I’ve spent years regretting and trying to forget what I did.”

Jackson stopped for a moment while a little smile grew on his lips. “Yes, with Mr. Wilson, am I right?”

Sera felt her chest close up as his mouth let out his name. “Don’t talk about him. Go to your point, Jackson, what is it exactly that you want from me?”

Seeing how Jackson lifted the controller and got ready to press another button, Sera furrowed her eyebrows as she was waiting for his next words. But before he did, the little noise of the button being pressed hit her ears and soon after, the door quickly opened. “I want you to make me more, Sera.”

Tables and more tables with the same weapons that Sera saw before collapsing on the floor were entering room. She slowly wondered the room and shook her head before turning once again to lock eyes with a proud Jackson staring at her like he was staring at her soul.

“What do you say, Sera? Just like the old days?”

“Like the old days-” Sera closed her eyes with strength while shaking her head. “This is insane, Jackson! Even for you!” The moment she opened her eyes Jackson was closer that made her able to see the desire and craziness now building inside his eyes.

“Sera, you and me together; we could rule the world. We would be unstoppable. If you make me more I can take down those asshole that want me dead and then make the underground mine. And after that, make the whole world mine. If you help me, if you give those weapons the energy they need to breath out fire it’s going to happen. I could be the king. And you... can be my queen, right by my side.”

Sera moved her head backwards and slowly shook her head while her eyes wondered the room once again, shook of what she was hearing and seeing. “Jackson. You want to play with something that’s way more complicated than you think. Understanding how this works isn’t something as easy as knowing how to build those weapons. It was comes after.” Seeing the anger and disappointment growing on his eyes, Sera moved closer to his face and whispered loudly: “Fire is catching. And if you play with it when you can’t control it... you’ll burn.”

“Well, I controlled you and I didn’t burn, did I?” He asked with the some tone but with anger before walking backwards and grabbing the controller once again. “And if I can make you remember, I have something that is going to make you help me, dear.” Jackson pointed at Angela who was confusingly watching every single weapon that there was in the room. Noticing that everyone was looking at her, she turned to lock eyes with Sera and let out a tiny smile even if her eyes screamed the pain she was feeling inside and out. “If you don’t help me, I can make her eyes go blurry.... like yours did. But I don’t think someone as weak as her can take it. So you better think it twice.”

Sera didn’t move her eyes from Angela. She saw how after giving her a smile, she went over to Jackson and flipped him off when he turned to her. Him, letting out a long angry sigh, went back to staring at Sera and tilted his head to the side, enjoying having the upper hand on her and the defeated look on her face.

‘I’m sorry’ Sera mouthed at Angela who slowly shook her head with a confused smile. Not wanting to look at her in the eyes anymore, she turned to Jackson and said the words she would never expected to say ever again: “I’ll help you.”

>>>

The trees were passing on Bucky’s window as the car was moving on the road. He had his elbow touching the door while his hand was against his lips holding his heavy head. The only noise surrounding the car was the sound of it running and the beeping coming from Sam’s phone.

After both, Sam and Bucky, gained control of their bodies they ran out of the building to see if they could notice anything that could lead them to Sera. But the whole street was as empty as the club inside. No noise, no black car, not even people walking around. The wind was the only thing they noticed moving around them.

Bucky found himself walking backwards and moving his metal hand with speed towards the wall behind him, hitting it with strength and making a big whole in the process. Feeling his breathing getting heavier as the anger grew inside of him, he closed his eyes with strength while his mind was trying to think of his next move.

He had no idea where they could’ve taken her, or even if she was still on the ground or on a plane going somewhere. His brain was empty as his chest became even more tighter and his heart wanted to jump out of his body. He opened his eyes to see Sam standing right next to him with his eyes glued to his phone screen typing something as fast as his fingers let him. Confused on what he was doing, he got closer to him but as soon as he arrived to his side, Sam blocked his phone and started walking away, quickly being followed by Bucky.

“So how exactly is this thing going to take us to Sera?” Bucky asked with a raspy voice once he looked at the phone, seeing how it had a tiny map in it and had a big red circle beeping every two seconds.

“A couple of years ago, when I used to work with Sera, I installed a tracker on her phone because there were times where she would...” Sam stopped and Bucky noticed that he was struggling on deciding if he should keep talking or just stop right there, but then when a tiny sigh came out of his mouth, he continued: “Look, our story is way more complicated than I could ever let you know. And if ever let you know, she has to say yes first. It’s her decision.”

“What is it about it that it’s such a big thing for you to ask her permission?”

“It’s complicated, Bucky, like I told you. It’s more of her story than mine, that’s why.” Bucky looked to the window a million of questions were flying around his head. Was it something bad? That questioned seemed to eat his brain the most. It wasn’t like Bucky’s past was clean and he was worried of thinking bad of her if he knew, his past was the dirtiest of them all, the wonder and the curiosity was the thing that was surrounding his brain. Why was it so important that Sam didn’t want to tell him?

“I get it.” Bucky said. “Believe me, I do. It’s not like I have the cleanest past.”

“Look, remember the first where she stayed with us? The one where we told her to wait?” Bucky nodded, as he looked at Sam remembering what Sera told him about Sam seeing it before. “It used to happen a lot back then, but even worse than the one we saw. She would take more minutes to calm herself down, make bigger shields around her to the point where we couldn’t even be close to her. It was ugly, Bucky.”

“Why, Sam? What makes her do that?”

“She comes from a hard life. Even if she acts like she doesn’t, the worst scenario that could happen to a person happened to her. After that, she went through even more terrible things. The point is, when those moments were over, she would usually end up in places far, far away.” Sam said. “That’s why I decided to install this tracker, I never told her because I knew she was going to hate it. But that was the only option I had back then.”

“And that’s how you knew where she was after all those years.” Sam nodded as Bucky let out sigh and added: “Good thing you thought of it, then.” He let out a tiny smile and turned to his window once again.

Even if some of the questions Bucky had on his mind were answered, he still felt as confused as the moment he started to wonder about her. Thousand of ideas were growing on his head as the seconds were passing. Not knowing the real story was eating him on the inside and making him even more nervous. He moved on his seat uncomfortably as his foot started to move up and down with speed. The minutes didn’t seem to pass as they where moving and that made the blood in his veins to rush.

Noticing this, Sam did a quick look to Bucky and his nervous actions. That wasn’t something normal on him, feeling anxious and showing it. He would always hide what was going on that brain of his carefully managing every movement he did. He was good at it. He was trained to be good at it. Even if his mind wasn’t the one that it used to, he still had everything he learned inside of him. So to be this out and about with his emotions, it had to be something big.

“You care about her, don’t you?” Sam asked ending the silence between them. Bucky, instead of turning to Sam and denying it, he stayed in silence and let out a tiny sigh. Maybe he did.

The memory of how his body felt when his eyes were seeing those men taking her away... made his chest tighten and feel his heart beating a little bit faster than usual. His throat closed up making it harder for him to say something to Sam. Like his cheek had a memory of it self, he felt how the invisible tear dropped down from his cheek while his mind was replaying Sera’s body being carried out. She knew this girl in less than a week but had him feeling things he hadn’t felt in a long time. He found himself caring about her, wanting to protect her like she was his.... Bucky knew that Sera didn’t need a protection, she proved more than capable of taken care of herself multiple times, but for the way his body and mind were acting, that didn’t matter to Bucky, he still felt the need to make sure she was fine until her last breath.

“She’s going to be fine, Bucky.” Sam said softly gaining Bucky’s attention.

Locking eyes with Sam, he nodded and let out a tiny smile not wanting to worry Sam with his millions of questions inside his brain. And weird enough, a big noise coming from a far helped him do that. As soon as the noise hit their ears, they both turned to the the road to see a big explosion going off, fire surrounded trees as big piece of smoke was flying upwards towards the sky. Like they were thinking the same thing, they both turned to Sam’s phone and noticed that the big red circle was closer than they expected.

“I think we found her.” Sam said softly, quickly turning the car towards the side of road after checking if anyone was coming, ready to follow the fire slowly growing around the forest.

>>>

“C’mon, Angela, get up.”

As the smoke around her was getting bigger and thicker, fire was growing and building up every second, Sera quickly ran towards her friend and grabbed her arm to help her get up. She noticed the weapons all now destroyed and some men also laying on the ground, but Jackson was nowhere to be seen.

Since the moment Sera saw those weapons get into the room, her little plan started working inside her head. She saw the opportunity and knew that she was going to take it. So, when Jackson pushed the little button to take that thick eletric necklace out of her neck and slowly took it off her, she looked up and immediately felt her eyes burning with desire as her hands touched the cold metal of the weapons.

“How-?” Angela asked after coughing the smoke out of lungs. “How did you do that? I thought you were going to help them.”

“That asshole wants to control fire but doesn’t even take the time to understand it.” She said while getting Angela’s arm around her shoulders to help her walking. “If I can give that piece of crap the amount of energy to work, I can also give it the energy to self destruct and explode. C’mon, let’s go.”

Covering Angela’s mouth with her own shirt to prevent her from breathing in the smoke around her, they both walked outside the room to find their way out of that building. Wondering with her eyes, Sera looked to her left and noticed a light coming from a tiny window surrounded by fire. But that wasn’t a problem for her. Moving her feet towards the window, she moved the flames to the side making a tiny path for her and Angela to walk through. Once close to it, she lifted her other hand that wasn’t holding her friend and as she felt the burning on her palm, she moved it with speed and threw a ball of fire to break the glass and finally, leave the burning building behind.

“C’mon, watch your step.” Sera said as Angela was carefully jumping the window and dropping to the other side.

Trees on fire and more smoke was the only thing Sera noticed the moment her shoes touched the grass. She looked around and realised the where both in the middle of the forest, there was nothing else than trees and bushes around them. But getting away from the fire to keep Angela safe was the only thing Sera wanted to do, so without waiting another second, Sera wrapped Angela’s arm around her shoulders once again and started to walk away, leaving pieces of smoke behind her.

“Wow, ok, so let me get this straight.” Angela started saying with her heavy breathing as they were both carefully walking besides the tall trees. “You have super powers. You can control fire and explode things... am I right?”

“And other things, but yes.”

“Alright! Cool, cool, cool, cool. That’s just... oh my god, that’s wild Sera! All this time since I’ve known you?” Sera nodded. “What the fuck?!” She yelled but then regretted it since a strong pain appeared on her stomach. “Fuck. I mean,” she said softly “you, fire, that’s crazy! And that man? What’s your story with him? Did you work with him? Is he bad? Angela, of course he’s bad! He trapped you for days to get to Sera! Of course! So, ok, Sera equals super powers. Then bad guy takes me to find Sera and make her do shit that’s bad. Ok, I got it. Then, Sera, a badass, explodes the entire building so we can escape. Sounds good?”

“You know, for being trapped in a horrible room for days you do have the energy to talk a lot.” Sera said and then soon heard Angela let out a tiny laugh, which lead to Sera’s chest fill with relief since her friend was alright and it was starting to hit her.

“Yeah. I mean if you just found your roommate for almost a year has super powers, you would too!”

Sera let out a tiny laugh but then quickly shook her head. “It’s not that amazing.”

“Sera! Are you kidding me, of course it is! You made an entire building blow up! Ouch- fuck.”

“Are you alright?” Sera asked once she looked to her friend, noticing her hand on her stomach. “We can stop if you want.”

“No, we need to get out of here. I trust you and your amazing powers, but those assholes can come after us any minute. C’mon.”

After feeling like they’ve been walking for long minutes, Sera and Angela both smiled when they started to hear the sound of cars moving along on the road. But the moment Sera moved her foot to keep walking, the sound of people walking behind them made her turn around with speed and fill her hands with fire and her dark eyes to turn red.

“Sera! It’s us!”

“Bucky?” She asked making her hands go back to normal as well as her eyes. Once she locked her sight with Bucky’s, a wave of safeness ran through her body.

“And you have hot friends too?!” Angela asked in a loud whisper by her side making her let out a tiny laugh and erase the feeling Bucky just gave her, saving it in a little box along with the others.

“Sam. How did you find me?”

“That’s a long story for later, now we need to get the hell out of here because-” Sam was saying but then the sound of a group of people running towards them cut him off. Turning around, they all noticed the men with weapons ready to fight them all. Sera took of Angela’s arm and walked closer to Sam, before he turned around to look at her once again “well, because those douche bags were following us.”

“Sam, Bucky, you need to take Angela to the car and keep her safe. Leave and don’t look back, I got this.” Before Sam could let out a word, Sera talked again “C’mon, you know better than anyone I can handle it.”

Sam took a second but then nodded, taking Angela’s arm and turning around, ready to follow what Sera told her.

“I’m not leaving you.” Bucky said walking in front of her. “I’m not going to let you do this alone.”

“Bucky, go!” She tried to push him by touching his chest, but barely moving Bucky turned to the men walking towards them and ignored the angry Sera by his side. “Bucky.”

“I’m not leaving without you, Sera.” His firm tone made her realise he wasn’t going to change his mind and having no more time left, she let out a big angry sigh and turned to the side ready to face the fight coming her way. With her eyes, she counted the amount of men in front of her and as soon as the number ‘15’ appeared on her mind, she turned to Bucky and whispered “Regret staying now?” But got no response, he just tilted his head to crack his neck and moved his metal arm, preparing his body to help Sera and end that fight once and for all.

From the moment that the first shot was fired and Sera stopped it, neither of them stopped moving. Sera moving her hands left and right, filling their surroundings with flames, destroying or exploding the weapons along side the men holding them. Bucky, with his quick feet would make his way towards each men by the right side, avoiding balls of fire and using his strength to take every guy to the floor by only one punch. Soon after, they both find themselves with three guys left.

Feeling Bucky by his side, Sera locked eyes with him and nodded when Bucky grabbed the knife from his back pocket and quickly moving it between his fingers. Lifting her hand towards Bucky, she carefully lit up her fingers and as soon as Bucky’s knife left his hand, she took full control of it and moved it towards the men with the intention to hit three of them at the same time. And just like she wanted, as the fire was leaving her hand she moved the knife and with a quick move of her wrist she saw how the tiny metal object hit one, then another one, and final, the other men lined in front her, taking them all to the ground in less than three seconds.

“Good throw.” Bucky said while nodding with approval which lead to Sera just shrugging her shoulders and letting out a tiny smile.

“I had a little bit of help.”

“A little bit?” Bucky said offended, but that little banter didn’t last long since Sera felt that electric feeling against her skin and soon faced forward to see the big ball of fire going with speed towards her.

Before she could lift her hands to stop it, a big yell coming from Bucky’s mouth hit her ears making her turn around with worry. But what she feared to see didn’t happen, instead, a quick Bucky was now in front of her seconds away to get hit by the fire flying ready to burn him.

Everything after that turned like a slow motion movie for both of them. The flames hitting his skin and the pain on his face made her eyes widen and get watery at the sight of it. As fast as her feet could allow her, she moved towards him and quickly placed herself in front of him immediately feeling the fire hitting her skin in every single place of her body. She touched his shoulder and closed her eyes with strength, ready to do one of the hardest thing she ever learned to do.

Bucky as soon as he felt the burning sensation against him, he closed his eyes with clenched teeth feeling the strong pain now growing on his body. Not being able to bare it anymore, he let out a loud scream in pain but soon after, like a quick wave of water had hit him, he suddenly stopped feeling that irritating pain. Opening his to see what was happening, he met hers. Her red eyes were staring at his while tears were dripping down her cheeks. Her hair was moving around her uncomfortably as her glowing skin was making her body shine.

From the corner of his eyes Bucky noticed the fire still going around him, but he wasn’t burning. His eyes were still glued to hers trying to understand what she was doing, he suddenly felt how her fingers on his free hand started to tingle so he looked down to find his skin... glowing. Just like Sera, his skin started to glow the same color as the fire around them. The tingle feeling was now all over his body expect on his metal arm which seemed to be the only thing that didn’t change since the fire hit him.

Looking back to Sera, the moment that they both stared at each other was when a strange feeling appeared on their insides. It felt like they were connecting, he felt like he could read all of her thoughts as she could read his. A second later, Sera moved her hand to Bucky’s cheek and pressed her palm with strength agains his skin to feel every single part of him on her.

Their hearts felt like they were beating as one with the same rhythm, their veins were twisting together like cables as their blood were mixing to become just one. Those feelings felt so strange but real at the same time. Their glowing bodies were becoming one as the fire that had went inside Bucky was slowly flying out. Suddenly, like the slow movie that was happening they both felt everything come undone when Sera lifted her hands and let the explosion that was building inside her body finally come out.

Once the noise was gone and there was nothing but silence surrounding them, they both opened their eyes to find themselves lying on the floor with smoke trying to get inside their bodies. Their eyes locked as their heavy breathing was moving their chest up and down.

Bucky felt so confused at what just happened that he sat down and stared at his surroundings noticing nothing but fire around him. Going back to Sera, he saw how her body was going back to normal and her red eyes were turning dark once again. She knew what just happened and he couldn’t wait to ask her, but nothing seem to want to go out their mouths.

Their connection was all they could think about. The way their bodies became one and everything they felt. Even if Bucky was confused and had no idea what just happened, he knew one thing: that was definitely not a nothing.

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[ryukoishida]

QianQiu/Thousand Autumns Fic: In which gang leader!YWS and school teacher!SQ falls in love.

Title: You’re a Problem I Encounter Fandom: Qian Qiu / Thousand Autumns Characters/Ships: YanShen Rating: NSFW eventually Chapter: 1/? Summary: Yan Wushi was the proud leader of Huan Yue Group, one of the most influential syndicates in the underground world, who wanted nothing more than to see the world burn. His accidental encounter with the pure-hearted school teacher Shen Qiao was a problem he didn’t expect to get entangled in. A/N: A syndicate!AU that literally nobody asks for. It’s also been awhile since I last wrote a fic, so please excuse awkward/bad writing. Sobs. List of Chapters: [1] [2] [3] 

-

i. First Encounter

“Tie the pretty boy up nice and tight,” Sang Jingxing ordered his subordinates in a lazy drawl, his face half hidden in the shadow of the poorly lit room, but even the darkness couldn’t conceal the cruel smile crawling along the lips of the deputy leader of He Huan Group. As he stepped away from the wall and began walking towards his captive, his grin widening when he saw how much of a mess his men had made of the young man, his foot crushed the discarded glasses that’d been knocked off the man’s face during the brief but vicious fight.

There were no windows, just a lone, bare lightbulb swinging back and forth from the ceiling casting a meager glow of light in the underground chamber.

Glancing down at the half-conscious man bound at the wrists behind his back, Sang Jingxing grabbed a fistful of his hair and forced his neck to crane back.

“We don’t want you running back to your daddy so soon again, do we?”  

The only response he received was a pained groan. A sound that sent trills of excitement down Sang Jingxing’s back.

It had taken four trained men to finally take Shen Qiao down. By the time the scuffle ended, Xiao Se had an impressive bruise on his right cheek, Yan Shou had bloodied scratches along one of his arms, Huo Xijing had been elbowed directly in the solar plexus and was still recovering on the ground, and Bai Rong was smart enough to retreat just after receiving a blow that barely missed her eyes.  

After a valiant attempt at escaping, Shen Qiao was no match for the sheer number of guards Sang Jingxing had assigned to keep him under surveillance in the end.

“At least not before we get what we want, isn’t that right, my dear?” Sang Jingxing turned towards the woman with an overly saccharine smile.

Yuan Xiuxiu rolled her eyes at her partner’s theatrics, but after working and managing He Huan Group together for so many years, she was used to his antics by now, so she merely ran a hand through her wavy hair and replied, “I don’t care what you do with the boy – torture him, fuck him – do whatever you want. Just don’t go overboard. We still need him alive if we were to negotiate with Qi Fengge.”

“Whatever you say, dear,” Sang Jingxing said to Yuan Xiuxiu’s retreating back as the leader of He Huan Group slammed the cell door shut behind her without another word.

There were no windows, just a lone, bare lightbulb swinging back and forth from the ceiling casting a meager glow of light in the underground chamber.

“Ah… Shen Qiao. Do you know how much of a pain in the ass it was to steal you away under Qing Fengge’s nose?” he’d released his grip on Shen Qiao’s hair, and his head lolled forward like a broken, ragged doll. Blood streaks on his face made his complexion more pallid, and the only sign that he was still breathing was the shallow rise and fall of his chest.

Sang Jingxing continued, circling his captured prey like a hawk. “I get that you’re his adopted son, but you aren’t even meant to be his successor, so why does he spent so much of his resources on protecting you?”

He wasn’t really expecting an answer, but he wanted to have fun with the boy first before he dived straight into business. With a leering, animalistic gleam in his eye, Sang Jingxing reached out towards Shen Qiao’s bruised face, thumb roughly brushing against the man’s lower lip as he tried to force his finger past the seam of his lips.

Though Shen Qiao was in no shape to fight back, he was not a man who surrendered as long as a drop of strength still remained inside him. He twisted away from his captor’s hand and swiftly angled his head to bite Sang Jingxing’s finger with a snarl, hazel eyes bloodshot from what little adrenaline still lingered in his system during the fight.

Sang Jingxing hissed in pain, fury flashing across his eyes as he yanked his hand back, and Shen Qiao felt a sharp blow across his cheek just a short second later. Taste of iron flooded in his mouth.

“Playing hard-to-get is cute the first time around,” Sang Jingxing muttered while inspecting the teeth marks Shen Qiao had inflicted on him, before he put his hand on Shen Qiao once more, “but I don’t have that much patience, even for a beauty like you.”

He wrapped his fingers around Shen Qiao’s neck and started to squeeze with real intent to hurt.

“Yan Wushi, how did you—!” Yuan Xiuxiu’s muffled high-pitched exclaim transmitted through the thin walls of the basement and was interrupted by a distressed scream.

Before Sang Jingxing could react or shout for backup, he heard the men who were stationed outside the cell yelped in surprise and agony, and two successive bodily thuds later, the cell door was busted open.

Two men strode in with confident steps. The one leading had a cold, lethal look to his maroon eyes, the streak of star-silver locks a stark contrast to his otherwise dark, slicked back hair. In between his index and middle fingers was a small silver blade, still dripping with fresh blood of his latest victims; he wiped the blood off with a clean handkerchief that the younger man standing just half a step behind him handed him with the kind of easy elegance that one couldn’t simply mimic.

“Sang Jingxing, has He Huan Group lost so much money these days that you can’t even afford decent guards anymore?” the older man sneered.

“Leader Yan,” the utter of the respectful title was pleasant enough, but they’d been rivals long enough to know that there was no amiability in this exchange, “what’s the meaning of this?”

“I heard you got yourself a new plaything,” Yan Wushi said, glancing over at the barely conscious Shen Qiao with one of his eyebrows raised, “is that him?”

“What is it to you?” Sang Jingxing asked, narrowing his eyes. His flexed his fingers instinctively, his muscles taut and itching to reach for the revolver tucked inside his suit jacket. If anything, at least he was certain that the bullet would find its target faster than Yan Wushi could cause any real damage with his infamous silver blade. It had been awhile since they last confronted each other face to face like this, but Sang Jingxing could never forget the scars and humiliation of defeat from their last meeting.

“Oh, calm down,” Yan Wushi chuckled, the other man’s subtle signs to initiate the first attack all too obvious under his trained observation, “I’m not here to pick a fight, unless you’ve already forgotten what that was like the last time that happened.”

Sang Jingxing pressed his lips tight, silent anger threatening to boil over in the form of whipping out his revolver and pulling the trigger, but he didn’t dare — not when he knew he’d already lost. The fear of losing once again to this man – this monster – was simmering at the back of his mind, and he had a feeling that he wouldn’t be able to get away with just a long, ugly cut along his back this time.

“That’s what I thought,” the corner of Yan Wushi’s lips curved up slightly into a cold smile, “let’s not waste any time here. I’ll take what I want, and then we’ll each go our separate ways, hmm?”

“Yu Shengyan,” the leader of Huan Yue Group commanded his assistant with a nod towards the bloodied man still tied up in the chair a few steps away from them. Without further instructions, Yu Shengyan quickly ran over to Shen Qiao and started to cut the ropes loose. With practiced swipes of his switchblade, it took him only a short moment before he freed Shen Qiao.

At this point, Shen Qiao had already completely fainted, and when released from his restraints, he fell forward limply into Yu Shengyan’s arms.

“What do you want with Qi Fengge’s kid anyway?” Sang Jingxing asked. Though he’d given up on trying to keep Shen Qiao in his possession, curiosity still got the best of him.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Yan Wushi only said with a laugh.

Carrying Shen Qiao on his back, Yu Shengyan followed his master out of the dank basement cell, thrilled that he got to witness Yan Wushi scaring the shit out of Sang Jingxing and his minions, but mostly confused about the purpose of this confrontation. He didn’t know what to expect when Yan Wushi had suddenly ordered him to come to He Huan Group’s headquarters. To be honest, the young assistant had been half-expecting the gang leader to start a bloodshed for one reason or another — after all, it wouldn’t have been the first time Yan Wushi went off the rails due to the most miniscule of reasons — but he’d never thought they’d be rescuing a stranger.

They were rescuing him, right? Yu Shengyan was hesitant as he carefully placed the unconscious man into the back of the car before slipping into the driver’s seat. Glancing over at his master out of the corner of his eye, the young man almost felt sorry for Shen Qiao, for he recognized that particular look on Yan Wushi’s face.

It probably would not bode well for the man still unaware of what he’d gotten himself into by getting accidentally entangled into Yan Wushi’s life.

[astarryon]

Promise Me

Ten Minutes and Two Centimeters

Warnings: Arguing, anger, light language

Chapter Summary: Spencer’s been given one more chance to make himself clear. He’s determined not to waste it.

Masterlist

Chapter Four: I Want to Take It With Me

He’s always hated hospitals.

When people ask, he tells them it has to do with trivial attributes. The lights are too bright, there are far too many germs milling about, the mass amount of crying people make him uncomfortable. And while those are all true, while he really doesn’t care for those aspects of hospitals at all, Spencer knows in his heart that it’s less to do with any of that and more to do with what hospitals symbolize for him.

People leave. It’s something he’s learned at much too early an age, yet is also something he’s still learning to cope with. His father left when he was a boy, with little more than a scrap of paper by way of explanation. His mother had gone away to the sanitarium when he was eighteen, and though he’d been the one to send her there, he’d still felt the loss. Gideon left. JJ left. Emily faked her death.

People leave.

It’s true. And with as many people who have left him over the years, Spencer figured he’d be used to it by now. But then he’d held you in his arms, cradled you as your blood slowly crept its way out of your body and onto the floor, and he’d suddenly realized that he wasn’t quite as acclimated to loss as he’d initially thought. He knows this, because when the doctor comes to alert him to the fact that you’re conscious and asking for him, it’s all he can do to keep himself from bolting upright and running straight to your room.

He does walk at a quick enough pace to earn him a dirty look from a passing nurse. Any other day, he’d make the fort to slow down and apologize. But today isn’t any other day, and he doesn’t slow his steps until he’s made it to your door and sees, with his own eyes, that you’re sitting up and smiling.

“There you are,” you giggle, beaming up at him with wide, excited eyes, and the look you give him is so reminiscent of the one on your face from last Valentine’s Day that he’s left breathless. “It’s rude to keep a girl waiting you know.”

And he wants to do witty. Really, he does, because he knows it’ll leave your face with a smile larger than life, and considering he wasn’t sure he’d ever get to see that smile again up until two hours ago when the doctors notified him you’d made it through surgery, it’s all he wants. But there’s too much going on in his head, too many dark almosts and what-ifs to be properly ignored for the sake of rejoicing. This is a happy moment — and, really, he’s bursting with joy at the sight of your open eyes — but it’s not something he can display outwardly just yet. He’s too... there are too many things that need to be said before any of that takes place.

His silence confuses you, made evident by the confused glint in your eye that’s just beginning to overshadow your wide grin. “Spence?” you prompt, tilting your head to the side. The machine you’re hooked up to beeps with the spike in your heart rate, and he has to go out of his way not to tease you for it. “Did you hear me?”

Your tone shifts, and he hears the worry in your voice just as he takes note of how it begins to curl your mouth into a frown. “Spencer,” you try again, quietly pleading. He hates himself for what he’s doing, but he can’t seem to stop himself from allowing the events he’s set in motion to play out. “Spencer, what’s wrong?”

He has to say it. Before anything else, he has to say it.

Spencer swallows hard against the lump in his throat. Liquid hellfire burns his eyes in the form of unshed tears. “Do you know,” he chokes out, “how incredibly unlucky a person has to be to get hit with a shot like that? Actually shot? You were wearing a vest. The bullet hit you a centimeter too high. One centimeter lower and we would’ve walked out of there in the next thirty seconds. Two centimeters higher and you’d have—“ He cuts himself off, the horrid taste of potentials staining his tongue uninvited. He doesn’t even want to say it, doesn’t want to give power to what could have happened to you tonight. To what almost happened to you tonight.

“Spencer,” you whisper, reaching for his hand, but he snatches it out of reach before you can make contact.

“No,” he insists, wringing his hands together. He has to keep them preoccupied. His body seems steadfastly determined to betray his mind, and much as he wants to, he can’t let that happen. There are certain things he needs to get off his chest, say out loud, before he can even think about letting himself give into you. It’s the only way to make sure. It kills him, but it’s the only way. “You don’t understand, I almost… I could’ve lost you tonight. You were ten minutes and two centimeters away from dying in my arms.”

“But I didn’t,” you counter, and he knows. He sees the furrow of your brow, the stubborn set to your delicate jaw, and he knows you’re about to throw it all right back at him. “I’m still here, Spencer, you still have me.”

“Because of chance!” He doesn’t realize he’s shouting until he see you flinch, but he can’t stop, can’t back down. “You’re still alive because of dumb luck! Dumb, stupid luck, that very easily could’ve gone the other way!”

“But it didn’t,” you shoot back, and Spencer has to kill the urge to scoff. As if that’s an excuse.

“It could have.”

“Yeah, but it didn’t!”

“It could have!”

“Why are you yelling at me?”

“Because you gave up!” Spencer roars, tears pricking like thorns at the corners of his eyes. “You gave up, and the worst part about it is that you expected me to just be okay with it! Don’t—“ He flings a hand through the air to silence you as soon as your mouth opens. He’s seething, shaking, boiling with rage. He has to get it all out, and he has to do it now, or he risks poisoning any chance of your future together with unspoken resentment. “You started talking about yourself like you were already dead! Started making me promise that I wasn’t going to let losing you stop making me smile! Do you even— do you know how ridiculous that is? How unfair? You were bleeding out in my arms, and you were worried about my fucking smile? I was two centimeters away from having to bury you six feet underground, and you were worried about my smile? My smile should’ve been the last thing on your mind!”

He expects you to yell back at him. It’s only fair, after all, and he wouldn’t fault you for taking cheap shots at him the way he’s taking cheap shots at you. In some sick, twisted way, he almost wants you to, if only to find some confirmation that he isn’t alone in feeling the severity of this situation so deeply. Doesn’t it effect you? Doesn’t the fact that the rest of your life was nearly stolen away right out from under you bother you? Aren’t you seething over the fact that the rest of your forever was nearly cut short?

If you are, you make no show of it. You don’t raise your voice, you don’t curse, you don’t take it out on him the way he’s taking it out on you. You only blink, analytical appraisal clear as day in your tired eyes, and not for the first time since you’d come into his life, Spencer is left to marvel over how much better a person you are than he is. He could never say something like that out loud — thinking you’d ever let him get away with it is, in a word, naive — he knows the truth, even if the chances of you admitting to it are nonexistent.

You prove him right when you reach forward slowly, keeping eye contact and making sure you have permission, before resting your hand against the mangled mess of his own. “Spencer,” you murmur, searching his face. For what, he’s not entirely sure, but you must find it judging by the degree of which your eyes soften. “What is this about?”

“I told you,” he tries, knowing all too well that he doesn’t sound convincing in the slightest. You see him much too clearly — he should have known better than to think he could hide what was truly bothering him from you. “You almost died in my arms, I... it was too much to handle.”

“No, Spence,” you tell him, the embodiment of patience. “I mean what’s this about, really?” You make it clear that you aren’t leaving any room for protests this time around.

So Spencer decides to tell the truth.

“You almost died,” he whispers, shaking his head. “And I realized if you had, you’d never...”He can’t bring himself to tear his eyes away from the floor, to look up at you and memorize every inch of your face a million times over like he wants to. The way he’s acting, he’s not particularly sure he deserves the luxury. “You’d have never known. I never told you.”

“Never known what?” you ask gently, blinking in pursuit of understanding. “Never told me what?”

“That I love you,” Spencer breathes, gripping your hands so tightly he can feel your pulse through your fingers. “I love you so much I can barely fucking breathe sometimes. I love when you laugh about things that only you think are funny because no one else understands the joke. I love the way you can’t seem to sit still for more than fifteen seconds at a time because there’s so much on your mind and not enough time in the world to get it all out. I love the way you let me talk your ear off about things you’ve never heard of and don’t care about, even though I’m sure I must bore you out of your mind sometimes. I love— I love your smile! You always tell me I have a beautiful smile, but the truth is it doesn’t hold a candle to yours, and I— I don’t understand how you don’t see that! I love you, do you hear me? From the very bottom of my heart, I love you so fucking much. I love you.”

For a moment, you fall silent, and the only sound traded between the two of you is the steady beat coming from your heart monitor, incredibly consistent considering all the yelling. But then a chuckle falls from your mouth. Spencer is so shocked that at first he thinks it’s an odd sounding cough, but then it happens again, and then again, and he’s able to piece together what’s happening with the addition of the succession.

“Spencer,” you wheeze, clutching at your chest. He hopes you aren’t in pain. His ears are turning red with embarrassment and he can’t believe you’re laughing at him at a time like this, but he really hopes you aren’t hurting. “You don’t think I know that already?”

He blinks, mind shorting out. “Well, I— I never told you.”

“You never had to,” you go on, the widest grin he’s ever seen your mouth make splitting your face from ear to ear. Spencer doesn’t think he can remember a time when you’ve ever looked so positively delighted. “Spencer, I wouldn’t have... we wouldn’t have gotten this far if I didn’t think you loved me. I wouldn’t have let it.”

You knew. You’d known this whole time. All this time — all those nights tangled in his bedsheets with your arm secured around his waist, all those good morning texts and flirtatious jabs at the office, wondering when everyone else was going to catch on to your little game. All those sweet kisses and affectionate embraces and evening walks beneath the starlit sky. All those different ways he’d tried to silently convey it, and you’d been picking up on his meaning the whole time.

Had he known... had he known that you’d known...

“I’m sorry,” Spencer whispers. It’s all he can think to say.

“You don’t need to be,” you tell him with a resolute shake of your head. Of course; you’re the most gracious person he knows, after all. Not even getting yelled at immediately after waking up from emergency surgery could change that. “Just... I know you’ve already made me so many promises tonight. I know that. But will you promise me one more thing?”

“Anything,” he tells you, and he means it with his entire being, body and soul.

“Just... trust that I know,” you murmur, gazing at him with more sincerity than any one person has ever shown him before. “In the way that you know that I love you, trust that I know that you love me. Okay?”

“Okay,” he murmurs, nodding his head. “Okay. I promise.”

You reach for his hands, still tightly clasped in front of him, and this time when your fingers brush his knuckles, he frees one and lets you take it to hold. “I love you, Spencer Reid.”

And for the first time after hearing you speak those words, Spencer isn’t given pause.

“I love you too,” he tells you adamantly.

... And he does.

—

[bonktime]

Weather The Storm

Chapter 2: Hand Over Fist

Ezra (Prospect) x f!reader (no y/n) 1861 Lighthouse au 

Rated: E (just the whole story)

Previous // Masterlist // Next

Art by the incredible @honestly-shite​ I’m so blown away 🥰💘

Summary: Ezra settles into life in the north but he can’t seem to wrap his head around the keeper. As they dance around each other a clash with another local brings some truths into the light.

Warnings: Language, violence, a boat load of sexual tension, a bunch of victorian sexism, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort? (smut will come)

Note: Written in the 3rd person so i guess you could read as oc? but I never name or describe her, except being short. I had loads of fun writing this! Loads of descriptions of the weather because that’s who I am and also touching. Next chapter will probably be a little late but please forgive me!

Wordcount: 3630

~~~~~~~~~

The wind was like nothing else. Four days at sea and Ezra was fairly sure it was making him deaf. It roared and screamed through the wood of the boat like he's never heard. Rattling anything loose and merging with the groans of the beams and the waves into a great cacophony of noise.

There was a knack to sailing in winds so strong, one he was very glad he'd got the hang of previously else he would probably have been tossed overboard that first morning. Even so the violent movement of the ship beneath him had been a surprise. Any time he put anything down he had to keep a close eye or it would end up on the other side of the room. It made sleep exceedingly difficult when being tossed out of the hammock was a possibility, so he was lucky to get a couple of hours between shifts.

The work was hard and one particularly malicious seagull had made off with a biscuit he had been about to take a bite out of, combined with the lack of sleep and the rolling waves, it had made him irritable at best down right foul at worst. Still, the rest of the crew were likable and only jibed in a good humoured way at the newcomer. And, whenever the bite of the cold got too much, he had a new memory to warm him up. Even so as they came into port on that forth morning, he was picturing that warm bed and the flickering firelight. 

On the walk back along the sea something caught his eye. He stopped to pick it up.

 ⧫⧫⧫

Ezra arrived just as the keeper was leaving the lighthouse. She saw him crossing the causeway, as the sun peeked over the horizon, turning the sky every colour from deep blue to the brightest pink. He waved at her as she waited for him to approach, unable to help but admire her. Dressed in blue, she contrasted against the sky and its reflection in the water. She positively shone. As he got close, he smiled.

"It would appear I was wilfully incorrect about something"

"About what?" She cocked her head at him

"There is colour here. But to witness it you must have patience. "

He took a step closer. holding out his hand "I discovered this on my meander back to your charming abode, I believe you would appreciate it." In her hand he gently placed a chunk of sea glass, worn soft by the sands but still bright deep blue. He stayed close as she held it up to let the sun shine through. She could smell the sea on him, salty and something else. Looking up at him she wondered why he had been so thoughtful. "It's beautiful, thank you" he smiled at her, eyes creasing warmly.

 ⧫⧫⧫

A week passed and they talked in the mornings but their days never seemed to line up so they could only see each other for meals. Ezra spent his evenings in the living room, reading by the fire whenever he was home, and his mornings wandering the coast to distract himself from the woman in the water. 

Once on his walk he met the other keeper. The man had looked exhausted as if he was carrying a weight on his shoulders. He didn't say much, just to give his thanks to the other keeper and then he'd hurried away.

Further down the shoreline he liked to watch the market get set up. Watch the women waiting for the fishing boats to get in, preparing to gut and fillet and sell. He chatted to them sometimes, offering a hand carrying out the tables if they needed it. One girl always gave him a cup of tea after, laughing at his jokes and smiling. She was pretty and definitely would have caught his eye before. But now? He was friendly enough, and polite, but just couldn't work out why he was so uninterested. It wasn't like him. She made a nice friend though, and it was pleasant to get to know someone apart from the keeper even if he wasn't staying too long. And even if he didn't know the keeper all that well.

Ezra mentioned a woman he met at the fishery to the keeper. As much as she knew and liked her, it stung in a way the keeper couldn't quite identify. She was kind and soft and pretty and just the opposite of her. All of her hard edges and bitterness and isolation. But she didn't have any good cause or right to feel envious. Still, she thanked him for the warning, should she come across them together at least she wouldn’t be surprised.

 ⧫⧫⧫

There was another week of only seeing each other in the wee hours before both Ezra and the keeper had a shared day off.

He offered to come with her into town and help carry things. Mostly he just wanted her to show him around which she knew but she agreed anyway.

The sun showed itself as they walked together warming their skin. He watched the keeper raise her head to bask in it, smiling as she tried to explain what she needed from town with him interrupting after every item to ask questions.

She was glowing and it was starting to affect Ezra. Her skirt was pinned up a little above her ankles so it didn't dip in the sand and she'd forgone her usual headscarf and shawl to enjoy the sun. She had laughed at him as they'd left, at all his layers, called him a southern pansy. He'd grinned "Not everyone is so accustomed to this frigid weather. The cold bites those who it has not made an acquaintance with. Not unlike a wary dog."

"If you stayed a few winters here and swam in the North Sea you'd end up as hardy as any of us I reckon" he'd just smirked.

 ⧫⧫⧫

The keeper decided Ezra spoke just the way he did just to confuse people. Every time she’d asked him what a word meant he had grinned, but he did explain without condescension. He had spent nearly an hour chatting away to the grocer when she’d gone to the butcher and the baker. Upon asking, it turned out he had been trying to find a fruit he was fond of, but all the frills in his speech had led to a debate between the owners about what he had meant which he had then stayed quiet during just for enjoyment. When she had gone back to find him he was grinning ear to ear as the two men bickered. She had suppressed a laugh and sorted it out quickly before they had gotten even more irked by the outsider. Ezra had seen the laugh in her eyes though.

The final stop was the bookshop. A small place, stacked floor to ceiling and owned by the keeper’s oldest friend. She was sitting outside in the sun and jumped up wrapping the keeper in a warm hug. 

"Lass you work too fucking hard. I haven't seen hide nor hair of you in Christ knows how long!" 

She grinned; the first time Ezra had seen it. He should make her grin more.

"Aye I'm starting to agree, how're the bairns at this rate they'll have grown a foot before I can see them again. Oh, shit sorry.” She gestured to him “This is my lodger Ezra, Ezra this is Amelia."

He wonders vaguely if everyone the keeper knows can give looks that pierce the soul. He gives the shopkeeper a nod and her face breaks into a smile. As they headed into the shop, clouds began to gather overhead.

"Come on pet, I've got something new I just know you'll love."

The shop seemed ready to burst at the seams. Ezra paroused but couldn’t stop himself listening into their conversation.

“How have you been, really? I worry about you all alone up there.” Amelia asked her eyes full of concern. Ezra subtly rounded a bookshelf so he wouldn’t seem nosey.

“I… Well I’ve been worse like. Every day is easier and I’m not alone at the moment as you’ve seen.”

“You seem to collect sailors, you.”

The keeper laughed “I just like the company! And I like being alone the rest of the time as you well know.”

“Oh aye the company. Nothing to do with,” Amelia lowered her voice “I divn’t nah… the roguishly good looks? You always loved a bit of trouble, dafty that you are”

“Hey! He just rents the room, we’re… friends I guess.” Ezra wished he could see her to gage how she really felt.

“Sure you pet.”

 ⧫⧫⧫

20 minutes later they left, a copy of Great Expectations wrapped carefully in tissue paper and stowed at the bottom of her bag, surrounded so it would stay dry should it rain. As they stepped out a woman seized the keeper's arm, she was accompanied by the vicar and glaring viciously. The keeper swallowed and introduced Ezra, he saw how uncomfortable she was, how her mood had changed since just minutes before.

"The ever elusive keeper shows herself yet again" the vicar speaks, face impassive, "I thought you might have died since you don't attend church, perhaps you'd met god's reckoning after… being so loose with your commitments." 

Ezra watches her jaw clench "I have told you before, when I work the night, I cannot attend in the morning."

The other women smirked "Work the night is one way of putting it." She eyed Ezra.

The vicar sighed "It is disappointing you disobey god's will. Your father should have married you off while he had the chance. Then your husband would keep you in line. If he could see you now, he'd be so ashamed"

Ezra froze but before he could react, he saw the rage pass over her face, fiery and passionate. She couldn't help it, she saw red, couldn't stop herself. She punched the vicar square on the nose.

The other woman shrieked. "What is wrong with you? You've hurt him!" Indeed, blood did start to drip out of his nose but he straightened himself up and grabbed the keepers arm pulling her close and raising his fist to strike.

"You're nothing but a worthless little whore. It's no wonder your sailor left as soon as you-" he was cut off by Ezra's fist, catching his jaw and sending him sprawling.

"I will not abide you speaking to the lady in this manner." He shook out his hand, and stepped over him, bending to seize his hair and pressing his blade to his neck "And to strike her?" He scowled down at the man who was opening and shutting his mouth like a fish. "What is that mantra you holy men spout? Turn the other cheek." The keeper's jaw dropped, she had known Ezra was rough around the edges but to strike a man of God, to threaten him, for her?

Against the incoming storm, it was as if he'd grown. Become huge and monstrous and brutal in a way she hadn't seen, a glimpse of what lay beneath all his beautiful words and pleasant disposition. It moved something in the keeper, something dangerous. Not many people would far defend her, let alone in such a way. 

Lightning flashed overhead forking down to meet the sea, in the light she could see the hard glint in his eye, the one he'd worn when they'd first met, even as he smiled. This was a man who had done far worse and all she could feel was grateful. It squeezed around her heart.

"I suspected as much. You must have forgotten yourself for a moment." Ezra stood and pulled the vicar to his feet, squeezing his arm harshly still baring that viscous grin as he pulled him close and murmured "I'd truly hate for you to suffer another grievous lapse in judgement, who knows what may become of you."

The keeper looked at the other woman "Judge not lest ye be judged? You had better pray for forgiveness.” She stepped forwards shoulders back as thunder rumbled around them “There's a storm coming and your husband works the water. I'd hate for the lord to compel me to make an error." The woman gasped at her a cold glare. Ezra looked at the keeper as she straightened out her dress. He could have laughed at her nonchalance, it gave him pause, how he saw her quiet power. She would make quite the foe. She gave Ezra a nod and he took her arm as they walked away.

He can feel how tense she was through her arm, despite her calm demeanour panic and anxiety were coming off her in waves. They walked back along the beach in silence as the heavens opened, pouring rain down around them. Ezra frowned to himself, perhaps with all the flitting around he had forgotten how to behave. Had lost some of himself, every old sin chipping away at his humanity was taking its toll. He'd come here for some fucking quiet, why did he always find trouble, or make it? Perhaps those years… he wasn't good. Punching a priest though? The keeper was a menace.

Half way he stopped turning her to look at him.

"Why didn't you tell me you were married?" she looked away from him at the waves. White horses were being blown, throwing spray up into the air.

"I never was. He left before we could."

The rain beating down made it hard to look up at him, it dripped into her eyes and ran down her face like tears. The rain and thunder were near deafening as he looked at her face, saw the pain and the other emotion, the one he can't identify.

"What happened?" He nearly has to shout to be heard over the storm and the waves. Reaching for her, taking her hand and feeling the calluses on her fingers.

"What always happens! I fell in love, and I thought he did too. But after, after we. He did what sailors always do." she threw off his hand and stepped back, the sea lapping at her ankles.

"What is it sailors always do? I do not appreciate you painting us all with such broad strokes." Now he's shouting, a bit out of frustration but mostly to be heard as the wind begins to howl, merging sea spray and rain until the only thing he could see was her.

"He sailed away!" She was suddenly very grateful for the rain; he couldn't see the tears that had rolled down her face. He frowned at her a deep furrow in his brow. "And so, he's right! I am a whore and probably everything else too." She looked wild, wind whipping her skirt to and fro. She glared at him, daring him to judge her. "I was relieved! I didn't want to marry him, he wanted to leave and I didn't. I enjoyed what we did!" She pressed her palm to her forehead. No idea how he would react. "He could’ve said goodbye" she whispered it, let the crash of the waves muffle the sound.

To her surprise he tugged her hand away from her face, looking into her eyes, jaw set, rain plastering his hair to his head.

"Let's go home."

Keeping her hand gently clasped in his he led her along the beach to the island.

 ⧫⧫⧫

Both of them were soaked to the bone by the time they had re-entered the cottage. Ezra could feel the keepers hand trembling in his.

"Go change out of that wet garb, I'll light the blaze in the living room and set the water to boil"

She nodded and entered her room as he did his own. He quickly pulled off his wet clothes and tugged on a fresh shirt surprised to hear her call out to him.

"Ezra, can you help me?"

He entered her room slowly, still only in his long shirt, taking it in. The bed was wide enough for two and had as many blankets as his own, there was a small wardrobe and a chest and a stack of books on a bedside table. On top of which he saw the glass he'd given her, not yet added to the chime in the window.

She was in her corset and chemise, back to him, dripping onto the rag-rug on the floor.

"I can't seem to," she was reaching behind herself. "With it wet and my damn swollen knuckles I can't loosen the tie. Please, can you help?"

He swallowed thickly as she looked back at him then away. Gently he reached for her, big hands and nimble fingers beginning to loosen the knot. "I'll take a look at that hand if you would allow me, check you haven't done any tangible damage." She nodded.

As he finished, he couldn't help brushing his fingers across the bare skin of her shoulder. It was soft and warm under his cold fingers. She stiffened slightly and turned to him, looking up at his face. His frown remained but that steely glint was gone, giving way to wide sad eyes. She looked at his hands, big, strong and bruised. She took one in her own, inspecting the cut across his knuckles.

"You needn't hurt yourself in defence of me, I shouldn't have hit him." She gently rubbed her thumb over the swelling to check her hadn't dislocated anything and tried to ignore how he tensed.

"I could not abide his hurting you, not with his words and certainly not with his fist" he turned her hand mirroring her gesture to feel her knuckles, they were swollen but nothing felt out of place. He kept a hold of her hand as he looked back up at her face.

She looked into his eyes, deep and dark enough to fall into. They stared back into hers without hesitation. She held his hand for just a moment longer before letting go. As she did, he turned and left, closing the door gently behind him.

He didn't give her the chance to thank him.

 ⧫⧫⧫

When she had dressed and headed down stairs, Ezra was pouring tea, he looked up. She was still dishevelled and shivering a little.

"Come on, let's get warmed up"

He led her through to the living room and sat her down on the rug in front of the fire handing her a cup of tea. Sitting down across from her he spoke, his legs brushed hers as he stretched out but he didn’t move away.

"What I cannot apprehend is why you don't want to depart this glacial place. You are not treated compassionately and there are locations all over with preferable climates."

She gave a small smile. "Because I like it here, it isn't perfect but I have my friends and my work and my home and where would I go? How well do you think the world would treat a woman like me?"

He shrugged, "People may surprise you. They have me on many occasions. I even astonish myself sometimes"

"Or they'll behave exactly as they always do. People are predictable like that." She sighed and sipped her tea. The warmth of the fire finally took an effect. "It seems we are at an imbalance. You know plenty about me, although not because I wanted you to. How about you tell me where you got that accent?"

He grinned. "I suppose I can reveal a little information. If only for the sake of equality."

So, he told her. Told her about his home, his mother, about when she passed. How he had to work to survive and found that he didn't get seasick. He picked up words and dialect wherever he went, combining them with his own until he wasn't sure what he used to sound like. She had laughed at him upon learning he wasn't a strong swimmer. 

"I can't believe you haven't been thrown overboard and drowned yet! You're unbelievably lucky!" He'd loved the sound.

He missed out a lot of the more unsavoury details of the work he’d done but the whitewashed version was honest enough. How going back to where he grew up still hurt, he had only visited once. Instead, he travelled, worked, and enjoyed himself.

"I don't know. You said I must be lonely here but you, you travel alone. You can't make good friends, you've no home to return to." She watched his face. "It seems you're far more alone than I am"

His brow furrowed "We can agree to disagree on that."

"And I still don't understand why you're here. Why aren't you somewhere warm?"

He shrugged and avoided the question, "If I wasn't, I would not have had the astounding pleasure of meeting you."

She frowned at how he ignored her question, but brushed it off.

The rain was finally beginning to ease as Ezra dozed off. Sitting on the floor slumped against the chair by the fire. He looked peaceful, no shadows playing behind his eyes, so she didn't wake him. Instead as the sun dipped, she laid a blanket over him and went to light the light.

The winds had made for a tense shift. Always keeping a weather eye on the sea for ships that might have got into trouble but eventually the sun rose and she stopped the clockwork and went back to the cottage.

Ezra had already left to get to The Mistress and she was surprised at the slight sting that they hadn't got to say goodbye. Next time she'll wake him.

She was even more surprised by how much she missed his company.

~~~~~~~~

Glossary

Hand over fist: Going forth rapidly in an endeavour, comes from ‘hand over hand’ when climbing the rigging.

Bairns: Kids, affectionate

Divn’t nah: Don’t know, couldn’t not include this

Dafty: fool, idiot, affectionate

~~~~~~~~

Taglist

Ezra

@fandom-blackhole

WTS

@something-tofightfor

Because I crave validation

@danniburgh

[teknicianwrites]

So I've gotten a number of lovely prompts that I have ideas percolating for, and the first thing I've finished since deciding to try writing again is a self-indulgent fanfic of someone else's fanfic. In my defense, that fanfic is Accursed Ones by @thethirdamell, which is excellent. Thank you for giving me the ok to play in your sandbox!

Also, thank you @darkloire for looking it over and helping me with phrasing despite having very little context.

A little missing scene set right before 199 begins that's been bouncing around my head since I read it, and the most recent chapter inspired me to actually write it down.

Read on AO3

We Could Have Been (So Good Together)

They'd spent the past two days going over options, but none of them led to a world in which Anders could stay with Amell.

Amell was better at this than he was. He'd picked the time - night, when people would be around, when shouting would draw the most attention; the place - the courtyard, where a proper crowd could gather and Anders could transform and make a quick escape; the false target - Leliana, Amell's friend, who it would make sense for him to defend, and whose continued presence would keep the swordsmen at the Chateau until Anders was long gone.

It felt like the only part Anders had planned was how to leave Amell again.

Servants had brought dinner, and Anders tapped a fork against the plate he placed before Amell. "Venison. Green salad. Potatoes." He poured two glasses and let both clink against the table as he set them down. "Red wine. Water. So you know… options." Justice rumbled his discontent at the first, but all things considered, this hardly seemed the night to push Amell about his coping mechanisms.

"Thank you," Amell said softly, and to Anders' surprise he took the water. Well. There would be plenty of time for him to drink once they were gone.

Anders picked at his own dinner in silence, alternating between watching Amell, and when that became too painful, staring down at his food.

Halfway through his salad Amell spoke. "Do you want to go over what we're going to say?"

…. They probably should have discussed this before now.

"I… no," Anders said, setting down his fork. "This is going to be hard enough. If anyone thinks I'm rehearsed…" It would probably help Amell, but Anders was no actor. The idea that he might falter over scripted words and everyone would see through him was unacceptable. Amell may have been untouchable in Ferelden, but they weren't in Ferelden, they were in a castle in the Free Marches with Templars, and Hawke's threat to see him made Tranquil sat heavy in his gut. "I can't have this come back on you. I can't."

".... Okay. That's fine. I can lead the conversation where it needs to go." Amell gave him a reassuring smile, and his heart ached for it. Amell and the Wardens would be the ones to suffer if the ruse failed, and the damnably perfect, beautiful man was comforting him.

The least he could do was give him a starting point. "Just… talk to me like an Aequitarian, maybe," he offered, thinking of Wynne. "Say things you know will set me off. If I'm genuinely angry maybe they'll believe it's at you."

The brief disdain that flashed across Amell’s face made Anders wonder if he was thinking of Wynne as well. "I can do that."

The meal lapsed back into silence, and Anders nibbled on as much as his nauseous stomach would allow. He ended up scraping most of his venison into Dumat's bowl when Amell set his fork down. He moved to gather Amell's plate to set aside for the servants, and Amell caught his hand.

Amell stood and drew him in, and the kiss that followed was soft and desperate. Anders breathed in copper and the Fade and kissed him back, trying to put all the words he couldn't say into that one single act.

They made love, and for once in his life the phrase felt right. It seemed like they should have each other memorized by now, but they took their time tracing and kissing the other's skin like every inch was new. Anders spent the evening committing to memory every mark, every burn, every scar, filing it away for the future when memory was all he had left of him, and did his best to ignore the treacherous voice of hope that he might one day learn the stories of new ones.

In a kind world time would have slowed for them, expanding seconds into hours until they had a month of goodbyes. But if they knew anything it was that the world was unkind, and midnight was swiftly approaching.

Anders smoothed out Amell's doublet and ran his fingers through his hair, wondering half-hysterically if Orlesians would be more or less inclined to believe the coming performance if they looked like they'd just had sex.

"I'm sorry," he whispered when Amell caught his hand to hold against his cheek.

"Don't be," Amell whispered back, and damn him if the steady devotion in his beautiful eyes didn't make Anders' throat close.

He didn't deserve him. He didn't deserve all the patience and kindness and love he had given him while asking for nothing in return. Amell had given him everything. He had given him a family, and Anders was leaving it. His chest constricted.

"Tell Kieran I'm sorry," he choked. "I told him I'd be there. I told him I'd teach him. I told him I'd stay." Four months and a lifetime ago he'd told Morrigan he wouldn't leave her son. Kieran had been there. Had Kieran heard? Had Kieran been paying attention? He was six. He was six so he had probably ignored what the adults were saying. But he was six, and if six was too young to understand forgetting Satinalia, how would he ever understand being left by the man he'd asked to be his father? "Tell him I'm doing this for him," Anders begged, "and for all the other Kierans who deserve to know their magic is beautiful. So none of them have to go through what we went through." So he didn't have to be frightened of Templars anymore. So no one would ever threaten him, or beat him, or lock him away in the dark and claim it was all for his own good. So that even if one father left him, he never had to fear being torn from the other, or from his mother, or from anyone else he loved. "Tell him I love him. Tell him-"

Amell cut him off with a fierce hug, and it felt like his arms were the only thing holding Anders together. "I'll tell him," he promised, his voice thick with emotion. "I'll tell him his Vati loves him."

Anders choked back a sob. "Amell-"

"I know."

"I'm sorry."

"I know." Amell pulled back and set a hand on his chest, a gentle pull of blood magic slowing his breaking heart. "You have to do this. I am so proud of you for doing this. I love you."

Anders kissed him. He let a pulse of mana infuse the rosewood ring, and tried to pour every ounce of love and admiration and devotion and gratitude into that kiss, and felt the same in return, until both of them were breathless from lack of air or sorrow.

Justice had the strength to pull away. "Your support has meant the world to us," he said, tracing Amell's cheek with his thumb. Amell stilled, watching him and letting him guide their contact as he always did when he was forward. Justice kissed him gently. "We love you."

Amell took a shaky breath and Justice stepped back, putting the distance between them Anders would need in order to walk away. He waited a moment for Amell to regain his composure before ceding control back to Anders.

Maker, he didn't want to do this. He allowed himself one last honest look at the love of his life, then drew on Justice's resolve and turned to the door.

"Well. These nobles are always desperate for gossip. Let's give them a fucking show."

[americasass81]

Make Her Mine - Chapter Four

{Warning: 18+, Dark theme, Non-Con, Violence, Mention of Breeding, Swearing, Smut}

Seriously do not read if any of this upsets you, the warnings are there for a reason.

A/N: Getting a bit darker here, this is also the first chapter with major smut so please be kind.  Not to spoil it, but I’ve always wondered about the various things a certain item could be used for and have put that imagination to use a bit here.  Hope you all enjoy it.

Word Count:- 3,117

Waking up with a mild headache, you looked around confused at your current location.  Slowly as you checked yourself for injuries, the memory of Tony Stark walking into your hotel room came flooding back and you found your heart beating faster.  While wondering what the sick fuck was up to, you at least calmed down a bit when you realized you and your clothes seemed to be intact.  Foolishly looking around for your getaway bag, though you didn't expect to find it, you instead moved to the door to find it unlocked.

Poking your head outside and seeing nothing but a hallway with various doors, you quickly closed it and went to check out your surroundings.  Survival 101 dictated that you first look for anything to use as a weapon before checking any and all means of escape.  Entering through the only other available door, you were greeted by a reasonable bathroom that, while well furnished, held nothing of use but a roll of paper, a bar of soap and a washcloth.  The window you noted was actually built into the ceiling with no possible way for you to reach it, so to save time, you abandoned this room in favor of the bedroom.

Quickly and quietly as possible, a thorough search here resulted in the same lack of viable options with a duplicate overhead window providing a glorious view of the clear blue sky you were currently a prisoner from.  Taking a moment to think through the alternatives, and suspecting that Tony may have picked this place for a reason, you quickly got out of your head and made your way back to the bedroom door.  Seeing a set of double doors at the end of the hall on your right, you assumed this was the master bedroom and so headed to the left.  Had you taken the time, the two doors opposite yours would have revealed another bedroom and the main bathroom.  As it was, the archway now in front of you opened up into a spacious kitchen and living room, with two doors, one of which you hoped led to freedom.

                    *************

Reaching for one, you stopped cold when you heard a dark chuckle behind you.  Turning slowly, you pressed your back to the door when you saw Tony standing before you with a cup of coffee and a sinister smile.

"Good morning, darling.  I see you've been exploring."  As if by magic, a screen appeared showing your recent scavenger hunt through your rooms.  Reaching for the door again while staring at him, Tony moved quicker than you thought possible and caged you between his powerful arms before bringing his lips to your ear.  "Both those doors are locked Y/N, this time you're not going anywhere."  With that a gloved hand came to rest just above your left breast where you felt a quick, sharp pick.  Moving your top aside, you thought you saw movement under the skin before your eyes shot up to meet Tony's.

"Mr. Stark, what did you do?" 

"Nanoparticles." he simply replied, stepping back to release you.

"Na-Nanoparticles?"

Taping the housing unit on his chest, you watched as a liquid-like material spread out over his body before becoming his suit of armor.  The real horror hit you however, when you felt a mild pulse around the injection site.  Placing your hand over the area, your eyes widened when another screen popped up with your employee picture and an unbelievable amount of information.

"Now thanks to my little friends, I not only know everything about you, but I can also track you anywhere.  You will never be able to hide from me again."  Seeing the realization dawn on your face, Tony flashed you his usual smirk before continuing.  "They also tell me nifty little bits about what your body is up to.  Which means right about now is when you might want to calm down." he said, concern clouding his features as he looked at the numbers on the screen.

"Calm down?  How the fuck do you expect me to calm down?  Not only have you kidnapped me, but you've just injected me with god-knows-what type of technology that allows you to track me and . . ."  Beginning to have trouble breathing and feeling light-headed, anything else you wanted to say was cut off as you slid down the door.

Tony was back by your side in a split second and picking you up, sat both of you on the couch and held you as your breathing slowly returned to normal.  "Feeling better darling?  I tried to warn you."

Glaring at him now that you had calmed down, you tried to free yourself from his arms but his grip held firm.  Resigning yourself to the fact that you were stuck, you looked at him and voiced another question on your mind.  "Have you thought about what you're going to do when Miss Potts finds out what you've done?  Not to mention the fact that I have pretty powerful friends."

"Ah Miss Potts?  You know I just love the way company gossip has even reached the Accounting Department.  Pepper and I have never, nor will ever be an item.  Besides, I'd have thought office gossip was beneath you?" he questioned, arching a perfect eyebrow at you.

"Just because I never took any active part in it doesn't make me deaf or dumb.  I still heard things." you pointed out while testing the hold he had on you.

"Fair point, my darling.  As for your friends however . . . boy, that Sabrina is something else.  Actually threatened the Avengers, she did.  Still I dealt with her and her husband."

Fear and dread clutched at your heart like nothing you had ever felt before and it felt like Tony had physically stabbed you.  Remembering your boxing and long ago self-defense classes, you head-butted him as hard as you could and used his confused state to scramble away.  You only made it halfway between the two rooms however, when a sharp pain in your chest caused you to collapse on the floor.

Curled up and hugging yourself as the aftershocks slowly subsided, Tony reached out to soothe you as he knelt by your side.  "Now why did you make me do that, darling?  I never wanted you to find out what else those nanoparticles could do.  Shush now, let me take care of you."  Trying to move away from him, you couldn't help the tears from falling as you thought about what he had done to your friends or what he had planned for you.

                     *************

Picking you up eventually, this time he walked back to your room and placed you gently on the bed.  Forcing yourself to look at him, you wiped away the tears as you found your voice.  "What did you do to my friends?"

"Nothing, I promise.  If possible, I can do without a war against the New York Mob.  I don't know how much you know about your friend, but he can be quite ruthless.  No, I simply created a false trail that has you currently being treated at a facility in Denmark."

"What's so special about Denmark?  Surely you could have picked somewhere in the States?"

"I could have," he agreed, "but  I figured there's less chance of them getting on a plane to visit you in Denmark."

"And the nanoparticles?  What happened out there and what else can they do?"

"Aw Darling, I'd rather not answer that." he said, reaching out to move a stray strand of hair while you flinched back from him.  Sighing deeply, his hand fell by his side as he gave in.  "What happened in the other room was a minor pulse emitted by the nanoparticles, it can go a lot higher.  But I'd rather that not happen." he quickly added, as you scrambled further away from him.  "Still they also have the ability to repair a certain amount of tissue damage, so that's a plus."

"So what you're saying is you can pretty much control me now because of those nanoparticles.  What do you have planned for me?" you demanded, fearing the answer but needing to know all the same.

Looking away from you, Tony seemed to think long and hard before rising from the bed and answering.  "How about we park this conversation for now.  You must be hungry." 

"Fuck you Stark, I'm not hungry.  Tell me what your sick mind has dreamed up."

"Y/N, we had this conversation back in my office." his tone indicating his patience was limited.  "While I'd rather make things pleasant, I'm not above putting manners on you if I have to.  Now, shall we?" he asked, holding out his hand to you.

Leaping off the bed however, you failed to make it to the door before Tony tackled you and held you down.  Securing your hands above your head with more nanoparticles, he flipped you over before ripping your clothes from you.  Then an unparalleled fear gripped you as he spread your legs before kneeling between them.  Watching him undo his pants, you tried your best to get away from  him but to no avail.  Removing his cock, you stared in horror as he spit on his hand before running it up and down his length.  Redoubling your efforts, all the fight died in you when he held your hips, lined himself up with your entrance and thrust into your dry pussy.

Releasing a scream that rose from the very depths of your soul, Tony was too busy using you to care, while you couldn't figure out how you didn't pass out already.  "That's it darling, let it all out and scream for me.  I didn't want our first time to be like this, but maybe this will teach you to be a bit more polite." he taunted, as he continued to plough into you in spite of your obvious distress.

"Tony please . . . fuck stop.  It hurts so much." you cried as he pounded into you harder than you thought possible.  Increasing his speed and pushing your knees forward so his hard shaft could reach deeper, you felt the coil tighten in your stomach, but before you could reach your climax Tony groaned above you as you felt him paint your walls with his seed.

Pulling out, he picked you up and placed your naked body on the bed before the nanoparticles secured your wrists to the headboard.  Kissing you tenderly, he walked to the door before your cries forced him to turn around.

"Mr. Stark.  Tony, you can't leave me like this.  I'll do anything.  You don't even need to release me, just make me come."

"No Y/N, this is what you get.  I tried to be reasonable, but your attitude just won't change.  So until you prove grateful for all I've given you the last three years, you can lie here and take what I give you."  With that, he exited your room, leaving you naked, unsatisfied and completely at his mercy.

                   *************

Looking at the cameras installed throughout the property, he watched you trash about until you wore yourself out.  While he hated himself for what he did, he couldn't reconcile the meek you that kept turning down his attention with the ungrateful brat before him.  Even as you screamed and cried his name, you still refused to beg or apologize.  He had to wonder if perhaps this situation just brought out the worst in you.

Watching you eventually drift towards an exhausted sleep, Tony was pissed to discover a missed voicemail on your phone from your friend Sabrina.  It was bad enough that she couldn't give him time to convince you to be his, but upon playing the message, he discovered what she really thought about him.  There and then, after phoning in a quick update on your location and condition to Mr. Stan, he decided he had to find a permanent way to keep your mob friends from you, lest they try to turn you against him.  However a more important matter threatened to derail his whole plans when he discovered an email from your boss Melinda, informing him that you hadn't reported into work since Wednesday.  Thankfully however, being who he was made this an easy problem to fix, though it did worry him as to whether he may have overlooked some other minor detail which might later come back to threaten the life he planned to build.

Setting aside your phone and watching you, he figured he should take his own advice and try to break you quickly so the two of you could become the couple he imagined.  Making himself a quick meal, he then proceeded to deal with some urgent work stuff before checking back in with you.  Seeing you finally stir, he decided to bite the bullet and see if your attitude had improved.  Rising and heading to the fridge for a health smoothie which he hoped you'd drink, he headed off to your room to see if pleasure or pain was the order of the day.

Placing the glass on the bedside table, he released your hands from the bed and drew you onto his lap before bringing the glass up to your lips.  "Y/N, darling, I need you to drink this.  Can you do that?"  Shaking your head, while unknowingly snuggling deeper into his warm body, your eyes widened in shock when you finally opened them to take in the scene before you.

"T-Tony, what the fuck?  Let me go." you croaked out, trying futilely to pull away from him.  He didn't let you go however, and before you could steel yourself, the nanoparticles emit the same pulse that floored you in the kitchen.  This time however Tony's arm wraps around you as you hold on to steady yourself.

"Darling I'm sorry, but the sooner you learn the sooner I can actually disable that feature.  You'd like that, wouldn't you?"  Glaring at him while nodding your head, your eyes quickly fell to the glass now held in his other hand.  "Is my girl finally ready for a drink?" he asked as he followed your gaze.

"Yes." you rasped and he brought the glass to your lips as you opened your mouth to accept the liquid.  Drinking a bit too quickly, he had to remind you to take it easy so you didn't choke.  When you had drank it all, he lay you back on the bed before returning the glass to the table.  Then in a move that had you terrified, he took off his shoes before joining you on the bed and moving between your legs.

Scrambling backwards towards the head of the bed, he quickly and easily pulled you down, before placing his hands on your hips to keep you in place.  "Y/N, I just need to check there's no lasting damage done, okay?  Can you let me do that."

"No, don't fucking touch me.  You can't do what you've done and then act all concerned.  You're a monster, plain and simple." you screamed while thrashing as best you could against his hold.

"Fine you see a monster, so be it."  With that he tapped his housing unit and you watched in horror as countless nanoparticles made their way down his arm, along the sheets and settled in to secure your arms and legs to the bed.  Spread wide open for him, fear filled your eyes when Tony held up his palm as a penis shaped object took form.  Moving forward towards your pussy, you found your voice and finally begged.

"Tony please, whatever you're planning, don't do it.  I'll behave, I promise.  Just please don't put that thing in me.  I thought you said those things already in me could tell you what was going on inside me "

"They do darling, but this is simply a much quicker way to check there's no damage.  I promise I'll be gentle, just don't move."  Then moving his hand, he lined the object up with your entrance and gently pushed it in.  Checking data on a screen, but hearing you wince from how tender you still were from not being wet enough, he slowed his movement slightly before looking up at you.  "Breathe darling, I know it hurts but you're doing so well.  It will be over shortly."

Pushing in the final few inches, he took a few minutes to lean forward and kiss you gently before going back to the screen to see what was going on.  Seemingly happy with what he saw, he looked back to you with a grin that sent fear shooting down your spine, while somehow at the same time sending heat towards your core.

Pulling his palm away from you so only a small part of the object remained, he slid it back in just as gently as before.  Continuing to thrust it in and out, it didn't take long for you to start moaning beneath him.  While trying to move still proved impossible, the friction he created was doing amazing things to your pussy and this only moved up another notch when he again leaned forward and wrapped his lips around your left nipple.  Sucking and nibbling until your nipple was erect, he bit down gently before furnishing your right nipple with the same treatment.  Getting closer and closer to your peak as his hand began moving faster, the coil in your stomach snapped and you came when Tony moved his other hand down to pinch your clit.

Reducing the thickness of the makeshift cock to make its exit easier, he couldn't hide the smirk on his face as you sighed contentedly while trying to control your breathing.  "Well Darling, it's safe to say there's no permanent damage done.  Now, what do you say we see about putting a mini me in you?"  With that, he quickly removed his clothes, returned between your spread legs and thrust in to the hilt before you even registered what he had said.  Having just come, he had no trouble this time sliding in and out of your slick pussy and it wasn't long before he had you reaching for the edge once again.  With just a few more thrusts and some well timed flicks to your clit both you and Tony cried out as you came around him while his cum shot out, drowning your cervix.  Collapsing on top of you, he didn't stay there long before he pulled out and drew you back against his chest after the nanoparticles released your aching limbs.  Placing soft kisses along your neck and shoulder it didn't take long for both your breathing to return to normal and you fell asleep in each other's arms.

Tagging:- @nsfwsebbie , @hoseokchild , @ironlady1993 , @floatingdaisy7 , @taintedgenre , @buttercandy16 , sorry if I missed anyone.

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 127

Annnnd a-one, and a-two, and a queue-queue-queue!

This chapter has one of my favorite things in the world to write - Interpersonal relationships (if you are surprised, I’m going to assume you are new here....).

Specifically, one of my biggest pet-peeves is when friends or siblings are written in a way that shows that the author doesn’t actually have any friends or siblings they are close enough to that all rules of societal politeness go whizzing into some far-off dimension as soon as they are in proximity.

When I get to write a chapter with such close friends/ersatz-siblings and also have @baelpenrose cackling and egging me on, it literally makes my whole day.

P.S: If anyone has wondered about the ages of the characters, several are clearly lined out in this chapter......

EDIT: Fixed some insane formatting issues.

“The food festival, Sophia? Really?” an incredulous voice asked before the door to my office even opened all the way.

I resisted the urge to scream, but did surrender to pinching the bridge of my nose and breathing slowly. “Hello, Arthur. Do come in. Long time no see.  Of course I’m not busy…” My one day each week to have a few hours to myself - no mentees, no assistant, even Tyche was off work….

“We saw each other last night when I came over for dinner after sparring with Conor, and  you’re never busy on Saturdays, Alistair makes sure of it.” He dragged a chair in front of my desk for what I felt was the sole purpose of putting his boots on my desk instead of the conference table.

“I thought you two didn’t even like each other, how did you - “

He waved a hand dismissively. “Enemy of my best friend’s enemy is my friend, that sort of thing. Anyway - “

“Did you just call me my own worst - “

“You are, let’s not pretend otherwise. Anyway.” Arthur arched an eyebrow at me and waited for any further objections, but I couldn’t think of any. “The Food Festival. It’s my one favorite tradition on this ship until armed combat becomes a spectator sport, and you are putting Parvati and Hannah in charge of it?”

After a beat pause to make sure he was done, I glared at him. “Everyone has asked me that, and I don’t understand the issue.  They’ve both helped in the past, even before they started training to replace me.  I’ve handed more and more off to them each time, and they did great! Plus, they have three months, it will be fi - Wait, why do you even care, Arthur?”

He held up one finger with the authority of a deity who would have smited me if he could. “One, Parvati Fletcher does not like mapo tofu. You do. Specifically, you like it from that one vendor who grows her own Sichuan peppercorns and uses them like they are an infinite resource. Two, I spend entirely too much time working with Zach Khan, and he won’t shut up about how stressed Hannah is. Three - “ I was seriously starting to get concerned he actually could smite me at this point - “As much as I love you in the most platonic way possible, you are an obsessive, compulsive perfectionist who insists on doing everything herself and running herself into the ground so that everyone else has the time of their lives. So why are you trusting this, the largest and oldest event on the Ark, entirely to other people?” Dropping his boots from the desk, he leaned forward, palms down until we were nearly nose to nose.

“Sophia Reid, I swear on any god I can kill if you are dying…”

“WHAT!?” I squawked, jerking back and standing so fast I knocked my chair over. “For the love of little fish, I’m not dying! I haven’t had a near death experience in four years, thank you.”

“Three, not counting the fact that there is a reason Alistair makes you drink anything through a straw anymore.”

“How did - Nevermind.” I shook my head and tried to focus on the topic at hand. “No, I’m not dying. Nor am I injured, having a midlife crisis, rethinking my life choices any more than I ever do, or so much as in possession of a stuffy nose.” Taking a deep breath, I rolled my eyes and started counting off before I could stop myself. “Conor and Maverick and I are fine. No, I’m not arguing with Tyche again. Yes, I’m still going to therapy. Else is fine. No new sentient plagues or rogue cult leaders that I’m aware of. Nor have I become immortal, queen of the universe, savior of humanity, pregnant by Noah, or possessed.” Carefully, I picked my chair back up and sat down.

“Good...to… know?” He gave me a funny look. “Who asked the most disturbing one?”

“Immortal or Savior of Humanity?” I asked for clarification. “Those were Maverick and Derek, respectively.”

The look only got worse. “I meant ‘pregnant by Noah’, but fascinating to see where your priorities lie….?”

“Oh. That was Charly.”

“Dammit,” he swore softly. “I had her pegged for ‘possessed’.”

“I’m pretty sure she is, but the suggestion that I am came from Tyche, on no fewer than 3 occasions, by 4 different entities. She seemed pretty hopeful that Else was potentially mind-controlling me in an effort to make me take a nap,” I admitted.

“That tracks.” A nod of approval prefaced the question I had been avoiding - successfully, thus far, I might add. “Now that you’ve ruled out every possible plausible reason that you would entrust this to literally anyone other than a clone of yourself, why?”

“Why what?” My face was composed in an expression of innocence so convincing that I probably deserved an Oscar.

“I can and will convince Charly to turn all your coffee to decaf, so help me, Sophia.”

Realizing that he was, legitimately, worried about me and at the limits of his usually-impressive patience, I held up my hands in surrender. “Fine. You get the scoop.  Please record this and send me the loop, so I can just flick it at people who ask, please?” When he nodded, I exhaled slowly.  “It is no secret to anyone that I never wanted this job. I made the mistake of establishing the Food Festival, which as you point out is the largest event of the cycle on the Ark - the last three years, literally everyone attended in some capacity.” When he opened his mouth to argue, I held up a hand to stop him. “Don’t get me wrong. I love the Festival. What basically started out as a potluck because we were homesick and needed to meet - you know, the rest of humanity - is a huge, three day holiday.  It’s amazing!” I spun in my chair, arms flung wide for emphasis, before stopping to face him. 

“It also consumes my life, for months, to prepare for.  And that’s just implementing changes to make it more accessible so people don’t miss out! That doesn’t include adding things to make it more interesting or keep it from getting boring, or whatever. I literally don’t have time to do any of that!”

“So, you’re inflicting this on them instead?”

“Inflicting?” I snorted.  “Hardly. This is their final exam, their capstone project, their dissertation.  If they pull this off, I will gladly hand the entire office over to whoever is elected, cheerfully and knowing the Ark is in good hands.  But, they have to pull this off.  It’s the only major part of being Councilor of Resources and Relations that they haven’t done yet by themselves.”

He rubbed his face, looking somewhat impressed. “That’s honestly not what I was expecting.”

“I don’t think it ever is, honestly.” I shrugged at the question he glanced towards me. “For Evan, it was coordinating the weapons exhibitions.  Charly managed to pre-empt her own by designing more efficient aqueducts and filtration for when we reach Von - you know, the ones that also produce light?”

“Of course she would invent glow-in-the-dark plumbing. Who else?” Something caught up with him. “Evania Josue got away with planning an event? Seriously?”

“Oh, that’s right… you weren’t on Level One…” I murmured. When he only looked more confused, I clarified. “She was Maverick’s co-pilot when we needed people to pilot the Ark, which was not designed to pilot manually, via dead reckoning, using cameras pointed out the few viewports we have, for several weeks after the sensors were sabotaged.”

“She was whose co-pilot?”

“You really never heard this story? You practically live with seven people who were there…”

“Usually I get the bits about ‘Sophia nearly got her brains bashed out’ and ‘that traitorous bitch’, then start tuning out while I try to decide what it would take to get Charly to teach me necromancy… If Evan was the co-pilot, then why is Maverick….”

“Not in line to replace any Councilors? Arthur, we know that would be a disaster for him.”

He nodded reluctantly. “Your younger partner is a nice boy.”

“For fuck’s sake, he’s thirty seven!” I groaned.

“Nice man, whatever,” he waved off. “Which is exactly what I would like for you as a partner. You need nice partners, and blunt siblings. But I see what you mean about him being a Councilor… he’d be miserable.”

“What was yours?” I asked mischievously, dropping my chin onto my hands.

That earned me a flat stare, until he finally surrendered when I didn’t flinch. “The Twentieth/Early Twenty First History curriculum.”

“Seriously?” That had literally been the first thing he had done when Eino tapped him as a possible successor.

“I didn’t budge on points even he admitted he would have, out of fear of offending people.”

“Which is a fear you very much lack,” I pointed out.

“The truth is the truth. Coating it in sugar only makes it taste worse.” He shrugged nonchalantly before suddenly looking dangerously like he was thinking again. “There’s two of them.”

“Yes, Arthur. Hanna and Paravati are, in fact, two distinct and separate women-type-lady-people.”

“Thank you, Fee, I was well aware.” I suppressed a growl at the nickname - he knew I hated it. “I meant, only one can win the election, smartass.”

“Better to be a smartass than a dumbass,” I muttered.

“Sophia, you are forty five. Please grow up just a hair?”

“Tyche doesn’t want to be HR forever, you know.”

That brought his mind to a visibly screeching halt. “Wait, what?”

“What what?” I asked. “She does it because she is phenomenal at it, but it isn’t her passion.  She only stuck around as long as she did to make sure I didn’t trip over a chair and brain myself while I was at work.  When I’m gone, she’s gone, loser take the spoils.”

He whistled softly before shaking his head. “It’s bizarre to think of you two retiring around the same time I’m just starting the position.”

“I’ll have been a Councilor for a decade when I step down,” I pointed out.  I almost included unless I die first, but that never seemed to be as funny as I thought it was.

“But you aren’t that much older than me,” he sighed dramatically. “Anti-aging technology is frustrating.”

“Annnnd this is a natural extension of your career, with a ten year break thereabouts the middle.”  My grin was so bright it made him scowl before I finally got a begrudging smile.  “Think of it as getting elected head of the school board.”

The groan he let out probably echoed for several levels throughout the ship. I had basically just pointed out that he was becoming that which he most hated.

Or not. He seemed to recover with a gleam in his eye. “Pfft. Dean of Students, at the very least.”

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[dawninlatin]

‘tis the damn season, chapter 1

A belated gift for @ladywitchling​ <3 Merry Christmas my love, hope you appreciate this as much as I appreciate you!<3

Words: 1728

AO3 Link

Masterlist

Manon prepares to spend Christmas alone. Little does she know Elide has other plans...

«Are you sure you’re fine with being alone on Christmas?»

Manon couldn’t help but sigh, hoping that Asterin wouldn’t hear it through the phone. She appreciated her cousin’s worrying, but calling four times a day to check in was a bit excessive.

«Yes, Asterin.» She twisted in her office chair, opening her laptop. «It’s not as if we ever did anything special for Christmas anyway.» Manon glanced at the clock, then at the amount of unopened emails. It would be a while before she was done for the day, but she didn’t mind. No one was waiting for her.

Elide had left this morning to spend the holiday with her family, and without the presence of her cheery girlfriend, Manon didn’t really see the point of celebrating Christmas. She had received an invitation to join Asterin, but she had a family of her own now. Manon would only feel like an intruder the whole night.

As if she’d read Manon’s mind, Asterin said from the other end of the line, «Not doing much for Christmas isn’t the same as being alone.»

«I know that, but-»

Before she find a way finish that sentence, Asterin interrupted her again. «Can’t Elide-»

«Elide has already left to celebrate with her family, as she should.» Manon tried to ignore the sound of defeat in her voice as she yet again was reminded of how empty their apartment would be. Maybe that was why she’d decided to work overtime on Christmas Eve.

Saying goodbye to her girlfriend earlier today had been torture, and all Manon had wanted was to pull Elide into a tight embrace and spend all of Christmas cozied up in bed, just the two of them.

She didn’t though. Instead she put on a brave smile and held back her tears as her favorite person walked out the door.

Rolling her eyes at her own dramatics, Manon said to Asterin, «Christmas is overrated anyway. And I mean it when I say I don’t mind being alone.»

Liar. Dirty, filthy liar.

«Okay,» Asterin sighed at last, obviously spotting the lie, but playing along nonetheless. «You’re probably happy to finally have some peace and quiet.»

«Damn right I am,» Manon smiled, her heart once again filling up with love for her cousin. Before Elide, Asterin had been the only person Manon had. The two cousins had been raised by the same cruel grandmother, and it had made them inseparable, always looking after one another.

«I’ll leave you to it then. I need to take a long nap before I can do anything else. Willow kept us up all night.» Asterin yawned, and Manon chuckled slightly at the sound of her tired cousin. Being the mother of a one-year-old wasn’t easy. Especially not when that one-year-old was also the daughter of Fenrys Moonbeam.

Speaking of the devil… «You still talking to The Grinch?»

Manon tipped her head back and laughed as Fenrys’ voice filled her ear. The nickname was one he’d lovingly began to call her after she’d voiced her aversion for the bright and merry season.

«Hello to you too, Fenrys.»

«Wait a moment,» Asterin suddenly said. «I’m turning on the FaceTime camera.»

Manon could hear some shuffling coming from the phone she’d pulled away from her ear, and then the small family filled her screen. She smiled warmly at the sight of a very tired Willow, who looked like she’d just been woken up from a nap of her own by the way her soft curls stood in every direction and how she clung to her father.

«Hey Willow,» Manon cooed, and the little girl’s face lit up at the sight of her auntie.

She babbled some nonsense, and Asterin handed her the phone, which she immediately put in her mouth.

«No!» Asterin was quick to steal the phone back, but the glare Willow gave her had Manon laughing again.

«Alright, it looks like someone is hungry, so I’ll hang up now.» Manon waved at her niece. «Bye, Willow!»

«Can you say bye to auntie Manon?» Even after a year, she still filled with pride whenever anyone called her that, and as Willow waved enthusiastically, Manon forgot all sadness from earlier.

Pressing a kiss to his wife’s cheek, Fenrys took Willow and left the frame. «Let’s go and feed The Kraken!»

«Fenrys!» Asterin called after him, but she was grinning.

«Merry Christmas, Asterin,» Manon said softly, ready to turn her attention back to her work.

«Merry Christmas, Manon. I love you.»

«I love you too,» she replied, and hung up.

Manon debated calling Elide as well, while she was at it, but it was getting dark outside, so she decided it was best to just finish for the day and go home to suffer through Christmas alone.

-

Three hours later, Manon was finally finished with her workload. There was only one last thing to do…

Groaning as she got up from her desk, Manon made her way towards the office of the only other person grumpy and joyless enough to spend the holiday at work.

If Manon was the Grinch, Lorcan Salvaterre had to be something far, far worse.

She knocked on his door, and he responded with an annoyed «What do you want.»

Stepping into his office, Manon scowled at the sight of her least favorite person in the world. She really didn’t have the patience to deal with this today.

«I’m done for the day, so I just wanted to check if you got the files I sent you,» Manon stated, examining her nails with a bored look on her face.

Lorcan’s signature frown entered his face as he checked his email, then looked back too Manon. «Yeah, so you can leave now. I wanna work in peace.»

«Too bad I came here to chit-chat then, since you’re like, my favorite person in the whoooole world,» Manon deadpanned, turning on her heel so she didn’t have to stay a minute more in his miserable presence.

Manon and Lorcan saw each other an awful lot for basically being archenemies. It wasn’t enough that they worked together. No, two years back, Elide had been taking her to a party so she could finally meet her friends, and none other than Lorcan fucking Salvaterre had greeted them, his smile quickly shifting to a scowl as Manon had muttered a not-so-quiet you’ve got to be kidding me.

Thinking about the memory, she stopped in the doorway, her longing from earlier having returned at full force. A small smile played on her lips as she looked over her shoulder. «Have a shitty Christmas, Salvaterre.»

Lorcan let out a small chuckle. «You too, Blackbeak.»

-

Sitting on the train, Manon suddenly began to regret not decorating the apartment. It felt wrong to know that she was on her way to an empty apartment, as ordinary-looking as always, when she was surrounded by so many people dressed in finery, on their way to see friends and family, twinkling lights passing in a blur.

A wave of sadness rushed through her. She would have given anything to have Elide by her side right now, holding her hand, talking about her day, smiling, laughing, just being there.

Actual tears burned behind her eyes then, and Manon silently cursed Christmas for making her so emotional. She never cried! And now she was being all sappy because she’d been away from her girlfriend for a grand total of ten hours. What was wrong with her?

Her phone chimed in her purse, interrupting her sad music video moment, and when Manon saw who had texted her, she had to fight even harder to hold back the tears.

Elide<3: You on your way home yet?<3

Manon: On the train now

She thought for a second, before sending another message.

Manon: Thinking of you<3

Elide<3: Thinking of you too, can’t wait to see you again<3<3

Had her younger self seen this, she would have snorted at the sappy words and heart emojis, but there was no denying it, no one could resist the charm of Elide Lochan.

Looking up once more, Manon saw that it had started to snow, the world already covered by a white blanket.

Next year she would accept Asterin’s invitation, Manon promised herself.

-

Standing before her door, Manon spent longer than necessary fumbling for her keys. Maybe some part of her didn’t want to enter the empty apartment, she was mature enough to admit that.

Because whether she wanted to acknowledge it or not, it was Christmas, and she was sad because Elide wasn’t there, and her home wasn’t decorated and her dinner was a miserable plate of yesterday’s leftovers and her only plan was to watch a movie, alone.

Manon let out a sigh as she let her head hit the door, needing a moment to gather herself. «it’s your own fault for trying to be so fucking independent and untouchable the whole time,» she whispered.

She gave herself one more second to brood, then she twisted the key and eased the door open.

A few steps into the hallway, Manon stopped short, a confused look on her face. She’d turned off the lights this morning, hadn’t she? And was that…?

It was music, the soft tones of some Christmas song, coming from the kitchen.

Looking around, there were even a few decorations put up, a mistletoe hanging over the entrance to the living room.

«Hello?» Manon called, not letting herself really think about who this had to be. Not letting that kind of hope come to life.

Heart pounding in her chest, she stepped into the living room, and could do nothing but gasp in awe as she took in her surroundings. A Christmas tree stood in the corner, the room lit up by its softly glowing lights, and everywhere there were little trinkets and other decorations. On the mantel of the fireplace was a picture of her and Elide that hadn’t been there before. It was from last week, Manon recognized, when they’d been at the Christmas market, and on the frame were the words: Make the yuletide gay. A bubbling laugh escaped her, and she couldn’t hold the tears back this time.

A voice sounded from the kitchen, and Manon turned around, only to be met by a pair of shining eyes and a bright smile.

«Merry Christmas, my love.»

Taglist: @ireallyshouldsleeprn​ @ladywitchling​

I keep a separate taglist for every ship, so let me know if you want to be added to any of them!

[simsadventures]

Not Me: Chapter 2: Domestic Bliss

Summary: You throw a party at your house, and while on the outside you look like the perfect couple, the reality is quite different. Especially after you learn about another shocking truth. But Bucky seems to be shocked as well.

Warnings: angst, pretending, infidelity, hint of jealousy, swearing, betrayal, weight loss

Pairing: CEO!Bucky Barnes x wife!Reader

Word Count: 2555

A/N: I promise, all will be explained in a short time. What did we all think? Bucky is an ass, that’s for sure, but maybe there’s something behind his behaviour… who knows? XD FEEDBACK is gold, so please, let me know if you like it, or what was your favourite part :) xx

Series Masterlist __ Masterlist

< Previous Chapter

You looked at yourself in the mirror and sighed. Where there used to be a happy, confident woman, was now standing an unsure being without shape or form. You always loved the way your boobs looked, having been one of the lucky girls to have their breasts just the right size and shape without undergoing surgery. But since you lost more than 20 pounds over the last year, your boobs all but disappeared.

So did the glow your skin used to have once. You were dull now, and if it weren’t for your hairdresser who tried to keep your hair shiny and healthy-looking, you bet you would like a walking dead. But no matter how much weight you lost, James didn’t seem to care.

It was pathetic to even try in the first place, because he would always mumble something like you’re not gonna get me, and would walk away, leaving you confused and hurt. You thought that maybe he thought you weren’t representative enough for him, so you tried to lose weight. But nothing happened because you were just the right amount of weight.

It came only with the constant heartbreak that you finally lost your appetite, and the pounds started to disappear from the scale.

You shrugged in the mirror and applied another layer of red lipstick to your lips and plastered a fake smile on your face. This would be a long night, you thought to yourself, as you descended the stairs leading to your formal room, aka the torture room, as you liked to call it.

It was there that most of the parties and meeting happened, and because it was your turn to host one of the Y/L/N family parties, you couldn’t even protest. Your whole family would be there, and so was James’.

After what your father told you that day, and the way he’s been acting towards you ever since then, you weren’t looking forward to seeing him. Nevertheless, you couldn’t wait to see two of your three brothers. Not that you wouldn’t see them almost every month, it being your only outlet and your flight towards safety, but their faces and goofy acts always made you smile.

When you saw your oldest brother, Max, you actually smiled at him, and you had to tell yourself not to rush too fast towards him, because it would actually look like you weren’t happy in your current position. The hostess of the party. Ugh!

 You made sure that the caterers brought everything they should and that your home decorator came soon in the morning to put things in their places, but other than that, you couldn’t care less. It was just for a show, just like every other aspect of your life, apparently.

Max waved at you, and you came close enough to squeeze his hand affectionately. He looked you up and down and frowned, but didn’t say anything, being the polite one of the four of you. You wanted to say something, but then you felt somebody hauling you up from your feet and you screamed, not being able to contain yourself.

When you heard a huron laugh from behind you, you let out a chuckle and tapped his hand, signalling that he should let you down. It was the other brother, two years older than you, Thomas.

While Max was a cardio surgeon, Thomas was in the Army. He only recently got sent home from Afghanistan, and you couldn’t get enough of him, missing him like crazy over the past 7 months while he was on a mission.

“I swear to God, you’re lighter and lighter every time I see you, cheerio! You’re almost translucent, what the fuck is going on, huh?”

You just shook your head and put your fake smile on to calm him down so that he wouldn’t make a scene. Your father and James would eat you alive if somebody caused a scene and you wouldn’t be able to shush them appropriately.

“It’s this new diet I’m on, Tom! I thought I looked marvellous so thank you for bursting my little bubble,” you said playfully, hoping that neither of your brothers would see through you. But who were you kidding? You grew up with them, and you were their little sister, of course, they wouldn’t trust you just like that.

They both exchanged looks that said, right but didn’t press the matter for which you were extremely thankful. You looked around the room to see where your husband was, trying to keep up the appearances at least for a while, but you couldn’t find him anywhere. You shrugged and hoped he’d come as soon as possible, because you could see your father’s prying eyes on you, and you didn’t want to give him another reason to scold you.

To get your mind off of things, you looked for your nieces and nephews, Max’s children, so that nobody would ask you unnecessary questions and you could enjoy some time with your family before you had to go and speak with your father. You couldn’t find your mom anywhere, and you could bet she was outside having a cigarette, or 10. It was her outlet in this crazy world, and although you used to give her lectures, you totally got why she started this horrible habit. It even crossed your own mind a few times.

The little ones were having fun on the veranda, and after you greeted their mother, Felicia, you sat on your heels to let the little ones tell you all they needed.

“And auntie Y/N, why is grass green?” “Y/N, I have a boyfriend, his name is Joshua!”

You listened to the 4-year old asking question over his sister’s telling you about her kindergarten’s love, and you smiled to yourself. You loved the two of them, just as much as you loved the two babes in Felicia’s arms. One-year-old twins. Four children were apparently a lot to take in and to take care of, but Felicia was a pro, and you admired her for her patience with your brother because he sometimes acted worse than those kids.

“Shouldn’t you be in there, entertaining your guests with your husband?” You heard your father’s stern voice from behind you, and the hair on your neck stood up. You clenched your jaw, gave Felicia an apologetic smile and went back inside, without as much as looking at your father.

He didn’t like that too much, so he grabbed you by your upper arm, squeezing so much you could feel the blood draining from the limb.

“Don’t you give me this treatment, young lady. How about you put a smile on that pretty face of yours and stop being so sour, huh? Wouldn’t kill you to be pleasant for a day!”

You blinked away the tears welling in your eyes, nodded absentmindedly, which made him release your arm. You looked around the room once more, looking for James, when you saw him leaving one of the guest rooms on the floor ground. You sighed and put on a smile, which fell as soon as you saw another person leaving the room behind James. Her red hair seemed to be the only thing you saw, and you had to try really hard not to vomit at the sight.

It was one of your bridesmaids and great friends (sure), Natasha. They both looked like they either went through a tornado or they fucked each other’s souls out, and your heart fell.

Not only was he making your life a living hell, but he also fucked one of your friends? That was just perfect. You knew that if you saw him, you weren’t the only one, and sure enough, your father made his presence known again

“You can’t even keep a man? Pf, I thought at least that pussy of yours was for something, but I guess I was wrong,” he said mockingly and left you standing there, feeling like you stood under a cold shower.

James turned around the room, greeted a few people he missed due to his escapades before his eyes landed on you. You wanted to yell at him, wanted to throw stuff at him for doing this to you. Why he married you in the first place, you didn’t understand. You didn’t give him even a small smile as you walked towards him, and, for a second, he looked like a deer caught in headlights. That soon passed, and his typical scowl replaced the shock on his face.

When you reached him, and he snaked his arm your waist (which cause you to shudder in disgust, to be quite frank), you leaned in, and with a smile for the other guests of the party, you whispered to his ear,

“You could have at least each left the room in a different time. And you could have made sure you didn’t look like you just fucked one of my best friends, but maybe that’s just me, dear,” you hissed the last part of the sentence as you looked deep into his eyes and without as much as another thought left him standing there, and went to your brothers again.

Not that you wanted to talk to them about it, but you saw the looks on their faces, and you knew they saw the whole thing, from Bucky leaving the room with Natasha to you talking to him. And the looks on their faces were very close to two people ready to murder somebody, so you tried to go and calm them both down. You were just lucky your twin, Adam, wasn’t there, because he would definitely have already acted. And it wouldn’t be nice considering he was an MMA fighter.

“Is he fucking kidding me? I’m going to kill him, Y/N. Like seriously, it will take me one good measured punch, and he’s down,” Tom said, seething, and you patted his shoulder, keeping your fake smile on your lips.

“Don’t. Please, Tom, Max. Suits me for thinking he could actually love me. Let’s just forget about it and act as if nothing happened, can we?”

“Is that the reason you looked the way you do? For fuck’s sake, Y/N. That idiot’s been killing you for over a year, and now he’ll sleep with your friend, to top it all? Has he been beating you too? That why you have the forming bruise on your arm?” Max asked, his temper showing as well.

You looked down to your bare arm and saw that Max was right indeed. There was a bruise already kind of blue from where your father grabbed you minutes ago.

“It’s not like that, I promise. James hasn’t laid his arms on me, I swear. It’s from a pleasant conversation I had with dad a while ago,” you added, knowing that there was nothing your brothers could do about your despotic father.

They were both red from anger, and you didn’t blame them. If somebody treated your brothers the way James treated you, you’d probably tear them to pieces. Or, at least, the old you would. You didn’t know yourself anymore. This meek wife, trying to do as her father and her husband tell her. You were disgusted by yourself but couldn’t see a way out.

Somebody touched your arm, and from the surprised looks on your brothers’ faces, you knew exactly who it was. The fucking audacity of that woman.

“Natasha, to what do I owe the pleasure?” You asked her, so mockingly, you were actually surprised at yourself.

She looked taken aback, but she still laughed freely.

“What? Can’t I come and as hi to my dear friend?”

It was your turn to laugh in her face.

“Aaah. So I guess that’s what you’ve been doing in one of my guest rooms with my husband, then? Saying hi to him? You guys have some special secret handshake? Or did you fuck him after you exchanged pleasantries?”

She looked terrified, and before you could say more, or before she could start stuttering some lame excuse, you felt a hand on your hip, and from the unpleasant reaction of your body, you knew it was your husband. This was hilarious. His wife and mistress talking, and he just casually strode in.

“May I speak with you, Y/N?” James hissed into your ear, and you stabbed Natasha one last time with your eyes before you let James pull you away from the party into the kitchen.

You couldn’t even look at him, you thought you’d vomit if you did.

“What the fuck is your problem, huh? You’ve got everything you wanted, the house, the marriage, the prestige, everything. What more do you want from me?” He said, raising his voice, and you finally turned around to face him, your brows furrowed in disbelief.

“What? What are you talking about, James? You think I asked for any of this? For the hell my life is right now? Oh so great, I’m married to one of the sexiest CEO on the planet, good for me. But guess, what. I never asked for any of this. All I wanted was to take over the publishing part of the company, live in my little apartment, and maybe, maybe fall in love one day with a nice guy who would treat me right.

Did I think it could be you, for a while? Sure, but don’t worry. I don’t anymore. You asked me to marry you. I don’t know what you’re playing at, but at least I try to make this marriage work and don’t go fucking your best friends behind your back. But I guess I ask too much of you, don’t I? Well, excuse me, your excellence. I did everything you told me to. I stopped speaking up, I started cooking like crazy, wearing make-up all the damn time, wearing clothes like I was part of the Gossip Girl extras, just because you told me to. But I will never be good enough for you, will I? I don’t know what you want from me, James, I really don’t, but if we don’t go back to the party now, people will start asking questions we don’t have answers to,” you said, fighting the tears threatening to leave your eyes.

Bucky was watching your, his expression somewhere between surprise and anger. He looked at you, obviously wanting to continue fighting with you before something caught his attention.

“What the fuck is that on your arm?”

You scoffed and walked around him to leave the kitchen.

“Oh, now you care? Please, give me a break. I don’t know what your motives were to marry me if you wanted the whole company to yourself and had a deal with my father or something, but please, stop acting like you are the worried husband, ok? Let’s just get this party over with, and then you won’t have to look at me for weeks, just the way you like it,” you said with a fake smile (Bucky knew that much, that was definitely not a real smile of yours), and left the kitchen, not caring if he followed you or not.

He just stood there, confused and with more questions than with how many he initially came into the kitchen.

/Next Chapter >

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