#have lit nothing until friday have to be at work present

[jolapeno]

4. green smoke

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter four of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.7k chapter warnings: [see masterlist for series warnings] meet cute, flirting. fluff. flirting in person and over IG. frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used, you wear a date outfit but not specified and the shoes have heels but not mentioned what kind. minor discussion of past canon events incl. drugs. no use of y/n. an: if this as a friends episode this would be called "the one where they talk"

prev chapter | frankie's ig

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics

Friday soon arrives.

It comes hand-in-hand with a tumultuous storm, bringing with it ominous rumbles echoing through your house. The air feels charged with tension, wrung tight, all sense—as if it’s holding its breath while the world around seems to retreat into darkness. Even if the time on your laptop says 14:43.

Your gaze fixates on beads of rain running down the window, all racing one another—like you have been for several minutes. The steady patter provides a rhythmic backdrop to your solitude, interrupted only by the occasional sighs that escape your lips and the soft tapping of your pencil against the notebook—a feeble attempt at pretending you’re concentrating.

Pretend is the optimum word.

Merely putting on a show of focusing on the task at hand. In reality, your eyes keep flicking to your phone—the one lying silent on the counter, eagerly anticipating the next notification that’ll make it illuminate.

Your work, the one thankfully with a deadline of next week, continues to sit ignored—barely considered, never mind plotted. Because it isn’t what fills your mind.

It’s him.

Just thoughts of him—mind populated with vivid memories that refuse to fade, unable to stop lingering on the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles or his infectious laugh. The one which has dug itself a place into the walls of your home, lit it up.

Then, you think of his lips, the ones that are purposeful, all heavenly. The mere thought of them sends a shiver down your spine, a longing present, spreading—

Unloading a delivery and you’re falling on me.

It's difficult not to smile at his message.

Something he effortlessly elicits from you now. Has done so since the very beginning. A thing he continues to do so the more the two of you speak.

It's giddy, almost teenage-like, the way your heart scampers to catch itself as your fingers try to pretend they're not darting to reply.

Excuse me? Rain. Oh, that is such a dad joke. It was. I’m pretty proud of it. Bet it made you smile. I will not confirm or deny. So that means it did. Shut up.

Thumbs swirling over the screen, you roll your lips, toes twitching on the floor as you grin.

So, how big is the candle going to be in the middle of the table? Ummm, appropriately sized for a restaurant? Hmm, I have only gone on dates with inappropriately sized candles. Are you flirting with me when I’m at work? Are you saying that like you don’t flirt with me when I’m at work? In my defence, you choose your own hours. Do you mind me flirting with you? Not even a little bit. Good. Because guess what I’m wearing right now? Hopefully nothing. I’m wearing sweats and a baggy T-shirt. Still hot. Get back to work, Butterscotch.

You know it’s not long—a handful of hours until you’ll be across from him.

Likely with your smile hurting your cheeks, eyes unable to stand looking away from him for more than a few minutes. Unable to explain or rationalise how straightforward it is with him, how natural it feels to get swept up in all of this and find yourself wanting to be around him.

Something you try to put to the back of your mind, to not clock-watch, not count down. Doing well at it until you hear your phone buzz and see his name appear on your screen.

The laundry you're putting away ignored, the item dropped from your hand to the floor, before wiping your hands on your thighs, taking a measured breath, then lifting the phone to swipe it.

His voice fills your ear almost immediately. All hello and your name, a can you hear me? following.

And your heart skips a beat—missing a whole thud against your ribs as you stare at the outfit hanging on the closet door.

“I’m really sorry—“

And your heart falls. Descends gradually, like a feather freefalling. Doing so until it has nowhere else to go but sit in the hollow void. Disappointment beating, pulsating.

“—Harold… he had to leave early, his heart was playing up and he said he’d come back. But I can’t make him do that, wouldn’t be able to enjoy ourselves if he just—"

“—Frankie—“

“—And I’ve tried to move the reservation, rang the restaurant. But, they’re booked up and I really want to take you there—”

“—Frankie?”

You brush the fabric, the hanger holding on to the top of the door with sheer will as you do so between thumb and finger. Half-smiling—even still. Listening to the way he takes a breath, to the way he cares so much.

“It’s okay,” you interrupt, swallowing, shoving the dismay down. “I… promise.”

The voice you hear back is soft. So tinged with sadness, and regret, you half-want to call him Butterscotch just to make him laugh. “You sure?”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you reassure him, comfort him—voice steady as you do so, "We can reschedule. It's not a problem."

A moment of silence follows, with a sense of letdown settling in the air like fog. It sits there, resting, hanging. Because even if you know it’s just a minor adjustment, a twinge of disappointment still seeps in. Not so much a sharp pang, but a lingering weight that makes your shoulders sag, as though everything had deflated like a balloon slowly losing air.

“Baby… I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you assure him, a smile making its way onto your face despite the circumstances. "There's always next time."

“Not drove you away then?” he half-laughs, one you imagine is a little forced.

“Not even a little bit.”

Sighing, you swear you hear him smile with it. “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

You grin, nothing but light and easy, “Just make sure next time you can show up, that’ll be a good start."

Frankie laughs, it flowing down your ear before it’s joined by a promise that he will and he can call you later, if you like? A thing which sounds like a good idea, even more so when it's followed by the fact he wishes he could stay—talk, but you know. Nodding to no one but yourself as you bid him goodbye, leaning against the wall—hanging up, full of bittersweet.

You let your head fall against it, rolling it there as your eyes flick back up at your clothes, lingering over it.

And an idea appears.

It grows—smothering over sadness before it blooms.

Then, you’re grinning. One almost as large as you do when he makes you giggle. Almost.

You’re thankful the sign still says open when you step out of your car—fingers tugging at fabric, ensuring it sits how it’s supposed to.

Even for a surprise, you wanted to look as picture-perfect as you should have been entering the restaurant. The paper bags catch your leg, noise crinkling against the air as you yank on the handle—entering, being washed in wood chippings, bleach and paint.

For a moment, one stuck between time and space, you look. Glance. Unsure where to find him, until your eyes land on him and find his head lifting at the sound of your entering.

Whatever Frankie had been in his hand dropped, all forgotten. His mouth parting at the sight of you. Taking you in. Sweeping brown, surprised eyes all over you as heat rises up your neck and brushes over your ears.

“I know I’m a little overdressed for buying a hammer, but…”

Mouth falling open, he looks torn between grinning and speaking. “What are you…”

Shrugging, watching his eyes roam up and down the outfit you’d chosen. The one that had been on the hanger for days—one you’d not thought could be replaced by anything else.

“Well,” you begin, smirking, “My date got caught up at work and I’d been really looking forward to seeing him.”

Frankie smiles, hand rubbing along his jaw as he stares.

“But then, someone told me there’s a secret restaurant here. One behind a metal door that says, Staff Only?”

Dropping his hand, and swiping his tongue across his lips—he slowly moves around the register. Coming to join you as you hold the bags up, the heels of your shoes clicking on the shop floor tiles as you meet him halfway.

“I also suspect that you might not have eaten, since you've been alone for most of the day.”

It’s at that moment his stomach roars. It grinds, what you assume is coffee, before groaning inside of him as he claps a hand on his apron.

“The only problem is,” you say, narrowing your eyes, scrunching your nose. “I… I didn’t know what you would like, so I might have bought a ridiculous amount of food.”

Taking a bag, his eyes widen when he opens it. “You’re staying, right? To help me?”

Reaching inside the bag he didn’t take, you pull out a single, battery-powered candle. “It’s a date.”

He gives you a wide smile, his eyes twinkling with happiness. "I just need to lock up," he says.

You watch with a flutter of excited nervousness as he moves around the store, flipping the sign on the door from 'Open' to 'Closed', and then securing the door. The lock clicks into place, echoing in the quiet store. He then proceeds to shut off the lights, plunging the store into a soft, inviting darkness lit only by the glow from the streetlights outside.

Turning back to you, he extends a hand.

"Shall we?" he asks, his voice filled with anticipation. You place your hand in his, feeling the warmth spreading through your fingers.

As you walk together towards the back of the store, a tinge of excitement flutters in the air. The 'Staff Only' sign looms above the door like a secret entrance to a place you shouldn't be, but with a gentle gesture, he ushers you inside.

You don't miss the way his fingers brush your lower back, the heat they ignite up your spine as his chest meets your back, face close to yours. Lingering, eyes sweeping over you.

"Lemme just..." he whispers, elongating it, before he bends to pull you a chair out—one with three wheels, no back—fingers sliding up to brush over your shoulders as you sit down.

“Careful.”

Swallowing, you suppress the effect he's having on you, forcing a smirk. “Oh, I’ll try, Morales. Don’t want you to have to fill out the accident book.”

“Harold would murder me.”

Snorting, you watch him join you—taking the candle from your hand, flicking it on and placing it directly in the middle before the two of you begin taking food out. He gazes at bundled packaged burgers, stealing a fry from the bag before it’s laid out over the desk.

“So, as it’s our third date.” His eyes flick to you, mid-bite of his food as you twirl a fry in your fingers. “I get to ask you challenging questions, right?”

“Fuck,” he says, under his breath. Grinning. “Alright, let me have it.”

Nudging him with the tip of your shoe he laughs. “Okay. You and Luca’s mom?”

“Ah.”

Grabbing a napkin, he wipes his mouth. “You don’t have to worry.”

“And as everyone in history knows, those words are how people stop worrying.”

Smirking, he turns on the wheely stool, facing you, knees abutting yours. “We haven’t been together since he was born—we… we weren’t even together by the time he reached six months. He… he doesn’t know any different. We have things we say, and truly, she’s a fantastic mom, we have a great co-parenting situation.”

“Okay.”

His fingers land on your knee, dancing over them, light and feathery as he sighs. Heavy. Weighted. It makes you swallow, makes you want to dig your fingers into your leg to stop yourself worrying, thinking—overdramatising whatever it is.

Scratching his head, he rolls his tongue from his cheek to the front of his teeth. “I wasn’t a good person then… a lot of shit had happened—I’d left the service, found myself… haunted, I guess? Me and her, we met, we… seemed good. She seemed good. And then, I…”

Your hand slides over his, one of your fries still in hand as you do. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“I want to.”

Nodding, he half smiles.

And then he does.

He tells you about his days in the army—and the sleepless nights when he was back home. The sense of loss he felt without it, the uniform that meant nothing when he joined a regular job. How flying helicopters for people with money who had no cares in the world began to make him hollow, carving a piece inside of him that didn’t fill with laughter at barbecues and trivia nights. He tells you how he’d rambled to someone about the lack of sleep, before he found a little white bag in his locker—an opportunity, a chance to not overthink.

That it had stayed there for days, almost a week until there had been news about someone he had once worked with.

Then he explained how it wasn’t a problem, but it also very much was. How he was lost, drowning—that people reached out, but the lights had been on, but no one was home. How it became a coping mechanism, a small dose to take the ache away—before he learnt he was going to be a dad. Her worries about him making her ignore the signs, much further on than they thought—and then, one month later, how he failed a drug test.

Trace amounts, barely anything, but still plenty.

His license, revoked—paused. His future dwindled, a baby due to arrive, one he’d heard the heartbeat off at the same time as he found himself at the threat of being alone. A second chance dangled, offered—do better, Frank. Don’t be selfish.

“—but, I didn’t change. Don’t change.”

Your heart falls, and descends.

Watching him shake his head, grabbing a handful of fries before stuffing them into his mouth as he chews, and you pick at one from your own box.

“Things were good—Luca, he had ten toes, ten fingers. He was great, happy. It made us being good seem real? But, it lingered, y’know? If work kept me later, there was this distrust, this question. And I couldn’t blame her, didn’t. Never would either. I broke that, I know I did. But…”

“It wasn’t healthy?”

Shrugging, he swallows, before nodding. “Then, I helped a friend, one from my squad. Had to… it was dangerous. I was gone longer than I said—and she worried, panicked. I knew before I left that when I got back I’d likely find my stuff packed—not that I blame her. I know we tried. But, I broke it. But now we’re better… better co-parents than partners, you know?”

Nodding, you chew, rolling the salt on your lips together. A beat passes, ice clanging in the drinks, cartons scratching against the table as the two of you eat.

“That was probably a lot.”

“It’s okay. Are you… are you good now?”

Nodding, he chews another fry. “Clean since Luca was born. Five years, fifty-seven days.”

“Well, I know this might be weird to say, but I’m proud of you.”

Smiling, he chews his cheek, meeting your eyes for the first time since he began sharing. “You’re a bit too good for me, you know that?”

Smirking, you steal one of his fries. “Oh, a hundred per cent. You might have a bunch of followers and good taste in paint colours, but did you know that I can sand down a dresser to the point a prominent Instagram DIYer has told me ‘I did a good job’.”

“Doesn’t sound that trustworthy. Bet he doesn’t know what you call wrenches.”

Pouting, you narrow your eyes as he laughs. “Thank you for telling me.”

Nodding, he rolls his lips. “I had to… ‘cause… are we enacting third date-talk honesty?”

“Of course.”

Half-smiling, he nudges himself closer on the stool. “I really like you.”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you look up at the ceiling, before grabbing his knees and wheeling yourself closer. “I quite like you too.”

Smile spreading, he places his hands on top of yours. “Yeah? Because I wouldn’t blame you for wanting to… run from all of that.”

Smirking, you try to move closer, even if the wheels of both stools try to prevent you. “Did you know, honesty is really, really hot?”

Brows raising, chin lifting, his lips slide further into his cheek. “I’m glad you came.”

“I’m glad too.”

Swallowing, his fingers slide in between yours, eyes flicking from one eye to the other. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Dangerous, that.”

“Well, I’ve seen your house now.”

Nodding, you smile. Feeling it, whatever he’s going to say, ask, think lingering in the silence. His grin widens, a spark igniting in his eyes that sends a rush of warmth through you.

“So, I think it only seems fair you see mine.”

Wiping your hands on your napkin, licking your lips as you cross a leg over the other. “Well, for fair sake I definitely should.”

“Do you want to… now?”

“Tonight?”

Nodding, that same flush of pink rises up his neck, up his jaw.

Smirking, you loosen your hand from his—resting your palm on his cheek, elbow on your knee. “I’d like that.”

The car ride to his should be tense, but it isn't.

Instead, it's filled with soft laughter, teasing comments and shared glances—your fingers twitching, wondering whether a hand on his knee is too soon. Even when everything else feels so normal, natural.

When he pulls up outside his place, anticipation fills the air—a rush of warmth flooding through you, making your fingers clamp together and stare out at the place as he says, this is it.

It’s nice, well-kept—charming, from what you can already tell. Eyes spot chalk drawings on the patio, lit up by the outside lights and a plastic red car close to where he's parked.

“Luca has some good parking,” you smile, pointing to it next to you both. “You learn from him, or?”

Smirking, he undoes his belt. “Maybe, I taught him how to park. I’m very good with heavy transportation.”

You don’t miss the way he emphasises the sentence. Your 'oh' is swallowed by the sound of him opening the door and telling you to wait.

Watching as he moves around the vehicle, his eyes holding yours. Earlier, you'd been thankful that the rain had taken a pause; now you wished it hadn't stopped its lashings that glued clothing to skin, thighs pressing together on the seat before the door beside you opens.

“What a gentleman.”

“Just wanted another chance to chance to check you out, really.”

Swatting him, he takes your hand, his laugh blending with yours as he leads you up to his front door.

If he feels nervous, he doesn’t show it. Finding his keys and slides one into the lock without missing. Opening the door without as much as an awkward shove of the door.

If anything, it’s effortless. It not even squeaking or catching as he pushes it open.

“It’s not a lot…” he begins.

But he couldn’t be more wrong.

It’s cosy and warm. Exuding an unmistakable homeliness that immediately comforts you. Dark woods, off-whites, and splashes of orange, caramel, and greens intertwine harmoniously, creating a space that feels both freshly decorated and deeply loved. A balance you assume exists because of him being the one to bring it all together, knowing from the videos you've seen how talented he is.

As you glance around, you begin to see the traces of the Frankie you’ve been getting to know. Photographs of him at the beach, with his son, with friends and more with Luca at varying ages.

Then, there are the plants. An assorted mix of them, some big that you remember from photos, some greener than others—some tall and in plants with animal faces like raccoons and beavers, others in decorative pots placed on shelves.

As you step in further, you spot furniture you recognise from videos—even noting the stacked pile of books from a photo he’d shared recently and a record player on a side table.

“C’mon, let me show you around.”

He leads you, hand in yours, showing you his well-equipped kitchen, and dining space. Occasionally, he points things out, like the markings on a wall he’s using to measure how tall Luca gets and the scuff marks from dragging the dining table in after varnishing it. Before finally, the two of you are outside the half-open door to his bedroom.

Frankie giving you a wink, bodies almost flush.

“That where the magic happens?”

“Not usually…”

"Maybe that's cause people haven't been saying the right magic words." Shrugging, you lick your lower lip, staring at the beading on the door. "I should tell you, I've heard I'm quite good at magic words..."

You let it linger, sit. Before you turn on your heel, fingers brushing over a table as you head back in the direction of his living room.

He follows, a step or two behind, letting you and your eyes capture all the personal touches before you feel fingers on your wrist, tugging you back, body flush to his.

Wrapping an arm around your waist, you find your throat dry—eyes flicking to his mouth.

“Go take a seat, I’ll bring us a drink.”

It’s soft, the nod you do as he slips his hand from your waist. You move, almost on auto-pilot, to sit down on his sofa, running your fingers over a cushion—one stitched with greens, golds and oranges.

When he reappears, you look up at him, noticing the hint of nerves in his gaze as you plaster on a reassuring smile as he places them down on the coffee table.

Slowly, you reach out, squeezing his hand, "Your home is lovely, Frankie."

He chuckles, a soft blush creeping up his cheeks as he joins sitting down. "Yeah?"

Nodding, you press your knee against his. “So.”

“So.”

With a smirk, you draw a measured breath. “I believe... I want to kiss you now.”

Swallowing, his gaze flickers to your lips, lingering, before snapping back up to your eyes. Warmth spreads over your cheeks, neck and ears. “I believe you should, Rainy.”

A response there, nestled between teeth and tongue, is muffled as his lips meet yours—for the first time in several days.

an: as a warning, the next chapter will include smut. if you wish to skip the smut, you can miss the chapter as there will be no other scenes. the following chapter will pick up the next morning.

NEXT CHAPTER ->

[idontplaytrack]

Accidentally kiss with any auli’i character please I want fluff all cute a little silly

Stage Fighting

Lilette Suarez x fem! reader

Warnings: fluff, some coarse language, mentions of violence(stage fighting)

In which, reader and Lilette’s stage fighting assignment don’t go as planned, but in the best way possible

Somewhat inspired by the Victorious episode lol.

Today was Monday. And you’ve just been paired up with Lilette for an assignment on stage fighting. You’ve worked with nearly everyone in your classes for different assignments and projects and by far, Lilette was one of the few people that you could really get along with. You’ve always felt that your teammates were freeloading before, but once you got to work with Lilette, you realised that things just weren’t as stressful as you knew it to be.

The first order of business was to settle on scenarios and characters. You and Lilette decided pretty quickly, then went ahead with fully planning out scenarios and movements. The class concluded before you knew it and you went the rest of your day without seeing her since she wasn’t in any other of your classes today.

But, the girl seemed to have figured out your schedule. Because she was waiting for you outside your classroom and startled you when you exited the room.

“Sorry!” She gasps, “Gosh, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You chuckle, “It’s fine. What’s up?”

“Nothing much, I was just wondering if you wanted to hang out then maybe we can work more on the assignment? Settle on as much as we can then we don’t have to worry about it and just rehearse until it’s time to ‘present’ it.”

“Oh, sure! I’m free.” You agreed, “Where at?”

“Well, my place is a no-go because my Mom’s gonna be there and be upset with me over nothing. I can’t wait for her to go back home.”

“No one’s home today so we could go to mine? If that’s okay with you.”

Okay, look. You and Lilette didn’t only just met in acting school. You last saw her when you two were nine, which was the year you had to move away because your Mom got a job position in another state. The last memory you had with her was your ninth birthday party, then you never saw her again until you got into this school. And shit, you literally had to do a double take when you first saw her again because this girl made your heart skip a beat. You’d suddenly fallen for her and you didn’t know what to do other than keep it to yourself— you two weren’t that close anymore. And you even thought that she wouldn’t remember who you were, but she remembered. Once she saw you, her eyes lit up and she called you by your name. You were shocked.

Anyway, back to right now. You drove the two of you to your place. She’s never been here before and you could only hope you didn’t leave this place a mess— luckily, you didn’t. But damn was your memory bad sometimes, you could barely remember if you did even make your bed that morning. “Make yourself at home.” You smiled, shutting the door. “You…wanna get some takeout?”

“I don’t mind.” She shrugs, “Not that hungry yet, but if you want to order anything just go for it.” Lilette was sat on your desk chair, you walked up to your vanity and let your hair down then ran a brush through it.

“Okay.” You nod, “What do you feel like having?”

“I dunno, anything really.”

“Indian food? There’s this really great place not far from here.”

“That sounds delicious.” She agrees, “Anyway, we have until Friday. And we’re— I would say about 40, 50 percent done.”

“Yep.” You sat down on your bed, “For costumes, I think we could definitely just use our own clothes that we already have instead of having to go out and buy new stuff.”

“Oh, yeah. For sure. So, a mugging scenario. Would you want to be the person who gets mugged, or the person who is mugging the other?”

“I can’t decide, honestly. Been thinking about it since we decided on this situation and nope, no answer. So maybe you pick what you want?”

She laughs, “Okay. I’ll uh, I’ll pick. I’m gonna go for the mugger. They wouldn’t really expect that of me, so I guess it’ll be a nice surprise for the class.”

“True, true.” You giggled, “It definitely will make them pay attention, that’s for sure.”

————

The next day, first thing in the morning, you had gym class with Lilette. The teacher decided the best thing for this early morning class was a game of dodgeball. And your clumsy ass was nearly obliterated several times. But worst of all, your teammates were rough— pushing and shoving around like you were invisible. Pissed, you were ready to run off the court when the bloody ball hit you right on the head while you were faced the other way and taking off the sash. You were already out of the court, but still. That didn’t stop them. You fell forward, feeling that thud and throbbing in your head soon enough. Someone yanks you back and unsteadily, you spun around. “Fuck!” You muttered. You could barely stand up still, falling onto whoever caught you.

Oh, hell. How on Earth did this even happen? You felt their lips on yours and that’s what snapped you out of it— you pushed yourself off so quickly and stumbled away. “I’m so sorry.”

“Wait!”

Wait a minute, you knew that voice.

“Are you okay?”

You laughed giddily, “No…Lilette.”

Lilette?!

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“I know, don’t worry about it.” Lilette assured, “Are you—”

“Go to the nurse, y/n.” The teacher came running up to you, “You’d better go make sure you don’t have a concussion.”

“I’ll take you, come on.” Lilette says, putting her arm around you.

Well, that was no fun. Turns out, you did indeed have a concussion and it had you throwing up like a broken faucet for awhile. You felt disgusting. That afternoon, you were back home and your Mom was making lunch while you rested in your room. You heard the doorbell ringing and the front door open.

Less than a minute later, your bedroom door creaks. “Hey, you.”

It was Lilette.

“Lilette.” Your eyes widened slightly, “What’re you doing here?”

“Just wanted to check on you and hang out.” Lilette shrugs, walking inside and quietly shutting the door.

“I’m…okay, just still pissed, really. Why’d they have to slam that damn ball right at my head? Like, I know I’m not great at sports but is that a good enough reason to nearly take me out?”

“I’m glad you’re alright.” She smiles. “I brought you something.”

“Oh?”

“These.” She holds up a plastic bag of things, you took it from her.

“Aw, you remember?”

“Hey, we were friends for a long time, y/n.” Lilette chuckles, “I’ll never forget your favourite snacks.”

“You didn’t have to…”

“Come on, we all need a little cheering up sometimes. I’m just glad you’ll be okay.”

“Again, I’m really sorry about the— kiss.”

“Honey, don’t worry about it.” Lilette promised, “Seriously.”

You gulped, feeling the bile rising up your throat. You rushed out of bed and ran to your bathroom to spill your guts. As if you had anything left in you to do that.

“I’ll go get you some more water, okay?”

“Um—” You sniffled, “How about a popsicle instead?”

“A popsicle? Sure.” She nods, exiting your room after getting you settled in your bed again.

She soon returned with what you’d requested and continued to sit with you. “Can I tell you something? Before I chicken out.”

“Okay.” You hummed, nodding your head as you unwrapped the treat.

“I uh, I’m bi.”

“Oh.”

“And I’ve found myself developing a little crush on you when I saw you again for the first time at school.”

“You—”

“I don’t want to make things weird for you, so if you don’t want to be associated with me another, I—”

“Lilette.” You stopped her, “I’m gay.”

“You are?” Her eyes looked like they were going to bulge out of her head as she blushed, “Oh, good. I thought you’d hate me—”

“Oh, I could never.” You chuckled, “Trust me.”

She squints, “So—”

You nodded and her eyes lit up, “Really?”

“Yeah.” You confirmed, a bit tearfully, “I— I like you too, I just didn’t know how to say it because I wasn’t sure if you—”

Lilette leans in, wanting to kiss you but you backed away, “Mm, no— no, I just threw up.” She settles for your cheek instead, caressing it afterwards.

“So…” Lilette licked her lips, “What are we?”

“Well I guess, we’re girlfriends now, what do you think?”

“I like the sound of that.” She grins, holding onto your hand. You tossed the popsicle stick into the trash can by your bed and she gently pulled you closer to herself. You let it happen, now laying your head on her chest. “How are things going at your place?”

“She refuses to take the hint and go. I rushed over here as soon as school let out because i just couldn’t stand being home with her. I said for the weekend and today’s Tuesday already.”

“You can stay here in the meantime if you’d like.” You offered.

“I might have to take you up on that offer because otherwise I’d have gone crazy by the end of the week.” Lilette scoffs, stroking your head gently.

“Stay as long as you need.”

🏷️ Tag list:

@ashecampos @auliisflower @cheesysoup-arlo @frogs00 @reneeswif3 @ludoesartnstuffs @pda128

[george-weasleys-girl]

Ok but I need part 2 where reader has made a full recovery, and is back to work when Fred visits her at work. 😌 https://www.tumblr.com/george-weasleys-girl/714182415276441600/hi-could-you-write-a-little-something-on-the-war

The Next Level

Sequel to Aftermath

~•~

"Lunch delivery!" Fred announced as he stepped into Shacklebolt's office, holding up a pizza from their favorite pizzeria. Y/N looked up from her work, and the smile that spread across her face lit up the room.

"What a wonderful surprise! You didn't tell me you were stopping by," she said, rising to greet him, a noticeable limp in her step.

Fred's smile faltered for only a second, but Y/N still noticed the shift.

"I'm fine, love, the pain's minimal today. It's nothing I can't handle," she put a hand around the nape of his neck, pulling him in for a brief, gentle kiss. "Now c'mon, I'm starved, and that pizza smells divine."

Fred followed her over to her desk, where she cleared off a stack of paperwork and then, with a flick of her wand, produced two plates and two Butterbeers. It was good to have some time alone together. Or, really, any time at all. For three months, Fred had been glued to Y/N's side as she healed and relearned to walk. He'd even moved back to the Burrow just so he could help take care of her. It was one of the happiest times of his life, in spite of everything else going on.

But things changed after Y/N returned to work, and then a couple weeks later, Fred and George reopened the shop, prompting him to move back into the apartment. Now, they barely saw each other anymore, and being apart proved to be far more difficult than the older twin expected. He missed her more than he thought possible, and, of course, he still worried about her. How was her pain? Was she sleeping well? Was she making sure she didn't overexert herself? But, most of all, this had been the longest they'd been apart since they became friends all those years ago, and he was going crazy without her. So, after a great deal of thought and discussing things with George, he decided it was time to take their relationship to the next level.

Y/N reached out and squeezed Fred's hand. "I'm so glad you came by. I miss you. I feel like we never get to see each other these days."

"You just read my mind, babe," Fred smiled. "And I've been thinking--," he paused, chewing on his lip. He'd not intended to bring the subject up until he was over at the Burrow for dinner on Friday night, but now that the moment had presented itself, he decided to just go for it.

"Yes?" Y/N's head was titled with her eyebrows scrunched together, giving him the most adorable quizzical look.

Fred couldn't help but chuckle. "Y/N, you're the cutest person on the planet."

"Oh, um, thanks," she giggled. "Is that what you've been thinking about?"

"Every time I see you," Fred smiled, then kissed her hand. "But it's not what I wanted to talk to you about right now."

Y/N grinned. "Didn't think so."

Fred took a sip of butterbeer before continuing. "So, yeah. I've been thinking. I don't really fancy not seeing you every day anymore. And I wanted to talk to you about changing that."

"Okay," Y/N said. "I'm game. What did you have in mind?"

"I want you to move in with me."

Y/N was about to take a bite of pizza but froze at his words.

"Me?"

Fred looked around the room. "I don't see anyone else here. Yes, of course you, love."

"Move in with you?"

Fred nodded. "Uh huh, what do you think?"

Y/N smiled from ear to ear. "I think I need to take the rest of the afternoon off so I can start packing up my stuff."

"Is that a yes?"

"Yes!"

Fred lept up over the desk and pulled her into a kiss just seconds before Shacklebolt's deep voice startled them apart, both their faces turning a brilliant crimson.

"Ah, young love," he said, stepping into the room.

"Oh hi," Y/N fumbled. "I wasn't expecting you until later this afternoon."

Shacklebolt chuckled. "I gathered that."

"You know, I should probably be going," Fred said, turning to Y/N's boss. "Sorry, it's all my f--"

"Nonsense," Shacklebolt, interjected, waving away Fred's comment. "Enjoy your lunch, I'm only here because I forgot the Edgecombe file."

"Oh! You'll definitely be needing that," Y/N said and went to pull it from the filing cabinet while Fred sat back down on his side of the desk.

"Thank you, my dear," Shacklebolt said, moving to leave, but then, paused in the doorway and turned back to them. "Oh, and congrats on moving into together."

They both turned to stare at him.

"H-how long were you listening?" Y/N asked.

"Long enough," he replied with a wink before disappearing out the door.

Y/N and Fred gave her boss just enough time to get out of earshot before they looked back at each other and burst out laughing.

~•~

@milivanili99 @fancy-pantaloons @turvi @zvummyummy @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @georgie-weasley @imshiningjustforyou @nighttimemoonlover @jsjcue @wzrd-wheezes @fredweasleyyyyy @hufflepuffie @alexistonks @princess-paramour @anvaaryn @lastwandastan @samshifts @asuperconfusedgirl @superduckmilkshake @mysticsheepsoul @gemofthenight @1lellykins @junerprsh @sierraluvz

[marleyybluu]

Miss Ivy part 2

here we are again.

if you need a refresher or haven't read part 1 you can check it out here

Other than that, hopefully, yall enjoy part two. We love a slow-burning romance 😏it won't be that slow I promise

Word count: 2.1k

Another weekend had come and gone and in the blink of an eye, it was Monday again. A bittersweet day for Ivy, happy to go back to her students but forever wishing the weekend was longer than two seconds. She sighed taking a sip of coffee at her desk while her student piled in, she never understood how they were so chatty in the morning-- she missed being that young and alive. Almost all of her kids were in except for a young boy named Ruby and Cesar, they were close friends and always sat together after usually walking in late but they were yet to be seen.

She frowned looking at the clock and then the door frame, she was about to start class and there were still two empty seats in the middle row. "Alright, uh, good morning kiddos. How was everyone's weekend?"

A majority of them replied with the simple, "Good," But others started telling stories. She allowed it knowing she was genuinely interested in what they had to say. In the middle of a shocking revelation by one of her students, light footsteps entered the room, she saw Ruby in the corner of her eye. He was alone. Ruby sat in his chair and sulked in his seat placing his bag in the vacant chair. Where the hell was Cesar?

All day there was no sign of him and his absence continued the next day, she wanted to poke and prod at his friends but kept her mouth shut waiting until Wednesday to see if he reappeared and he did, he acted as if nothing happened. Ivy stopped herself, maybe she was becoming too involved but Cesar was one of her best students, he was a smart kid, very passionate about schooling and she didn't want to see that go to waste. The school day ended and he appeared in her empty class. "Hi miss Ivy," She smiled looking up at him. "Hey, what's up?"

He shrugged tossing his bag on a random desk. "Nothing, do you need help with anything around here?" She had a puzzled look on her face. "It's parent-teacher night, sweetie. I kind of have to leave early."

Cesar scratched the back of his neck, he didn't have a ride home and lately, there'd been no sign of his father, and whenever he asked his brother he'd say that Ray was just at work or he would shut down the conversation altogether. He knew their father had a job that he somewhat liked and seemed to be good at but it wasn't one that kept him away for this long. He was getting worried and found that Spooky was pretty much the complete opposite. In fact, it seemed that ever since last Friday he'd become even colder than he was before.

He felt like he couldn't ask Spooky or even talk to him about feelings, they just bottled that shit up and kept it moving. Ivy noticed his silence, "Is your dad coming tonight? I mean I know you haven't been to class in a while but I gave an extra sheet to Monse just in case she saw you." He awkwardly chuckled. "Yeah, I don't think he's gonna show. You can just tell me how I'm doing in class right now and we'll call it that."

Ivy laughed. "Well, is anyone coming to get you a bit earlier than usual?" He looked down and she sighed. "Maybe I'll just walk," but she didn't like that idea. The streets of Freeridge weren't really the best place for children to roam alone in her opinion, with all the gang violence going around and some of these joy riders blazing down the street she didn't want him getting caught in any crossfire. She looked at her watch, she had a good two hours to set up her room, go home, eat and take a quick shower before she had to come back for her first meeting.

She pondered looking around her classroom. "Tell you what, I do need help making the class look a little more presentable so if you help me with that I'll drop you home. Sound good?"

His face lit up. "Really? You sure?"

"Absolutely."

Ivy put on some music and the two began to work around the classroom, she poked around at his love life with Monse asking him how the date went and if they were finally an item. She found it sweet the way he talked about her, how he'd describe her-- she was starting to wonder how the hell a thirteen-year-old kid was more romantic than the grown-ass men that lived in this town. It all made her mind wander back to her own love life, or rather the lack thereof. Again, she was okay with being the single friend, often telling them it was cool because she didn't really want another person around her house which was true. She had everything where she wanted it and how she wanted it. But she wouldn't mind someone misplacing something once in a while.

"I'm thinking about taking her out again this weekend," said Cesar as he hooked his bag over his shoulder. Ivy smiled as she grabbed her purse and car keys. "Where to this time?"

"There's an arcade somewhere in town, it looks like a lot of fun."

She smiled. "Well, I hope you have fun."

They made their way out of the school and through the parking lot until they arrived at her vehicle, Cesar sat on the passenger's side and checked his phone hoping for a text from his brother but there was nothing. He rolled his eyes putting the device face down in his lap. The car ride was a bit silent except for the sound of the keyboard on Cesar's phone as he texted back Monse, he gave Ivy directions to where he lived and it led her to a part of Freeridge she hadn't really stepped foot in-- yeah she'd occasionally pass by but never actually looked around.

Soon, she found herself in front of a house that looked a bit run down on the outside, it wasn't in terrible shape, to be honest, but it wasn't necessarily a "clean" look like some of the houses near it. In the front yard were about five men who chatted amongst themselves, two sat on a couch that was planted on the lawn while three hung out on the porch step. Whatever they were talking about had been put on pause once they saw the unfamiliar car pull up to the curb.

They didn't do anything yet, they just watched as Cesar got out of the car with a woman stepping out with him. Their defences were down once they saw her. She didn't bother to walk him up to the door, a bit too intimidated by all the grown men who were ogling at her-- she was becoming uncomfortable. "I'll see you tomorrow, Miss Ivy. Thanks for the ride."

"No worries kid," She was about to retreat back into her vehicle when she saw Spooky emerge from the house. "Yo, what are you doing home so early?" She heard him ask, Cesar pointed behind him and he followed only to see the young woman at the end of the street. She instantly caught butterflies, she started to feel queasy.

Spooky was surprised, to say the least when he saw her in front of his house, his boys even took notice of how long they were staring at each other. He cleared his throat and instructed Cesar to go inside the house. Ivy's heart was in her ass as he stepped off the porch and onto the lawn heading her way. "Miss Ivy," She could almost moan at the way he said her name. "What'd he do? Shake you down for a ride home?" A dimple popped out as he smiled. She bit her lip. "Nah, I just have parent-teacher night and I gotta get out of these clothes and put on more... professional ones."

He looked over her attire, she wore a large black shirt with Tupac's face dominating the front with the words Poetic Justice under him-- it was her favourite movie and she knew that script better than some of the things she was teaching her own kids, she had paired it with a pair of black joggers, she hated wearing jeans to work it always made her feel restricted. He kinda liked that she didn't dress like a regular teacher, with a pencil skirt and a buttoned-up blouse or whatever. "Only parents are allowed?" Spooky asked.

The inquiry made her blush she wouldn't mind seeing him again and actually having a conversation, she could hear him talk all day.

"No, uh, any guardian can come really."

That's what he wanted to hear. "Cool, maybe I'll swing by."

"Cool," Ugh! Why did she feel like she was being lame all of a sudden? Ivy had to remind herself she still had to drive home, eat and get ready to go back to school. She sheepishly excused herself from his presence and returned back to her car. One last wave and she was out of sight.

It quickly became dark outside as Ivy wrapped up parent-teacher interviews, some parents she got along with and others had strong opinions on their children obviously not knowing that their child acts like a completely different person outside of the home. She was exhausted and ready to go to bed. Although she didn't want to admit it, she was a little disappointed Spooky didn't show up she would've loved to have more than two words with him.

As she reached under her desk for her bag a knock was on the door. "Yes, Mr. Taylor, how can I-" She hadn't been paying attention and assumed it was the janitor about to ask her a question but she was wrong, it was Spooky. "Hey." He nodded. "Hi."

"Still doing interviews?"

She smiled. "Yeah, for sure. Come in." Spooky carefully closed the door behind him and took a seat on the chair in front of her desk, she pulled out Cesar's file and placed it in front of him. He watched as she opened it and spread out his brother's work in front of him. "So, Cesar's doing great I really have no complaints. I'm probably not supposed to say this but he's one of the smartest kids in here."

He was proud to hear that, proud to know that his hard work in raising his brother didn't go to waste. He took his time to go through his graded sheets, mostly seeing A's and maybe a couple B's but nonetheless he was satisfied with what he saw. "That's great to hear. He likes school, likes this class too, trust me. He won't shut up about you."

Ivy beamed glad to know she was making a difference in someone's life. "And uh, it's nice knowing someone else is looking out for him and I wanted to apologize for the other day. I didn't mean to insult you if I did."

She leaned forward and rested her chin in the palm of her hand. "You didn't, I'm just letting you know this ain't a babysitting service. I stay with him cause I care about him. Would do it for anyone in this class."

Her fingers tapped against her skin, a goofy ass grin on her face as she examined his features again, this time noticing a tattoo on his neck- a crucifix with the word Santos down the middle. Another tattoo under his eye, a teardrop. She was grown enough to know what that means but for some reason it wasn't going to turn her away, he seemed like he'd only harm someone because he had to, not just 'cause he wanted to. "Can I ask something though?"

Spooky leaned back in the chair he mindlessly spread his legs a little wider to get comfortable.

Fuck.

"Go ahead."

"What happened with Cesar on Monday... and Tuesday?"

His face fell and his eyes landed on the floor. A question he didn't want to answer, he didn't need her to think less of them for what he had kept his brother home for. "My dad came home on Sunday, and uh he just wanted to spend time with Cesar I guess."

Ivy squinted. She wasn't buying it, but she didn't interrogate any further, if he didn't want to tell her didn't have to and maybe she shouldn't have asked in the first place. "Fair enough."

She gathered Cesar's work and placed it back in the file, "Uh, do you have any questions for me?" 

"Yeah, what are you doing this weekend?" He didn't hesitate, almost laughing at the way her eyes widened practically popping out of her head. "I, um, nothing." She wanted to come up with an excuse but she couldn't, it's not like she wouldn't want to hang out with him but she hadn't been out with someone in a long time she didn't want to make a fool out of herself so she felt it'd be easier to not go altogether. But maybe this wouldn't be so bad. 

Spooky smirked and slid his phone on her desk, she picked it up and typed in her name number before handing it back. He stood up placing it in his back pocket. "I'll call you aight?" 

She felt like she was floating. "Okay." 

"Bye Miss Ivy." He said in a teasing tone, "Bye Spooky." 

He turned around and said, "It's Oscar, you don't have to call me Spooky." 

"Okay, Oscar, I'll see you this weekend." 

[longlostreader]

Billy Hargrove- I hate you pt.3

Authors Note: So sorry I haven't been able to update! I wasn’t even sure anyone would ever read or enjoy this. This is a smaller chapter but I will have a lot more coming up soon!

You woke up to your alarm blaring in your ear. Thank fucking god it was Friday and you could sleep in tomorrow. As you were getting ready your mind flashed back to Billy and your dream last night. Why did it have to be him. He was selfish and entitled and a horrible person so why is he haunting your thoughts and dreams? So what if he’s hot. There are plenty of hot guys in the world to focus on besides him. Maybe not in Hawkins but still, he’s nothing but a player who’s never had real feelings for anyone in his life.

 You grabbed your bag and said bye to your parents before heading to school determined to avoid Billy as long as you could. You were actually quite successful until your English class together. You paused in the doorway shocked to see Billy in class early and taking up the seat right behind you. You timidly walked to your desk avoiding eye contact with him. “Hey princess” he leaned forward and whispered by your ear. You shuttered but just glared back at him. “I thought I told you not to call me that.” He completely ignored your comment and got even closer to your ear. “You look really beautiful today.” You froze. What the hell did he just say. This had to be a joke, two days in a row now he was flirting with you. You were nothing like the usual girls he went after. “Stop messing with me Billy I’m not in the mood.” “I’m not messing with you (Y/n) I think you look beautiful.” Before you could respond your teacher stood up and started talking about todays lesson. You were going to be working on a project about the book you’re starting in class today, Pride and Prejudice. One of your favorite books. Your face lit up with excitement. “For this project you will be working with a partner. You will have four weeks to complete the project and present it to the class. I’ll let you pick your partners now.” Your smile was wiped from your face, non of your friends were in this class. You glanced around the room to see everyone pairing up quickly. “Will you be my partner princess?” You turned around to face him. You knew no one else was gonna ask you. “Fine, but no funny business Hargrove this project is important it needs to be perfect.” He smiled back at you. “Got it doll, we working at your place or mine?” “We can go to mine. Are you free after school?” “I’ve got basketball practice, shouldn’t take too long. If you stay I’ll drive us back to yours.” “Alright fine.” You turned back around, your teacher was beginning to hand out a stack of books. You turn to hand Billy his and your hands touched. You could’ve sworn you felt electricity running through you. ‘Get it together (Y/n)’ You thought. ‘Don’t be dumb. You touched his hand big deal you aren’t in elementary school.’ “Alright class lets try to get through the first two chapters today.” You opened the old book and quickly became engrossed with the beautiful words of Jane Austen. 

The rest of the day seemed to be over in a flash. Billy told you to just wait in the gym until practice was over. You decided to grab a few books from your locker and go over some homework while you waited. You definitely didn’t want to be watching Billy practice. That would go straight to his head you were sure of it. You tried your hardest to stay focused on your schoolwork, but you couldn’t help but glance up at Billy running around on the court shirtless. Sweat dripping down his chest. Why did he have to be so hot. The sound of loud cheers grabbed your attention. “Go Billy!” A group of girls started yelling. You scoffed. They really spend their afternoon just watching the boys practice to stare and cheer for him? Pathetic. At least you were here for a good reason, you definitely wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for the project. You glanced back at Billy, he had his chain hanging in his mouth. You felt yourself getting wet. ‘No, no, no.’ You thought. ‘I will not let him playing some dumb game turn me on. I refuse.’ You went back to your books and forced yourself to keep your head down and your headphones on until practice was over.

You felt a shadow standing over you so you finally look up. Billy was only a few inches from you breathing heavy and still shirtless. You tried not to stare at his body and took you headphones off. “I’m gonna shower real fast princess then we’ll head back to your place, okay?” “Sounds good.” As he walked away you felt yourself getting turned on again. It was going to be a long night.

[les-pompiers118]

Oh, heart of sand, mouth of glue

Buddie | rated T | 1893 words | 6x15 coda | angst & pining!Eddie

Title from "Oh, Shadowless" by Neko Case. Also posted here on AO3.

Summary: Eddie dreams at 40,000 feet and wakes with a revelation.

Funny how a couple cemetery visits and a living funeral can light a fire under you.

Eddie’s phone conversation with his mom was only a week ago. Looking at the calendar on the fridge that morning, he thought he and Christopher wouldn’t make the trip until the summer, and now here they are, 40,000 feet in the air and halfway to Texas.

“We’ve got time.” Well, they’ll have an extra hour of it anyway, Eddie thinks as he winds his wristwatch back to El Paso time. 

Chris has dozed off in the seat next to Eddie, his ipad still in his lap. It’s Friday evening, not very late yet, but after a typically hectic week plus the frenzy of getting ready for a last-minute trip, it’s no surprise that Chris is worn out. Eddie feels the same way. He’s had two busy shifts, including one with a major structure fire that kept them on the scene from dusk to dawn. A few days off work is just what he needs.

A few days away from the firehouse won’t hurt either. If Eddie had to hear Buck bring up Natalia one more time, he might have gone outside and broken something with a Halligan.

Eddie crosses his arms over his chest and slides down slightly until his knees hit the seat in front of him. The Natalia situation (as he’s been calling it) insists on buzzing in head like a trapped wasp. She and Buck have been texting since they met for coffee. A lot. Even Chimney got tired of hearing about it after a while, and he’s the biggest goddamn enabler of oversharing at the 118.

As for Eddie, the whole thing is just… irritating. Buck wouldn’t listen when Eddie warned him against dating someone from a call again—much less someone who thinks that dying is “cool,” which is the very last thing Buck needs to hear. Eddie can’t see how it’s going to end well. Buck needs some fucking therapy, not a death-obsessed girlfriend. Best case scenario is the infatuation runs its course quickly, on both sides.

Eddie closes his eyes and focuses on the drone of the engines. The cabin is dim and quiet, with only half of the seats occupied. It only takes a few minutes for him to slip into a doze.

Eddie sleeps… and dreams.

At first, he’s on the couch in the loft of the station, with the rest of the team vaguely present in the background. He can hear the hum of their conversations but not their words, either because they’re either too far away or speaking too softly. Buck’s in the kitchen, cooking or cleaning, and even though Eddie isn’t watching  him, his awareness is tuned to Buck like a radio signal. Everything else is static.

It should be comforting and familiar, but it isn’t. Some kind of fury is slowly igniting beneath Eddie’s skin. It makes him want to scream until his throat feels raw. He craves the visceral satisfaction of driving his fist into someone’s gut—but no, he doesn’t do that anymore. He has to stay on the couch until the feeling passes and hope no one notices that he’s seething. 

The dream shifts, and now Eddie is in a different kitchen with Buck. Whose kitchen? It’s unfamiliar, poorly lit and smelling faintly of burnt food. Buck has his back turned, but Eddie can tell he’s amused about something. No, not amused—happy. Eddie feels a deep certainty that this happiness is wrong, though. It’s frustrating, maddening that Buck can’t see it. He needs to see it. Eddie moves to place himself in front of Buck, only an arm’s length away, so that Buck can’t help but see him.

God, Buck’s smiling. Stop, Eddie tells him. Just stop! He takes Buck by the shoulders, but the blissful smile remains. Trying to shake him does nothing, either. Buck feels as immovable as stone, and Eddie’s desperation grows and grows until he’s digging his fingers into Buck’s flesh. And then Eddie’s voice seems to dry up in his throat, like a trickle of water on hot asphalt, so that he can’t even talk anymore.

Helpless and enraged, Eddie does the only thing he can think of to stop Buck’s mouth from making that awful smile: he surges forward and kisses him hard.

The shock of it wakes Eddie with a jolt just as the plane dips in the air, momentarily making him weightless. Jesus Christ. Jesus fucking Christ. He grips his knees while his heart crashes around within the fuselage of his ribcage. He can still feel Buck’s shoulders in his grip, Buck’s lips against his own.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

The fasten seatbelt sign pings above him as the plane starts to descend. Christopher sleeps on, his head tilted towards the window, and Eddie watches him until he feels— Well, not calm, but no longer quite so shaken up. What the hell kind of dream was that?

Definitely one that Eddie doesn’t want to dwell on. He shakes his shoulders loose with one more deep breath.

When he sees the flight attendant making his way down the aisle, Eddie gently takes the ipad from Chris’s lap and slips it back into their carry-on bag. He gets a glimpse of the lights on the ground as he stands to put the bag in the overhead compartment. Somewhere below are the dusty streets and baseball diamonds that mapped out his childhood. The sunbaked landscape that felt so wide and big until he came back from the other side of the world. The house that he bought for Chris and Shannon, then sold before it ever became a home.

“So this is where you’re from,” Buck said when they had stopped here after helping fight the wildfires in San Angelo. He said it grandly, as if the sprawling desert and rugged mountains around El Paso might hold some kind of secret key to Eddie’s psyche. They’d only stayed one night before driving on, so there was no time to show Buck and Hen any of his old stomping grounds. Eddie wasn’t feeling particularly nostalgic at the time, anyway. Too many of his memories are tainted by remorse and regret.

Eddie buckles himself back into his seat. Is Buck out with Natalia tonight? Like a mosquito bite he can’t help scratching, Eddie imagines him smiling at her across a restaurant table, blue eyes bright and cheek dimpling. Buck probably feels comfortable with her already, having bonded over death or whatever. They might get so carried away talking that their meals get cold before they notice. Maybe Natalia will reach across the table for his hand at some point, and Buck will let her, easy as that.

Easy as that. Eddie’s emotions from his dream flare back up within him, hot and ugly, and he finally recognizes them for what they are.

He’s jealous.

He’s been jealous ever since he and Buck visited Marie’s grave at the cemetery. Eddie can’t even laugh at himself about it. He doesn’t want Buck’s face to light up when he talks about Natalia. He doesn’t want to hear how she makes Buck feel—about himself or about his death. And he doesn’t want her to occupy even the smallest corner of Buck’s life.

But what does Eddie want?

Before he can venture into that minefield, Chris begins to stir and the pilot’s voice comes over the intercom, announcing their imminent arrival in El Paso.

*

“What are you doing out here alone?”

Eddie turns to see his abuela stepping out onto the front porch, backlit by the lamps in the living room behind her. “Just getting some fresh air. And a few minutes of quiet. We had a full house all day.”

“Everyone’s glad to see you and Christopher.”

“We’re glad to see everyone,” Eddie replies easily, “but you’d think the family hasn’t got together in years by the way they all talked at once.”

“People have busy lives. Sometimes a special visitor is just the excuse they need to catch up, hmm?”

Isabel eases herself down into the rocking chair beside him. She’s noticeably frailer than the last time Eddie saw her and it sends a pang of grief through him. But her smile is as sweet as ever and she still pinched his cheek with strong fingers when she kissed him hello.

“What’s the matter, Eddito?” she asks after a stretch of silence.

“Nothing’s the matter.”

“No, mijo. A grandmother can always tell,” Isabel says, reaching over to pat his knee. “And I have known you your entire life. Did Pepa send you on another date?”

Eddie shakes his head with a rueful smile. “You heard about that, huh? No more dates yet, but I’m sure Tía Pepa is screening candidates as we speak.”

“And you don’t want her to? Don’t you want a little romance in your life?” she asks teasingly.

“I’m not sure anymore.” 

Isabel tilts her head to give him a serious look. “She’s trying to help you.”

“I know. Pepa’s not the problem.”

“So what is it? Tell me what is hurting.”

“Mi corazón.”

Eddie tries to play it melodramatically, placing his hand over his heart and batting his eyes, but Isabel sees right through him. She clicks her tongue sadly.

“Oh, Eddito, I’m sorry. What will you do?”

“Nothing,” Eddie answers, looking away. “Learn to live with it.”

*

What does Eddie want?

He’d been thinking about it before his abuela joined him on the porch. The night sky is clear and so is the air, so there are more stars visible than in L.A. Not that Eddie was looking at them. As soon as he was finally alone, everything he’d been dodging since their plane landed last night became impossible to ignore any longer—his dream and the uncomfortable truth it might have unlocked.

Is Buck what he wants?

That question slams Eddie into what he’s always considered to be the idle thoughts he’s had around certain men—in school locker rooms and Army barracks (and maybe firehouses, too). The covert glances and twinges of yearning. He’s been careful to shut them down immediately, never letting them take hold in his mind. They felt wrong. Not a sin (he didn’t believe that), more like a breach of trust. Thinking that way about your teammates and fellow soldiers was inappropriate and not something they’d want him to do, to say the least.

Now Eddie realizes that he hasn’t been protecting anyone but himself with his supposed self-discipline. They weren’t idle thoughts at all. His therapist would undoubtedly call it repression. And he’d be right, wouldn’t he? Well, it’s caught up with Eddie now, just like it always does.

After his abuela goes back inside, Eddie is ready to acknowledge it. He does want Buck—and he wishes he didn’t. Not because it’s wrong, but because it’s hopeless.

So this is where you’re from.

Eddie stands on the front steps of his parents’ house and looks out into the night. He’s from the desert, a place where everything wavers and shimmers in the sun at a distance, no matter how hard you look at it. A place where the heat bleeds out of the air at night, leaving you shivering.

A dry and merciless place, perfect for burying your heart in the sand before you leave.

[nemossubmarine]

Warhammer 40k: Wrath & Glory RP #14

Our heroes leave the station and head to Treshan. Izarak says they should pop by his village, as the villagers would certainly have seen people pass by, it is such a rare occurrence. So that’s where they head. The village consists of few houses and a church. An old man by the name of Iosif comes to greet them, hugging Izarak and immediately trying to sell his daughter’s hand in marriage to Coco and / or Larry. Izarak explains that they’re looking for someone, and Iosif mentions that a party started a pilgrimage to a shrine in the mountain, using one of the villagers as a guide. It seems likely that this is Ada and co.

Iosif explains that the shrine hasn’t been in use for several generations, in fact he’s not sure if it still stands. As the party expresses interest in going to the shrine, Iosif starts getting some equipment for them. This includes ropes, bells (for bears), woolly socks and hats and a map of the pilgrim route. Larry and Alice notice a small plateau about 2/3rds up the mountain, where they could potentially cut off Ada. They thank Iosif for the equipment, and Iosif tries to offer his daughter for Alice. Alice thanks for the offer, but says that if his daughter doesn’t want to be a shepherd, he shouldn’t force it. Emperor willing, he’ll find someone to look after the sheep.

Izarak says he needs to get some things from his house before they leave so heads there. [INSERT #1] The others find Ferrus hanging around the ship. He asks what’s happening, and they inform him of the shrine where Ada seems to be heading. Alice and Larry excuse himself, which leaves Coco with Ferrus. Coco jokingly suggests that he marry the shepherd’s daughter, to which Ferrus mentions that he’s quite gay. And Navigators are supposed to marry other Navigators anyway. Coco asks after his family, and when she learns he is not with them, she asks if he misses them, which clearly takes Ferrus by surprise. He apparently isn’t in good terms with his family. They talk a bit more, Ferrus making a mention that he isn’t used to gravity, mostly working on ships. Coco also learns more about the conflict between him and the Captain: apparently she had a tight schedule that Ferrus was unable to keep, preferring to stay alive instead. Izarak eventually joins the two and they head out.

The plateau that Larry and Alice spotted is quite small, but Larry manages to land there. It is a small field littered with stones that upon closer inspection turn out to be grave markers. There’s no sign that Ada has been here yet. Larry suggests they should go to the shrine before them, as that’s where they’re heading anyway. This seems like an agreeable plan to everyone. Ferrus voices some doubts about mountain climbing. Coco says it should be an adventure, a new experience. Ferrus agrees, proceeding to rummage through his backpack (Larry and Coco both also peek into his belongings), and sticking a stimm needle into himself. Larry asks if there’s any medical stuff about Ferrus that they should know. Ferrus says he has a punctured lung due to an “incident”, so he drugs himself to stay upright. He’s working on getting someone to give him a replacement. Alice offers to take Ferrus’ bag, which he hands over, thankful.

They head out, while Brakes McGee flies the ship away, keeping it within vox distance. They go through a cave first which has some bats, then they climb up a small path. Izarak is clearly struggling the most with his long robes. There’s some strange noises in the area, Coco thinks it’s a bear, but to Larry it sounds more like rocks grinding against each other. He sneaks forward a bit and notices some boulders atop their path, looking like they could fall over. They debate whether to just sneak by, but Ada is coming here later, so they decide better have them fall. Larry tosses a rock causing a small landslide. Lilith takes the lead in crossing the path, being surprisingly graceful in her movements. Coco manages to make it past, but Izarak nearly falls to his death. Alice pulls him to safety, but the noise attracts a bear that charges Coco and Lilith. Coco gets a shot in, but the bear reaches her and mauls her. From the other side, Larry shoots at the bear, but it remains on top of Coco. Ferrus asks Alice to get him close to the bear, which Alice does. Ferrus then orders everyone to close their eyes. When they reopen them, the bear has died, on top of Coco. 

Alice gets herself and Ferrus to the other side, then helps Izarak across (he still has troubles) and then lifts the bear off Coco. Larry comments on Ferrus’ party trick, and Ferrus says he can’t do it very often. Indeed his face is soaked with blood. Izarak offers him a rag to wipe his face, and bandages Coco.

They continue forward, keeping an eye out for bears. Alice hears some singing coming from below them, perhaps Ada and the pilgrims? It sounds like there’s quite many of them. After a few hours they reach their final leg before the shrine, which is a sheer cliff. Ferrus requests a breather. Larry takes Alice aside for a smoke. [Insert #2]

Coco sits down next to Ferrus and Ferrus asks if she’s alright. She says she’s fine, first time meeting a bear this close. Ferrus makes a comment about adventures. She asks if he’s fine, the bleeding from the face looked quite intense. Ferrus says it has nothing to do with his lung problems, and more to do with 10,000 years of inbreeding among the Navigators. She questions him more about the lung replacement, and he says that he has had some trouble finding willing tech-priests as even an accidental killing of a Navigator is an offense punishable by death, a risk not many will be willing to take. She wishes him best of luck in that, and Larry and Alice joining them agree.

It’s time to continue. Lilith offers to climb up the cliff and then drop the rope for them to climb up. This is agreeable to the party, as Lilith is by far the greatest climber of them. She climbs up, and promptly bolts off, leaving the party stranded. Something they maybe should have seen coming. Alice climbs up after Lilith. She drops a rope, and then bolts off after Lilith.

The others take some time to climb after the two women, but finally they too get up. The shrine itself is a small rock building. Upon entering, their noses are assaulted by a smell of mold. The whole shrine is covered in mold, and there are mushrooms growing on lumps on the ground, that look eerily like there had been bodies there. There is an entrance on the floor of the shrine, which the party drops down in. They come to a metal corridor.

They meet up at Alice at the end of the corridor. She lost sight of Lilith, and didn’t want to get too far away, because of the mold. They all put on their breather-masks and head deeper. They come to a large room with a dome ceiling. The whole place is covered in mold, and similar mushroom-spots. Coco recognizes some of the markings barely visible as being eldar in nature. 

There is a strange statue in the middle of the room, an armored figure kneeling, pierced by a weapon, its face frozen in an anguished scream, also covered in mushrooms. Izarak and Larry approach it to investigate and pretty quickly realize it’s not a statue at all. It is a man, in the red power armour of the Blood Angels, a golden death mask on his face. Izarak realizes one another thing. The man is still alive.

[djarinbarnes]

Silent Night - Bucky Barnes

THIS IS A DARK FIC. IF YOU’RE UNDER 18, PLEASE DNI.

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Author: Dina

Word Count: roughly 15k

Pairing: Dark!Bucky Barnes x innocent(?)!female reader

Warnings: dark!bucky, dark!fic, 18+, loss of virginity, dubcon, noncon (to be safe), smut, age gap (18 and 36), pwp, unprotected sex, male masturbation, abuse of power, anal sex, somnophilia, anal play, toys, drugging, forced oral, spitting, slapping, slight bondage... a whole lot of things.

Summary: Bucky has always put his best friend’s daughter first. She’s like the niece he never had. He’s recently become more and more infatuated with her, and when he sees a window of opportunity, he decides to act upon it.

A/N: Well damn, here it is! This is a long one 😇 Some of you have read this before, but now it has been rewritten and finished ♡

For Kaley, Sab, Gracie and Nahema. I wouldn’t have finished this without you ♡

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Dear diary.

This is the story of how I really lost my virginity. I know that no one is going to see this, but I figured writing about it would make it seem better. Easier.

It’s something I’ve been reluctant to share with anybody until now. A lot of things have happened since I wrote to you last. You’ve heard about this man before.

He’s been my father’s best friend for years. Since they were boys. Best man at my parent’s wedding, there in the waiting room the day I was born, present at every birthday party since then. Giving me presents, treating me with so much love.

Uncle Bucky, as he’d come to be named in our family, had watched me grow up and I was his princess. The niece he never had. He showered me with everything a little girl could wish for. We had secrets. It was just something that was shared between the two of us.

But once I turned eighteen, something changed in Bucky. His fondness of me turned into an obsession. I felt it like a pendulum changing its magnetic attraction point. Every time he was over at our house, he would become distracted.

I’ve known all along what made him distracted. It was something I reveled in. But he knew he couldn’t do anything while my dad was around. So, he came up with a plan to get me alone.

Friday, 3:21pm

Going away with Bucky for the weekend as a graduation present seemed like everything she had hoped for. She would finally be free from her parents, even if it was only a weekend. She made her way around her room cheerily, throwing some random pieces of clothing along with her bathing suit, a towel and some toiletries into her bag, feeling her stomach jump slightly.

When Bucky had given her a weekend getaway to his lake house as a graduation present last week, she had been overjoyed. Finally, she had the chance to feel a little bit alive, since her parents hadn’t let her celebrate graduation with her classmates.

A gift from your favorite uncle! Had been scrawled into the card in Bucky's messy handwriting. She just knew he’d been standing at the florists, greasy hands stuffed in his pockets, nervously buying 18 red roses for her. Bucky had always made sure she had everything. He was her dad's coolest friend, and he would spoil her as much as he could.

It hadn't taken a lot of persuasion from her side to let her parents agree to hang out with Bucky for a weekend. He'd babysat her before when she was younger, but it was different now that she’d turned 18. The rules they had set were minimum, but they were there. No drinking, no nothing they wouldn’t do. A little more loose than usual, but she appreciated it, nonetheless.

Her parents, Steve and Peggy, had grown uptight over the last few years, and everything was about keeping her safe and keeping boys away from her. There was always an excuse as to why she couldn’t go to a party or why she couldn’t go on a date with Peter, the guy she had been studying with at school.

Peter was a good kid; she knew that much. He never tried anything with her, and always held back when she would flirt with him during their study sessions at the library. Even that one time she’d tried to hold his hand, he’d shrugged her off and excused himself for the day.

She never figured out why he didn’t want her affection, but she found out soon after, when she saw him kiss his best friend just after the graduation ceremony. It’d hurt – a lot – but she figured it was for the better. A day didn’t even pass before she was laughing at her obliviousness.

This year, when she’d finally turned 18, she’d hoped that everything would settle down with her parents and they’d loosen the restraints on her, but she was wrong. Apparently now, there was even more reason for keeping her home and away from boys. She figured they were afraid of her getting knocked up or something along the lines of that.

The only man she’d see on a regular basis out of school was Uncle Bucky. He and her father would always be working on their motorcycles in front of the garage, and she would watch them from her window on the first floor. She’d found her window to be a great place to keep an eye on them – on him.

She knew that Bucky worked out a lot and put a lot of effort into looking good on a daily basis, but there was just something captivating about him when his hands were covered in grease, strands of his hair falling from the half bun at the back of his head, the sweat glistening on his skin in the sun. He was attractive. And very much so.

If he was only ten years younger and not her father’s best friend, she would’ve been more than interested in him. Well, she was interested… But she knew that her father wouldn’t ever allow something like it, let alone… No. It just wasn’t happening.

Detaching herself from her train off thoughts and zipping up her weekend bag, she heard a car honk from the driveway. She made her way over to the window and a smile spread across her face as she saw Bucky’s sleek, black convertible pull up. She hurried over to her bag, making sure she had everything before nearly jumping down the stairs to get out of the house.

“Bye dad! Bye mom!” she yelled just as she pushed open the door, making her way to Bucky who was now leaning against the hood of his car. When he noticed her approaching, he pushed his body off the hood and opened his arms for her, letting her run into his warm embrace with a giggle. A muttered hi was shared between the two of them before he pulled away, walking around the hood to open the car door for her.

Giving her bag to Bucky before he shut the passenger door made her stomach flutter slightly. She hears the trunk opening and closing, and when he slides into the driver’s seat beside her and pulls out of the driveway, he's already telling jokes and making her laugh.

It was gonna be a fun weekend, she expected that much. She had great plans.

Friday, 4:02pm

Arriving at his lake house had her eyes widening. It was like a whole new house. There had been added an extension to the main house since she was here last summer, and the front porch had been painted white. Bucky parked the car, and she threw open the door of the car, getting out in one fluid motion.

"Wow! This is amazing Bucky!" she smiled at him as they both ventured up the stairs to his front porch. Bucky unlocked the door and they both stepped into the house. She’s taken aback once again.

"This is so much neater than the last time I was here!"

The whole place has been fully renovated, and there's newer, modern furniture complimenting the freshly painted walls. She admires the giant painting on the furthest wall and remembers the unfinished canvas that had been sitting untouched in one of her parent’s rooms last year.

“He finished it.” She smiled and stepped closer to it, admiring the thick, colorful paint strokes upon the black background. She heard Bucky’s footsteps behind her, trailing back through his house.

"Check out the view." She hears Bucky's voice from somewhere in the kitchen. She places her bag on one of the chairs in the living room, walking over to the glass sliding doors that lead out to the back garden, and she bursts out into a smile.

The lake you once had to walk through trees to get to, is now visible from where she’s standing. The belt of trees has been cut down, and the trunks has been dug up. She could see further than ever. She could even see the water supply tower that showed where the city began. If she squinted, she could see her parents’ backyard.

"This is incredible! I wish we lived here," she sighed and turned to find Bucky standing in the doorway. If she’d known of the way Bucky’s heart had thumped in his chest at her revelation, her smile would fall immediately. She internally begged to whomever, that Bucky hadn’t noticed her say we. Instead, he spoke up about something else.

"You still have to see the new amenities." A smile tugged on Bucky's lips.

"What amenities?" He knew she’d love what he’d installed for her, and only her. She’d talked about it for weeks on end the past five summers, and during the winter he’d finally found the time and materials to fulfill her dreams.

"The pool." his eyes glinted with something near mischief. Her eyes widened along with her smile.

"You have a pool? That's amazing!" Just the reaction he’d hoped for. He loved it when she lit up like fairy lights, her eyes filling with glee. It made his heartbeat faster in his chest.

"Did you bring your suit?" she didn't know if she heard it right, but it seemed that his voice had dropped an octave. She nodded as she grabbed her bikini out of her bag, making her way to the newly renovated bathroom to change.

Bucky watched her as she with a giggle made her way through his house, her arms wrapped around her form to shield her nakedness from the older man, who subtly tried to not look at her. “You’re not joining me?” her innocent voice filled his ears and he shut his eyes tightly before turning just a bit away from her.

“No, I’ve got some things to do. Maybe later.” His eyes quickly came up as he heard the sliding door open, watching her ass as she made her way from the patio door to the point where she descended the built-in stairs into the newly built pool.

He felt his cock twitch in his pants, the sight of her in her skimpy purple bikini was making the blood flow to his cock at an undeniable speed. He watched as her shoulders shuddered before she dived under water, her perky ass just caressing the surface from below.

He clenched his jaw before turning on his heel, the image of her half naked body burned into his retina. He needed to get it out of his system, and he needed to do it fast. He knew that there was no way he would ever forget what he had just seen, but either way he had to do something about the situation in his pants.

Making his way into the bathroom nearest the pool, he quickly unbuckled his pants and shoved both them and his underwear down to his thighs. His cock sprung free, slapping against his stomach, hard and proud and he spat into his hand before gripping it tightly, letting out a strangled groan.

"Fuck yes, god you're such a fucking tease..." his head rolled back as he moved his hand, keeping a tight grip around the shaft, imagining her lithe body taking his cock, all of his cock. “Bet you know what you’re doing to me. Bet you know how I feel about you.” His last words were followed by a groan.

The veins pulsated beneath his fingers as he let his head fall forward and he opened his eyes, watching as he fucked into his hand. He saw her body before him, drenched in the cool water of the pool, goosebumps rising on her skin, and he let out another strangled groan, god, he was so close.

It was unlike any time he’d ever jerked off to the vision of her. It was intensified – by powers he didn’t know where from. Maybe it was from her being close. So close he could reach out and claim her as his – just like he’d always wanted to.

He felt the well-known tightening in this scrotum, this time so powerful they drove tears to his eyes. God – he wanted her so badly it hurt. Yet, he had to restrain himself for the time being, he thought, as the movements of his hand picking up speed and he sucked in a breath just as he felt the surge of euphoria overcome him, and-

"Oh my god, Bucky I'm so sorry!"

Friday, 4:43pm

The air that hits her when she emerges from the water is cold. She’s shivering as she throws her arms around herself, making her way up the stairs and inside the house.

She has no idea where Bucky went, so light on her toes, arms trying to warm her torso, she makes her way to the nearest bathroom to take a warm shower. Her teeth are clattering, her frame littered with goosebumps as she trod lightly through the slightly warmer house.

She stops on one foot when she hears a sound, a sound that resembles a moan an awful lot. It can’t be. She approaches the half-open door cautiously, thinking her next move over at least a thousand times before she finally gives in and pushes the door open wider, making her halt completely.

There, in all his glory is Bucky, touching himself for whomever may have walked in to see. That whomever being her. She lets out a shriek before turning her back to him. “Oh my god, Bucky I’m so sorry!” She squeezes her eyes shut tightly, the embarrassment warming up her body quickly as she hears a rustling of clothes behind her.

She silently prays that he isn’t mad at her for walking in on such an intimate moment for him. It lit something inside of her, though, seeing him all hot and bothered for her. Everything that she’s ever imagined about him was definitely an understatement. She hears his footsteps behind her and soon after the heat radiating off his chest against her back, before he speaks up.

“Don’t worry about it,” His voice is so deep she can barely recognize it. “The bathroom is all yours.”

She locks eyes with him as he walks past her, his pupils blown wide like she’s never seen them before. She wraps her arms tighter around herself, trying to cover up from his prying eyes. She nods her head slightly before turning on her heel, walking into the bathroom.

She makes sure the door is locked behind her before she strips herself of her bikini, making sure to hang them to dry on the small, heated towel rack, before finding a towel under the sink where he usually keeps them.

The shower she takes is as long as it usually would take, only now her thoughts are occupied with flashes of Bucky touching himself. Why was he touching himself? Her mind wanders to who the reason could be. She knew he’d had a girlfriend named Natasha once – she was beautiful and had lips like the fullest, reddest cherry – she looked like every man’s wet dream.

She also knew from photos that he’d had a long-time girlfriend in high school through college named Dot – brunette and curvy and with the prettiest facial features she’d ever laid her eyes upon – all the women she had known Bucky to date were so beautiful, he could only think of either them or some hot porn stars he’d probably seen online.

But why now while she was here? Her eyes rolled back as she let out a whimper, her fingers gliding between her smooth, velvet lips, the vision of his hand gliding along the smooth skin of his cock letting her imagination run wild.

Her eyes went wide when she realized what she was doing, and she quickly retracted her fingers from where she now felt a certain warmth spread. She let out a deep sigh as she rested her head against the wall of the shower, the warm water still cascading down her back, heating her freezing limbs.

She finished her shower reluctantly before drying herself off, groaning inwardly as she realized she’d forgotten to bring clean panties and even clean clothes with her to the bathroom in the furry of awkward seconds between her and Bucky. She went over the possibilities she had in her head before searching the bathroom, letting out a small yes! when she found one of Bucky’s clean shirts in one of the small cabinets.

Thinking he didn’t mind, she slipped it over her head and vowed to herself to apologize to him when she saw him next. The shirt felt way too comfortable than it should have, and it instantly warmed her torso, before she pulled it down as far as it would go, just below the apex of her thighs.

She let out a sigh before unlocking the door, listening for a few second to hear where Bucky was located in the house. She heard the washing machine click open and she closed her eyes with another sigh, leaving the safe perimeters where she wouldn’t face embarrassment.

Tiptoeing through the hallway, she made her way into the living room to locate her bag. It felt so wrong to walk around Bucky’s house sin panties. She hears steel clashing in the laundry room, startling her. She lets out a small huff of air before pulling out a pair of lace panties from her bag, before sliding them on under the long shirt.

She’s shuffling through her bag when she’s once again startled by Bucky, this time by his voice.

“You’re wearing my shirt.” She whips around quickly with a small yelp, lace bra and t-shirt in hand. Her eyes widen as she realizes what she’s holding, quickly swinging her hands behind her back to hide the garments. He sees them, though, and it relights his fire even more vigorously than before.

“Shit, Bucky.” She lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding as she relaxed under his intense stare. “I’m sorry, I’d forgotten to bring clean clothes with me to the bathroom. I’ll go change right now.” she turns back to her bag to find a pair of pants, laying the garments already in her hand on the couch.

She tenses when she feels a body behind her; a set of hands sliding up her hips, thumbs tracing the outline of her panties over the fabric of her-Bucky’s shirt. She knows his eyes are watching her like a vulture, taking in her legs extending from where his shirt stops, surely imagining what’s hidden underneath. Her breaths come out shaky and she gulps down the lump that has formed in her throat before her eyes flutter closed.

His nose finds its way into her hair, inhaling deeply before exhaling again, his fingers now venturing under the shirt she’s wearing. She feels some kind of warmth spreading where his fingertips graze her skin, just over the fabric of her panties resting on her hip. It’s like his fingers are fire and her hips are timbers – only waiting to be alighted.

“You know…” his voice is still low, just as it was when she encountered him in the bathroom. “I’ve been having a hard time ignoring the looks you’ve sent me.” His fingers slide smoothly from her hip to the middle of her abdomen, slowly tracing small, imaginary circles on her stomach. She shudders under his touch as it brings warmth into her core, and she’s biting her lip to keep a whimper from escaping them.

Bucky was right. She couldn’t deny that she was attracted to him. Who wouldn’t be? He was handsome, funny and so undeniably nice. She wasn’t sure that the attraction she’d felt towards Bucky for the past few years was reciprocated. She was definitely sure now, that his fingertips we’re playing with the hem of her panties.

“Bucky…” Her eyes flutter open as her hand clasps over his, halting his movements from traveling further south. She turns in his arms, facing him, finally taking in his lust blown eyes, his parted lips and the light blush adorning his cheeks. He looks angelic. Young. It makes her heart leap in her chest.

“Tell me you don’t feel it. Tell me this isn’t just something I’m imagining.” His half-lidded eyes search hers in an attempt to ground himself. His right arm comes around her middle to pull her closer, her hands coming up to lay against his chest. She feels the arousal radiating off him. Warmth, and a little further south, hardness.

“Tell me you don’t want me, and I’ll stop.” His face nears hers, and she feels her heart hammering in her chest. Her breath hitches in her throat when she feels his lips caress hers gently. Just a small graze of soft skin against soft skin, his stubble tickling her chin and his hand tightening its hold on her shirt.

It’s cliché to say that she feels fireworks as his lips grazes hers – maybe from the fact that she’s closer to any man other than her father for the first time, or that she’s just been kissed for the first time. The whole thing is making her head spin, and in that moment, she knows what she has to do.

“We can’t. Not yet,” She breathes out, letting her eyes flutter shut. She feels his warm breath fanning over her lips, the arm around her waist going slack and a deep sigh emitting from Bucky’s throat. He was just about to pull away from her when she grips his shirt in her hands.

“I’m sorry Bucky. I just… You’re my dad’s best friend. I could never look him in the eyes again if we…” she trails off, the embarrassment overcoming her. She looks up at him, eyes glossy from the whirlwind of feelings clashing inside of her. “I’ve never… He’s so strict. I’m sorry if I led you on in any way. I’m not used to male attention.”

Bucky lets out a heartless laugh, taking a step back and brushing her hands off him as if their encounter had never happened. His actions confuse her. He surely must have seen the emotional turmoil she just went through?

“You want burger for dinner? I bought this sauce that’s great with the minced beef.” He turns on his heel and leaves the room without saying anything else. Her brows furrows at his behavior. What the fuck just happened? He leaves her dumbfounded in the living room, her confused eyes following his back until he disappears behind a wall.

In the kitchen, Bucky has pulled out everything he needed to make dinner. His jaw tightens as he goes over her refusal yet again. She’s never what? was his first thought. Then all the pieces clicked when she’d said the next sentence. I’m not used to male attention.

Of course, he knew that she had never been with a guy, let alone a man. Her father told him more than enough, and it made a sinister smile spread along his face, as another branch in his plans takes form.

He will get what he wants.

Friday, 6:32pm

She had expected dinner to be an awkward affair. For her it certainly was – but it seemed like nothing had happened just a few hours before on Bucky’s account. He appeared completely unfazed by his previous actions, and it made her shudder, sitting across from him, picking at her burger. She hears his cutlery hit the plate and her eyes shoot up, seeing the empty plate where his burger had been resting less than five minutes prior.

“So, I’m thinking we have some things to talk about.” His voice startles her, since they had eaten in almost complete silence, the only sound during dinner was the cutlery and chewing.

“What things?” she felt nervous as the words left her mouth, letting her gaze fall back to the burger on her plate. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know. She’d been cooped up in his study since their encounter in the living room, not ready to face him until she had to.

“Firstly, what happened in the bathroom.” Her eyes shot up, his eyes looking directly into hers. Her mouth falls open, before closing again. She feels the blush creeping up into her cheeks. “I find it only fair that you’ve seen me masturbate, and I you, seeing that you did touch yourself in the shower.”

Her eyes widen impossibly more, a lump forming in her throat as she took in his words. “You… You watched me?” She blinked before her eyes sought to her burger yet again, the embarrassment becoming too much. How he had noticed her, was a mystery. Surely, she’d heard him leave, but she hadn’t heard him return. Maybe she was caught up in her thoughts… But she was quiet. Wasn’t she? Was there something he wasn’t-

“I heard you through the door, darling. You’re very loud. You know that, right?” She lets out a shaky breath before standing from her seat, backing a few steps from the table, into the living room. She watches as Bucky rises from his seat as well, following her as she tried to make the space bigger between the two of them.

Bucky looks at her longingly. He had to admit she looked breathtaking, even though she was scared and angry. There was a slight twinkle in her eye though, one of which could be a hope to escape whatever he had in store for her. It dawned on Bucky, that she probably had no idea what he had planned to do to her, and he smirked when her eyes darted around, not being able to focus on anything.

“What is you want from me, Bucky?” Her voice was shaking when she finally spoke. He shook his head with a slight laugh. She must have known by now. He basically told her everything in the living room. Confessed his feelings for her. Admitting without words.

“Oh baby… You’re still so innocent.” Her back hit the wall of his living room, her breath hitching in her throat. He came impossibly closer, caging her up against the wall. “Come on now… We tried this the easy way. Give into me.”

His hand tangled in her hair before he buried his nose in it, inhaling the sweet scent of her shampoo. With a hand tightly fisting her hair, the other found its way under her shirt. She let out a sob as she felt the cup give into Bucky’s pull, the soft flesh of her breast spilling out of the cup.

“Bucky please…” She tried to reason, trying to turn away from his grasp. She felt his hand leave her hair to hold her throat as the hand under her shirt it made its way down her torso, popping the button of her pants.

She froze as his fingers slid into her panties, her eyes widening in surprise. It surprised her that the hold on her neck had the effect on her it did – it scared her as well.

“What are you- no!” she cried out as she felt one of his fingers burying itself into her entrance. Another digit joined the first shortly after, making her gasp. Bucky had her trapped, and he enjoyed it. His hand left her throat and found her cheek, stroking a fallen tear away lovingly while he pushed his fingers deeper into her, his thumb grazing her clit roughly.

“I’ll make you feel good. I promise, baby.” His fingers picked up the pace as she felt a coil tighten in her stomach. She tried to fight the pleasure that was forced upon her, the tears falling from her eyes freely by now. She felt the coil snap, and with a cry she came around Bucky’s fingers reluctantly. Her cunt clenching around his fingers felt like heaven, and at that moment, he was sure this was what heaven felt like.

“Such a good girl. You like that, huh baby?” His breath fanned over her face, the air coming off as cold on her drying cheeks. She shook her head with a sob, sucking in a breath through her nose, even though she desperately wanted to agree.

She felt Bucky retract his fingers from her panties, bringing them to his lips before sucking them into his mouth. Watching his fingers covered in her slick disappearing between his lips made her heart hammer impossibly harder in her chest.

“So goddamn sweet. Like honey, darling. You’re just hiding this sweet pussy, huh?” His filthy words take her aback, and her mouth falls open in shock. She doesn’t know what to say. Baffled, she barely feels when he lifts her by the thighs, carrying her into his bedroom, where he throws her on the bed. As her back collides with his soft covers, she’s finally pulled out of the trance.

“Bucky…” her voice is quivering as his hands tug her pants down her legs, goosebumps rising as she feels his stubble against her thighs, her calves, her feet. His lips trace their way up the inside of her legs, her eyes widening again as she realizes what he’s doing now.

“Bucky, please, don’t!” she whimpers, but to no avail. Bucky buries his nose into her mound, inhaling her scent, just as the words leave her mouth. She whimpers when she realized it feels good, even though it shouldn’t.

“Such a lovely girl… Such a lovely pussy…” His words unsettle her, making her stomach twist. She tries to push at his head with her hands, whining as she feels his teeth nip at her clit. He can feel her panicking underneath him, and it makes him smile.

She feels the fabric tighten against her skin before she hears it tear, and shortly after his mouth latches onto her clit. She silently sobs out, arms and legs thrashing about. His hands push up her legs, at the same time collecting her hands in his, tightening his hold on her. She feels the ability to move becoming harder, and she sobs again out as his tongue flicks her clit harshly.

“Stay still, darling… Or this will get worse.” Her eyes widen as she takes in his words. Worse? What could be worse than this? She was unable to kick him, unable to slap him. She was unable to push him away, unable to stop him from invading her body.

In her haze, she barely registers her climax building before it hits her, making her cry out as ecstasy takes over her body. The muscles in her legs tighten around him, her whole body shaking from the earth-shattering orgasm unlike anything she’s ever felt before. Her mind is in a haze so deep, she could barely tell right from wrong anymore.

Having Bucky in between her legs felt so right, like the two of them fit together as puzzle pieces. At the same time, she knew it was wrong – so wrong. She felt herself thrash around from her oversensitivity; her mind completely detached from her body. Her gaze fell to where Bucky was placed between her legs, and she let out a moan at how sinful he appeared, his pupils blown wide, and a wide grin plastered on his face.

She shivered at the feral look in his eyes as he peppered kisses up her stomach, pushing up her shirt and pulling down her bra, sucking one of her nipples into his mouth. She let out a wanton moan, for a short moment forgetting the situation. His lip around her perked nipples is making her pussy gush with want. She watches as he pulls his shirt over his head, baring his muscular torso to her prying eyes.

“Gonna make you feel so good, baby.” He breathes out against her skin, goosebumps rising on her skin where his breath had hit. “You’re not gonna want any other man than me when I’m done with you.” She feels his hands working in between her legs, her senses kicking in when she realizes his hands are working on unbuttoning his pants.

Tears start streaming down her face again, her head thrashing around, whimpers leaving her mouth as fear takes over her body for real. Her hands come to rest against his shoulders, trying to push him away. “Bucky, please…” she whimpers, trying to restrain him from taking her most sacred possession from her, but to no avail.

With one swift thrust he pushes inside of her. She shuts her eyes tightly, the pain unimaginable. There’s a soaring pain in between her legs, with Bucky’s cock stretching her ever so painfully. She realizes he’s stopped moving, letting her body adjust to him as her walls pulsed around his throbbing member. Whimpers are leaving her mouth, short puffs of breaths landing against the skin of his pectoral muscle.

Bucky smirks triumphantly down at her. Knowing he had been her first stirred something inside him. A sob escaped her as she started to cry audibly, his hands sliding down her sides to grasp her hips in his hands. He locks her legs around his waist, driving himself deeper into her, his thrusts hard and pace increasing. He watches her face through half-lidded eyes, soft groans falling from his lips.

Her walls were milking him, her body begging for him to come. He buries his face into the crook of her shoulder as his thrusts picks up the pace further, uncontrollable and with no rhythm at all. He’s thrusting into her most sensitive spot, earning a few moans from her lips before she’s coming undone around him, her body trembling as her walls convulsed around Bucky’s cock, tears streaming down her cheeks. She feels Bucky burying himself deeply inside her before he’s coming right after her with a load groan.

His hair is tickling her nose – she can smell his scent – pine, fresh air, Bucky. It suddenly felt alright. A sense of calm washes over her, the sense of familiarity making her relax slightly. As she feels him shift on top of her, her mind goes back into freeze mode, her eyes widening as he lifts his torso off hers. The two of them were still connected.

Bucky found her scent intoxicating, and he knew she weren’t done yet. He wasn’t done yet. Her expression turned into fear, unlike anything Bucky had seen before. “Baby, don’t look at me like that…” His voice was sulky, as if he didn’t deserve to attend to her fear.

“We’re nowhere near done yet.”

Fear surged through her body as the words fell from his lips. She didn’t want this. Not again. She wanted to cry and scream for him to stop. She had spilled so many tears already, and her screaming had left her throat dry and hoarse.

“Please Bucky…” Her body was tired, and she was emotionally drained. He shifted on top of her, his hands grasping her ankles and flipping her over before lifting her hips, bringing her to her hands and knees. He got on his knees behind her, just as she pushed her face into the bedsheets, letting out a sob as his hands brushed their way up the skin of her back.

“God you’re so delicate. Like a petal of the most exquisite rose.” She felt his breath on her butt cheeks. She let out a sob, realizing how close he actually was to her most private area. She felt his teeth bite into her left cheek and heard him let out a hum of appreciation.

“So good for me, huh baby?” The sob she let out just seconds before had escalated into full on crying – only lacking tears since she was so tired. She’s begging him to let her go, to stop for now, but she knew he wouldn’t listen. She felt his hands grab at her waist roughly, positioning himself and plunging back inside of her used cunt.

It didn’t even sound like she was screaming. Maybe all it was, was a weak screech and she quickly gave up, letting him have his way with her overly sensitive body. She was still wet – her come and his mixing together inside of her. Bucky used it as makeshift lube, sliding into her easily. Her hands turned into fists as she realized his hold on her hips would make it impossible for her to wiggle away from him.

A soft yelp left her lips as the newfound position made his thrusts seem impossibly deeper. She could hear Bucky hum behind her, compliment her as he took her, letting her know how pleased he was to finally have her. She tried to cancel out the sound of their bodies meeting – wet and slick sounds of his cock plunging its way deeply inside of her, and she gasped as she felt him get rougher again.

He slammed into her, groaning for her to follow him, to come with him, making her cry out. Bucky hit her cervix repeatedly, painfully, again and again until she came a fourth time, her body pulling and clenching around him, begging him to let go, and he came yet again with a loud groan.

He stroked her back lovingly as he almost collapsed against her back, her legs quivering underneath the weight of their bodies. It took Bucky a while to remove himself from her, but when he did, he didn’t hesitate to clean her up thoroughly, making sure she was perfect for him.

“Come on darling, roll over for me.” Bucky commanded, and she simply let out a deep breath and moaned. She couldn’t do it. She didn’t have the strength and the will anymore. All she wanted to do was to hide away from the world. From Bucky.

“Roll over for me.” He said again, this time punctuating all four words, rolling his eyes as she let out a whine in protest. He ended up grabbing her waist and turning her over himself, laying her down before laying down himself and pulling her into his arms.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” his hands slid down the curve of her waist, fingers drawing imaginary circles on her hipbone. She let out a huff before hiding her face in his neck, feeling her eyes wet with tears yet again. They slid down her cheek and landed in the crevice of his collarbone, pooling among droplets of sweat from their sex.

“You did so good, darling. I’m so proud of you.” A wracked sob left her at his words. She felt him bury his nose into her hair, his lips peppering kisses onto her scalp as he softly shushed her, his arms gently rocking her as he let her cry.

“It’s all gonna be okay darling, I’ll take care of you.” With that, she fell into a dreamless slumber.

Saturday, 9:21am

Bucky watched her as the soft morning sun peeked through his curtains, which wasn’t drawn the whole way. Her eyelashes laid softly against her rosy cheeks; her eyelids still puffy from the crying she did last night. His eyes studied her face calmly before traveling down her naked, uncovered body, his head propped up on his arm, his temple laying against his fist.

His eyes fell on her breasts, admiring her perked nipples and the small stretchmarks pointing to the rosy bud. He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, his fingers reaching out to graze the soft skin under her breast. His hand made its way down the curve of her waist, pushing down the covers laying against her skin.

As her navel was revealed, Bucky felt his cock twitch. Images from last night of her body underneath him filled his mind, how good she felt around his cock, how deliciously sinful her moans had filled his ears, how fucking good her slick tasted on his tongue… He was definitely in deep.

How she managed to calm herself down after more than two hours of crying and sobbing through what he had forced upon her, to now look more peaceful and beautiful as ever blew his mind. Her eyelids fluttered before she shifted slightly, her hand coming up to rub at her eyes.

He didn’t fight the want to stroke at her hair, so that’s what he did. He lifted his hand and pushed a strand behind her ear, his thumb stroking her cheekbone afterwards. To Bucky’s surprise she leaned into his touch, a small smile tugging at her lips.

It dawned on him that she, at this moment, wasn’t awake enough to remember what had transpired last night. She stretched her arms in front of her, hands landing against Bucky’s shoulder and pectoral muscles, and her eyes fluttered open quickly as she withdrew her hands hurriedly.

“Bucky?” her voice quivered before her bottom lip started wobbling – her face twisting with realization. Her eyes widened at her undressed state, not fully covered by the covers, and she yanked the fabric up to cover her breasts while sitting up slightly.

“Morning beautiful.” He watched as her muscles tensed before she relaxed slightly. Her lips move on their own accord as she whispers out a morning. “How are you feeling?” His hand came out to grasp hers, and she lets him take it.

“A little bit sore…” his thumb grazes over the back of her hand and she watches it as it slides over the skin, tracing the path of the veins trailing underneath the flesh. “I uh…” She bites her lip as she twists her hand in his, grasping his hands in hers.

“Mhm, what is it darling? Don’t go being all shy on me now” He watched her hand in his, feeling his heart jump slightly, feeling some sort of domestication by looking at her. The words that left her mouth shortly after took him by surprise.

“Can I see it?” she sucked her lip back between her teeth before she let out a giggle. “Your cock?”

Bucky’s mouth fell open at her choice of words before he let the covers slide down his body slowly, revealing his semi-hard cock to her. The sight of it made her inhale sharply, taking in the size of it. She realized she had barely seen it the previous day in the bathroom, since it looked even bigger now. Was that really inside of her last night? Bucky felt a smile tug on his lips as he watched her face, contorted in admiration.

“You can touch it… Come on, I’ll show you how.” He watches as she bites her lip, before the hand that was holding hers tugged her hand down to his cock. She shifts closer to him as her fingers graze over the length of his cock, before gripping the base softly, nimble fingers wrapping around his girth.

His cock is heavy and warm in her hand, pulsing beneath her fingers. It somehow makes her mouth water, and she feels a sudden urge to do more than just jerk Bucky off. She doesn’t give into the temptation though, deciding that this should be enough for now. She hears Bucky suck in a breath as he watches her.

“Just like that, move your hand up and down slowly, maybe tighten your grip a little bit… when you get to the head…” She did as he told her, watching as her fingers pulls the foreskin down, before coming back up to the head of his cock. Her head whips around as she hears a groan leave his lips.

His eyes were hooded, watching her movements, eyes scanning over her body, before coming up to her face. “God you’re beautiful…” She tightened her hand further, quickening her movements. She looked into his eyes and held his gaze as she pumped his cock. There was something in his eyes – she couldn’t quite place what she saw. She watched as his brows furrowed, his eyes fluttering closed, his breath coming out heavier and another groan spilling from his lips.

She twisted her head just as she felt his cock tense in her hand, watching the way white ropes of cum landing against the skin of his stomach, some pooling into his bellybutton, along with another strangled groan falling from his lips. Her lips tugged into a smile, his hand coming up to grasp the back of her neck, pulling her into a deep, heavy kiss.

She felt the same feeling as she did just under a day earlier, when he had kissed her in the living room. Sparks flying, undeniably. As her lips parted from his, he smiled. His eyes scanned over her reddened cheeks before trailing over her lips, pulling back from her to give her space.

“What would you like for breakfast, baby?” The words were softly spoken, and she smiled as he sat up slightly, awaiting your answer. She shrugged her shoulders lightly, not really sure if she was in the mood to eat something. Her stomach was still a bit uneasy from the events of yesterday, but she managed to get out the word smoothie, along with her best doe-eyes.

After Bucky rolled out of bed and left his bedroom to clean himself up and make her breakfast, she let out a celebratory sigh and fell back against one of his pillows. She hoped that her efforts in seeming interested in his actions would help, so he wouldn’t force her into things she didn’t want.

She leaned over the edge of the bed and grabbed the discarded shirt, pulling it over her head. She quietly padded over to her bag, pulling the whole bag into her arms and walking to the bathroom, before locking herself in. She stepped into the shower stall, turning the water on and twisting the handle, feeling the water getting warmer and warmer, up until the point where it was scalding her skin.

She whimpered before fully submerging herself underneath the searing water, scrubbing the insides of her thighs violently until she felt the skin grow sore and sensitive. She sobbed out as her fingers came into contact with her sensitive folds, washing away the remains of what Bucky had done to her the night before.

Just as she thought of him, she felt her heart drop in her chest when she heard a knock on the bathroom door. She hadn’t even heard him approaching, and now he was just outside the door. She silently begged that he wouldn’t speak or ask her for anything, but it seemed like luck wasn’t on her side today either.

“Baby, breakfast’s ready.” She felt the goosebumps of disgust run down her back, even though the water was still burning her skin. Just the sound of his voice made her uncomfortable, made her guts turn uncomfortably in her stomach, which made her regret once again ever coming here with him in the first place.

“Baby?” He knocked again, making her heart clench in her chest before she answered him quietly that she was almost done, before she turned off the water, rubbing her body roughly with one of the towels laid out in one of the cabinets.

“Just a second.” She took a look in the mirror and gasped as she noticed the bruises littering her neck, arms, stomach, thighs. She had no idea how she was going to hide them from her parents. She scrambled through her bag, pulling out as many covering pieces of clothing she could possibly muster before covering up her body.

Saturday, 10:08am

When she entered the kitchen, the delicious smell of pancakes filled her nostrils and she sighed in content. She took in the table – Bucky had placed all of her favorite fruits in separate bowls and made her a smoothie. The pancakes were even chocolate chip. She felt both agitated and sure of herself, until the second she sat down.

“So, I was really your first, huh?” Was the first question that left Bucky, a smirk plastered on his face. She felt the redness fill her cheeks before she nodded, not really wanting to engage in a conversation with him. She grabbed a handful of blueberries, stuffing them into her mouth and chewing on the sweet fruits.

“You know… The way your body reacted to how I fucked you… How you moaned… Cried out my name… How your tight pussy strangled my cock…” Bucky smirked as he grabbed his cup of coffee, bringing it to his lips before blowing on the surface, gently. “Could get used to that.”

She felt her heart pick up its pace in her chest, hammering against her ribcage as she sat stiff with her hands in her lap, too embarrassed to look at him. She fought her embarrassment though and looked up to where he was sitting through her lashes – he was exploring his molars with his tongue with his eyebrow cocked, watching her. Smug son of a bitch.

“You shouldn’t be so nervous, darling. Dig in! I made everything you asked for while you were hiding in my bathroom. You could at least appreciate the effort.”

Her eyes shot down, not wanting to meet his. The tone in his voice made her shiver. She reluctantly reached out and grabbed the smoothie off the table, bringing the straw to her lips before sucking the sweet fluid into her mouth. The taste of strawberry and blackberry lingered on her tastebuds, along with a tangy flavor she had trouble placing. She looked up at Bucky again.

“Bucky… I think I would like to go home today.” She shivered as she thought about what happened last night. What could happen again. She feared it would. She took another sip of the smoothie followed by another, and placed it on the table, truly hoping Bucky would give in and let her go.

She was wrong.

His smile was wide as he watched her drink more than half of the smoothie, just waiting for the triazolam to take its toll on her nervous system. He knew the pills for his incurable insomnia would come in handy someday, and he mentally high fived himself as he noticed her getting groggier.

“This should solve your sleeping problem, Mr. Barnes. I wouldn’t normally advise for this, but if you’re in need of a faster effect, crush them into some water and ingest it shortly before going to bed.”

And that was exactly what Bucky had done when making her smoothie. The remains of the white powder in the porcelain mortar resting in the sink was the only evidence of his scheme at this point. He had everything planned – down to the last detail. Everything he had to do by the time she would wake up from her pill-induced sleep.

“You know, darling, there’s so much I want to show you. To teach you.” Bucky slowly got out of his chair, picking a few fruits from the bowls, before chucking them into his mouth. “That’s why I need you to stay here, with me. Until we die.”

“Bucky, I… what’s happening?” she looked up at him with fearful eyes, her sight blurring Bucky into a blob of dark and fair tones before returning back to being clear as day. “I’m scared. Please.”

“You’re gonna sleep for a little bit,” he crouched down beside her chair and her eyes widened as her brain caught up with what her ears were hearing. “But I’ll make sure to take good care of you while you’re sleeping, I promise.” She felt his hand wipe a stray piece of hair from her face, pushing it behind her ear before he placed a kiss on her cheek.

Everything went black before her eyes, and her head landed heavily in Bucky’s hands. He watched as her eyes rolled around in her head, unable to focus on anything before finally falling closed, a sigh escaping her lips.

Bucky lifted her out of the chair gently, admiring her soft features before walking her to his bedroom. Her soft breathing was warm against his neck as he held her in his arms, one of the only things letting her know she was still sentient. He laid her on the bed carefully before beginning to rid her of all the clothes she had hidden herself in.

“Oh, you silly girl… Trying to hide from me. Trying to get me to let you go…” he carefully tugged down her jeans, throwing them on the floor. He lifted her leg off the bed, placing a kiss on top of her foot. His eyes follow the length of her legs, all the way up her body. Her beautiful body. “I’ll never let you go. You’re mine now.”

Saturday, ?

She let out a small groan before turning on to her back – or so she thought. Her eyes flew open before she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes – or tried to. She groggily looked up at her hand and let out a gasp when she found it fixated to the bedpost. She whipped her head around and found the other fastened likewise, letting out a tiny whimper.

She clenched her fists, giving the restraints another tug but to no avail. She lifted her head slightly, looking around, and let out another whimper when she noticed she was in Bucky’s bedroom yet again. She shivered when she heard his voice, coming from behind her.

“So, you’re finally awake. Took you long enough, darling.” she gasped when she felt his fingers slide through her folds and into her wet cunt. It felt different than the last time he did it, though. Like something was in the way. It felt good, though.

“You know, it’s actually quite impressive how the human body reacts to arousing touch. I’ve been toying with your clit for more than an hour, drawing a few orgasms from you and you’re still just as responsive… So, I wanted to try something new.”

She gasped when she felt his fingers swirl themselves inside her and then against the back of her tight cunt. Her eyes widened as her mind suddenly cleared itself enough for her to feel the expansion of her tight ring of muscle. She struggled to move her legs, giving up when she realized they were tied to the foot of the bed, spread wide.

“For someone who was a virgin in both holes just yesterday, I have to say I’m impressed. It’s like your pussy was made for my cock… I can’t wait to fuck this tight ass of yours… To see if it’s just as good as your cunt.”

Her eyes widened as she felt his hand leave the warmth of her pussy, swirling around the gem of the butt plug seated snugly within her tight rim. She gasped loudly when she felt Bucky slowly retracting the plug, not letting the widest part pass the rim before pushing the plug back in. She let out a wanton moan as it fell back into place.

“I’m gonna fuck your pussy while this plug is filling you up, and then I’m gonna fuck your tight ass…” She heard Bucky slide down the mattress before his lips found her soaking cunt, emitting a loud moan from her. Her mind was still hazy from her slumber, she struggled with finding the words for a few moments. “Yeah, you like that?”

“Bucky…” she whimpered weakly as a surge of pleasure shot through her veins. “Please don’t, Buck…” She had trouble focusing on anything, she wasn’t sure where Bucky’s lips lingered anymore. She registered the rip of a foil packet, and just after, she felt the thickness of Bucky’s cock filling her slick pussy to the limit.

“Fuck, that’s a good girl…” Bucky moans loudly as he bottoms out, the pressure from the plug in her ass straining against his cock. He leans down and peppers a string of kisses on her cheek, admiring her as her mouth hung open, short puffs of breaths pushing their way past her plump lips.

Her eyes are shut tightly, her eyebrows drawing a thin line between pleasure and pain. As of that moment, he can’t tell which is which. Tears are slowly framing her eyes, though still not giving the emotion away.

“Oh my god,” she breathes, and Bucky bites his lips to restrain himself, but the intoxicating way her pussy grasps his cock tightly, the sweet pink gem resting just above his cock has his mind spiraling into pleasure. He grabs her hips and thrusts into her harshly, pushing the tears out of her eyes and the cries out of her mouth with every thrust.

His hips slam against hers within a few thrusts, and it’s making her see stars. His cock is grazing her most sensitive places with every thrust, and everything seems to blacken before her eyes as hot floods shoot through her veins, her orgasm so intense her whole body is shaking.

She herself doesn’t know whether it was in pleasure or in pain either, but it was definitely something in between. She had never felt a feeling so indescribably enormous; she had never felt so full. She whimpered when Bucky pulled himself out of her, eyes widening as she came back to herself, feeling the plug being retracted slowly.

“I can’t hold back darling, fuck you make it so hard…” she gasped when the plug slid out easily, whimpering as she felt liquid smear against her fluttering, sensitive ring of muscle, the coolness slithering down between her sensitive lips, staining the mattress below her.

She bites her lip harshly as she feels the tip of Bucky’s cock prod against her tightening rim. It was a whole other feeling than the plug. Where the plug was cold and somewhat hard, Bucky’s cock was warm, wide and rigid. She clenches her jaw as his cock breaches her, the sting unlike anything she had ever felt before.

“Come on baby, let me hear you…” Bucky gritted through his teeth, just beside her ear. She clenches her jaw even tighter, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of letting him hear the effect he had on her. The breaths she sucked in through her nose were uneven and ragged, the pain caused by his cock almost unbearable.

“Fucking relax, baby… You’re just making it harder for yourself…” She didn’t know how deep he was inside of her and she didn’t wanna know either. She had never felt dirtier than she did in this exact moment, and she shut her eyes tightly, wishing herself invisible. She felt his hands grasp a butt cheek each, before spreading them apart, thrusting his hips, slowly entering her deeper.

“That’s it baby…” she whined as she felt his hips still against hers, his pelvis resting snugly between her spread cheeks. His mouth found her ear and she whimpered as the next words that left his lips sunk in. “Such a good slut for me, taking all of my cock in her tight ass…”

His hand moved around her hip, squeezing itself between her body and the mattress, sliding down in between her legs where her soaking pussy had been abandoned. His fingers swirled around the bundle of nerves, the small jolts of his thrusts mixing with the pleasure from his fingers pushing her over the edge.

She let out a scream as she came around his cock, her ass gripping him tighter than he had ever felt before in his life. Out of all the women he had ever fucked, she was by far the tightest he had ever experienced. Her whole body shook beneath him, hands tightly fisting the bedsheets as her ass strangled his cock, begging for him to release his seed within.

Bucky’s cock felt so massive as she tried to come down from her startling high, the jolts of her body seemingly calming down slightly. “Bucky please… You’re too big, I can’t…” she cried out as her oversensitivity took over, trying to push the foreign intrusion out. His movements stung against her sore ring of muscle, making her wail further.

Bucky ignored her pleas and pushed his hips tighter against hers before retracting himself halfway, pushing in again. He groaned into her ear as he fucked her ass, showing her no mercy as he searched for his own release. He cursed out as he found the angle unable to grant him what he so desperately longed for.

He untied her right leg first, followed by the left before bringing her knees under her body, to fuck her in his favorite position. She whined as he pulled out of her ass completely, before leaning down to lick a firm stripe through her folds. She didn’t know how he managed to make her feel as dirty as he did, but it was amplified even further when he spat at her ass.

He cursed behind her at the sight of her, and shortly after she felt another wet dollop of lube slither between her cheeks. He easily slid his cock back into her ass, sighing out as her warmth once again engulfed his cock completely. He was never, ever going to let her go. Not when she could make him feel like this by just fucking her.

His release came just as quickly as she had hoped. Within three more strokes, he buried himself to the hilt, bit her earlobe harshly and spilled himself into the condom. She felt the pulsing of the convulsions in his cock more prominently in her ass, and she distracted herself from the pain by counting every spurt of his cum that landed within the latex with every jerk of his cock.

“Good girl.” He whispered as he gripped around his cock, securing the condom before pulling out of her, slowly. She whimpered as he left her body, and he groaned at the sight of her ring of muscle fluttering and contracting around nothing.

Bucky slid off the bed after pulling the condom off, tying the end and left for the bathroom. She felt a tear escape her eye as she pushed her legs back to lie flat before lifting her head, turning it to look in the direction of the bathroom. Bucky emerged with a damp towel, in all his naked glory, walking over to her with a victorious smirk.

“You did so good my darling… Such a good obedient girl for her daddy.” He talked sweet nonsense as he cleaned between her legs. She hissed as the damp cloth came in contact with her swollen ass, and again when he swiped it between her folds, gathering her slick. “Have you changed your mind yet, darling? Or do I need to teach you another lesson?”

She looked up at him with wide eyes, sucking her lip in between her teeth. “Changed my mind about what?”

She felt a hard slap on her butt. “Don’t play dumb, baby. It’s not a good look on you. You know exactly what I’m talking about.” She whimpers as his hand grazes along the angry, red protrusion of the skin where his hand had landed.

“Please, I want to go home Bucky.” She whimpered, closing her eyes as she felt the tears flow freely from her eyes. She felt another harsh slap against har already sensitive skin, then another.

“Wrong answer.”

“Bucky you can’t keep me locked up here forever!” She cried out, tugging on the restraints again, with what little power she had left after what he had just put her through, and the grogginess from the drugs, still in her system. Bucky leaned all the way into her ear, whispering out yet another sinister thing, that made her whole body crumble in fear.

“If that’s what it takes.”

He left her then, only pulling the sheet over her ass to cover her private parts. She didn’t know how long she spent in his bed, tied up like some animal. She could hear him somewhere in the house, humming along to some tune playing on the radio, which she couldn’t make out.

She was getting cold, falling asleep sporadically along with goosebumps rising on her skin as silent tears slid down her cheeks into the pillow. She felt exposed and used. Used by a man she trusted with her life. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. She imagined that she could’ve been wrapped up in her comforter at home, watching some boring Netflix series instead of laying tied up here.

She felt scared. Even more scared than she’d felt just after Bucky had violated her for the first time. She’d never felt so helpless before, and it made her even more scared of what Bucky would do to her if he got the chance. It was getting dark out, and she knew that it would either improve or deteriorate her chances of escaping. She didn’t know where to escape to, though.

She knew she had to get out of his house as soon as possible. She knew she had to get in contact with her parents somehow, despite the fact that she didn’t want to anymore. She didn’t know where her phone had ended up in all of this mess, but she knew Bucky usually slept with his by the bed. Either she could wait for that opportunity, or she could try to escape.

She wiggled her toes slightly, trying to get some of the blood down there again. She twisted her knees slightly, trying to pull them up under her again. She thanked the heavens that she was flexible when she managed to pull her right knee up under her, followed by the other.

She slowly rose to her knees, sitting back on her ass. She looked towards the door, cracked open slightly. The faint smell of something cooking filled her nostrils and she heard her stomach rumbling. She had no recollection of when she last had something to eat.

It was this morning, that much she knew. But she didn’t know what time it was by now. How long she’d been out, how long he’d been in the bedroom with her, how long she’d been laying there alone.

She took in the expert knots that had her hands tied to the headboard, reminding her that her dad and Bucky had served in the military together, and that they both had some knowledge about rope and knots. They’d even taught her some, so she could easily make out which one he’d tied her up with.

The double constrictor knot tied twice on both her wrists made her eyes fill with tears yet again. There was no way she would be able to pull the knots open with her teeth. Yet she found herself trying. And… on top of that, she really needed to pee.

She examined the knot before slowly making out the placement of the ends and where they were cut off. She reached forward and trapped one loop in between her teeth, pulling slightly. She sighed happily when she felt it give in, and she pulled one end through easily. Way too easily.

She repeated the action one more time, pulling the end over and through on the other side, one knot coming completely undone. She nodded at herself when the first rope fell to the pillow under her, making everything seem a little bit easier.

Three more to go.

She prayed that Bucky didn’t make an appearance, otherwise she’d be fucked. She leaned forward and examined the next knot on the same wrist, leaning forward when she located the end of it.

She winced when the ropes on the wrist she wasn’t working on tugged the rash on her skin even deeper. She needed to get out of there, and she needed to get out of there now. Panic settled in her stomach when she heard footsteps from somewhere in the house, tears spilling out of her eyes yet again.

“Come on, come on…” the knot finally gave in and she breathed out in relief, grinning slightly when her fingers started loosening the knots on her other wrist. She was so close to freeing her wrist, so close to relief from emptying her bladder… So close to escaping from Bucky.

“Baby…” She instantly freezes when she hears his voice from the door. “What are you doing?” She lets out a breath, feeling the tears re-wetting the paths on her cheeks that had dried earlier. Her cheeks redden, embarrassed that he’s caught her.

“Bucky, I…” she starts, turning her head slowly to look at him. He’s standing in the doorway with a tray of food for her, for them. How had she not noticed the amazing smell filling the room much earlier? How long had he even been standing there? She was so caught up in escaping she hadn’t even heard him.

She’s not sure whether the words that leave her mouth are just plain stupid or smart. Either way, his eyes soften just a bit when she speaks. “I just really have to pee.” She watches as he puts down the tray on his bedside table before he leans forward, loosening the remaining knots.

“Why didn’t you just call for me, baby? I would’ve come and helped you so you wouldn’t tear your lips like that.” His thumb grazes her lip, making her wince slightly. She hadn’t noticed the skin being mangled from the roughness of the rope. “Jesus baby, you look awful.”

She winces again when his fingers glide over her cheekbone, before they help her loosen the last knots around her wrists. She slides off the bed with a whimpering thank you, her legs slightly unstable as she staggers her way to the bathroom. She shuts the door softly before finally getting the relief she’s been craving.

Once finished, she tries for the small window in the bathroom. She knows she isn’t going to fit through, but she’s trying anyway. The window doesn’t budge, even when all laches are off and clattering against the glass. She knows Bucky can hear her from the bedroom, but at this point she doesn’t care.

“Come on. Dinner is ready.” His voice is just on the other side of the door, letting her know just how close he was. By the looks of it, there was no way she was ever going to be left alone again. Her foot slipped from her getting dizzy when she stepped on the bathmat to wash her hands, causing her to let out a yelp.

The door was yanked open just as she steadied herself against the marble countertop, catching Bucky’s eyes in the mirror when she looked up. Traces of nervousness swirled in his eyes, and she wondered why. “Jesus, I thought you hurt yourself, baby.”

He watched her every move as she washed her hands, dried them off before throwing them around her body, shielding her still naked body from him. He observed the way goosebumps littered her arms and legs, making his heart clench in his chest. He swiftly manhandled her into a t-shirt, before handing her a pair of panties.

He watched as she slid them on weakly, before grabbing her hand and leading her back to the bed. “Come on,” he spoke softly, as he sat her down and placed the tray in front of her, urging her to eat by bringing a forkful of food to her lips. “You need your strength.” She squeezed her lips together, not fully trusting him with her food since the incident this morning.

“Don’t worry.” He grabbed her hand, his thumb sliding over the soft skin, “It’s just food this time. No drugs.” She looked up at him doe-eyed, desperately trying to just have him leave her. She purses her lips again. “I trust you, baby.”

“I’m not hungry.” She whispered out, pulling her hand from his gently before scooting back just a bit on the bed, to get further away from him. Her stomach grumbled in that moment, letting him know how much of a lie that was. She was starving.

He grabs her jaw, forcing her lips apart before shoving the food in between them. “You eat when I tell you to eat.” He’s somewhat grumpy, it’s easy to see. There’s a glint remorse in his eyes, but she doesn’t believe that he regrets anything he’s put her through. She chews languidly, all while her eyes are trained on her hands in her lap.

“Am I going to have to force feed you, or will you eat on your own accord? Because I don’t care what you choose.” She looks up at him and watches as he scoops another dollop of food onto the fork, bringing it to her lips. She carefully swallows the food already in her mouth before opening up for him to feed her. “Good girl.”

It continues like that, with Bucky taking a few bites in between feeding her. It makes her calm to see him eat from the same portion of food as her, letting her know that he was telling the truth when he made her eat the first bite. No drugs.

He brings the straw resting in a glass of water to her lips after setting the plate back on the tray. She eyes his hands, inspecting the glass intensely. He sighs and rolls his eyes yet understanding her actions. He knows she’s afraid of him, he knows she doesn’t trust her right now.

He brings the straw to his own lips and sucks the cold fluid into his mouth before swallowing, letting her know that the water was safe to ingest as well. She exhales slowly before taking the glass from him, emptying it in one go. She was truly thirsty.

“What time is it?” she tries softly, afraid that Bucky thought she didn’t need to know, since he had no plans of ever letting her go. She’s looking for any sign indicating that he’s carrying his phone. He eyes her for a while, his eyes squinting for just a moment. She looked breathtaking as she sat there, fiddling her fingers.

“Why do you want to know?” She knew it. He’s still watching her, trying to look through her, into her head to figure out what she’s thinking. She tries her best to appear unfazed, just wanting him to tell her the goddamn time.

She feels lost in a whole new way, with the conception of time stripped from her as well. It makes her uneasy on a whole other level. “I just… Wanna know if it’s time for dessert.” She whispers, still afraid to say much. She waits for his reaction anxiously, another wave of uneasiness overcoming her.

Bucky laughs. He actually laughs at her. She furrows her brows as she watches his shoulders shake with every puff of laughter. “You don’t need to know the time…” he has a hard time getting the words out through his laughter, yet he speaks again shortly after.  “Desserts,” he smiles as he turns his head toward her, eyes taking in her serious expression. He smiles warmly at her. “What do you want for dessert?”

“You tell me the time; I tell you what I want for dessert.” He raises his eyebrow at her demand, not really expecting it. She doesn’t know where the surge of confidence came from. She just wanted to know the damn time. Somewhere deep within her, she’s still wondering if he is going to let her go the following day.

“Feisty now, aren’t you?” He jokingly says, well knowing she was, still is, afraid of him. He bites the inside of his cheek, contemplating her offer before he slowly draws out his phone before showing her the time. 9:21pm. So, she had been tied up in his bedroom the whole day. She watched as he pushed it back into his pocket, away from her prying eyes.

“So, darling… You wanted dessert?” he turns back to her and she has shuffled closer to him in the midst of his lack of attention. Her hand reaches out to caress his cheek, startling him. She smiles softly, she doesn’t even know why.

In one way, she wanted to get out of his house as soon as humanly possible but… She found herself not wanting to. Her thoughts were conflicting within her head, confusing her even more than previously. Maybe she just had to play pretend for now, and he would let her go tomorrow?

She found herself slowly losing herself within her thoughts. She had so many conflicting ones, her mind in a flurry about which ones to focus on. Everything came to her while admiring him through her lashes. Every emotion she’s ever felt for him, every memory she had with him. “Yeah. I want you.”

Without words she rises, initiating the contact between them herself. She didn’t know how or why, but she found herself reaching out for his hand. It felt a little alien, but good, nonetheless. It was clear to her that he was taken aback by her actions. She silently straddles his thighs, her ass resting on his knees as she pushes him back to lay against the bed. “I want to do this on my own.” she starts while pulling the shirt over her head.

“You took the choice from me yesterday, and I don’t think that’s fair. Do you?” the sudden surge of confidence in her takes him aback, and he’s laying motionlessly against the mattress, just watching her undress herself on top of him.

He watches as her hands slide over her breasts and down her stomach, teasing him slightly as she snaps the elastic band of her panties against the skin on her hip. She feels him harden underneath her within second of the fabric leaving her torso, and she revels in it.

She was deeply in love with Bucky Barnes. No matter how he wronged her, abused her, used her - she loves him. Maybe she was delusional but having him underneath her set her nerves on fire. She had finally gotten what she wanted.

There was nothing standing in the way of her and Bucky’s relationship anymore. She wasn’t afraid anymore. She was going to give into him, and she was going to enjoy it.

All it had taken, was one small flaw in Bucky’s plan. He’d let it slip, and he wasn’t even aware of it.

Saturday, 03:22am

Opening the messages app on his phone, she quickly searches through the different messages before opening the one with her dad. She knew exactly who she had to call for help. Yet she found something that made her blood turn to ice in her veins. Or, it felt like that, at least.

She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Slowly, the tears started burning in her eyes, making her vision blurry. The light from his phone blinded her slightly, and she found herself wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, a sob getting stuck in her throat. She just couldn’t believe it.

Right there, on his phone, was a conversation between him and her dad. Her own dad. Her stomach turned as she read through the messages, chest heaving as she tried to calm her erratic breaths.

Steve: You got her calmed yet?

Bucky: No, still squirming and crying. Hoping that she’ll calm down soon.

Bucky: Jesus, she got some lungs on her. I can’t wait to do everything I’ve planned to do to her tomorrow.

Steve: Good. Ruin her. Make sure she doesn’t get away. We need that money.

Bucky: If not, I’ll do what’s necessary. Even though I really don’t want to. You know how I feel about her.

Steve: I couldn’t care less. She isn’t mine anyways.

Her brows furrowed as she read one of the last messages over and over again. What the hell did he mean that I wasn’t his? She felt a strong hand clasp around the wrist of her hand that held the phone in it, forcing a small scream past her lips. She hadn’t even heard Bucky wake up.

“What are you doing?” His eyes were dark and hooded. They were also full of sleep, and she knew he was happy she was still in bed next to him, else she would’ve fallen off the bed. She looked at him through the blue light of the phone, trying to come up with a quick lie to throw him off in his sleepy haze.

“I was just looking at the time.” she tried carefully, the flow of tears drying out slowly. She was shocked, to say the least, but she wouldn’t let him know that she knew... “I usually wake up at night and I always try to track my sleeping pattern…” she had no idea what to say.

She couldn’t believe what she had just read. What did her dad mean? She isn’t mine anyways… The message kept resonating in her head. He huffed and grabbed the phone, turning away from her and resuming his slumber.

Saturday, 9:23pm

She crawled off his lap, standing over him as she undid his pants with quick movements. He lifted his hips to aid her in taking them off, his mind still trying to catch up to what was happening. His boxers followed soon after, his naked glory exposed to her yet again, only this time it was different.

Her hand grasps his cock, giving it a few tugs before she’s closing her lips around the head. He stutters out a moan intertwined with her name, his hands flying into her hair to ground himself. Where the sudden urge to have her lips around his cock was fulfilled, he still didn’t know what she was doing.

All he knew was that it felt heavenly. Her mouth was warm and inviting, her cheeks feeling warm and velvety as she hollowed them against his length. She sucked more than half of his cock into her mouth, causing a deep groan to spill from his lips.

Her hand wrapped around what she couldn’t fit in her mouth, and she slowly stroked his shaft while swirling her tongue around the enlarged head of his cock. She felt his hand tighten in her hair, a string of groans falling from his lips.

The hand that wasn’t wrapped around him pushed the panties off her hips languidly and she slowly rose to her feet, still bent over with her lips around his cock. She releases him with a pop, fluttering kisses along his toned abdomen and up his chest before she straddles his hips, gliding the wetness between her legs over the length of him.

His hands find her hips, both his thumbs rubbing circles into her hips, his head thrown back in pleasure. This pleasure is so different than it’s been previously, it’s so full of emotion for him and possibly also from her. It feels tremendously different from all the other times. His head shifts forward and admires her with hooded eyes before they flutter closed.

When she finally sinks down onto his cock with a strained expression, he feels everything shift within him. It’s like the whole orbit of the world changes. She’s struggling with his size, whimpering as she slowly sinks further down onto him. She falls forward, her hands landing just beside his face and he groans out, his eyes slowly reopening to look at her on top of him.

Her cheeks are flushed pink, her eyes prickling with tears and her bottom lip tugged in between her teeth, desperately trying to accommodate to his size. She’s shifting just a little bit, trying to ease the pain between her hips.

Her hand slid under his neck and grasped the short hairs there, closely followed by her lips meeting his. Her hips grinds over his, their lips gliding over each other’s messily, their tongues dancing together. Her soft pants mixed with his, his hands sliding up to rest on her lower back, guiding her gently.

“Oh, Bucky…” she whispers, and he isn’t sure whether or not he’s dreaming. It feels surreal that she’s moaning his name,it makes him twitch inside of her to finally hear his name spill from her lips that way. Hearing her moan his name combined with the tightness of her heat pushes him further and further towards his impending orgasm.

Her walls clench around him and she whimpers ever so sweetly. He knows she’s close. She just needs the final push. She’s still grinding her hips against his, so he angles them slightly for her clit to rub over his pelvic bone.

It doesn’t take more than a few strokes for her orgasm to overtake her, blinding her vision with black spots and making every hair on her body rise. It feels amazing this time around - with herself being in charge of her pleasure.

He’s close - so close - but if there’s one thing he doesn’t want to do right now, it’s to do something she doesn’t want to, however ambivalent that sounds. He restrains himself or tries to. Her hips are still drawing circles over his, and it’s driving him crazy.

“Cum in me,” she whispers in her haze, and she feels his hands tighten on her hips, his pants filling her ears as he empties his load inside of her. She feels at it trickles down around his length still embedded in her heat as she collapses on top of him, laying her head on his chest.

She slowly comes down from euphoria, relaxing into his arms coming around her to rub over her back. Everything slowly comes back to her, settling within her body. The lovestruck haze she has been in for the past half hour, is slowly coming to an end.

She slowly removes herself from on top of him, his seed trailing down her legs as she makes her way to the bathroom to clean herself. He finds her under the shower, quietly entering the stall behind her. She’s caught up in her thoughts, just standing under the stream of water with her arms wrapped around herself.

“I know what you saw last night. I didn’t want you to find out the way you did. We were supposed to be happy together. Live happily, and you would forget everything about everyone. Just you and me, here.” His body was barely against her back before he was pulling her trembling body back into his arms. She hadn’t even realized she was shaking until then.

“You didn’t want me to find out what, exactly?” She tried softly, jaw trembling uncomfortably at the other things he had said. “How are we ever to live happily?” She didn’t know what Bucky expected of her. There was just something she couldn’t imagine. She turned in his arms, looking up at him.

“You’re going to have to promise me that you won’t react poorly to what I’m about to tell you.” Bucky tried carefully, and she felt everything fall apart in the seconds following the words leaving his mouth. How could she not react to anything? “I shouldn’t be the one telling you this, but…”

Tell her what?! Just two days prior she’d been living contently with her parents, and here, a mere 46 hours later… Everything had changed. She watched his face as he searched for the words, his thoughts conflicting visibly in his face.

“Steve… He isn’t your father.” Bucky started, and she felt her heart fall further into her chest. That hurt. “Your mother had someone else around the time you were conceived. Steve has taken a paternity test, and it’s true.” She felt the tears rise to her eyes yet again mixing with the water from the shower, both from the betrayal of Bucky but also from her parents.

“This has all been set up so Steve can claim you as dead. To get money from the insurance company.” He hides his face with his hand, visibly upset that everything has fallen apart. Everything has certainly not worked out the way it was supposed to. “But I’ve changed my mind. I can’t do this to you.”

“But you’ve already done it...” She whispered, before taking his hand in hers. “What changed?” She cradled his face in her other hand, watching him intently as he rubs his hand over his face. It leaves red marks in its wake, letting her know just how hard he’s rubbing the skin.

“We need to make sure he doesn’t get that money” Bucky grabs her face with his hands in an instant, his eyes searching hers intensely. He thinks over her question, licking his lips before he answers.

“Nothing changed. Even though I wanted this to start with, I never even considered getting rid of you. I want you to know that I’ve never looked at you wrongly before you were legal. I couldn’t bring myself to it, even though I knew you weren’t Steve’s. I never ever wanted to hurt you. Because I love you.”

She sighs and for a short while closes her eyes. A few seconds pass where he’s just watching her.

Then one side of her lips tug up into a smirk, before she’s looking at him with a mischievous look in her eyes. They both know what they have to do.

Then she speaks, instantly letting him know that everything is settled between the two of them.

“I love you. Let’s do it.”

[leafs-lover]

Too Far Gone - Part Fifteen

Series Masterlist

A/N: Sorry for the delay with this, hope it was worth the wait!

Warnings: Swearing, shitty people saying shitty things, mentions of strippers, a little slut shaming. I think that’s it?

Word Count: 6800

The five days after the article broke were the worst five days for both of them. Tia was getting close to midterms so all her classes were hectic with seminars and readings. It would be a lot for any student and single mother. But her face is on the cover of multiple newspapers, constantly trending on twitter, adding an additional layer of stress.

Auston signed a 5 year $11.64 million dollar extension, he hoped that would pull some of the heat away from Tia and Taylour. It would give people something else to talk about. Instead it added fuel to the fire. Twitter lit up with comments on how much his “baby mamma is going to get,” numerous people called her a gold digger, some accused her of poking holes in the condom.

Auston turned his twitter notifications off, apart from an Instagram post about his extension, a post the team made him do, he has said nothing. Nobody bothered to read the press release, or if they did they don’t care about what it said. It said she was his girlfriend and they were in love when they conceived their son. It didn’t mention the details, just extenuating circumstances that lead to him not being involved, because that’s better than the truth. Everyone ignored the fact that Tia was his girlfriend, a girl he was in love with just fixating on the words stripper and escort.

The day after the story broke the Leafs played Anaheim, Auston wasn’t even made available for post-game comments. The next game on Wednesday was against Ottawa, the team asked him to do some postgame interviews because he signed his new deal the day before. Auston tried to not have the Gazette present, being the ones who broke the story. But Dubas told him they can’t prohibit certain media groups without major implications, but he had instructed all media personnel to keep the questions related to hockey and his contract, that his personal life was off limits. And they all complied, until Marcus Elford came along.

“Must be a relief to re-sign and know you’re coming back for five more years,” Marcus asked, turning the mic towards Auston for his response.

With a fake half-smile he gave the answer years of media training has prepared him for. The stereotypical, cliché response. “Yeah, I mean we have a great group of guys, and have a lot of hope for what we can accomplish. The fans are great, best in the industry to play in front of, so I’m happy to be a member of blue and white for at least 5 more years.”

“Must be nice too, since your son –“ Auston immediately walked away not even bothering to hear the rest of the question.

With Tia busy in school, it meant Becks is also busy, which has led to Auston spending some time with Taylour. All week Tia has been short, very dismissive in her answers. He knows she is mad about their fight, about what he said to her. About her.

He gets it, he is still mad at what she did to him. But some things are bigger. And dealing with this, talking about what is going on, seems more important. But she won’t talk about anything besides Taylour, constantly brushing him off. He tries to tell her it will blow over, reminds her not to read the articles, and she doesn’t, it still doesn’t help. Every day her eyes are a little emptier, her face slightly more drained. It’s obvious to him she isn’t sleeping, and he doesn’t think she has been eating much.

Arriving at her apartment that night Auston hoped that something had changed since yesterday and she would want to talk. But once again she said nothing. Once Taylour was asleep she went to her room packed her stuff and left for work. She said bye and then she left.

Arriving at the Brass Rail, the place is packed.

It is a Friday night, and Friday’s are busy, but this is more than normal. They are at full capacity, a line of people waiting to get in. Pulling her hood up, hiding her face as she walks in through the employee entrance only to find backstage it is just as hectic. The women are gossiping, chatting as usual. But there is a lot of tension, a bitterness in the air. Every time Tia looks at someone or walks by their posture shifts, sometimes they stop talking all together.

“Just ignore it babe,” Abby said, squeezing her hand slightly.

“They clearly are talking about me. About it,” she adds, as if the clarification was needed.

“It’s nothing, it will blow over. The place is packed, they’ll make a bunch in tips and nobody will pay attention to anything else,” Sarah adds.

“I hope you’re right,” Tia sighed.

She wasn’t. She was very wrong.

“This is fucking stupid,” Sam uttered bitterly, coming backstage for an outfit change a half hour later. “How is there this many people, and nobody is tipping?”

“Because they aren’t here for you,” Tamara piped in, fluffing her hair in her mirror. Eyes land on Tia, anger becoming more apparent in the room.

“It’s not her fault,” Abby scoffed in response.

“I was giving a private dance and they asked when Carmen would be coming out.”

“I keep hearing people say Tia as I walk by.”

“Someone told me to tell you everyone is waiting,” Kylie scoffs.

The overlapping chatter continued. Tia ignored it, she has for the last five days, so what’s another five hours? Putting her head down she continued to get ready, picking out her outfit, her performance time nearing. For the first time since she first started Tia is uneasy. Her hand shakes slightly and she feels as though she could puke on the floor.

With no lights on, only the blue light from the TV illuminated the room. The Office played quietly in the background, barely focused on the TV Auston mindlessly scrolls through Instagram. It’s so quiet he almost didn’t hear the door close, but he doesn’t miss the sound of her heels clicking on the floor. “Tia?” he asked, shocked seeing her this soon.

Her eyes are glossed over, breathing uneasy, the duffle bag on her shoulder lands harshly against the floor. Stopping in the living room one hand finds the wall for stability, the other trembling, struggling to remove her heels.

Pulling her coat off she hung it on the back of a chair. Taking in her appearance Auston realizes she looks like hell. Not her hair that is perfectly curled or her dewy makeup, but everything else about her screams red flags to him.

Her leggings are on inside out, and she is only wearing a bra not even bothering to put her sweater back on. Next is that she is wearing heels, normally she would change into some boots or sneakers. Instead the bottom inch of her leggings are damp from the slush on the Toronto sidewalks, her toes red from the low temperature.

Auston hasn’t watched Taylour much while she is at work, but she always changed before coming home. Tonight though, tonight she just needed to leave.

Pausing the episode, his brows furrowed, trying to understand what is happening. “What’s going on?” he asked, voice full of concern.

She huffed in response.

Turning around she walked into her room. Waiting for a second, unsure what to do, he heard her sniffle. Against all better judgement he rose to his feet and followed her to her bathroom, sitting on the edge of the tub watching as she struggles to pull off her fake eye lashes and hair extensions.

Her hands shook and her breath trembled, she almost gagged while standing at the sink. But he waited. Waited while she grabs a face wipe and began removing her makeup. Waited while she ran her brush through her hair drenched in hair spray. Waited as she brushed her teeth.

“Tia,” he called out, following her into her bedroom. Opening her dresser for some clothes, she whispered she needs to change. Slightly frustrated with her, Auston leaves and sits at the table, hoping she joins him.

And she does a few minutes later. Her foot tapped uncomfortably against the floor, her fingers knocking against the table. And they sat in an uncomfortable silence, the only sound her sniffling for what feels like ages. Every second felt like minutes, and minutes feel like hours. But he just waited until he can’t anymore.

“Tia, wha-“

“So I got sent home.” She cuts him off. “Place was packed, massive lines. Should be good right? The kind of things the club loves to see?” Her questions are rhetorical, so again he waits. “There was a fight with customers in the parking lot, an almost fight with some customers inside. Everyone there to see Auston’s girl,” she air quotes.

He sighed. He knew something happened because of the article. But hearing her say it is worse.

“It’s too much for security, they are worried about something happening. I guess some of the other girls complained, nobody is spending money on anything, and they’re taking the seats of paying customers while nursing a drink for the night. So I am taking some time off,” she sighed. “They think it will just be a week or two, just ‘til this dies down.”

“Sorry,” he muttered, mind racing a mile a minute.

“Why? Figured you’d be happy. It’s what you wanted,” she replied bitterly.

Scrunching his face he sighed and bit his tongue. Obviously it would be easier if she wasn’t a stripper, was never a stripper, and for selfish reasons he wishes that were true. But he wanted her to stop being a stripper because it’s something she wants, not because she is forced into that decision. “What if it’s more than a week before you are back at work?”

“Don’t know. Figure it out.”

He understands she is mad for what he said to her, but he wishes she could lower her walls slightly, just for a minute. That she would talk to him, because she isn’t going through this alone.

“If you need help, just –“

“I won’t,” she retorts, silence once again falling between them. The tension that hangs in the room is thick, so thick he could almost choke. There is so much he wants to say, but doesn’t know how. “I’m actually pretty exhausted, it’s been a really long night,” she finally declares.

“Okay,” he concedes, trying to hide the frustration in his tone.

“Have a good game tomorrow,” she says, as he slides his chair out.

“It’s actually a road trip,” he explains. “Be gone almost 10 days.”

“Oh,” she replied softly. “Well I’ll be home every night, so you can try to FaceTime with him around your schedule. It might go horribly with his attention span, but, you can try” she sighed, “if you want.”

“Thanks Tia.” The suggestion meaning more to him than he can even say.

Heading to the door, he stopped back in at Taylour’s room. His night light on in the corner, sprawled across the bed like a starfish. Stepping in, he picks up his monkey that fell off the bed. Gently brushing the curls from his face and tucks his monkey back in, he places one soft kiss on his forehead.

Driving home there is a weight on his shoulders. So much he wished he could have said to her, that he could have reassured. But most importantly for her to believe it. For him to believe it.

Half way through the road trip everything was going well. The Leafs won two of the first three games. Auston was kept off the scoresheet for the first two, but turned it around in Colorado, getting three points.

True to her word Tia answered his FaceTimes, and as predicted they went terribly. Taylour had very little interest in talking to a screen, but she tried to keep him engaged as long as possible. One day that was for 15 minutes, the next it was for less than five. But any time is better than no time.

Tuesday was a little tricky, with her class, the game and the time change. Unable to find a time that worked he thought he would have to wait until Wednesday. But Tia sent him a couple pictures, which was a nice surprise for him to see once finally on the plane. He showed Mitch and Patty the pictures, and that was when Patty asked what he was doing for Tia for Valentine’s Day.

“Nothing,” Auston replied, swiping to the next picture.

“You’re getting her nothing?” Bozak chimed in. Turning around in his seat, he quirked an eyebrow and furrowed his brows. His face alone made Auston’s stomach churn.

“Yeah, she’s not my girlfriend why would I get her something?” Auston shrugged, trying to dismiss him and the other eyes glaring at him.

“Because she is the mother of your child,” Mitch criticized. “I don’t have kids and I know that.”

“With everything that’s happened, she can’t really expect anything from me,” Auston protested. While only Fred knows they slept together, he did inform a few of the guys that she blocked him once he left Zurich. So he doesn’t quite understand their view that he should get her something.

“The next couple years you have to get her presents from Taylour, once he is old enough he can take on the responsibility, but for now it’s all you,” Patty explains.

“For real?” Auston groans.

“Yes!” all three said simultaneously.

“You don’t have to get her a gift from you, but at the very least you have to get her something from Taylour,” Patty explains. “We’re not talking diamonds, something small.”

“Christmas, Mother’s Day, Valentine’s Day and her birthday, you gotta do it,” Tyler adds in.

“You’re setting an example for Taylour, he will pick up on everything you do,” Patty further elaborated to him.

The rest of the flight he thought about it. And lying in bed that night. Eating breakfast the next morning he sat beside Fred and asked his opinion. The look followed by his booming laugh were answer enough, but Fred proceeded to explain why he needed to. This lead to Auston calling some florists back in Toronto.

The one he used a couple times in the past was booked solid, making him ask some of the guys for recommendations. Two of the shops laughed so loud into the phone, Auston just hung up. Not having any luck after calling six places, he considered just showing up after the road trip and giving Taylour a bouquet to give to her in person. It would be a little late, but would be better than nothing.

Feeling all out of options, one of the trainers mentioned a small shop he uses. They answered right away and were very eager to help, so he placed an order of colorful daisies and chrysanthemums, something he assumed Taylour would pick out if he took him to the shop.

They asked if there was anything else and he said no, happy with his decision. But as time went by, he kept hearing Patty’s voice in his head saying at that very least you have to get her something from Taylour. Very least. Those words resonated with him. He tried to shake it off, but he couldn’t, because it’s not just her birthday it’s also Valentine’s Day.

When they dated he got her two bouquets and two presents. Her father always made a point to celebrate both as well. If he is setting that example for Taylour, he knows he needs to get her two. So he called back. He didn’t know what to get this time, it had to be different than the other bouquet, and that he didn’t want to get her roses. The cliché Valentine’s Day flower, the symbol of love and romance.

After a long discussion he finally settled on white Calla Lilies, her favourite flower, mixed with cream roses, hydrangeas and alstroemeria as well as eucalyptus and delphinium stems. He hoped that this gesture helps to lower her walls, that maybe she would be willing to discuss everything, or at the very least more than they have been.

The next morning his phone buzzed violently against the side table. He struggled to open his eyes, groaning at the intrusion to his sleep. A sliver of light filters through the partially open curtain, the clock beside him illuminating 5:56.

Grabbing his phone, he tilts the screen and sees a picture if Taylour, worry immediately sets in. Being Thursday he knows Tia has a busy afternoon, class from 1030 to 5, and with his game that night he doesn’t expect to talk to her until tomorrow. Something is wrong.

“Tia,” he croaked out through a raspy voice, mouth dry and full with the taste of metal. “What’s wrong?” He sits up rubbing the sleep from his eye, coughing to clear his throat.

“What? Nothing is wrong,” she replied, slightly baffled. Auston can hear the smile in her voice and Taylour babbling slightly in the background, and his heart begins to settle.

“Oh, it’s just so early,” he yawned, “thought something was wrong.”

“Who the fuck is calling at 6am?” Mitch muttered from his bed, pulling a pillow over his head. Even though Auston signed an extension, his new contract doesn’t start until the fall. Since him and Mitch are on entry-level contracts the league dictates that they share a room for the rest of the year.

“One sec,” he groaned, scrambling out of bed and walking into the bathroom shutting the door. “Sorry,” he turned on the tap grabbing a glass for a quick drink to soften his parched throat, “what’s up?”

A FaceTime notification pops up which he accepts, being met by two bouquets of flowers sitting on her kitchen table. Doing it over the phone, with a florist he had never heard of, Auston had no idea how they would turn out. But they are actually better than he imagined.

“Just wanted to say thank you for these, but you didn’t have to,” she laughed flipping it around, adjusting the camera to focus on Taylour.

“Hey Taylour,” Auston smiles. He has a wide smile stretching from ear to ear, a mess of curls on his head needing to be tamed.

“Who’s that Taylour?” Tia asks, bouncing him slightly on her thigh.

“Mommy…mommy get flowers,” he explains, pointing to the bouquets.

“She did?” Auston laughed, pretending to act surprised.

“Are they pretty Tay?” Tia asks.

“Yeah, they are blue and green,” he squealed, causing both of them to laugh.

“Did you get mommy the flowers Tay?” Auston asked him.

His forehead pressed into a scowl, and he pursed his lip. Glancing up at Tia, then back to the flowers he thinks over the question, before finally announcing “no, I diin’t,” causing both Tia and Auston to burst out laughing at his honesty.

“Are you mommies Valentine?” Tia questioned, leaning down she places a kiss on his cheek and begins to tickle his side slightly.

“Yesss,” he giggled in response.

“Such a good Valentine,” she adds in, giving him another kiss.

“Hey Tay,” Auston calls through the phone. “Can you do something for me?"

“Yes,” he nods his head eagerly.

"It's very important," Auston further explained.

"I can do it!" he proudly declared.

“Okay," he chuckled lightly. "Give your mom a hug and say happy birthday.”

“Okay.”

He shifts in Tia’s grip, wrapping his arms around her neck. “Happy birdday mommy.”

“Oh thank you,” she held him tight to her chest, another kiss landing on his cheek. Finding Auston on the screen she sends him a soft smile, before releasing Taylour.

Auston continues to chat with Taylour, but he can’t help but notice the grin that remains plastered on Tia’s face. He gets a small hopeful feeling of relief and begins to think maybe the worst is behind them.

“Mommy, down!” he shrieks after a few minutes and Tia sets him down. This is normally the time where Tia will give him a quick update on him, anything exciting he has done. That normally lasts about thirty seconds, then an awkward silence falls over them before Tia says something about having to study for midterms.

“You look really tired,” Tia laughs noticing the bags under his eyes, sleep crusted to the side of his eyes, hair is a mess of knots and curls. “Look exhausted,” she further added in.

“That’s what happens when people call at 6am,” he joked. “We play in Vegas tonight,” he adds, seeing her confusion.

“I’m sorry, I should pay more attention to your schedule. I just wanted to talk to you, thank you before I leave for class.”

“Don’t apologize, waking up and seeing him makes it worth it,” he answered, with a wide smile. This is the first FaceTime she has initiated. He doesn’t want to read too much into it, but the simple action speaks volumes.

The game against Vegas went really well, another multi-point game for Auston, another win for the Leafs. Next they play Arizona, a game he typically looked forward too. This year the Leafs have two days off after the Arizona game before playing in St. Louis.

Originally his plan was to go to his parents after the game, spend the following day with his family and then fly to St. Louis in the evening to meet the rest of the team. But he hasn’t spoken to his parents since they left Toronto. He has text a bit with Alex and Bree, but it has been complete silence from his parents. That is until after the Vegas game.

Mom: Your dad and I would love to see you if you have time.

Mom: I miss you.

He didn’t reply. He re-read that message about a hundred times. But he didn’t replay.

Not the day before the game. Not the day of the game. Not even when his sisters met him at the locker room after the game. He considered just getting on the plane with the team, but he kept remembering that message. Those three words lingered in the back of his head.

Renting a car, he went to his condo that night.

And once again he stared at the screen.

His fingers hovered over the keyboard and he read those three words, eight letters, over and over. He wanted to reply. He missed her, she is his mom, but he is disappointed in everything that transpired. The things her and his dad said and did.

Locking his phone, he stared at the picture of Taylour. Unlocking it he stared at the message once more. Caught in the middle, unsure of what to do, he decided to sleep on it. Right before he locked his phone, a notification popped up, a text.

Dad: I’m sorry.

Walking in to his parents’ house, his mom almost squealed in excitement. Instantly wrapping her arms around his neck, over the moon to see him. He spent the next hour, catching up with his family, chatting about Taylour. He told them about how he feels like Taylour is developing an attachment. That he is slowly becoming more comfortable, and he thinks he is earning the dad title. That every time he has to leave it gets harder and harder.

Everyone seems to be enjoying hearing about him. His mom asked a few questions, his sisters asking millions, though his dad stayed relatively silent.

He told his sisters about Tia blocking him, that everybody in the family was blocked. That she denied it. Continues to deny it. He showed Bree the videos of Taylour skating, he showed them the endless pictures he has of him. His sisters constantly asked when they will meet him. If it will be the summer, or maybe during one of their visits to Toronto. Auston danced around the idea, not having the heart to tell them no.

Before everything happened he would have asked Tia. Things were good then, and Tia might have agreed for him to take him for an afternoon. He had never taken Taylour anywhere besides the Marleau’s, but he couldn’t see her saying no to an afternoon at his apartment with his family.

But now, he doesn’t even know if he would want to take him anywhere. Nobody knows his name, nobody knows what he looks like. Taking him out someone can easily snap a picture, something Auston doesn’t want to happen. Maybe with some time, this will blow over and he can consider asking, but for now it’s not an option.

“How are you doing Papi?” Ema queried, finally having a few minutes alone with him in the kitchen.

“I’m good ma,” he smiled. “It’s not always easy, but I’m doing alright.”

“Being a parent never is,” she tells him.

“I never know what to do, or if I’m doing it right. Tia is this expert, having done it all before, but I feel like a chicken with its head cut off half the time.”

“She’s not an expert, nobody ever becomes an expert at parenting,” Ema laughed.

“Taylour wanted a grilled cheese this one day, and I cut it horizontally and he cried like it was the end of the world. He wouldn’t eat it, I had to make him another one. But this is just something she knows.”

“You cried because I wouldn’t let you eat the sticker on an apple once,” Brian chuckled. Auston turned around, having no idea how long his dad had been there. “Alex cried one time because I touched her balloon. Kids get upset over ridiculous things.”

“Tia only appears to be an expert because she cut his grilled cheese wrong once and learned not to do it again. You’ll get there papi,” Ema reassured him, squeezing his arm slightly.

“Yeah,” Auston nodded, taking a sip of water.

With a deep exhale, silence fills the kitchen. An uncomfortable silence, where everyone has something to say but nobody can. His eyes dropped to the floor, unable to keep eye contact with his parents, his sisters chatting quietly in the other room.

“We saw the article.” His mom’s voice cuts the tension like a warm knife through butter.

“Yeah.”

“We just want to know how you’re doing,” Brian adds.

“How do you think I’m doing?” he replied with an eye roll.

“Auston –“

“It’s just…it’s a lot,” he finally admitted with a sigh. “Tia doesn’t want to talk about it, the team only wants to have meetings to talk about it. Everyone wants something different.”

“What do you want?”

If he’s being honest he wants to go back to about an hour before they slept together and change everything. But that isn’t an option. “For this to settle. I know it will happen eventually, people will get bored or find something new to talk about. I just want it to happen soon.”

“And what about Tia?”

“Before the article things were…they were rocky. She isn’t my favourite person right now and I’m probably not hers. I’m not going to stop seeing Taylour so we have to figure it out.”

“What’s going on with Tia?” Ema questioned, her eyebrow quirking.

“A lot.” He doesn’t want to tell them. His sisters know, but right now he parents don’t need to know everything. The last thing he needs is for them to find out Tia purposely kept Taylour from him. They already had suspicions about Tia and were very vocal about their concerns. With everything going on he doesn’t want to hear an I told you so speech. “She’s not working right now. Stories are still swirling, rumours and everything. It’s hard on her, I can tell it’s taking a toll on her but she doesn’t talk about it.” He explained shifting the attention.

“This isn’t something you can ignore papi,” Ema sighed.

“I know ma, I can’t force her to talk to me though. I FaceTime with Taylour, once he is done we talk a little. I tell her not to read the stuff online, she says she isn’t. Maybe once I’m home she’ll want to talk about it. In person.”

“Hopefully,” she gently squeezes his hand.

“I’m gonna –“

“You need to know we’re sorry Auston.” Brian cuts in, having been relatively quiet during their conversation. “We were only thinking of what is best for you and your career. You’re our son.”

“And Taylour is your grandson,” Auston retorted.

“We know. We were wrong.” Ema said softly.

“We hope you can forgive us.”

“I’m still mad,” Auston tells them.

“We know, we just hope with time.”

“Yeah.”

Auston shoots them a soft smile. He is going to forgive them, he has to. Everything they have done, all their sacrifices they have made. He wouldn’t be anywhere without them. He loves them, always has, always will. He misses talking to them. His dad about hockey, his mom about how his day is going. He misses them. But right now he needs more time to fully forgive them.

“I still can’t believe she did that,” Max hissed in a hushed tone. “I know they never got along, but that is really extreme.”

Her friends ambushed her tonight. Over the past couple weeks Tia has been able to use the excuse of “I’m really busy with school,” as a reason to not see her friends. Not answer their questions, not have to talk about the one thing it seems like the entire city is discussing.

However, she can’t use that right now because it’s reading week. She lied and told them Taylour was sick on Friday and Saturday, but today they all just showed up. Children’s Tylenol, cough syrup, soup and crackers in toe.

As soon as Tia opened the door Taylour bee-lined to the door, almost tackling Max. Muttering something to Tia about how he didn’t look sick, they forced their way in. Becks and Emily cleaned the towering stack of dishes and cleaned her kitchen, something Tia had been ignoring. They forced her to shower and change her clothes and played with Taylour.

They ordered dinner and everyone watched a movie. Everyone laughed and smiled, for a bit Tia forgot about everything happening outside her door.

“How are you actually doing hun?” Emily asked, coming into Tia’s view. Max and Becks are a few feet away sitting at the table, the table with the two bouquets Auston sent on display. They flowers whose leaves are slowly shriveling and turning brown, the petals starting to wilt. Each day the flower drain a little more, losing some more of their life. The way Tia sees those flowers likely is the way her friends currently see her.

Max and Becks are trying to be quiet. But it’s no use. Tia has become an expert on recognizing when people are talking about her, or what happened.

“Not good,” Tia sighed. Her voice sounded as broken as she is. Her eyes are heavy, bags big and dark.

Emily reached across the couch and gave her ankle a soft squeeze. “You know we’re all here for you, we’d do anything for you.”

“Yeah,” Tia blinked back some tears, sending her a soft smile.

“She feels bad about it,” she hears Becks whisper to Max.

“You hungry?” Emily asked, Tia just shook her head no. “You need to eat.”

“That doesn’t make it better,” Max snapped, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

“When was the last time you ate? You didn’t have dinner.”

“I’m not saying its okay, just that she regrets it.”

“Can you guys stop talking like I’m not here?” Tia said somewhat aggressively. Seeing the look of shock on her friends faces Tia sighed. She didn’t mean for it to come out as hostile as it did. “Sorry, it’s just everyone is talking about me as if I’m not here. But you guys are my friends. If you have something to say, please say it to me.”

“You’re right,” Becks agrees. Walking over, she sat beside Tia. Kissing her temple she pulls her head down to her shoulder. “Sorry. We just don’t know what to do here.”

“There is nothing that can be done. Just be here. It helps.”

Max walks over and sits between Tia and Emily. “We only talk about you, because you won’t talk to us.”

Tia’s forehead creases into a scowl, eyes slowly starting to drop, “I don’t want to talk-"

“You don’t have a choice,” Max bites.

“I kind of do,” she protested.

“No.” his voice bellowed, everyone’s eyes widen in response.

“Max,” Emily hisses.

“No. This whole thing is fucked up. I know she struggling, but were here for her, here to help. We can't help her if she doesn't talk to us.”

Tia opens her mouth to speak, but her voice never comes. Jaw closing she glares at her friend.

“We’re waiting.”

“What the fuck do you want me to say?” she snapped, her voice getting louder with each word. “You want to hear about the lacrosse team asking me if I would perform at one of their parties. Or how about the 60 year old cashier bit their tongue as I bought milk.” Her voice catches with in her throat, she chokes on her tears but tried to keep going. “What about the 700 follow requests I currently have, or the men who have DM'd me asking of I wanted to be their sugar baby.”

At this point there is no stopping the tears. They are falling. Fast and hard.

Tia doesn’t tell them about the countless guys who have given her their numbers at school. She doesn’t tell them about the glances and whispers as she walks in the halls. She doesn’t tell them how she hasn’t taken Taylour anywhere, that some of her neighbours have made snide comments in passing.

“Or how about how the only person who can relate, the only other person who is going through this…I can’t even stand to look at. How he -" She hiccupped through her sobs and Becks tightened her grip on her. “How I let my guard down and let him fuck me, and now I can’t stand him or myself.”

“Tia,” Becks tries to reassure her, but her emotions have taken over. Her entire body tingled and her eyes burn. Pulling her glasses off she wiped some tears from her eyes, only for new ones to replace them.

“You two just need to talk, you’ll sort it out," Emily tried to reassure her.

“He called me a vindictive bitch. A heartless bitch, a terrible mother. Said he wished he never met me. And those were the nicer things he said, how can we sort it out? Why would I want to?”

Everyone falls silent, processing everything they heard. Tia sniffles against Becks shoulder, Max and Emily’s eyes finding each other. “Okay, maybe things with him are too far gone, but Taylour needs him and he needs you. He needs you to eat and sleep,” Emily chimes in.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Tia I’ve been here for 9 hours you haven’t eaten anything."

“If I was hungry I would eat,” she chastised.

“When was the last time you slept?”

“I slept last night.”

“Really? You look like shit,” Max muttered, more honest in that reply than he usually is.

“Max!”

“No, look I’m worried. When was the last time you had a good night sleep? When you woke up feeling rested?”

“A couple nights ago.”

It’s a lie. She knows it, they know it.

She hasn’t had a good night sleep for weeks. She has replayed that night over and over in her head. The night she and Auston spent together. That was the last time she slept good. That was the last time she was truly happy.

“Let us take Taylour for a night. You can have a bath, watch a movie, read a book, and do absolutely nothing. Have some you time,” Emily offers

“Honestly he is the only thing that brings me joy right now, he’s all that is keeping me going.”

“Hey Auston,” Bree called out, opening the sliding door. It’s getting late in the day, his time left in Arizona running low.

“Hey Bree, what’s going on?”

“I have a question,”

“Okay.” He adjusted his sunglasses, turning to face her as she settled in on the outdoor couch with him.

“Or a statement or something. I don’t really know.”

“Okay,” he laughed in response. “What is it?”

“So you know how you said you unblocked all of us on Tia’s account?”

“Yes.”

“Okay…well….uh…”she sputtered out.

“Bree what is it?” he laughed.

“Just look.” She unlocked her phone and handed it to him. Scanning the screen she has Instagram open, Tia’s profile on display. Everything looks normal, what you would see when viewing a private account. Her profile picture, the number of posts, but instead of a follow button, it says unblock.

“I thought maybe she’d add me so I could see pictures of Taylour. But apparently I blocked her, except I didn’t.”

Not believing his eyes, he goes into her app settings, and there is her username listed as a blocked account. “It’s the same with Alex,” she divulged.

“Are you kidding me?” Handing the phone back he pulled his out. “I kept forgetting to send her a follow request, so I haven’t checked mine,” he explained. Opening up his app and searching her username he finds the exact same thing. A wave of guilt washes over him, his stomach flips and he can taste the bile building in his throat.

He could understand some glitch if it was one account, but it’s not a coincidence with three separate people. Closing his eyes, he took a shaky breath, trying to process everything.

“She was telling the truth.” His voice is barely a whisper while he tries to process the news. But he repeats that sentence, not once but two more times. This proves that she was being honest, she didn’t block him. That he ruined everything for nothing.

“Fuck,” he lifts his hat slightly, running it over his scalp. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” His tone gets louder. “I said some horrible shit to her, like absolutely terrible shit.”

Bree reaches over and gently nudges his arm, “I’m sure when you explain she’ll forgive you.

“How could she?” He cursed. “I called her a bad mother, pretty sure I called her a psychotic bitch, I –“ he trailed off replaying that conversation in his head. Every word, every hurtful terrible thing he said about her. She was absolutely devastated by the time he left, the fact she has even spoken to him is shocking.

“Auston,” Bree’s face softens. “Tia was kind and understanding, just explain it to her. Based on how it looked it makes sense you said those things.”

Shaking his head, his heart rate picks up and he is overcome with guilt. There was an insurmountable amount of evidence, but he should have known better, should have trusted the woman he knew from Zurich. He has no idea what to do, how to even explain this to her. How they can move past it.

“I ruined it, I ruined everything.”

“I doubt you ruined –“

“We slept together Bree.”

“Ew,” she muttered quietly, her nose crinkling up slightly.

“Literally the night before. We woke up that morning, cuddling in bed. We could have gotten back together Bree. If I didn’t yell at her and say all those horrible things…I can’t see her forgiving me now. I’ll be lucky if she is nice to me because fuck I wouldn’t be, I’ve been such a dick to her. God I’m such an idiot.”

He wipes away a few tears, the realization that them being a family is gone and it’s his fault. They had the potential to go somewhere. It would have taken time. There would have been bumps in the road, stressful talks, some setbacks and tears. But there also would have been dates and late night Facetimes. Cuddling up next to her at night, kissing her every morning.

Waking up that morning he thought they could do it. They could go through all that, and come out on the other side. He genuinely thought they could get there. That it was so much more than sex. But now, that won’t happen.

He doesn’t even know if Tia will let him explain. But he is certain Tia won’t ever let him in again, him having caused too much pain. For what feels like the hundredth time this month alone, Auston feels like he is having an out of body experience. Bree continues to talk, her hand gently resting on his but he registers none of it. His heart beating louder that her voice, his body is numb to her touch.

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[hongism]

touch of the devil - k.hongjoong 18+

↣ pairing: hongjoong x fem!reader | ao3 version (mxm seongjoong) ↣ genre: angst, fluff if you SQUINT, nsfw, fantasy, supernatural, demon!hongjoong, emo rocker!hongjoong, there do be plot tho. ↣ wc: 9.0k ↣ summary: you came to make a deal with a devil sure, but this is the last thing you were expecting out of a night in a dingy bar. ↣ warnings: explicit smut, mention of death, demons, it’s actually really heavy on plot and angst and less focused on the smut ↣ a/n: again i know it’s my birthday but this is my present to you guys, i am a person who prefers to give rather than receive on my birthday and this was the first thing i wanted to work on during my hiatus!! i’ve got so much inspo and motivation rn that it’s crazy and i can’t wait to have everything all set out for you guys when im back :3

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Everything about the air around you is heady and thick in a way that chokes you as you step through the fogged bar. This isn’t your sort of scene – not one you would typically find yourself frequenting on a Friday evening without even so much as the company of a friend – and yet here you stand with hands pressed into the pockets of your black leather jacket. There remains a dull thrum in the atmosphere of the club, a steady rhythm of bass and vibrations that makes your ears ring but you do your best to ignore it in favor of reaching the bartender.

“Just a rum and coke please,” you murmur, hand sneaking out of your pocket to lay a few bills flat against the wood counter. You tug your ID card out as well and flash it in the man’s direction when he raises an eyebrow at you, but upon seeing it, he relents and steps away from you to get the drink.

The question remains of why exactly you are in such a dismal and hopeless scene full of people too drunk off their rockers to even fumble around the bar with some sense of dignity. You, who is neither dismal or hopeless yourself nor are you drunk in the slightest (at least not yet).

The answer is simple. This is a breeding ground, a festering cesspool of desires and greed, and it is the prime place to find what you are looking for in terms of deals with the devil. Maybe not one specific devil, but certainly whatever demon you can get your hands on tonight. And you have quite the lot to choose from it seems, because as you glance around the neon-lit building, you can spot many pairs of red eyes glinting under the lights. You know you have no right to be picky — any and all of them will get the job done — but you can’t help but to note that none of them are as appealing as you imagined they would be. When your friend said that these demons thrived off of lust and appeal, you figured that meant they would purposefully up the ante in terms of physical appearances.

The disdain must show on your features as the bartender begins to speak again as he sets your drink down before you on the counter.

“None of them are for you,” he utters, and you twist back to look him in the eye.

“What do you mean?” You inquire, chin tilting to the side in question, and the man huffs out a small laugh.

“They have their prey already. Picked ‘em the second they walked through the door. All it takes is one look to figure out what these needy people crave from them, what appearances they need to take, what voices to use, what outfits to wear. For people like you, though, something more is required before the real games begin.” He points a single bony finger at your face, staring you down over the length of his digit like it’s the barrel of a gun, and that has you shifting in your seat a bit.

“Something… more?”

“One must have a particular level of certainty before coming to make a deal with a demon, ma’am. But you — you don’t seem to truly know what it is you want. And for that reason, the King will see you with no ruses or deception.”

On the contrary, I wouldn’t have dared set foot in here if I didn’t know what it is I wanted, you want to say. However, your attention is held rapt by his final sentence, the one that held unspoken promise to it.

“And by that you mean physical alterations?”

“You catch on quickly, Miss.” The man leans forward, tongue darting out to swipe over his lower lip, and you glance over the motion only once before pushing away from the counter. He notes the slight annoyance in your features a moment later. “The King will like you quite a bit.”

“When can I expect for this ‘King’ to present himself?” You prop an elbow up on the counter and give one last forlorn glance around the bar in the hopes that someone will come over your way, but it’s to no avail.

“Patience, human. The show hasn’t even begun yet.” He motions towards the middle of the bar, the starkly empty space with a glossy stage set in the center with only a microphone held delicately in its stand and nothing else. You had been hoping to make this a speedy trip — a quick in and out with your deal made and nothing else — but it seems you won’t be having that luxury. And it is a bit frustrating, honestly, to come to this place with the expectation of having a demon cater to you and your wants only to be told that you aren’t certain enough for these supernatural beings, so you’ll have to wait on a demon who won’t cater to you or come to you immediately.

You take a quick swig of your alcohol with the desperate hope that perhaps drinking will make you more certain of what you want, although you already know it won’t. The bartender offers a shrug in response to your annoyance then pulls away to tend to other customers, and you take it as an invitation to swivel in your stool and face the stage. It’s still fucking empty, but at least it gives you a better view than the old wood of the counter that now sits under your elbows.

“Leave it to men to make me wait on them, demon or not,” you mutter under your breath, breath fogging the side of your glass a bit.

You nearly choke on the liquid inside in your next breath because the swirling red neon lights come to a halt on the center of the stage, and the suddenness of the shifting lights startles you so much that you have to sit up straight and inhale deeply to keep from coughing on the alcohol in your mouth. The hazed mist hovering above the floor of the bar seems to swirl towards the stage under the beams of light. You watch the movements as though in a trance, slowly leaning forward until your elbows come to rest on your knees. Out of everyone in the bar, you seem to be the only one interested in what’s going on at the center of the room. Mind you, everyone else is preoccupied: demons with their humans, and humans with the mask-wearing demons who cater to their desires. And while you have no reason to be so intrigued by the scene before you, you truly cannot bring yourself to look away, especially as the dull thrum of music in the bar heightens and gains momentum.

There is no way of describing the sounds rumbling around you. Perhaps if you were fully in your senses, you would be able to distinguish the instruments and beats of the song, but the bass clogs your mind and leaves you squinting at the hazy stage. It could be poetic, the way a lone figure pushes his way through the crowds of the bar like he holds all the power in the universe, studded black leather jacket slung around his shoulders. And as the red lights come over him, you can see his features better. Dusty brown hair that shines a bit, one side exposed and cut shorter than the other, which has bangs that hang loose over the side of his face. Metal bars line both ears, another near the end of his left brow, and a final more intricate one that loops around the middle of his lip and connects to two long metal chains. You follow the path of those chains with your eyes, watching them trail downwards until they loop around his chest and disappear behind his jacket. It’s just a black turtleneck that he wears underneath the dramatic leather regalia and chains but somehow he makes the garment look expensive. You dare glance a bit lower, just enough to make out the frayed and distressed jeans that cling to his skin like a vice, leaving hints of enticing skin underneath to peek through. You can’t see his feet thanks to the fog, but you can practically hear his footsteps drumming in your ears with the rise and fall of his shoes.

Simply put, you are entranced by the sight of this man — if he can even be called that, because you wouldn’t find yourself at all surprised should he reveal himself to be a demon on the tail end of this encounter. He barely looks up from the floor on his trek to the stage, only stopping when he comes before the mic stand and exhales against it in a way that sends shivers down your spine. It’s hardly reasonable for any creature to hold your attention in the palm of his hand the way this one does, but there is no chance of you looking away now, especially as his voice begins to drawl through the microphone and coat your ears like honey. There are words, you recognize enough in the music to know that it should be a song you’re familiar with, but none of them truly process in your daze.

It’s all you can do to just sit there and watch his performance. Between the gentle sways of his shoulders and hips, the teasing drag of his tongue over his lower lip whenever there is a break in his lyrics, and the overall intoxicating nature his aura exudes, you are hooked on every breath he takes. You don’t realize how relaxed your body has become under his spell until it’s too late, and that happens to be the last note of the song as well. It is accentuated with the drop of the glass in your hand and a sharp shatter of the cup against the floor. And just as you inhale a startled gasp and break out of your reverie, his deep crimson eyes flicker over to find yours across the bar. Those twisting lips churn something ugly in your gut. You can’t find the strength in your body to move.

“Mine.”

Your heart leaps in your chest as the word leaves his lips, and while you can’t hear it grate against your ears, you can clearly read his lips enough to know what he’s saying.

His eyes glint a bit in the darkness. It shouldn’t leave you wanting more, but that bitter taste of curiosity is nipping at the back of your throat, and you are far too intrigued to turn back now. You just want more. If he seems to understand that at all from the gleam in your eyes, he makes good on it, stepping off the stage and letting his hand drag over the mic in a way that is almost tantalizing. Step after step, he comes closer to you with his lips still curled into a smirk, and the way the lights hit him makes him seem to glisten and glow in the darkness. You don’t realize you’ve been holding your breath until he breaches your personal space and you release a shaky exhale that seems to fog in the air between you. He stretches a hand out to close the space between your bodies and curls his index finger under your chin. The touch is simultaneously hot and cold — your whole body seems to light on fire under it, yet at the same time, the chill in your bones deepens to an alarming degree.

“What is it you desire above all other things?” You can hear him now, loud and clear, and whilst you heard his singing beforehand, the simple rasp and lilt to his regular tone is something that has you unashamedly weak in the knees. “I can give you everything,” he whispers as he presses closer to you. Your knees brush against his form but he keeps on pushing forward until he’s slotted himself between them. The chain hanging from his lips rattles like a chime, singing its unknown song like church bells in the night, although you are far from God and heaven now. “All you need to do is ask.”

You cling to some semblance of reason while you can, knowing full well that it will all leave you soon enough, but for now, it lets you choke out a single statement that has the demon before you laughing under his breath.

“That’s not how it works.”

“And who are you to tell me how it works?” His finger curls a bit harder at your chin, and you can feel the blunt of his nail scraping over your skin. Your eyes are glued to his, so enamored and consumed that you can’t even think to look anywhere else.

In that moment, it is as though the universe is nothing but a speck of dust in the corner of your vision. Something so raw and whole like the man standing before you is all-powerful and vigilant in a way that has every nerve in your body at full attention, ready for whatever his next step might be. And that turns out to be quite the curveball as it seems because he leans closer to you, breath intermingling with yours, and you subconsciously curve your back into his touch to reach him closer. Still, even though you physically show how ready and desperate for the touch you are, he waits and glances over your features.

“What is it you desire from me, human?”

You have to vehemently restrain yourself from simply saying ‘you’ and getting on with it.

“Your name.”

“Is that all you would have from me?” As a demon, it is his life’s work to know the inner-workings of the festering desires of humans. You have no doubt in your mind that he knows exactly what is it you want, even if you are not sure of it yourself, and you do not doubt that he won’t use that to his advantage either. But that’s what you asked for in coming here, and that is exactly what you both expected and wanted out of this.

Perhaps it is shameful, but just for once, you wanted to surrender control. Too often are you asked to have everything set out and planned and under control, and too often do you find yourself wanting someone to just tell you what it is you should do. That could be why the bartender labeled you as ‘uncertain’ because even in this moment of vulnerability, there is still the thinnest thread of thought tethering you to that control. And as of now, you want nothing more than for this demon before you to break that thread.

“I would have your name before I asked for anything else from you. Calling you demon over and over would certainly wear out its welcome, no?”

“That all depends on the context, my dear. But… you can call me Hongjoong, if that’s suitable to your tongue.”

“Hongjoong,” you try, testing the way the name rolls off your tongue in such a delicate manner that the demon before you flutters his lashes a bit.

“Sounds so pretty coming from lips so innocent.” He tilts his head to the side, and the movement flashes the pretty expanse of skin below his jaw. You aren’t shy in the way you let your gaze slip over it before trailing back up to meet his eyes again. “Would you close your eyes for me, doll?” He doesn’t have to ask. He could just make you do so with no resistance but still, he asks as though you could say no if you wanted to. You don’t though, and as such, your eyelids fall shut and your vision turns to black for the time being. “Do you know who I am?”

“Th-The bartender called you the King.”

“And do you understand what that means? Truly understand with every fiber of your being?” The question is heavy on your bones, and it is one that you feel like you should know the answer to yet you can’t find any response to his inquiry. Perhaps he means to confuse you because you hear the soft huff of a laugh fall from his lips. “King of the Underworld, Lord of the Dead. Some would call me Pluto, others Hades, it varies from religion to religion and in every culture. Sometimes I pick up rather banal and common names, other times I find myself seeking something extravagant and luxurious. Now… Hongjoong will be a good middle-ground for us.”

You should be falling to the floor in absolute shock due to his words, but the steady finger under your chin keeps you steady. That and the growing fear in your gut as you come to realize that this man holds so much power in just his pinky finger and could absolutely crush you under his heel whenever he wishes. What are you to a god besides an insignificant fleck of dust on the pavement?

“And what of your appearance? Is that… manifested as well?” You dare to ask.

“I have many faces, yes, but this one is one I wear boldly and frequently. You could say it is my natural form. After so many millennia of fantastical myths and legends, however, I’m sure that would seem odd to you.”

“Are you truly a demon then?”

“King of demons, yes. Whether I am truly a demon myself is something that could be ambiguous, I suppose, but if they are all part of my creations, then would that not make me one myself? Though you could say they are all fragments of my own being, making them all mythical gods. It’s all a matter of perspective; however, I doubt that you came searching this place for a lesson on perspectives.”

“No, I came for…” You trail off, and that blossoming uncertainty from before presents itself again.

“There are two things your heart wants right now. One, I can give you with ease and grace, only if you would allow it. That desire is a fleeting one, however, and I do not think it is what you are truly after in being here. The second… that is a wish I cannot deliver, and I think you are more than aware of that. The reason everyone left you to me is because of what you want. It is a domain only I could ever touch.”

You blink your eyes open in haste, searching his deep crimson gaze for some sort of confirmation of the words. The demon dares to look forlorn and lets his stare drop to the floor rather than looking you directly in the eye. Confusion blossoms in your gut. Yes, you figured there was a slim chance that your wish could not be granted, but still you clung to the desperate hope that maybe there was just a small window of opportunity for such a wish to be granted.

“Death is irreversible,” the demon, Hongjoong as he wishes to be called, says in a quiet tone. “I cannot give that which you want more than anything else.”

“Then what can you give?” You ask, squeezing your eyes shut as tight as possible to keep your emotions from slipping out the corners.

“One of two things: I can give you time to speak with him once more or I can make you forget the pain.”

“And if I choose the latter?”

“It would make you forget everything about him and leave you with no memory of him at all.” Hongjoong exhales a small sigh, the bouncing rhythms of the bass rumbling against your ears along with the sounds of his breaths. “You need not decide right this instant. The payment will be the same either way, so we can settle that first if you’d like.”

“W-Wait,” you stammer. You dare to open your eyes once more. “How would I be able to speak to him if you can’t bring him back?”

“I cannot bring him back the way you want. He… he is gone, and though I am the King of the Dead, there are powers even I do not have. Bringing him back to life is impossible, but I can create a doorway for the two of you to speak through for a short period of time. I have no control over how long it would be, just a forewarning. That is all up to him and his willingness to see you.”

“I can’t imagine he wouldn’t want to see me,” you murmur, but the pang in your chest tells you otherwise.

“Sometimes, death and the underworld change fundamental parts of people. They are no longer alive, after all, and as such, those human vices and personality traits dissipate. How you knew him in life could be vastly different than the spirit who now resides in my domain. It is all a matter of weighing risks, my dear. What matters most to you? Remembering him or him remembering you?”

“So if I ask to see him, I would remember him but there’s a chance that he would have no recollection of me? And should I ask to forget, there will be no way of knowing whether he remembers me in the afterlife or not?”

“Precisely.”

That is a hefty bargain to weigh. It is almost too much for your shoulders just to think about it. One is starkly more selfish than the other, but if he’s dead, what good will selflessness do you? It won’t bring him back, that’s for sure. Either you are left with the painful realization that he does not have any memory of you in the afterlife, or you forget it all to avoid that pain. Maybe thinking about the payment before deciding would be a good idea after all.

“As for the payment? How many years do I owe you?” Demons have no use for human currency or trinkets that could be traded for favors. You can barter the only thing you have — years of life. Whether it shortens your lifespan or turns you into a personal slave for a certain amount of time, that is a price you must be willing to pay for such services. You are more than prepared to barter it all off right now if need be.

“None,” Hongjoong answers coolly, and you quirk a brow upwards at the nonchalance in his tone. “I do not deal in years of life. Not often, at least. My abilities are bound in… passion. Lovemaking, fornication, sex, fucking – whatever you wish to call it. Of course, it wouldn’t have to be that exactly, should you not desire that. The other option is a blood pact, a ritual that would take hours to complete, although both could take quite some time depending on your stamina.” There’s a breath of silence that allows Hongjoong’s lips to twist into a suggestive grin, and heat brushes the base of your neck as you fight off waves of embarrassment. “I cannot guarantee that the blood pact would be painless. With sex, I could at least provide some comfort that the pain would only be temporary; however, the choice is yours. Both are binding and would mean that you could never make a deal with another demon again, and you would be marked as mine for eternity.”

“What does being yours entail?”

“Nothing diabolical or unsavory, I promise. Just… when the time comes for you to pass on and join the Underworld, you would take a place at my side.”

“How many people have you laid claim to? Did they all agree to the same terms? How can I trust your word?” The questions tumble from your lips without relent.

“For what you desire, the cost is far less than what I would usually ask for. Those lucky enough to deal with me in the past paid less for their debts. The blood pact… the fornication… both are binding elements. The real cost is your service. Most have agreed to give me their servitude in the afterlife, all with their own places in my domain. That is what you would be offering as well. You will live just as long as you would without making this deal but make up for it after your death.”

“And that’s it?”

Hongjoong’s eyes twinkle a bit under the lights above your heads.

“What did you expect from me, doll? Savagery? Unfairness? Everyone deserves a fair price for what they want, regardless of station in life or status in society.”

“Deal,” you utter without any more hesitation, blinking up into Hongjoong’s dark orbs. There lies a lingering sense of regret in your gut, one that you cannot chase away no matter how hard you try, but you do not need to dwell on it any longer.

“And how would you like to bind our deal, my dear? Neither can be handled immediately. The blood pact requires special preparations for the ritual, but the other — I would not have you in such a place as dirty as this.”

“I-I, um, sex will work just fine,” you bite out, the skin of your cheek caught between your teeth.

“Then when the time comes that you are ready with your decision on what it is you truly want, all you need to do is take this—” Hongjoong retracts his hand from where it rests gently against the column of your throat and digs into one of his pockets. He pulls out a gilded card, one that is black and gold with flecks of red across the surface, but there are no other adornments to the material. “Tear it in half and it will bring you to our meeting place, and I will join you there to seal the deal. Should you decide that you do not want this after all, then all you need to do is burn the card. The decision lies in your hands, and yours alone.” He has to lift one of your limp hands and forcefully place the card into your waiting palm, closing his fingers around yours to make you cling to the item.

“I – th-thank you,” you stammer as you blink from your closed hand to Hongjoong’s features.

“The pleasure is all mine, doll.”

Those are the last words you hear from the demon before he slips away from you, the dense fog lingering in the air swirling up around his body, and within moments, his shadowy form disappears entirely from sight. The air grows cold around you once more. You are left with only the fleeting desire for that warmth to return, for you to feel less alone than you are in that moment, and even if it’s the briefest visit ever you just want one last chance to tell your lost lover how you feel without mistakes this time.

///

The night, as per usual, is cold and unforgiving. It allows for too many opportunities to be alone with lost feelings and thoughts. It has been weeks (if not months) since you visited that dingy club and your fateful meeting with none other than the King of the Dead. Yet you are still here, wallowing in the memories that you’ve been left to suffer with alone, and the gilded black card sits in your nightstand untouched. You open the drawer just to stare at it from time to time, when the nights are particularly rough, and it already had begun collecting a thin layer of dust the last few times you looked at it.

It isn’t that you haven’t made your decision about what you want from your deal with Hongjoong. The more terrifying fact is that you are fully aware of what it is you want, and you simply cannot rectify the guilt that comes along with the pure selfishness of your decision. The feeling is so potent that it swarms your every thought. You know it wouldn’t be an issue once you meet with Hongjoong; the demon will take it all away and leave you with nothing. You won’t even know enough to be guilty any longer, but the pain of committing to the decision is strong enough to make you sick to your stomach.

Wooyoung — the one who suggested you go to the club and make the deal in the first place — will not shut up about how worried he is about you. You won’t recall the deal or why you made it, so what’s holding you back? A temporary guilt that won’t exist longer than a few seconds once you’re actually in Hongjoong’s presence? As he said, you just need to swallow the feeling and get on with it. Prolonging the regrets any longer won’t do you any good.

You huff out a quiet laugh in the silence of your darkened room. The black gilded card taunts you again now, gleaming up at you through the shadows with its faint hints of gold and red. Maybe Wooyoung is right and the only way to get rid of missed opportunities is to forget about them entirely. Yeosang was but a chapter in your life, one that is past and gone now, and as Hongjoong said, there is no reversing death. Seeing him one last time won’t give you anything but pain.

You stretch a shaky hand towards the card in the drawer. It’s cold to the touch, dust billowing up with even the slightest touch of your fingers. You have to dig your nail under the material to pull it up, and once it’s safely set in your palm, you drag your thumb over the surface to brush the dirt away. No words on the surface, no sign that it has been touched by a demon, and not even a hint as to what it could possibly be for.

It is surprisingly flexible, at least moreso than you would have imagined, and you give it a few testing bends to see how easy it would be to break. Hongjoong simply gave you the instruction to tear it in half and that was all. You don’t expect him to suddenly materialize before you on a whim, but surely such a creation is bound by some sort of magic on his part. It is hard enough to believe that demons are real living creatures, but magic as well? Maybe you’ve passed on and just don’t realize it yet. Still, you exhale one last huff of air into the darkness before letting your eyes flutter shut. Taking the card between your hands, you begin to slowly rip the material until it separates with the force, torn in two mismatched pieces.

Nothing fantastical happens.

That fact alone is so overwhelmingly disappointing that you really think for a moment that Hongjoong was just some goth rocker in a stoner bar who pulled an elaborate trick on you. It can’t be too difficult to get your hands on some weird red-toned contacts and weave some elaborate story about being the King of Hell. You could do that yourself. Why did you think he was incapable of such a charade?

Because he knew what you wanted without you having to say it.

Yes, well, Wooyoung claimed that your regrets and grief were evident in your features every time he looked at you. Maybe Hongjoong could see it as well.

You fall back onto your bed, flattening your back against the mattress with a small shout of frustration. The urge to cry is strong; if you’ve spent all these weeks uselessly worrying over something that could all be a farce, you don’t even know how you would react. You squeeze your eyes shut tight, blinking away the tears that blossom in the corners there as best you can. The rolling emotions in your system distract you from the sudden shift in temperature, and before you know it heat washes over you and fills the void of cold in your body. You jerk but refuse to sit up quite yet, eyes flying open in your shock only to choke on air as a bright golden light fills your vision and swarms you with warmth. The cushion under your body doesn’t feel the same either; it is not your bed, it’s too plush and soft, too warm under you, and you feel like you are absolutely drowning in the sensation.

Gold flickers above you, twinkling lights that glisten like small stars above you, and the ceiling is so dark that you nearly think it’s just an opening to the night sky. You sit up in a mad panic. The gold and red decorations littering the far too lavish room barely process in your vision as you look for a way out, and you don’t even see the figure coming up along your side until he’s upon you. A hand stretches out to brush over your forehead. You nearly shriek in your state of terror, but the sound is all but stolen from your lungs instead.

“It’s only me, doll. You’re safe.”

Hongjoong. Ah, Hongjoong. Then… he was telling the truth. It wasn’t a farce or a deception meant to be a game. He claimed to be the Devil Incarnate, and here he stands before you in a room too rich and exquisite for words. You can’t find it in you to think he’s lying now.

You dare to glance up and meet his gaze, finding it so soft on your face that you have the audacity to blush under his stare despite the things you’ll be doing with him soon enough.

“Have you made your decision then?” He asks, tone soft and light. It isn’t one that demands an immediate answer. You know he could ask what took you so long to decide, complain about your hesitance, say that you kept him waiting for far too long — instead, he exudes patience with you, hand slowly combing over your forehead down to your cheek and brushing over the skin there with a touch so featherlight that you almost don’t realize it’s there at all.

“I-I have,” you whisper like the two of you aren’t the only ones in the room and it’s a secret meant only for your ears.

“What would you have from me first then? As I told you before, the payment is the same regardless of your decision, and as such, we can bind the deal first if you’d rather.”

You swallow around nothing. There is no harm in going through with the decision now, but your nerves are so frazzled and out of sorts that you almost desire the sex simply as a means of stress relief. Hongjoong steps in front of you, fully coming into view, and you are shocked at how… mundane he looks. You blink fervently at the man — demon, rather — and take in the gentle part of his hair, the soft glow of his skin that makes him look simply ethereal under this light. He hardly looks like a demon to you; his features are too smooth and perfect for that, from the curves of his lips to the even line of his nose. Although you suppose that’s all he wants you to see, yet it still seems oddly intimate to a certain degree.

“You aren’t worried that I’ll try to run away after my wish is fulfilled?” You ask. Hongjoong arches his brows at you, and his neutral expression slips into one of momentary shock.

“Where are you going to go, my dear? I brought you to this place, and you will need me to send you back once we’re done here.”

It sinks in at that moment how you are completely at his mercy right now. Not that you had any plans of running away, but the question was moreso just to test the waters, see if he is truly as merciful as his features make him out to be. The underlying danger in his tone proves your point and sends a chill down your spine.

“Is that something I ought to be worried about, doll? Should I claim you now to make sure you keep your end of the bargain?” The question sits on your ear like warm honey. It chokes you, fills your senses with Hongjoong’s scent, and you almost find yourself leaning into his curling lips before catching yourself. That seems to pique his interest in the very least, and his smile twists a bit more. “The decision is in your hands as always. I won’t do anything you don’t give me explicit permission to do.”

“Permission granted,” you mutter before catching a hand on Hongjoong’s collar. “Do it all.” You aren’t too worried about damaging his clothes as he’s not wearing anything drastically fancy or expensive-looking, and thus you twist your fist into a ball around the fabric of his black tee and yank him down to your height. He bends at the waist, hands catching on the mattress before his forehead can smack hard against yours. There’s a bit of tension in his neck, and that keeps him far enough back so that he doesn’t kiss you quite yet. It’s almost as though he is waiting for something else, eyes carefully tracing your features with great care before he settles on your lips, and a sharp inhale of breath follows before that thin line in his composure snaps.

His lips hit yours with a surprising amount of force, and the kiss isn’t at all what you were expecting — well, to be more accurate, you aren’t quite sure what you were expecting in the first place. It’s much more pleasant than you could have imagined though, and Hongjoong isn’t shy with the touch at all. His tongue is quick to swipe over your lower lip, hands darting upwards to brush over your sides before reaching your face, and he brings a knee down on the mattress to support his weight as he leans over you. You follow the motion when he pushes forward and lean back until you have no choice but to scoot back on the bed. Hongjoong moves with you with the same amount of fervor, still pressed to your lips without relent, and you don’t even think to stop as he completely drapes himself over your body, knees still up and supporting his weight. The cushion of the mattress dips by your head, a telltale sign that he’s placed his hands there, and you use that as your opportunity to stop for air. Hongjoong surely has no need to breathe like you do since he is undead, but he still pants above you, chest heaving as a pretty flush rises to his cheeks.

“Putting that much power in a demon’s hands is dangerous, is it not?” He mutters. You let your lashes flutter shut as he moves back to your lips, hot breath ghosting over your skin. “Are you sure you want to do that?”

“I’ll tell you if it’s something I don’t like,” you murmur, opening an eye to peek at him. He meets your gaze with a soft laugh, but your answer seems to please him enough to bring his attention back to your lips. You inhale as his tongue breaches your mouth and pushes into the wet cavern inside. There’s no chance for you to fight back for any sort of dominance because he only thrusts deeper and coats the inside of your mouth with his taste until you can feel his tongue brushing over your palate. A quiet moan reverberates through your throat and against his lips. You feel the barest hint of a smile in the kiss, then his lips are suddenly gone from yours. You gasp for air with the freedom. Heat pools in the depths of your gut, a pleasant one that leaves you wanting more, and you aren’t sure if it’s simply been so long since you last had sex or if Hongjoong truly has that effect on you.

He returns to touching your body a moment later, hands trailing to the row of buttons on your nightshirt, and one by one, he pulls them apart until the material is barely clinging to your skin. His lips replace his fingers then. First at your jaw placing a wet trail of kisses and soft nips that leave you with goosebumps. Then he reaches the midpoint of your sternum and rests the flat of his tongue there, tasting and teasing your skin until you can do nothing but writhe under him because he is taking so damn long. Your impatience is laughable to him, as evidenced by the quiet huff of air that leaves him next.

“I want to taste every inch of you,” he mumbles against the skin of your stomach, hands pulling your nightshirt away to expose more of the skin underneath. He makes good on his words, and that damn tongue traces lower and lower until he reaches the band of your pants and underwear. You instinctively dart a hand down to tangle in his hair. “F-Fuck.” The curse slips out when you give an accidental tug to the hair close to his nape, and you nearly think that you’ve hurt him in some manner until you catch sight of the blissed-out expression on his features.

“D-Do you — can I…?”

“Do it harder while I eat you out,” he growls. His fingers close hard around the remainders of your close, and you don’t even have time to nod before he’s yanking both your pants and underwear down in one fell swoop. It leaves you more than a little exposed — you’re suddenly nearly nude before the demon who is still fully clothed, and that realization draws your thighs tight together in a sudden rush of embarrassment. You swallow hard around nothing, eyes darting away from Hongjoong’s prying gaze.

All of a sudden, he shrugs your hand off his hair and sits back on his heels. You don’t understand what his reasoning is until you settle your eyes back on his body. He’s leaned back to start stripping layers of clothes off in a rush, hands fumbling and struggling to pull them away in an orderly manner. There is no composure to his actions, only a hastened fervor that has him tossing his shoes far from the bed along with random articles of clothes until he’s laid fully bare before you. You really try your hardest not to glance down at his… you know, but the urge is overwhelming. Before you can even catch a glimpse, however, Hongjoong is on you again, hands latched around your thighs and pulling you to the edge of the bed as he kneels before you on the floor. The sudden movement has you squealing in surprise, and that noise is broken off into a startled moan when Hongjoong’s lips brush through your folds without warning.

“O-Oh god,” you gasp out. Hongjoong’s tongue gives a long and dragging pull through your heat, teasing some of the juices out of you with little restraint.

“Far from it actually,” he replies against your clit. A cheeky grin eats away at his features, but it quickly disappears as he returns his focus to your cunt. Your hand finds its way back down to his hair once more and tugs hard at the strands. Each tweak of his tongue through your folds has your legs jerking a bit, and he has to tighten his grip on your thighs to keep you from moving so much under his touch.

“I’m not — I w-won’t last, pl-please, I��” You can’t even finish the sentence as Hongjoong flicks the tip of his tongue right over your clit and cuts you off. He repeats that same motion, again and again, brings you right to the precipice of an orgasm only to tear you back down from it with soft kisses pressed to the outside of your folds. You can’t keep track of how many times he repeats that process, but it is more than enough to have you shaking from exhaustion and desperation even though you haven’t even been able to come yet.

“Are you going to beg for it, doll?” Hongjoong hums after what feels like hours of pleasurable torture. “I promised to make you feel good, did I not? You just have to tell me what you want.” His words are so taunting that it burns you with embarrassment. The need for that orgasm hangs on every nerve ending of your body, and you could cry just out of the need to come.

“Please,” you whisper in a tone broken from constant moans and cries.

“Be more specific.” It’s so cruel. He dangles the promise of pleasure before your eyes again, this time nipping ever so gently at your bud, and you really do cry this time, fingers digging harshly on his scalp. That draws a prolonged growl from his lips, and it reverberates against you so nicely that you could come from that. Hongjoong pulls his head back too soon though and the sensation is dashed away.

“N-No, no, please. P-Please, Hongjoong, I — please let me come. I need it, I need it so badly. Shit, just – just please let me come,” you wail as tears slip out the corners of your eyes and spill onto the sheets under you. That’s the breaking point for him as well, or so it would seem, because the next time his mouth brushes through your cunt, he doesn’t relent. You come undone on his tongue, riding out the waves of your intense orgasm as he fucks his wet muscle into your heat. He won’t stop chuckling either — a low noise that just prolongs the pleasure and makes you quiver from overstimulation. He doesn’t let up until a dry and choked sob pushes past your lips.

Suddenly he is back up on the bed, bent over your body to be eye to eye with you. His fingers trace over your wet cheeks then clasp hard around your jaw.

“Too much?”

“N-No,” you stammer through the wet cries. “So good. So so good.”

“Mm, can you take my cock too, doll?” He all but purrs the words against your skin. His soft and trailing kisses return to your skin, peppering the line of your jaw just past his fingers.

“Yes, please, I c-can. Please. I want i-it all.” You never thought you could sound so overwhelmingly desperate, but the tumbling sensation that swerves through your stomach as Hongjoong’s demeanor shifts has you falling into absolute shambles. He shifts your position, pushing you up higher to rest against the pillows, and you start to drape your legs around his waist. That must not be the position he had in mind though, because his hand clamps down hard on one of your calves and pushes it to the top of his shoulder. Before you can even blink, he does the same with your other leg, effectively folding you in half and into a position you weren’t even aware that your body was capable of. That shock is momentary as you feel the tip of what must his cock rubbing over your pulsating hole. You can’t do anything but ball your fists around the sheets under you and cling to them like a vice. It’s the only thing that can prepare you for his girth; the stretch may not be as much as you thought it would be, but it still stings like a bitch even after he bottoms out in you. That pain must be showing on your features – in the way your brows are tightly knit together and your eyes are screwed shut so that excess tears from earlier slip out.

The soft caress of lips touches your forehead. It’s so gentle and delicate that you nearly miss it in your efforts to grow used to the sensation between your legs, but Hongjoong repeats it time and time again until your breathing steadies and your chest stops heaving as much. It’s only then that he dares to resituate his hips. You crack an eye open to look at him, and it’s abundantly clear that he’s trying his hardest to hold back and keep from fucking into you with reckless abandon.

“I’m okay now,” you whisper, pulling a hand off the bedsheets to brush some loose strands of hair out of Hongjoong’s vision. “Please fuck me as hard as you’d like.” You snake the same hand around the back of his neck. When he still doesn’t move, you offer a sharp tug to the hair that falls over his sweat-slick nape, and that spurs him into action. His hips snap roughly against yours, pushing your back further into the crude curve it’s already in. Now that the dull throbbing pain has dissolved into a sensation of pleasure, you drown yourself in the drag of his member inside you. It’s quite possibly the best feeling you’ve had all night with the way his tip rubs over your bundle of nerves at just the right angle.

Hongjoong drops his elbows to the pillow under your head, and you greet him with a kiss that is mostly just an awkward clash of teeth for the most part. He gains enough composure to shift the angle to one that’s easier for both of you, hips still working hard as he rocks into you with the same force and speed as before. You are so lost in the euphoria that you can’t even feel your next orgasm sneaking up on you, but when it does, it pulls a noiseless scream from your lips. Hongjoong mouths at the corner of your lips as you ride it out. He still seems far off from his own high, even as he slows the pulses of his thrusts. You claw your way back from the high of your orgasm to grip his hair tighter and pull him closer to you.

“In me. I need you to come in me or not at all,” you demand through a huffed out sigh. It’s a moment of throwing caution to the wind, one that is quite worth it thanks to the expression of hunger and lust that fills Hongjoong’s face.

“You can’t just say things like that, doll,” he growls into the shell of your ear. You try to laugh but he interrupts you with a thrust harsher than any of the ones before. Every sound that falls from your lips now is stuttered and broken at the seams, and you let him fuck you with that same level of passion until he finally seems to tire and lose his rhythm. The only warning you have that he’s about to orgasm is the slight whine to his tone when he moans next. You push what strength you have left into clenching hard around his cock, and that is ultimately what tips him over the edge and pulls a delightful moan from his lips as he spills into your tight heat. He releases his hold on your legs, letting them slip away from his shoulders and back into a more comfortable position on the bed, but he refuses to move off your body.

You aren’t sure how long the two of you stay like that: with Hongjoong continually mouthing small kisses to the underside of your jaw and you just staring blankly at the glittering ceiling with a mind nearly empty. However much time passes doesn’t quite matter because once you recover your senses enough to be coherent again, you recall what is supposed to come next. Shaky hands find their way to Hongjoong’s arms and trail up to rest atop his back.

“Take it all away,” you exhale through a pant, hands clinging desperately to the milky skin of Hongjoong’s shoulders. “I don’t want to remember him anymore.” His chest heaves against yours, and a few loose strands of dark hair fall forward to stick to his sweat-slick forehead. This time when he kisses you, it is hot and searing, a brand against your lips, one that burns the inside of your mouth and sets your tongue alight. The sensation slips down the back of your throat, fills your gut, burns you from the inside out, and all your thoughts go hazy under the touch of his lips. With that one kiss, Hongjoong takes it all away. He gives into your desires, heeds your wishes, and grants you the ultimate peace and serenity you so deeply craved. He continues to cling to you like he’s never held something so desperately or lost in his infinite existence. You return the embrace in full while you can, strength already leaving you in the afterglow of your fornication, and you rake your nails down over his back if only to leave him with some sort of trophy to leave with. He is already leaving with your memories though, a trophy to hold close to his heart should there ever be a time when you ask for them to be returned to you. Perhaps in your afterlife, you’ll ask for them back, and Hongjoong would gladly give them should it be what you desire.

That is what he is, after all. As much as he takes, the Demon King of the Underworld gives in return, where he can with what he can. His duty, his bond, the sole purpose for his existence is to maintain that balance between giving and taking. But if it’s for you — a creature so lost, dismal, and hopeless — perhaps he can tip the scales a bit further in your direction.

At least, that’s what he thinks as you curve your body into his and press your lips with more fervor than before. That maybe, just maybe, endless years of his own hopelessness and confusion were all meant to lead him to finding this: a purpose in his undying life.

﹎    ﹎    ﹎

[the-bau-quinjet]

Memories, Pt. II

Summary: You were captured by Hydra. What did they do to your memories?

Warnings: mentions of violence, panic attacks

Word Count: 1982

a/n: Ahh, part 2! I hope you like it :)

I know it's only been a day since part I, but this really felt like it took forever to write. I'm pretty happy with how it turned out though. Again, sorry if it's confusing! Hopefully you understand the concept I'm going for.

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

4 Years Ago

"Y/N!" Steve called out to you from down the hall, a man with dark hair walking beside him. "I'm glad I caught you. Buck came back from a mission last night, and he's the only one left for you to meet."

You eyes lit up at the mention of Bucky. You'd always admired him for the steps he took to recover from his time at Hydra.

"Hi, I'm Y/N." You smiled, trying not to sound too eager. "It's an honor to meet you Sergeant Barnes."

"An honor?" His eyes sparkled with disbelief. "And please, just Bucky."

You nodded at his request before explaining. "An honor, truly. Sorry to be blunt, but you've been through hell and are still out there helping people every chance you get. You're a hero." You whispered that last line conspiratorially, knowing he would get flustered from your brief conversations with Sam Wilson.

"Did Wilson put you up to this?" He questioned, a tell tale flush blooming on his cheeks.

"Just the hero bit." You chuckled when he rolled his eyes. "Everything else came from me." You waited a beat before continuing. "It's true though. You are a hero." You winked before saying goodbye and continuing with your night.

Steve stared at his best friend as he watched you walk away, knowing exactly what that small smile meant. "You like her!" He accused, although lightheartedly.

"Shut up, punk. I just met her." Bucky tried to stop smiling, but your lingering first impression left him feeling giddy.

"Doesn't matter. It's true." Steve easily dodged Bucky's fist. "You don't have to admit it, but I know."

The two men continued down the hall, Steve teasing Bucky when he was still smiling 10 minutes later.

-

Present

You must've fallen asleep eventually, because next thing you know you are waking up to a room full of people. It takes a minute for you to recognize all of them, but you know the names and reputations well enough to figure it out.

Bucky has his head resting on the edge of your bed, your hand still encased in his. You involuntarily squeeze his hand, as if your muscles have a mind of their own, to gain his attention.

It's comical how quickly his head flies up, gaining the attention of the multitude of superheros in the room.

"You're awake!" Wanda shrieks, beyond relieved to see you home.

"What happened?" Sam adds on, concerned for what you went through.

"Are you okay?" Nat questions as well.

Your eyes flicker between them, unsure how to respond to any of them. Luckily for you, Bucky clears his throat to capture your attention.

"How are you feeling?" Your body instantly relaxes at the softness of his voice, as if remembering things you don't.

It's weird, lying in a room full of people who believe something you know not to be true.

"I, um, physically I feel fine." His eyes on you pull the truth out. "I, um, I'm still kind of confused about what's going on though."

He presses a kiss to your palm, again easing the tension from your body.

"You don't remember anything?" Nat's first to speak up, her typical skepticism peaking through.

"Not about the mission. I mean, I was kept in that room the entire time I was there." Three years flashes in your mind. Why do they think it was only three months? None of this makes sense. "I know all of you though." You're careful not to lie, knowing she would likely spot it.

Their faces relax as they take in your statement, causing a jolt of anxiety and stress to run through you.

Hydra may have convinced you that 38 people died at your hands, but your own personal morals haven't changed. You've accepted "the incident" as they put it was your fault, but that doesn't mean you're a cold blooded killer. They didn't have enough time to change you that much.

Steve, although upset with the lack of information, understands the position you're in. It's easy to see he's still worried about what happened to you while you were "captured".

"Why don't you go up to your room and decompress. The memories could still come back to you."

You can't help but smile at the kindness being shown to you. You give him another small smile while nodding, trying to figure out a way to get someone to take you to "your room" because you have no idea where it is.

"C'mon, I'll help you." Bucky wraps an arm around your waist as you stand, and although it's the first time you've experienced it, it feels completely natural to be in his embrace.

Everyone calls out statements of encouragement and well wishes as the two of you walk out of the med bay. You do your best to not marvel at everything you pass, simply trying to remember the layout of the building.

A few turns later, you've arrived at an elevator where Bucky presses the button for your floor. When the doors open again, he guides you through a hallway to what you presume is your room.

"Thank you, for helping me." You turn to him before stepping into your room.

"I would do anything for you." He whispers back, hand still rubbing your hip. When he leans in to kiss you, you panic.

"Um, I'm going to take a shower. Maybe feeling clean will help with all of this." You vaguely gesture to the air, unsure how to put everything into words.

"Oh, uh, sure. We can talk later?" He hides his confusion at your behavior, understanding how weird it can be to readjust.

You nod before closing the door, leaving him slightly stunned in the hallway. A few steps into your room, and a friendly Irish voice is calling out to you.

"Welcome home, Ms. L/N. Would you like to hear your messages?"

Your heart rate spikes as you rapidly look around the room, trying to spot the intruder.

"Who, who said that?" You continue spinning, trying to spot the voice.

"My name is Friday. I am an AI built into the compound." Your breathing settles as you begin to comprehend the information. Nobody is in your room. You're alone.

"Oh. Okay." You continue taking deep breaths, trying to prevent the panic from settling in now that you're alone.

"Would you like to hear your messages?" The AI asks, again catching you off guard.

"What messages?" You can't deny that you're intrigued by the concept of someone leaving you messages here. "What the hell happened? What is going on?" You mutter to yourself.

"You left for a mission 3 months ago. Communication was cut off 2 days after your departure. All resources were diverted to finding your location and bringing you home." Friday announced, as if it was common knowledge. You would suppose it should be if it was true.

"3 months ago? I was there for 3 years. I've never been here before! Why do they all think I'm an Avenger? None of this makes any sense." Your head is spinning, and all you want is to wash the last 3 years of dirt and grime from your skin.

As you step into the shower, Friday continues to answer your questions, ultimately giving you the version of events that the Avengers all seem to believe.

You joined the team four years ago. Tony and Steve brought you back to the compound after you fought alongside them. Your mutation gives you enhanced senses, allowing you to predict the enemies moves. Despite your lack of true training, the two men were impressed by your skills and dedication.

After getting dressed, you finally bit the bullet and asked to hear the messages. Instantly, Bucky's shaky voice filled your ears.

"Y/N, we lost contact with you yesterday. I just, I needed to feel like I was talking to you." A shaky breath could be heard before he continued. "You promised me you'd come back. I, I can't lose you, doll. Stay strong. We're going to find you."

The next message began immediately. "It's been a week now without you. Steve says we're getting closer, but I know he's just trying to calm me down. I will find you, Y/N. That's my promise."

Tears began pouring down your face as you listened to his voice, sounding battered and broken due to your absence.

"Steve keeps telling me to rest. He says I won't be any help if I'm burnt out. But, I- I can't sleep knowing you're there. Not knowing what they're doing to you. I can't sleep because all I see is you, and it hurts. Doll, it hurts so much. I'm going to find you. I will because I can't lose you. Not like this. Not to them."

The messages continues playing, doing nothing but encouraging your tears.

"Two months. I'm so sorry, doll. It's been two months and we're not any closer. I hope you know we're trying. I'm trying. I won't rest until I have you back in my arms. I love you."

Your breath caught in your throat at those three words, he loves you? How? How can he love you if you didn't even meet until yesterday?

"We figured it out. We've got a location. I'm coming baby. I'm coming."

The last message ended with a beep, but you barely heard it. Your breathing was erratic, your heart rate skyrocketing as the anxiety took over your body.

He couldn't possibly love you. Not when he doesn't know the things you did. The people you killed.

"Enacting protocol 7, paging Mr. Barnes." The AI's voice went unheard by you, muffled by your choked sobs.

Not 30 seconds later, Bucky was rushing into your room.

"Y/N!" He ran to you, pulling you into his arms in a tight embrace. He whispered soothing words into your hair, slightly rocking you back and forth.

Somehow, he knew exactly how to calm you down. His warm breath on your neck, strong arms around your body, and the soothing rocking motion all worked wonders for you.

"It's okay. You're okay. You're home now. I've got you. You're safe."

His words brought fresh tears to your eyes, although your breathing calmed and anxiety lessened after a while.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He whispered a few minutes after your body stopped shaking.

"I, I'm just so scared." You didn't know what to say. You wanted to come clean. To explain who you really were, but the fantasy described to you by the AI sounded like a much better life.

A life you wanted to believe in, but felt like you didn't deserve.

"Scared of what, doll? You can talk to me." He whispered, still rocking you back and forth, rubbing your back with his flesh hand.

Of me. You wanted to come clean, but it was terrifying. You couldn't go back to that prison.

"Of... Was I really only there for three months?" Your voice was shaky, confusion laced with fear.

Bucky's guilt at not finding you sooner multiplied tenfold as he took in your expression. You looked so innocent and afraid, his heart broke just thinking about what Hydra did to you.

"Doll, I'm so sorry I couldn't come for you sooner. I know three months must've felt a lot longer... I promise, I'll do everything I can to help you get through this. You're not alone." He held you closer, tucking your head close to his heart in a show of protectiveness.

"Can you just, stay with me tonight?" Your words were barely a whisper, afraid to test the strength of the delusion you found yourself in.

"Of course." His words were firm, but soothing to your ears. "I love you." You squeezed him tighter, resting your body against his as the two of you laid in bed.

permanent taglist:

@averyhotchner @jesuswasnotawhiteman

[rayofsunas]

valentine | diluc [4] finale

A/n: excuse my little break, lol. I’ve been busy with homework and life tbh, but I’m back!! thanks to those of you who checked in and reassured me breaks are necessary, you really made me feel better thank you <333 andddd, this last chapter whoop whoop! I had so much fun with this, I’m kinda sad ;-; but I’m really excited to start my next mini-series hehe. I’m not sure who I’m going to do next, but I’m leaning towards scaramouche or xiao hmm. let me know what you guys think!! I hope you’re having a beautiful friday/day wherever you are! stay safe <333

Summary: the ever so stoic diluc thought he was being secretive when sending anonymous letters and gifts to you during the week of valentine’s day but turns out everyone in mondstadt knew it was him, though thankfully had tight enough lips to not spill the beans to you. kaeya is of no help, so you go seeking answers yourself.

Parings: Diluc/Fem! Reader (for my other mini-series, there will be some gn ones!)

Warnings: valentines (yes, I’m late, shoot me), fluff, swearing, OOC DILUC BECAUSE I CAN’T WRITE FOR HIM (you’ve been warned)

Word count: 4.9k (omg- I’m so proud of this chapter too, enjoy!)

Kaeya was the younger brother of Master Diluc. The anonymous man writing to you said he’d had a brother, you assumed younger and now that you knew which was the older of the pair, everything was pointing to the man being Master Diluc.

You couldn’t lie you were frazzled. Could it really be Master Diluc writing to you? You of all people? You weren’t special in any way, no matter how many times Victoria praised you for your intelligence and skills. You didn’t feel so smart right now though, seeing as though Master Diluc had completely slipped your mind as being the writer; you felt ignorant. 

Now that you were walking quietly behind Master Diluc, it made sense. The encrypted words, expensive and thoughtful gifts; Cecilia’s, Qingxin imported specially from Liyue, hell you were even gifted a gorgeous silver bracelet, a red jewel in the center that looked very similar to Diluc’s vision dangling by his left thigh. And although both Captain Kaeya and Master Diluc were well off in terms of Mora, it was your understanding that Diluc was the wealthiest person in Mondstadt, he could afford such commodities anytime he wished.

Should you ask him or would you just embarrass yourself? 

No, you should respect his wishes... If he was in fact the anonymous man, he’d wanted to stay that way for reasons he’d already stressed to you. The least you could do to return the favor was respect his decision and not force him to come clean... No matter how curious you were. 

By the time you were at the Knights headquarters - you have your own place, headquarters is just better to sleep it when you have early mornings - the cool night breeze had set in as well as the silver, twinkling stars. You stood awkwardly at your door, eyes frantically looking anywhere but those red hues. Master Diluc seemed to also be doing the same much to your comfort. At least he was feeling similarly to you. 

“I hope this doesn’t get you in any kind of trouble.” Master Diluc suddenly said, hand sheepishly going to scratch the back of his neck. 

You tilted your head, confused. “Hmm?” 

He blinked at you, eyes going wide for a minute; embarrassment it seemed. “Do Knights not have strict curfews anymore?” He asked. 

Ah, the curfew rule. You had been a young Knight when that was implemented, though, in recent years, it had fizzled down to nothing really. All thanks to a few rule-breakers, a few years back. Then rule had been made for Knights, Captains, everyone. Though now it mostly applied to Knights in training, obviously no one followed the rule. 

“Oh, no, the rule was changed a while back,” You said. “Young Knights in training kept ignoring the curfew and it became a hassle for the Captains to go search them during bed checks at headquarters, they pulled an invisible plug.” A look of distaste appeared on the young man's face, you frowned in response.  

“Of course,” He muttered. “Inefficiency at its best.” You watched silently as he folded his arms across his chest and looked off into the distance to his left. He seemed to be trying to control his anger and irritation, or at least keep it locked down in front of you. Though he was failing, the scowl was evidence on his handsome face. And almost as soon as the words had come out of his mouth, he’d seemed to have regretted it. He snapped his head back to look at you and rushed to apologize. 

“I’m sorry, I meant no disrespect-”

You waved a hand out in the air interrupting him. “I agree,” His face relaxed. You what? “The curfews helped us all be more responsible. There was less slacking off and rogue Knights, that’s for sure,” He watched in astonishment as you laughed it off as if he hadn’t just offended you and your fellow Knights.

“My Captain still follows the rules, to an extent. The trainees are required to live at headquarters, they can’t leave until they’re eighteen or get promoted to a higher position. Knights like me or higher, on the other hand, that rule doesn’t apply to us, unless there’s a far away commission the next morning.” You explained. Master Diluc seemed to visibly relax, you assumed he was glad to hear someone still followed the rules.

“Don’t tell my captain I said this, but he’s a real old-timer; that’s why he follows your rules.” You laughed again, a small smile formed on the redhead's face, you were surprised and caught off guard by that. 

“A good man.” He approved, you laughed again. Archons, was that music to his ears. 

“That he is.”  

Diluc enjoyed the silence settling in, that’s for sure. He only realized how late it had gotten until after he’d watched you yawn, eyes closing slightly as your body seemed to shrink with each inhale and exhale; you were tired, and no doubt had duties tomorrow. How ignorant of him to keep you up like this, even if he had more of a chance to speak with you and be in your presence. 

“I shouldn’t keep you any longer,” You heard him say, watching as he took a few steps back. “I’m sure you have a busy day tomorrow.”

That was partially true, you did have an early day tomorrow. You weren’t sure what your duties would be though, maybe paperwork, more training, a commission or two? You would check with your Captain. But jeez, why had things slipped your mind so easily today? 

“Yes... I nearly forgot.”

He chuckled, adding, “You seem to have forgotten a lot today.” You giggled tiredly. 

“I agree. I promise, I’m usually not like this,” You said. “I did have a question, but it’s quite late...”

A single eyebrow quirked up, he shifted to lean on one side, cockily almost. “So, you’ve remembered?” Shit. 

“Yes and no?” You replied, realizing, either way, you’d gotten yourself in a mildly sticky situation. 

Okay... At Dawn Winery, it had completely slipped your mind. But it seemed the fresh air and break from Victoria’s amazing story had helped you regain your memory. You remembered your question now, it was in bold, red words right in front of you. But you’d decided to not ask him, not until he came forward and revealed himself if he really was the anonymous man he would. Maybe you’d give it a week...?

“Interesting...” Diluc thought to himself, you cringed to yourself, fearful of being caught lying, he seemed to be onto you. “When you remember, will you come find me?” He teased. “Stop by for a drink one time; tea, wine, juice, anything. My mother really enjoyed your company...”

Master Diluc knew. He had to of known you were lying. He was far too intelligent to not know. 

“I- Sure.” 

-

Diluc had never thought he’d see you in his presence so soon, that’s for sure. He thought he’d only see you when he decided to confess, which he was still working on. He never thought he’d be walking you home, but you had been great company and what kind of man would he be if he let a woman walk home by herself? Even if you were a Knight. 

He was a bundle of nerves the whole way even after he arrived back home, to greet his mother was oddly still up. 

“Mother, you’re awake?” He asked, stepping into the house for the last time tonight, eyes scanning the room to see the fireplace lit and crackling, the older woman sitting on an armchair. And would you look here, his annoying brother was present as well. That caused Diluc’s face to crease in annoyance. “And you’re here. Why?” He spat, the Cavalry Captain rolled his eyes. 

“I don’t have a bedtime,” She teased, Kaeya smiling. Those two were like two peas in a pod once together, his mother was definitely the more reasonable and tolerant. “And leave your brother alone, it’s from my understanding that he helped you with that girl, Y/n.” 

Diluc rolled his eyes. Of course, Kaeya would tell their mother, but the real question was, had he told others? He definitely wouldn’t be surprised if the entirety of Mondstadt knew of his crush on you, all thanks to his annoying little brother. 

“It’s no one's business, but mine,” The wine tycoon snapped. Victoria’s face scrunched up in anger, eyes glaring daggers. “Sorry...” He apologized, moving around the couches and armchairs, to finally sit on the loveseat not occupied, his hands went to his face, elbows rested on his knees.

“So,” Kaeya started, earning a testing look from the woman across from him. A look of warning. “You walked her home, anything else happen?” Kaeya couldn’t help but smirk to himself.

“What’re you implying?” The eldest snapped. 

Kaeya shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know, did you maybe tell her, kiss her?” Victoria hissed, nearly launching herself over the arm of her chair to swat her youngest on the back of his head. He groaned in annoyance. 

“Not yet.”

“Are you going to?” The cryo user probed. 

Archons, Kaeya always had too many idiotic questions. Nosy bastard. Of course, he’d tell you, eventually.

“I’m working on it...” Kaeya chuckled to himself, Victoria just stared at the redhead with sadness. She felt bad, you were a great young woman, she saw that. Hell, she hadn’t even known you for an hour, but she already approved. She wanted this to work out for her eldest, he’d always been the one with the most burdens on his shoulders it seemed, he always picked up the entire world's troubles and carried them on strong shoulders. He deserved someone good, someone, like you. “Now, don’t you have better things to do? Like getting drunk? Go away.” He sounded like a child all over again, Victoria thought. He was unfolding right here, he was still her little boy after all. 

Kaeya frowned, seeing how bothered his brother seemed. An eye focused on Victoria who was mouthing for him to go upstairs, he decided to listen for once surprisingly. With less sass in his step, Kaeya found himself wandering towards the stairs and eventually disappearing up them.

As soon as the trouble maker was gone, Victoria shifted in her seat so she could fully face her eldest son. 

“Do you love her?” She suddenly asked, Diluc’s heart seemed to speed up significantly. “It’s alright if you’re not sure, I’ve been there many times-”

“Yes, I do.”

He watched with an embarrassed hue on his face as his mother smiled a genuine, bright smile. She was happy for him, proud, she approved. That’s all he’d wanted. He wishes his father could meet you, he’d like you, he was sure of it. 

“That’s great. I’m very happy for you,” She said proudly. “You should tell her. She’s a great woman, she’ll accept you with open arms.” She reassured though Diluc could only shake his head. 

“You cannot be so sure.” He mumbled sadly, Victoria clicked her tongue with the shake of her head, leaning forward in her seat. 

“I can,” She said, matter a factly. “She reminds me of myself when I was younger, though a little less reckless and in a much better headspace. She’s sure of herself I can tell, even though she looked quite frazzled in your presence; but all young women get like that around my sons.” The woman added with a teasing smile, Diluc just waved her off nonchalantly. He didn’t care about any other woman, you mattered most, above all. 

“You have nothing to worry about,” She reassured. “I’m not sure if her feelings are romantically driven, but I can tell she respects you a great deal. Poor thing though, she was so nervous she looked like a shaking leaf... I’ll have to help her feel more comfortable, after all, she might as well be my future daughter-in-law.”

Diluc nearly froze. Archons, his mother was something else... “Mother, I haven’t even told her I’m the one behind the letters-”

“Nonsense!” She said over excitedly. “You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about marrying her?” 

“Maybe even a family...?” He knew she was getting antsy for grandchildren, though he couldn’t understand why so soon. She wasn’t even in her fifties yet, and he and Kaeya were barely into adulthood. She’d had a hard enough time raising two helions at such a young age and then by herself after their father's death, so why was she resilient for him to start a family? He’d never understand mothers' need for grandchildren... 

“Marriage and children are two different things... I haven’t given much thought towards children,” He said honestly. “I always assumed I’d either be alone for life or marry for political reasons... Father had always said Jean was perfect for me,” Victoria frowned at his statement. “And children well... they don’t particularly like me.”

“Nonsense. I knew your father for ten years or so, and let me say, he’d be proud of whatever decision you make. Jean, Y/n- he just wanted you happy,” She explained wholeheartedly, words filled with sincerity. “And let me just say, no other child will look at you with such love and adoration, other than your own. They’ll hold you in the highest regards, then it won’t even matter if other kids like you or not. The only validation you’ll need is from your own child,” Her eyes glittered with joy, a smile forming on her beautiful face. “I can say that with one hundred and ten percent honesty and certainty, from experience with you and Kaeya.”

Diluc’s heart warmed at that. She always knew what to say and he always felt this great sense of pride from her whenever talking about being their mother. She enjoyed it so much, she was proud she’d taken the offer ten or so years ago, the best decision she’d ever made. 

“I much like your father, only want you happy. If being with Y/n without marriage or children makes you happy, then those things don’t matter to me.”

He flashed a warm smile, that nearly left her starstruck, nearly frozen like an icicle from Dragonspine. “Thank you, mother,” She nodded, cheeks flaring red. 

“I think one day... if things work out, I will ask her to marry me,” 

“And if she wanted children, I’d be alright with that too.”

“I’d do anything for her.”

-

“Captain, good morning.” You exclaimed walking into your Captain's office the next morning, taking note of how he was sitting behind his mahogany desk, reviewing what looked to be paperwork and a map in front of him. 

He briefly looked up, dark eyes meeting yours, before pointing to the seats opposite side of the desk. “Come take a seat, Knight.” You nodded following orders, falling into quick, silent steps, choosing to take a seat in the left chair. 

You waited for your orders, eyes staying trained on your Captain. He eventually spoke. “I see you’ve been making quick work of your commissions here in Mondstadt,” The older man noted, you just nodded, appreciating the praise. “Five a day and you’ve managed to fit in training for the younger Knights I see.”

“Yes, sir, I believe the daily training is important.” You admitted honestly. 

“Yes, it is,” He agreed, finally meeting your eyes only after he turned the map around so it was properly facing you. “Allow me to cut right to the chase,” You gulped nervously. Were you being blacklisted? Given a higher position, maybe Captain? What was going on? You slowed your brain, remembering he was going to explain to you what was going on in a moment. But that didn’t stop you from worrying. You were a capable Knight, your stats showed that you just hoped you weren’t being let go. 

Easing your nerves, your Captain began speaking again. “Acting Grand Master Jean has recently been notified that the Eleventh Fatui Harbinger, Childe, has stolen the Geo Archons’ Gnosis.” Your heart dropped to your stomach. Shock, fear, confusion was present in every form within you. Those names and titles sounded familiar, they weren’t unknown figures in Teyvat, not at all. It was a custom for all types of schooling in Teyvat to be educated on all seven of the Archons and nations, and groups such as the Fatui with their elite branch of soldiers, the Harbingers. Plus, as soon as the Knights in training passed the required tests and became official Knights, they would be taught separately from what was usually taught; learn about much rarer and dangerous types of monsters, learn every detail of the Eleven Fatui, about any assassins and people to be wary about on commissions and travels between nations.  

One question you had was why in the world were the Harbingers stealing the Archons Gnosis? You’ve heard that Lord Barbatos’ Gnosis had also recently been stolen by La Signora, Eighth of the Fatui Harbingers. So, what was the reason for the Geo Archons to be stolen as well? 

The more obvious answer to that question was they were probably stealing their powers to harness themselves. They were strong enough though, they would only be selfish to steal a literal god's Celestial power and take it for themselves. Greedy, you noted.

But you couldn’t be sure because one of Alchemy's prominent figures, an elder, who closely worked with Albedo in the past, had recently been kidnapped by a Scaramouche, Sixth of the Eleven Harbingers. Teyvat was lucky Albedo hadn’t been taken hostage, it was decided he would be under watch for now. 

You were seeing an obvious pattern here. A devious, worrying pattern. But now that an alchemist had been kidnapped and was under their care, maybe even lack thereof, one of the worst possible scenarios became evidently present and more aware. 

Alchemy could do many wonders, one is to make new forms of life; plants, animals, etc. If the pattern stayed true that they planned to be stealing all the Archons Gnosis was true, then they could possibly be creating an artificial army of sorts, with the usage of life forms created by Alchemy. This wasn’t good.

“This isn’t good.” You muttered, hand going under your chin in thought. Your captain nodded, though you missed it, too deep in thought. 

“You see the issue I presume then,” He said, you nodded in response. “Great. You’ll be a fast learner in the kind of environment you’ll be placed in.” You hummed, wondering what in the hell he was talking about.

“Acting Grand Master Jean and I, have cleared you to venture into Snezhnayan territory to gather intel.”

What? You’ve never traveled outside of Mondstadt, ever. Hell, you’ve never even been into Liyue, the closest nation to Mondstadt... Snezhnaya was very, very far away. Pretty dangerous territory, so you’ve heard. Even the locals had a hard time managing the severe storms and frigid cold. 

“Sir, I’ve never been to Snezhnaya before.” You explained, eyes filled with confusion. 

“Do not worry,” The man reassured. “You may take a small team with you if you please. The Knight’s cartographer, Maria, is very skilled at what she does, she’d be a great help,” He offered. You agreed, you’ve never met Maria personally, but she’d be a great help. “Any other cleared Knight, you may take with you on your journey,” You nodded. 

“But like all Knights, you’re exceptionally skilled in the medical field and your stats are practically off the chart; you’re an elite soldier, Knight. There’s a reason Acting Grand Master Jean requested you do this.” You froze, questioning your ability no longer. You would accept this mission without a fuss. Acting Grand Master Jean choose you for this mission specifically. She trusted you, she valued your skills and assets and was acknowledging them. This was any Knight’s dream. The man’s praise, no, Acting Grand Master Jean’s silent praise and approval meant worlds to you... You wished you had the time to thank her personally, but it was from your understanding you would need to leave immediately. 

“Thank you, sir,” He sent a firm nod your way. “I assume I would be leaving as soon as possible. So, could you pass my thanks and gratitude to the Acting Grand Master?”

He allowed a smile to spread across his aging face, head-nodding gently, though the smile had disappeared soon after. “I will.”

You bowed your head out of respect. “Thank you.” 

Your Captain continued to clue you in about the journey to Snezhnaya, that you would be sent as a spy since you’ve never had any run-ins with any of the Harbingers, therefore your job as a spy would be easier. He allowed you to pick a small team of your choosing, to accompany you into the cold. Though, reassured him you would manage fine with just Maria, the young cartographer. You didn’t want to burden anyone else, especially if this journey was much more trying and dangerous than originally thought. 

He came to a standing position, you mirrored his movements as he walked you to the door to see you out.

“I’m sorry to have to bring you this news before Valentine's day, I’m not sure if you wanted to spend the day with a loved one...” He trailed on, eyes filled with an apologetic tint. He was truly sorry to bear you this bad news of sorts, right before the day of love. You understood though, this was your duty. You wouldn’t complain because you had no reason to.

“I’m sorry to have to bring you this news before the day of love,” Ah Valentine's day... You’d completely forgotten that was coming up... “I’m not sure if you wanted to spend the day with a loved one...” He trailed on, eyes filled with an apologetic tint. He was truly sorry to bear you this bad news of sorts, right before the day of love. You understood though. 

“I had no plans, so it’s quite alright, sir,” You said turning to him as soon as you were standing under the door frame. “This mission is of the utmost importance. It’s my duty as a Knight to accept and complete the tasks asked of me.”

He nodded, hand raising to salute you, once he was done you mirrored him out of respect. “Very well put, Knight,” He praised again. “Safe travels on your journey, keep me updated with weekly reports.”

“I will, sir.”

-

As soon as you had left your Captain's office, you were quick to find the cartographer Maria, she’d be helping you find your way through Liyue and into Snezhnaya. 

It was to your knowledge that around this time of year, the snow in Snezhnaya was even thicker and harder to trudge through, you needed to leave as soon as you could.

Eventually, you found Maria in the library, grabbing various types of books and maps and throwing them into a large brown leather satchel. Great. It seems as though she had already been let in about the mission before you; you could get going much sooner.

Now, you were on your way to your own house to grab any necessities not left in your room at headquarters; clean clothes, Mora, etc. As soon as you made sure you had enough Mora to buy food or anything else you’d need along the way, and clothes for a warm journey, though making sure not to shoulder too much, you were on your way to the gates with Maria now at your side.

You didn’t make it far out of the gates of Mondstadt before you were being stopped, surprisingly by Master Diluc. 

He looked to be in a hurry, out of breath as he came running up to you and Maria. When he spotted the young woman at your side, your sword on your hip and backpack on your shoulders, he realized he might’ve caught you at a bad moment...

“Apologies, you seem to be on a mission...” He said meekly.

You waved your hand, smiling back at Maria who had wandered towards the gates to give you two privacy. Looking back at Master Diluc, you said, “No worries, I was just heading out.”

“May I ask where?” You tilted your head to the side, confused. He caught onto your confusion and clarified by saying, “I just wanted to tell you something,”

It must be important to come bounding after you like he just did, unfortunately, though you were leaving...

“Oh,” You glanced back at Maria waiting by the shared entrance and exit, face buried deep in a newly made map. “I’m actually headed somewhere important, I don’t think I’ll be back for a while,” You noticed his face drained paler than it already was, but you decided to ignore it. He probably wouldn’t clarify what that was about. “You could write me a letter and leave it on my windowsill for me for when I return-”

“I’m the one behind the letters.” He interrupted, face regaining color, but this time, his cheeks tinted red, matching none other than his wavy hair kept back in a ponytail.

Your heart stopped beating. “What...?”

“Please don’t make me repeat myself...” He whispered, glancing around. You followed his eyes silently, noticing people had begun to silently convene. 

You weren’t sure if they knew that he was the one behind the love letters. You assumed not.... they were probably just shocked to see the young wine tycoon out in public, nonetheless talking to a woman.

“Oh,” you said, ignoring that his face seemed to deepen in worry again. Unbeknownst to you, all Diluc could think was, she’s disappointed it’s me. Why else would she react that way? She hoped for someone else...

But you opened your mouth, and shared words that reassured him, made him feel less ashamed. “Thank you for telling me. I um- I’m very happy it’s you,” He glanced up from the ground, red eyes meeting yours. A genuine smile was on your face, and for once, a genuine smile came to his nature. “I’d secretly hoped it was you.” You admitted. Diluc’s heart fluttered with joy, he couldn’t describe the feelings and emotions that were currently present within him, he just knew they were so overwhelming, he’d only wanted to do one thing.

“May I kiss you?” He asked respectively. Your own heart began to flutter and do somersaults within your chest. 

Right here? Right now? In front of all these people? He was comfortable with that?

But you found yourself shyly whispering yes. 

And he did exactly that, he kissed you like a shy teen, quickly leaning in to peck your slightly dry lips (you wished you applied some lip balm before leaving your house, but you didn't know you’d be getting kissed by the most beautiful man in all of Teyvat) before pulling away bashfully. You giggled at that, ignoring the gasps of the woman, men, and few children - whose eyes were being covered by their mothers.

“I’m very happy to hear that you’re not disappointed it’s me.” He’d whispered against your lips before pulling away to stare at you. Archons, you wished he hadn’t pulled away soon. But the bright hue on his cheeks and the bridge of his nose made up for it. He’s so cute when he blushes, you thought.

Love, adoration, you couldn’t tell... But he seemed to be feeling it all and allowing it to shine brightly in his eyes. 

“I would never be, Master Diluc.” You replied, equally as starstruck as he appeared.

“Diluc is fine.” He reassured you, you stared at him in awe, before smiling. 

“Diluc...” You whispered to yourself, correcting what you'd said earlier. You would have to get used to calling him just Diluc, though dropping the title Master would be hard. It was what everyone called him.

“If it’s alright, I’d like to accompany you on your commission,” he said, shocking you for the second time today. 

“Really? You would seriously do that?” You asked, astonished. 

“Of course,” He started. “You can handle yourself, yes, but for my own sanity I would like to accompany you to make sure you’re safe.” He didn't belittle your skill, which you were thankful for. Many men, often ones in the military belittled your skill and claimed you needed assistance because you were a woman. You weren’t some fragile being, you were a Knight of Favonius. 

“Thank you...” You whispered, he seemed to understand immediately what the gratitude was for. 

“Are you ready?” You asked, noticing how he didn’t have any bags, just himself and his Claymore. “You don’t have any gear...” You noted.

“I’ll alright, that’s all I need if I’m with you.” He whispered so only you could hear, shyly reaching for your hand.

For a moment, you stood staring at his outstretched hand, wondering how in the world this had happened and when he became such a romantic. He’d been behind the letters the whole time and had kissed you?! Diluc would surely need to tell you the story of it all on your journey. You had a long way to Snezhnaya, soyou had time for the entire story. 

The only thing ingrained in your mind as you allowed his hand to encompass your own, was that you missed the touch of his lips on yours and greatly enjoyed his romantic admissions.

[🏷] TAGLIST (if you want to be removed from/added to this specific taglist let me know!)

@gladly-olus​ , @kyquu , @craptainlou , @mintydump , @chscklvr , @irisxiel , @minh0ree , @whatishappinesswhatislove , @rrintarou , @sorenthousand , @cvsmix , @nonniechan ,

3.12.21, rayofsunas

[ererokii]

— broken strings and beautiful melodies

diluc r. x f!reader

Word Count: 9.6k Warnings: major character death, mentions of violence, mentions of blood, gore, this does not follow the og plot and lore/ some spoilers for “We Will be Reunited” Archon Quest Note: this is for Attack On Academia’s Mythology Summer Collab! Please be sure to check out the masterlist for everyone else’s works. They all worked super hard and it turned out amazing! And big thanks to @reddriot and @axther for betaing <3

Synopsis: A simple love story between the Pyro Archon, and a mortal.

taglist || masterlist || server link || collab masterlist

Another four days pass and it’s finally Friday. Fridays at Angel’s Share were no different from the ones prior. Exhausted adventurers and townspeople venture inside the tavern to drink their woes away, to forget, or to have a great time. It was annoying, to say the least—hearing the laughter and cheers bouncing off the walls.

However, Diluc had to say nothing was worse than a certain pigtail braided bard strutting in with his lyre. The redhead had no choice but to serve the bard his choice of drinks after figuring out his true identity (although he still makes him pay the whole total—even if the singer can’t find a way to pay). 

Like before, the bartender lifts his head up, crimson eyes boring into the crowd gathering beside the bard at the nearby table. 

The bard’s soft voice matches with the melody of his lyre, fingers pulling and gracefully sliding past the strings. His eyes closed, telling a story to the nearby peers and the quiet man standing behind the counter. A tale Diluc heard once, yet it weighed on him all the same.

“The story of this archon is no better than the rest, yet, the most tragic comes from the debris of war. The god of War was like no other. Loads of strength, yet grief and sorrows weigh him down like an anchor in the vast ocean. Love is a mere factor, yet love is one of the many things the god brought ruin to.”

-

With heavy footsteps, a red-haired male walks along the dirt path in no shoes, wearing the silkiest of robes one could ever obtain. He hums to himself, brushing a loose strand of hair away from his face, letting out a huff of annoyance when it falls right back into the same position as before. 

He breathes in the crisp air of the summer night, relishing the winds that brush across his skin. Summers in Natlan were one of a kind. While it was scorching in the morning, when the night came around, all was calm. The harsh rays turned into blissful winds that cleansed the land of heat. 

During the other seasons, it was never too cold, nor was it ever too hot. The temperature was just right for all men, women and children. 

Located in the southwestern region of Teyvat, Natlan was home to the Pyro Archon, known as The God of War. The god, Murata, is unlike any other god. Ruthless and fierce, he does not handle any threat lightly. Anything thrown his way, he does not hesitate. With kindness and love, Murata will no doubt protect his nation.

His statues are scattered across the land. Standing with his formal rags and cloak that shields his face, Murata holds his claymore in his right hand, the tip pointing down to symbolize his foes beneath him as he celebrates in victory.

In the night sky, his statues act like lights to guide those on safe journeys home or to neighboring nations. Along with being guides, the structures are used for a place of reverence. Often many would journey far and wide to pay thanks for everything he has done. 

In the center lies the biggest of them all, flowers and candles are set up around it for ceremonial purposes. Every night new plants were replaced for the days to come. Like the other Archons, Murata was grateful for his people. When roaming the land, he spots commoners on their knees by the base of the statue during the late of night or the crack of dawn. Not wanting to disturb, the archon watches from afar. 

Today is different. Murata continues to walk along the path, listening to the noises coming from the forest animals and the creeks as the waters begin to rush at this hour of the night. He can’t help but let out the faintest of hums at the sounds of nature. 

He reaches for the side of his face, tucking a red strand behind his ear. Often the god will put his hair up into a low or high ponytail, but for outings in the cool atmosphere, he prefers to wear it down. His powers were compared to his hair many times. When describing his appearance, he listens to the children exaggerate saying his hair is literal flames that he can produce from the palm of his hands. Of course, this is nowhere near true, but a child’s imagination is quite amusing. 

In the distance, his crimson hues bore straight ahead at the small flickering light. 

“Someone must be up now,” he whispers to himself, debating on leaving them alone but instead, chooses to go up ahead and observe from a closer proximity. Muratans knew what their god looked like. He comes out during the day to pay visits but never for long periods of time. 

As quick as they see him, it's as quick as they’ll see him leave. No one can ever hold his attention for too long. 

The sound of strings being played can be heard from his spot-- and he halts. A lyre, one of his favorite pastimes and favorite instruments. 

Over the hill is a figure sitting beside the statue, back turned to him but he can see the movement of their arm. Curious, Murata continues to stalk forward quietly, not wanting to disturb the worshipper. 

The melody played is show-stopping in his eyes. He wonders if Celestia had sent down someone he was unaware of to play this just for him, and only him. If anything, he could settle on the grass and listen to them play for ages on end, wearying his immortal days out. Music was the only thing that could settle him, but not forever. 

Now, he's a mere few steps away from the cloaked figure. His face is lit up by the candles by his feet. His tongue peeks out of his lips as an unknown feeling bursts through his body. His palms felt sweaty and his heart rate increased. 

He winces when the wrong note is played, gritting his teeth together. The redhead doesn’t think much until a force pushes him backward.

“W-Why are you standing there watching me?! Don’t you know this place is meant for us to come together, not to be creepy like you just were right now?!”

“W-What?” he whispers in surprise, bringing a hand to cover his nose that suddenly feels wet. He pulls away, noticing the red drops on his skin. Blood.

“Don’t question me that way! You know exactly what you were doing…  A pig is what you are. Oh, just you wait until Murata finds out about this.”

“Murata huh?” he questions, wiping his hand on the grass, watching the blood dissolve into nothing-- the red trails of blood trickling down his nose come to an unsuspecting halt.

He clears his throat and comes to stand, staring down at the figure behind him. With the candlelight, a glimpse of crimson eyes and matching hair can be seen. In a matter of seconds, it's silent. Until there is a subtle gasp.

It amuses the Archon greatly to see a change in behavior and the fear present in the civilian's eyes. He wouldn’t dare try anything to her, but maybe it would lighten the mood if he did.

With desperate breaths of air, you reach forward and grab ahold of the man's hands, squeezing as hard as you could. “M-My Lord, I deeply apologize for my behavior! Please forgive me! I was foolish!”

“No need to be formal all of a sudden…mistakes are made and all can be forgiven. I must say, you are quite gifted with that instrument in your hand.”

Your face heats up, suddenly finding the ground much more interesting than him as you gaze down. Your god had just complimented you and yet here you are losing the composure you had seconds ago. 

“Thank you,” you whisper, hand clutching the lyre close to your chest. “It’s an honor to hear such wonderful words, especially coming from you.”

Murata stares down, an unexplainable look upon his face. Then, he smiles. 

“Your name?”

“Pardon?”

“What is your name? As someone as gifted as you, I think you deserve to have your name remembered.”

“My name is Y/N. For some reason, your kind words seem to boost my confidence. I normally don’t play in front of people, I’m too shy and afraid of their judgement. I only like to play in front of the statue… or in this case, you.”

“How about you play for me again?”

-

The angelic sounds of your lyre had been played more often since you’ve met the god. The night was when you shined, when no one was around to listen or stare at you. The dark sky made you feel alone, yet you were at peace. You found pleasure in playing for the Pyro Archon statue, yet having him sitting beside you and listening made your heart beat just a bit more than before.

During the day, you find yourself sitting under the big oak trees, the sunlight peeking through the leaves and shining upon you two. Murata lays close to you, eyes shut and lashes resting against his upper cheeks as the song lulls him to a quick nap or a state of serenity. 

He’ll comment on a subtle note, saying how he loves the pitch, or give recommendations. Many times Murata has taken your instrument and played a tune or two for you. He says every gentleman should at least know how to serenade a lady.

As a child, your family spoke highly of him. They even used him as a threat against you when you’ve done something wrong. Now that you look back, it was a mere hoax and it possibly scarred you just a bit. When you first told Murata this, he stared with his lower lip quivering before his shoulders started to shake and then, he let out a laugh. 

“Surely you didn’t believe that, right?”

“I did! I was a child, what else was I supposed to do?! I nearly wet my sheets when my mother told me that you would come and scare me!”

“Well come on now, are you still scared?”

He enjoys seeing you worked up—then again, he loves seeing you play the lyre. He stays quiet and watches your fingers move as if they had a mind of their own. You move with grace, without hesitation. There is no wrong note, no wrong string when you play. Sometimes being here with you in this moment made him feel like he was mortal. Like he was able to live freely.

Being bound to divinity in Celestia, Murata had wandered Teyvat for ages, alone. Each person he had gotten close to, he had to watch them disappear from this world in the shadows. At some point, he even had to pretend to be lost so others could forget about him. If they forgot about Murata, would the load be easier on the Pyro Archon’s shoulder?

But now, you’re aware of his status and who he truly is. If you were to stay by his side, would he be the last thing you see before you pass into the next life? He’s not sure, but he’s hoping that won’t be true. He couldn’t bear with the guilt that will get him worked once more at the thought of another mortal dying in front of his eyes. 

“Murata?” you ask one afternoon, sitting by the same statue you met him for the first time. “What’s it like?”

He steers his gaze away from the clouds and onto you, an eyebrow raised in question. “What is what like?”

“You know—” you start, messing with the material of your dress, head lowered. “Being a god?”

And then he freezes. Out of all the questions you could have possibly asked, this one had to be the most unexpected. 

“Why do you wish to know something like that?”

“I want to know what it’s like. Immortality and eternal beauty sound pretty amazing, doesn’t it?”

“No,” he immediately states, sitting upright. His body looks tense, posture perfect and hands in his lap. However, you notice the small twitch in his fingers, as if he’s thinking. You can hear the heaviness in his breathing—lips parted as the air slips in and out of his mouth.

How can living on this earth for years on end, watching people die in front of you like they are meaningless, be perfect? Is that what people thought about immortality? The faces of past friends from ages ago are nothing but a blob of color in his mind. He can’t remember their faces, nor their voices—only the memories they have shared, and even that is starting to fade away.

Murata cleared his throat, eyes fluttering shut. His chest heaved up slowly, before falling at the same rate. Soon, he opens his eyes and faces you. He reaches up and tightens his high ponytail, running his fingers through the red tresses. “The life of an immortal is not...ideal.”

“There comes a time where living forever is not as good as it seems. A human like yourself might think differently since there is an end to everyone’s journey. Death is inevitable for a human, and almost all are afraid of the end itself. Even… I am afraid there will be a time I will be cursed with that end. But for now, that’s something that rarely crosses my mind..”

And he continues. Murata proceeds to tell you about the drawbacks of being a God. When he speaks, you can see pain flash across his eyes as he recalls a memory of a loving friend who passed before him. He tells you there’s no avoiding this never ending nightmare. If there was a way he could overcome this spell of immortality, he would choose mortal life in an instant. 

He believes nothing good comes with this. In his eyes, everything gets destroyed by his hands. If he hadn’t created this nation, he wouldn’t be here with you, nor would he have people at his feet who love and worship him for everything—for giving them a home. He would be a traveler with no home, or loved ones.

The Archon doesn’t realize how much of his thoughts he spilled until he feels the warmth of another—your hand resting upon his cheek. This alerts him as he jolts, eyes wide as he stares at you. You wear a small smile, head cocked to the side. Your thumb moves on its own, wiping the tear away that dribbles down the swell of his face. 

His body relaxes, shoulders slouching as he relishes your touch, not having been caressed by another, let alone a human. If he’s being honest, it's been at least a century since he has gotten close to another mortal. It’s a foreign feeling, but he loves it nonetheless.

Your soft spoken words are enough for him to be at ease. 

“It’s okay, you don’t have to continue through the suffering.”

In a vulnerable state, the tears continue to flow down his face, arms slithering around your body as he pulls you in close. At first the motion shocks you, but soon you return the action, hand resting on the small of his back and by his head, stroking the soft locks. You can hear the faint sobs that escape his lips and it’s strange. From stories, they state Murata was fierce, barely any emotion in him.

But he looks nothing more than a broken man in need of comfort. 

You press your lips against his head, humming softly to him. His arms tighten around you, a shaky breath slipping past. As much as Murata hates this feeling, but after being alone for as long as Teyvat had been founded, he thinks he deserves to be this close to someone again.

After moments of silence, the god is positioned beside you, hand resting on your thigh and head on your shoulder. His eyes feel heavy, the area feeling irritated and scratchy from his crying. As much as the thoughts still swirl in his head, they seem to be drowned out by the melody you play for him.

He lazily draws organic shapes with the pad of his finger on your skin, eyes beginning to close. 

Your lyre is one of the few beautiful things he has come across in his lifetime. You currently hold the number one spot for the most beauty he has seen but when you sit with your instrument, he swears he can see the wings of an angel behind you. 

He steers his gaze from the lyre to your face, eyes taking in the small details of your visage. A smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he notices the slip of your tongue peek from your lips, eyebrows creasing in concentration. Along with the melodies, he listens to your small hums as you play a song just for him-- one of worship and love.

His hand runs up your arm, halting your movements at once. Eyes opening, you stare forward for a second before looking down upon him. He recognises your confusion and lets out a laugh, hand trailing up before his thumb rests on your chin, making you keep your gaze on him.

Your face heats up at this interaction, mouth parted. Your breathing becomes uneven when you notice the close proximity. Your stomach flutters, the back of your throat suddenly going dry—no words able to slip through. His chest rises and falls just as quick as your own. 

His tongue peeks through, licking his lower lip. His crimson hues stare at your lips before averting his gaze to your eyes. As much as it’s tempting, now is not the right time.

“Beautiful,” he whispers quietly, for your ears only. “So beautiful… like an angel sent down from the divine...”

- The lyre, made of nature’s resources and carved into the most adoring shapes—the ends curving in different directions and a piece of excess wood piercing straight through the middle with a pointed tip and a rounded end. Made for the best, the lyre contains seven strings that seem to glow throughout the day and the night. 

In the middle, an emerald gem shines embedded on the wood, reflecting the rays of the sun, sparkling for all to see. Around lies the detail of the sun, the soft yellows encircling it. And just beneath that is gold details that resemble the wings of those who are free. Two flowers that are foreign to the land of Natlan are delicately engraved—their colors showing pure innocence.

The Cecilia flowers stay in bloom, never once dying out. Nor has any other grown in their place.

A perfect instrument, one of elegance and purity. Perfect for you. 

The origins of said lyre are unknown, yet when it was given to you as a young child, you didn’t dare question it. Instead, you took it with the biggest grin and thanked your father as many times as you could. You were intelligent and extremely talented. At first, your mother was skeptical of such an object being in the possession of an nine year old, but your father assured it was in safe hands. 

Since then, it’s been by your side to this day. It’s never been out of your grasp and you only let certain trusted people play it. For some reason, seeing others hold the instrument made you feel weird. 

Playing your gift made you feel like you were above the world, like you could ascend to Celestia and play for the gods. It felt as if some sort of divine power surged through your veins and riled you up. And now at the ripe age of 24, having the Pyro Archon by your side as you play for him daily, it feels as if your purpose of living has been complete. 

Seeing his soft smile and slight nods he gives when he's impressed (which is all the time) or when he places his hand on yours to play along with you. Having him close to you makes you feel warm, excited and giddy; almost like a young girl in love.

Which... You won’t lie to yourself about that. 

There have been times during the day where you catch yourself thinking about the red head. Thoughts of him swirl your head as you drift off to sleep and he’s the first thing you think about in the morning. Sometimes you notice that you make motions in the air, like you are stroking something, when in reality, you wish to have his head in your lap again as you play with the loose ends of red tresses.

The god was just so breathtaking. Staring into his eyes was mesmerizing. The color of flames held in his eyes drew you in so far, it felt as if you were walking through a pit of flames. Yet, these flames never extinguished or brought harm to you. 

“You’re lost in thought again,” Murata comments, poking your shoulder with his pointer finger. “You alright there? I don’t need you tripping over a rock or something.”

“Huh?” you ask, glancing over at him. “O-Oh it was nothing. I’m okay.” You offer a not so convincing smile, scratching the nape of your neck in embarrassment. Knowing you for a while, the god offers a nod and looks forward, his hands behind his back, steps in sync with yours.

You let your hand drop, clearing your throat as you hum, filling the silence with some noise. Your eyes wander around the area before gazing up at the tall man beside you. You take notice how the ends of his ponytail sway side to side with every step he takes.  

The apple of your cheeks heat up when you can see his back muscles flex as he straightens his posture. The shirt he wore let your imagination run wild; there was no doubt that Murta was built.

“It’s quite rude to stare,” Murata says out of nowhere, barely glancing over at you. “If you want, I can just stand in front of you so you can actually look at me face to face.”

“Oh be quiet,” you mutter, stepping forward and grabbing hold of his hand—his much larger, covering yours entirely. Upon contact, his fingers intertwined with yours, squeezing softly.

“You know I love messing with you,” he hums, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple, which you respond back to him with a quiet “I know.”

The rest of the walk is filled with comfortable silence. It’s a bit chilly in the land of Natlan. One of the many summer days that turn out to be filled with crisp air and cloudy skies. Storytellers always said if it were cloudy during the season of summer, karma and misfortune was on the way—yet no one believed such lies like that. 

His hand is so warm, you think, glancing down at your conjoined hands. Ever since that day by the giant stone statue of the god where you almost kissed him, his behavior towards you changed drastically. He’s been a bit more touchy (not that it bothered you; in fact, you loved it), holding your hand and somewhat more affectionate. At the end of your day when you would say goodbye, he would pull you close and plant a gentle kiss to your cheek or sometimes even close to your lips.

Just thinking about those actions makes you flustered, looking away from him and out to the open. 

“What do you think it means to be in love?”

Hearing those words from the man beside you causes you to choke on your saliva, hitting your chest to calm your ongoing coughs. When you’re finally composed, you gasp for air and stare at him in shock. “W-What do I think about that?”

“Mhm.” He nods, inhaling deeply, his other hand reaching up into the air as if he was stretching before lowering it. “What do you think it means to be in love? I’m curious as to what you humans think it might be.”

“I-” You gulp, eyes semi wide as you try to wrack your brain for anything. That was not a question you were expecting, especially right now. “W-Why do you want to know? Isn’t love, love?”

“Well, aren't there different ones? Can’t people be in love with parts of someone? Lets say, only being in love with someone for their status in the nation. Or just their looks but not for them. 

“Well… I think being in love with someone means you don’t care about their status or who they look or who they are.”

“Even if they’re a god?”

“Even if they’re a god.” you say confidently, before realizing what he said. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Even if they’re a god,” he repeats, stopping in his tracks as he turns to face you. His cheeks are painted with soft pink, red eyes averting from you. 

Murata’s heart is racing, far faster than it ever has in his life. HIs lips are dry, his mouth is parched. His shoulders heave with every deep breath he takes. Does the sweat of his hands bother you? God, he feels like a young boy about to confess his love to a girl he’s been pining over—although he's not completely wrong.

“Murata, what’s wrong?” you ask quietly, tilting yourself a bit to look up into his eyes as his head is lowered. “Are you okay?”

“Why are you so intoxicating?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Y-You’re all I can think of,” he stutters, squeezing his eyes shut. “I can’t get you out of my mind, even though I shouldn’t get close to those I love and care for. In the end, I’ll be here and be forced to live with this overweighting guilt that rests upon my shoulders as time continues to flow knowing that you’ll be dead.”

A hiccup gets caught in the back of his throat, his thoughts becoming foggy all of a sudden. “I don’t like this feeling. I absolutely despise it.  Many times after we hung out, I thought about disappearing again like I have before I got too close to anyone again. But I can’t let you go, nor will these memories ever go away.”

“Don’t you understand?” he whispers, hand shaking as his grip becomes tighter. “I can’t lose you… you’re too special to me already. I know there will be a day where we part ways forever but I want to be a part of your journey until then.”

His confession throws you for a loop. His words continue playing over and over in your head like a song you learned the night prior. You have this unexplainable feeling in your chest, yet it warms up as the seconds pass. Your whole body feels tingly, from the top of your head to the tip of your toes. 

Your quietness is too much for him to handle right now—a bit silly if you were to ask the Archon himself. “Say something,” he mutters, shaking your hand lightly. The redhead can already feel the rejection pooling in the depths of his stomach, eating away at him.

“You... Do you love me?” you whisper, looking up at him with doe like eyes. Murata can’t seem to answer for himself, one hand cupping your cheek. He moves closer, his breath fanning your face. The flames in his eyes gaze into yours, losing himself in the color before he averts down to your lips. A quiet way of asking for consent.

You lean forward, lips barely brushing against his. It’s shy between the two of you. After having such strong feelings for each other, neither of you know how to proceed. No one moves, it feels time has stopped.

You feel him pull away slightly before going back in, his lips fully pressed against yours. His other hand drops yours, instead wrapping his arm around your lower back. Your chest pressed up against his, your finger runs up his side, to the top of his shoulder and around, cradling the back of his neck.

His finger tightens around the material of your coat you wore for the day, using it as leverage to keep you standing. His kisses are soft yet fierce. The softness of his lips and his scent up close are enough to drive you insane, enough to make your knees buckle and make you want more. You want more of him, Murata.

A small grunts leaves his mouth when you tug on his hair. In return, he nibbles on your lower lip, chuckling at the small noise you produce from his motion. It’s becoming harder to breathe as you stay in this position with him. If air wasn’t a necessity, you wouldn’t go for it. 

You pull away from him, panting softly as you gaze up into his eyes. His eyes hold nothing but love and adoration as he peers down at you. The corners of his lips curve upward as he leans in, barely presses against yours again before pulling away. He sneaks in a few quick pecks, listening to your quiet laughter.

“Of course I love you.” He makes you look up at him, your face cradled in his hands as if he was holding something delicate, something that could be wrecked and destroyed any second. “That’s why I asked you what you thought about it.”

“And I love you too,” you reply softly. “I thought.. After everything you wouldn’t want to have feelings like this, let alone a human.”

“Sometimes boundaries are meant to be broken if it means true happiness.”

-

“Tensions have arisen in the land of Natlan. Nearby gods have caused quite the stir, causing Murata to put it to a halt at once. Upon ascending to his seat in Celestia, there have been prophecies saying a great misfortune is underway and can arrive in an instant. Since then, he’s been worked up. He cares much about his nation and will let no harm come its way.” 

The bard strums the string before growing silent, letting his head hang forward, his pigtails falling in his face. “It’s a true shame that such a horrid thing came to be… If only he was strong enough as he said he was.”

Murmurs arise from the drunken peers, hiccups joining the air as they beg him to continue the song. Even if some wouldn’t remember this night in the morning, this was still enough entertainment. 

“W-What happened next, bard?! Finish it!” an adventurer gasps, holding his cup of alcohol close to his chest, his cheeks heated and a light pink.

“You wish to know?” the bard asks, peeking through his lashes, his two toned eyes staring into the soul of the bartender. “Why of course!” he laughs cheerfully then clears his throat, batting his eyelashes as he brings his hand to his chest.

“Although, I’m quite parched and would love to have another cup of Dandelion Wine! What do you say, Master Diluc?”

“My answer is no. Do not ask me for something when you will not pay in the end.”

“Agh what a shame,” the bard sighs, letting his head hang back but never breaking eye contact with the redhead. “Don’t you wish to know about the ending?”

“I could care less.” Diluc speaks through gritted teeth, arms crossed over his chest, the infamous pose he does every hour of the day. “I just want you out of here.”

“I’ll pay for him!” one of the nearby men yell, fumbling with his wallet to grab the gold circles of currency to give to the bartender—and all the bard can do is smile cheekily, opening his hand. 

“Well, looks like the drink is paid for. Can I have it now, Master Diluc?”

The red head, already annoyed with the behavior of the young man in front of him, reluctantly takes the coins from the drunk. Without speaking, he serves the singer his desired drink, noticing the small smirk he wears. “Why are you smiling at me like that?” he asks, eyeing him up and down.

“Because I’m getting to my favorite part.” He takes a sip of his drink and places the cup back down. After a pleasant sigh is heard from him as he takes hold on his lyre, stroking the white petals of the Cecilia flowers. “And you’re gonna love it.”

- Melodies of the lyre were played even during the darkest of times. The soft notes were enough to make anyone who felt down happy again, or at least content, even yourself. The colors of the strings being played was enough to put you at ease. Sometimes when you’re out in the town, many children would ask you to play their favorite song or at least a simplified version if you weren’t familiar with it. 

But as of now, all of Teyvat was in ruin. Murata had told you the truth; he hated keeping you in the dark when you deserved to know. As much as he disliked saying this, your life indeed was on the line, more than his. In fact, the whole nation was at risk, along with the other six neighboring ones. 

From other Archons, Murata heard that a water monster, Osial, had arisen and was ready to ruin and kill innocents for the sake of a seat in Celestia. Morax, who was the overseer of Liyue at the time, was trying his best to seal the beast with his spears.

In this case, Murata hopes a threat like this doesn't happen to Natlan. Especially when he’s not there to protect his people, to protect you.

Murata hears a gush of wind from behind him and the earth beneath him starts shaking. He wipes the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, small puffs of air slipping out of his mouth. He reaches above and tugs on the black hood of his cape. 

His archon outfit consists of silk white pants and black sleeveless shirt that resembled a vest with a slit down the middle of his torso. And to top it, a black cape flows behind, the hood covering his face from all to see. In his right hand, his fingers curl around the handle of his claymore.

A heavy burden rests upon his shoulders as he stares forward, seeing the world erupt into flames and utmost chaos. In the distance, he can hear the screams and cries of the families asking for mercy. He wonders what you would think about him if you were to see him right now. 

“Murata,” you whine, trailing the last syllable of his name as his lips peck against the bare skin of your shoulder. “Come on, you know that tickles.”

“Yeah? Maybe I’ll continue to do it,” he muses, nipping at your skin before blowing warm air onto your neck which causes you to squirm from him, pressing your hands against his chest. He listens to your soft laughs, loving the way your body moves under his touch. Your arms wrap around his neck, hugging him close as you hum, inhaling the scent you’ve grown to love. 

“Mmm… I love you.”

“And I love you too,” Murata whispers to no one, blinking rapidly when he realizes he was lost in thought and was not in fact with you, but only remembering a moment from a few days ago. In reality, here he stands in the middle of a deserted land that must be destroyed. Blood is on his hands, splattered on his face. 

“I didn’t even want to do this,” he mutters, grinding his teeth together as he proceeds to walk forward, watching red explosions burst from the ground, red blocks protruding from either ends of the nation. In the sky, the color purple takes over as lightning strikes down from the heavens and is brought forth onto the land. 

From his position, the ground had been cracked and was on the edge of being split apart if another Archon had used their powers against the nation. 

He lifts his claymore in the air, staring up at the red sky with anguish. His lips part as he whispers something to himself, reassuring that what he is about to do is alright and isn’t his fault. A sudden strike of his weapon pierces the land, flames bursting into the air and cracking the earth. 

Murata breathes heavily, leaning on the rounded edge of his weapon. Sweat trickles down his face, the hood falling off of his head. Two strands of hair fall forward, framing his face, the rest of it tied back into a low ponytail. 

The flames continue to run down the cracks which branch to smaller ones that cause the piece of rock beneath the surface to crumble and fall, leaving the terrain to become uneven. 

“Wow! Even from afar I can spot you,” a semi high pitched says from behind him. The Pyro Archon stiffens, internally groaning as he stares over his shoulder, meeting two green eyes. “Someone doesn’t look happy as he used to be.”

“Barbatos,” Murata grumbles, looking forward as he straightens his posture. With one hand, he picks his hood over his head once more and the other pulls his claymore from the ground, resting it on his shoulder. “What do you want from me now?”

“Just letting you know Morax has finished in the south region of Khaenri'ah,” Barabtos states, a frown growing on his lips as he looks away, the tips of his toes barely touching the ground as his wings keep him afloat. “You're not the only one who didn’t want this. We had no choice.”

“No choice huh…” He trails off, his claymore suddenly evaporating into thin air and gold dust left in its wake. “How are we loving, protecting gods if we just obliterated this nation with no god? What does that make us? We’re no better than those who do us wrong against our own homeland. We’re just like Decarabian. Nothing but tyrants.”

“Don’t bring up that name again.”

“Why? Because deep down you know it's true.”

“Because that was his own choice to keep us entrapped. We had no choice but to bring ruin. They felt-” Barbatos hesitates, licking his lower lip before continuing, “-they felt threatened. A nation with no god is a false one to Celestia. Everything must be in order. Khaenri’ah was not the case. We had to, or we’re next. The divine is not ready for a land with no god.”

“I shouldn’t have come.”

“Murata. If you hadn’t, who knows what would have happened to Natlan.” A deeper voice from behind him is heard, the sound of footsteps becoming louder before they stop beside him. “You and your people would have been in grave danger.”

“Unlike you, I don’t need to keep making contracts.”

Morax chuckles lightly, shaking his head, his ponytail swaying with the movement. “And how does that look on you, God of War?”

Murata shakes his head, refusing to look at the Anemo Archon and the Geo Archon. “War or not, this is not just. The victors burn bright and the losers turn to ash. This-” he motions to the now deserted land of dust and blood. The sky is a deep red, the sun or moon nowhere to be seen. The earth is uneven, mountains caving into the ground as streaks of dark colors emit from the ground. 

The spot the three archons stand upon is nothing but cracked ground, an empty space separating them and the rest of the debris. 

“This is not war.”

Even when he’s not in his right mind, the only thing that can put him to ease comes up, suddenly soothing his woes away. He closes his eyes, envisioning he’s somewhere else

“You’re so pretty,” you whisper in the god’s ear, twirling a strand of hair around your finger with a smile. “No wonder you’re a god. How could they not take you?”

“Please. You flatter me too much.” He grabs hold of your wrist, bringing it to his face, planting a kiss to it. “On the contrary, it should be you in my position. No, an angel is what you are.”

“An angel? Please, enlighten me.”

Murata shifts on his side to stare down at you, brushing the baby hairs from your face. A blanket covers your bodies from your previous intimate sessions, yet he remembers every curve, every flaw that’s perfection to his mind. “I mean, look at you. You’re too beautiful for this world.”

“Am I now?”

He nods, dipping his head slightly. The tip of his nose brushing against yours. “You are. You’re amazing. You’re everything in this world. You’re desirable but most importantly... you’re divine.”

“Wow, now I’m flattered.”

He smiles, the corners of his eyes creasing as he presses his lips against yours in a soft kiss. It lasts for a few seconds but it feels as if it goes on for years. When he pulls away, you cup his cheek. “And you are ethereal.”

The god shakes his head lightly with a sigh, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. You’re all he can think about. Even when he is busy taking away innocent lives and watching them get turned into monsters, the sweet image of your face continues to pop into his mind. You’re the light in the dark. 

He hates the feeling of being away from you, especially when he’s on close watch from Celestia. There’s something unsettling in the pit of his stomach that he can't quite put his finger on it. Murata watches Morax and Barbatos exchange a few words before he gasps, lifting his head up fast. “Natlan. It’s in danger.”

- The nation of Natlan, located in the southwestern region of Teyvat and home to the Pyro Archon, was under attack. There was no point in trying to save them, they were already too far gone. No god in sight yet the trails of monsters were left behind. Did the Archon truly love them like they said he did? Or was it all a lie to get people’s love?

The once beautiful land is ruined—looking like the one he destroyed not long ago. His statues that aided his people on their journeys far and wide were now broken and cracked. Chunks of stone litter the ground and crush nearby civilians. Whoever was standing beside those statues had been brought down along with them, no way to return. 

The god feels weak in the knees as he staggers over the dirt path that has noticeable traces of dried blood. No doubt from his people. Where are the bodies? He has no clue.

Houses have been torn apart, the roofs blown off and thrown into the field of flowers on the other side. He feels torn at heart. He wants to give up walking, already knowing the outcome but refuses to stop. He hopes that a few people, even just twenty people, can still be alive and he can move them somewhere else.

The night is cold and fresh as it was years ago. Only this time, the sounds of the animals in the creek aren’t heard and the wildlife is quiet. He looks towards the forest, hoping a deer or a boar will rush through the trees. But his hopes die when he notices that's not happening, and the habitat is burnt to ashes. 

“Somebody,” he croaks out, averting his eyes upward and freezes. Up ahead, in the center lies the biggest statue of them all, where flowers and candles are set up around it for ceremonial purposes. Every night new plants were replaced for the days to come. 

The most beautiful statue in all of Natlan has been crushed. The head of the statue is gone from the area (he can only assume it had been tossed across the nation or into the river). The candles are no longer intact,  the pieces scattered and buried into the burnt grass.

“No,” he whispers lowly before crying out, running towards it. His heart races as he steps closer and closer. All his worries and fears; he doesn’t want them to be real. He doesn’t want any of this to be real. He wants to be at home.

You.

You. 

Where are you?

He gasps for air and drops to his knees. Red eyes frantically search along the stone pieces. He plants his hands on the ground and hisses upon contact, retracting back. A rock share pierced his skin. Murata bites his lower lip as he shakes his hand, watching the piece fly off before he can continue looking.

Are you safe at home? You were, right? Surely you wouldn't come out when everything is being attacked, right? Yeah, that’s it. You’re safe at home waiting for him to return. Waiting for him to be in your arms so you can cry about your fears of losing your life and him.

And by the end he’ll calm you down, say soothing words into your ear as he holds you close, saying he’ll never leave like that again and stay with you forever. God or not, immortal or not, he plans to stay by your side. 

And then your lyre will be played for you and only you. He knows your favorite melodies. Oh so beautiful, he loves hearing you play them but this time, he’ll play for you until the end of time. 

Your lyre-

He freezes.

His hand hits something underneath the stone. Something smooth like wood and the prick of an object with a pointed tip—an all too familiar feeling.

With a grunt, he grabs ahold and heaves back, pulling it out from under the rubble. A surge of fear flows through his veins when he falls back, holding an object in his hands. 

It’s a cracked lyre, with pieces broken off where an emerald stone originally would have laid. The gold trinkets are ripped right off, the empty space now feeling dull. He notices the seven strings have now turned to three and aren’t holding their original color that glows. 

The only thing that’s untouched, however, are the Cecilia flowers. Not a hint of blood stains the white petals. 

His eyes grow wide when he gazes somewhere else, spotting a hand peeking out from the same spot he pulled the lyre from. A choked cry gets stuck in the back of his throat when it all clicks together.

You weren’t home like he thought you would have been. You weren’t waiting for him to return from his wages of war, to be in his arms. Instead, you did what you always did.

Worshipped Murata, under the ceremonial statue.

The one that caused your death. 

Tears well up in his eyes as he hugs the lyre close to his chest, mouth parting as a sob slips out. He rocks himself back and forth, shaking his head at this false reality but he knows this is all real. 

Murata babbles to himself, muttering things underneath his breath as he hyperventilates. He can’t catch his breath. His throat is closing in on him, the air too thick to even breathe right now. 

The tears blur his vision. He can’t see nor think straight anymore. The god of War was unable to save his people from the hardships of an incoming war. What kind of god was he? Was he even one? Or was he now a false one?

What seems to be years later, though it only is an hour or so, Murata finds himself standing on the edge of a cliff, dried up tears evident on his face. The whites of his eyes are red, the tip of his nose matching the same color. 

He sniffles, nose stuffed from the moments earlier. His breathing hasn’t changed a bit. His shoulders still shake with every inhale. The atmosphere around him is tense, maybe even too quiet for his liking. 

Behind him, he refuses to look back on the destruction he let happen. Even from a far enough distance, he can still clearly hear the crackling of fire and the sounds of a nation dying. 

He lowers his hand from his chest, spreading his fingers open. In a matter of seconds, the handle of his weapon appears slowly, the rest of the claymore following suit in gold dust. 

He peers down slightly, watching the red and black glow before dimming out. The slant from the edge of the weapon, one he has used to kill off his enemies without a thought. In the current state, he can see the traces of blood left behind. 

In his other hand is the damaged lyre. His fingers keep it close to his chest, his heart. One of the last things he had of you. The tip of his pointer fingers strums a string and he winces from the uneasy sound it produces. This instrument no longer plays the melodies he adored, and worse yet, the person he adores can no longer hear it. 

Murata was the Pyro Archon. Amongst the other gods, he was ruthless yet kind and merciful. When a threat was sent his way, he did not hesitate to take care of it. He took care of Natlan. 

Or, that’s what should have happened. 

He closes his eyes, goosebumps forming on his arms from the gust of wind that breezes by him, knocking his hood off. His hair that was let down swayed in the breeze, the loose ends flowing behind him. His bangs move slightly and then stop, falling in their original place. 

The rest of his cape follows in the wind, the ends flowing behind him like the draft was made just for him right now. 

“I let you down,” he says, clearing his throat. He stares at the colors of oranges, pinks and blues, meshed together to create the sunrise that he grew to love but now, he suddenly resents it. 

A single tear cascades down his face and lands on his bare chest. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, squeezing his eyes shut. A rare whimper slips past his lips. With a shake of his head, Murata brings the lyre to his face, pressing his lips against the cracked wood. 

A goodbye kiss should always be special, shouldn’t it?

He pulls away, stroking the place where the gem would have been at. “I’m so sorry my love.” He averts his gaze and lowers himself, dropping the lyre on the ground underneath his feet. 

“Even I could not save you from the end of your journey. And as your god, I failed to protect you.”

When he stands up straight, his fingers tighten around his claymore. He stares down at the instrument, longing for time to change and to go back. To go back to how things were before. 

He can still hear the sound of your life and your smile popping into his mind. At the thought, his lips curl upward faintly in a small smile. 

Oh how he misses you already. He still remembers when he first saw you on that day under the statue as you played for him. You were aggressive, that was for sure. No doubt about it when you swung at him with your lyre and accused him of being a disgusting pig.

He can only blame himself. Deep down, he knew a day like this would come, but he didn’t think it would happen so soon. 

But maybe now, as he called you his angel or an angel of Celestia, you can now ascend to where you truly belong. 

This isn’t goodbye, but a farewell, he thinks, clearing his throat as he gets closer to the edge. He peers downward at the ground miles beneath him.

As he failed here, he still has a job to do, no matter what. 

So then he jumps. He brings his claymore around and over his shoulder and swings it down. Flames engulf him in whole on his way down until he hits the ground with a thud, his weapon taking up all the impact. 

-

“And thus, the Pyro Archon aided in other nations against the treacherous demons that corrupted their land. After such heroic deeds, he was never to be seen. Many questioned: where did the god of War go? Who will remain victorious?”

“Many say he disappeared to join his love in the next life. Others say he stepped down as god to live amongst the mortals as he always wanted.” The bard hums and lays his lyre across his lap. 

“It’s a shame really, how beauty can go to waste.” His fingers run over an emerald gem that lies in the middle of the wood. His lyre was beautiful. 

The edges curved in different directions with a piece of wood piercing the top with a rounded end and pointed tip. Seven strings glowed recently as he placed the object to rest. 

“But it’s not as if it was her fault.” His slender fingers run over the white petals with a faux sigh of despair. “She would have been popular amongst the folks here, if she was immortal, of course. If only he kept his word to her saying he would protect her no matter what.”

The bartender drowns out the rest of Venti’s words, his eyes trained on the wood beneath his feet. 

Diluc Ragnvindr, owner of the Dawn Winery and Angel’s Share. Information is at his fingertips wherever he goes. In Mondstadt, he is a nobleman of high status. Everyone knows about him. 

His crimson eyes hold tears as he lets out a shaky breath, bringing a gloved hand to wipe away at the water that threatens to spill. 

He tries to keep his mind off of it but he can’t suppress it.

In front of him was Lord Barbatos himself—one he knew too well from millennia ago. Having fought with him in the Archon War, and the Destruction of Khaenri’ah, Diluc knew there was no way to get rid of him. 

It shocked him the most that the bard even remembers the story from back then. Even if other storytellers told this tale, Venti was the one that pierced his heart the most. 

“Master Diluc!” At the sound of his name, the red head hesitantly lifts up his head. Venti’s annoying smile greets him, pressing his finger against his cheek in a thinking motion. 

“Did you like it? I hope you did! I try to incorporate any stories of the divine. It seems that today was a hit. Don’t you think so?”

“Why are you bringing it up?” he whispers, not caring that tears trail down his face. “Why do you need to remind me of my failure?”

The other peers don’t seem to notice the usual calm and collective man in tears. They’re all too far gone in the hole of alcohol. 

Venti’s eyebrows crease, cocking his head to the side. “Failures? What do you mean? I’m just doing my job and singing like I always do. You’re doing great things in the Wine Industry. What failure could you possibly mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean!” Diluc snaps, slamming his hands on the counter in front of him, causing the bard to jump in his seat. “You know exactly what you’re doing!”

“Oh dear oh dear,” Venti sighs, shaking his head. He picks up his lyre, placing his lips against the wood. 

“So pretty huh?” he asks once he pulls away, a small smirk on his lips as he shows Diluc. “Wouldn’t it be amazing if you got to play this?”

The strings continue to shine, dimming and going bright again. An instrument perfect for anyone and in this case, for Barbatos. 

It pains Diluc to see him with your lyre. As much as you told him you despised other people holding it, he feels much more stronger about it. He wants nothing more than to snatch it from Venti’s hands and tell him to get out. 

“Others say that he wanders in the world right about now. No one knows what he looks like though. It’s a shame if anyone were to find him and blame him.” 

Venti’s fingers run over the strings. A melody is heard in the air, louder than any of the drunk men in the room. 

Diluc feels a sob beginning to form in the back of his throat. He wants nothing of this. He wants to truly go back home to Natlan with you. He could have made you a god and you could have been here with him today. 

As much as Diluc wants to look away, he’s mesmerized by the way the singer’s fingers move gracefully against the strings. For a split second, he could have swore he saw you sitting in his place, singing softly for his ears only. 

Like the angel you were. 

“But it seems that the god is afraid of confrontation. And yet, he seems to be mourning over his lover even after her death. If anyone were to be at fault, it would be his—” 

Venti stops, peering up at Diluc through his lashes. A sinister look was evident in his eyes. He paused for dramatic effect, a smirk growing on his lips. He hums and strums the last note.

“Isn’t that right, Murata?” Venti muses, asking a question in the form of a song. But in reality, he aimed it towards the redhead god standing in front of him. 

Diluc stares dumbfounded, mouth parted and eyes red from his silent crying. His hands are balled beside him. The peers cheer for the bard and offer drinks to compensate for his amazing singing—to which he laughs it off but takes the offers regardless. 

And all Murata can do is live with his own guilt, for the rest of his immortal life. Forever.

taglist: @reddriot @thicmitten @katsuhera @novvabeam @patt-writes-stuff @axther @tspice283  @bonitoge @mysticalchocolate @yanfeisrose @mowestruc @tokyosrevenge @jaegerverse @hu-tao-main @midnightangelfox​ (add yourself to the taglist up above!)

[whosscruffylooking]

Instinct Part Two: Interrogations and Intrigue (Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader)

A/N: I'm super excited for this part. Spencer and Reader’s relationship finally has some foundation!

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings! Mentions of suicide and manipulation. 

(Reader’s POV)

I tap my foot anxiously as I peer around the bland and intimidating interrogation room. It looks like something out of a mental asylum in a 1980's horror movie. They want me frightened? They got me.

Count Dracula barges in abruptly and sits opposite from me. I wince at the sound of the metal chair scraping against the cement floor.

“My name is SSA Aaron Hotchner. I'd like to take a moment to get your description of the man who broke into your apartment," he shows no emotion.

I nod, "Well, he had his hood up and a bandana on, but from what I could tell, he had green eyes...maybe blue...or hazel. I'm sorry, I'm not a hundred percent sure. He was just a little bit taller than me, so maybe 5'8 or 9. He climbed out of my window, so clearly, he's at least slightly athletic. He disguised his voice; he made it sound almost like Batman."

He writes down some notes. A statement that the other agent presented to me at the crime scene puzzles me. I decide to inquire for myself.

"The other agent..." "Dr. Reid?" "No, Emma? Emily?" "Yes, Agent Prentiss." "Yes, her. She told me at the ambulance that I might be the key to solving this. What did she mean by that? This wasn't just a one-off robbery? How could it involve me?"

He purses his lips, obviously pondering the right response, "What do you know of the Nomad Boys?"

My heart rate rises, but I promptly disguise my anxiety. "You get straight to the point, don't you," I quip, "I know that they used to operate about a block from my old neighborhood growing up. A lot of people have lost their lives because of them. Both figuratively and literally."

"Are you aware of your brother's involvement with them?" Agent Hotchner examines me.

I gasp. What kind of game is he playing here? I shift uneasily in my seat, "Excuse me?"

"We have significant evidence that your brother Jeremy was involved with the Nomad Boys from 2015 until his death."

I slam my fist on the table, "How dare you. How dare you bring my brother up and implicate him in illegal activities that he had no part in. Is this what you people do? You're so desperate to close a case that you can't admit defeat in then you pin it on people who aren't even here to defend themselves?"

"You seem relatively defensive yourself. Care to explain why?" The emotionless man taunts.

"Two hours ago, I was the victim of a failed robbery, and now I'm being interrogated by the feds about my dead brother? Is that not a good enough reason to get defensive?" I clamor back. 

Tears sting my eyes and threaten to spill over as I dig my fingernails into the palm of my hand, trying frantically to suppress my growing rage. He watches me like a predator to its prey. The sound of my rapid heartbeat muffles my hearing. I can feel my skin heat up with anger. I stare right back, eager to display my disdain for his treatment.

"If you'd excuse me," he gathers his files and leaves the room. I exhale shakily and hastily wipe the stray tears from my eyes, desperate to gain my composure.

(Spencer's POV)

Hotch exits the interrogation room and clutches my shoulder, "You're up. She knows more than she's letting on, even if she doesn't realize it. She will feel more comfortable with you." "Hotch...I-I feel like maybe Emily or Morgan should go in. Not me." "Why?" He glares at me. I swallow the lump in my throat. 

I have a job to do.

"Forget about it," I say, stepping past him into the dimly lit room. She looks up at me with pleading eyes, silently begging me not to put her through what Hotch did. I sit across from her, noticing her obsessive picking at the skin of her fingers. Her knee bounces and lightly taps against the underside of the table.

She takes a deep breath and breaks the stillness, "Whatever it is they are thinking, it's not true. None of it is true. They're wrong." 

"Y/N, I appreciate your willingness to cooperate and come back to the precinct with us and sit in here to be interviewed." 

She throws her head back and laughs, "My willingness to cooperate?Interviewed? You mean interrogated, right?"

"I know this must feel like an ambush," I say, and she jeers, "but I promise if you just hear us out, the sooner we can rule you and your brother out of this." 

She sits up, eyes wide, her posture defensive, "You just said my brother and me. Am I a suspect too? For god's sake, I don't even know what we are suspected of! Do you think I'm apart of the Nomad Boys too?" 

Strike one, Spencer. Don't screw up again.

"I didn't mean it like that, y/n." 

"But you said it," she crosses her arms.

"I need to ask you some questions about your brother's death." 

"I'm going to be sick. Screw you, Dr. Reid." 

I can't manipulate her. I don't want to. I can't use months of researching her to achieve our agenda. 

It doesn't feel right. Why doesn't it feel right? 

But for the efficiency and success of this case, it's required.

"Every day, you wake up in fear of the nightmares that haunt you each night. You live with the images of your brother engrained in your mind. The patterns he used to follow every day have now been adopted by you, most likely in an attempt to keep his spirit alive somehow. You are constantly looking over your shoulder because, still to this day, aspects of his death leave you unsettled and uncertain. You opened the door today because you were under the impression that the person on the other side would be able to offer you insight into your brother's death. He couldn't because he had another agenda, but I can. I can give you that insight; I just need you to work with me." 

I watch as she struggles to fight the pain that comes from masking her fear. I got to her. 

Why do I feel so guilty? 

Her lip trembles as she begins to speak, "I know he didn't kill himself. That's all." "What makes you so sure?"

She releases a sob and then grapples with composing herself, "B-because he loved his family. He loved life. His girlfriend was pregnant; he was going to be a father. What kind of man who was so family-oriented and had such a bright future ahead of him would do that to himself, to his future child?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize he had a child." "Aren't you guys supposed to know stuff like that? Shouldn't you come in here armed and ready with any ammunition needed to break me down?" She cocks her head. "We do. We try to find out all vital information on our suspects and those connected with them." "That's how you know that I follow the same routine as my brother? Have you been watching me?"

I can feel a bead of sweat drip down the back of my neck; I reach my hand around to pat it off and to buy myself time to come up with a sufficient answer. She chuckles, "You don't have to answer that. I've seen you and Count Dracula in there tailing me."

My heart stops, and I swallow unexpectedly, slightly choking in the process. "For professionals, you sure don't take into consideration the fact that most people are suspicious of black SUVs now...mainly because of tv shows. Black Suburbans with tinted windows are either law enforcement or a celebrity. And judging by the fact that no celebrity would ever willingly set foot in my town, I was quickly able to determine which I was looking at every Monday and Friday from 10am to 5:30pm. You should really try getting some red cars, maybe blue, just try and blend in a bit." 

"Actually," I begin falling back on my knowledge as a way to diffuse the situation, "Any vehicle, when suitably modified, can be utilized as a police vehicle, but the most prevalent are those produced or altered by manufacturers for the role of being a police vehicle."

"Validation and dissemination: am I making you uncomfortable, Dr. Reid?" She raises her eyebrow. I adamantly shake my head, "Not at all. I was merely dissecting your point and proving it to be a failed tactic to intimidate me."

She looks at me keenly, but not in the way she had looked at Hotch. No, she peers at me as if striving to convey a message, an offer to be her ally. While locked into her gaze, I can't help but study her. Contrary to all of the times we followed her, hidden within the shelter of our car, I can now learn her up close. She is attractive in a flawed, approachable way. Her vulnerability camouflages a might that even she doesn't perceive exists.

(Reader's POV)

I study him thoroughly. He baffles me. A man in the station he is, maintaining the job he has, and bearing the weight of both victims and perpetrators on his shoulders, should be coarse, bitter, emotionless, much like the first agent who grilled me. Yet, here he is, eyes lighting up when he starts to spout off facts. His nervous ticks overflow, making it seem like he is incapable of withholding the truth of what this job does to him. He doesn't want to put me in this position. He's not like the standard brute that treats this job, and it's prey as if they are nothing but a bridge to walk over to get appreciation and approval.

"I want to help you," he proposes in a hushed tone.

"I know," I whisper, easing back in my seat. 

Unexpectedly, he offers me a wink and then stands from his chair. Stepping over to the door, he clasps the doorknob but delays for a moment. I look at him in anticipation. Looking back at me, he declares, "I'm going to get you answers. I promise you that." And with that, he's disappeared behind the two-way glass. A feeling of being left alone in an alternate universe overwhelms me. 

Spencer is somewhere out there on the side of the good guys, his reputation untainted, with the certainty that he will be going home tonight. I, on the other hand, have lived in uncertainty since my brother died. Here I sit, on the side of the glass that is riddled with darkness and evil. Spencer lives in a world of heroes. But I have been subjected to the world of criminals. I have a feeling, though, that I won't have to navigate it alone. 

Tag list:

@mcntsee

[theycallmebecca]

Drabble: A Very Important Question

Merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates (and happy Friday to those who do not). This Christmas drabble is for @the-ce-horniest-book-club​ and the HBC Home for the Holidays. The prompt today is Christmas.

Title: A Very Important Question

Pairing: Chris Evans x reader

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: n/a

Disclaimer: This work of fiction is not to be reposted, used or translated without my permission. 

“UNCLE CHRIS!”

The cries of Chris’s niece and nephews greet the two of you and Dodger as you make your way up the snowy path to his mom’s house on Christmas Eve.

“Where’s your bag?” His oldest nephew asks as you and Chris come into the house.

With you back turned, you miss the panicked look that Chris sends his sister.

“Maybe Uncle Chris wants to sleep in his own bed tonight,” his sister says.

“He can’t! It’s tradition!” his nephew whines. “He always spends the night on Christmas Eve."

Turning, you see Chris is getting a triple whammy of sad faces from the kids.

Suspecting that Chris hadn't wanted to put any pressure on you to stay the night at his mom's, you touch his arm and he looks at you.

"I don't mind," you whisper to him. You give him a smile to show that you mean your words.

"Come on, Uncle Chris," the boys whine.

"Dodger wants to sleep in my room," his niece adds, wrapping her hand around the dog's neck for a hug. "He loves to spend Christmas Eve in my room."

"If Uncle Chris isn't sleeping here, can we stay with Uncle Chris?" his oldest nephew asks his mom.

This time you catch the look Chris shoots his sister. You aren't sure how to interpret the look, but seeing it, you can tell something is up.

"We'd have to go home and get our stuff," Chris says.

"Can we come? We can take mom's van!" his nephew asks.

"Fine, yes," Chris says. "Just let me talk to your mom for a minute. Get bundled up."

Chris waits until he is in the privacy of his mom's office before he turns to his sister.

"Thanks for your help out there, Carly," he mutters.

His sister just shrugs with a smile playing on her lips.

"You know what I have planned for tomorrow morning," he hisses. "Now what am I supposed to do?"

"You can still do what you have planned," she points out. "We do have a Christmas tree."

Chris glares at her.

"You know what I mean," he snaps. "It was supposed to be perfect and now it will have to be done with an audience."

Her smile is a fraction too big and it gives her away.

"You planned this!" he accuses her. "You set me up!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," she replies innocently. She glances at her wrist, where there isn't a watch, and adds, "The kids will be ready just about -"

"Uncle Chris we're ready to go!" his nephew shouts.

"Now," his sister finishes. "Good luck."

"I'm going to get them sugary coffees," Chris threatens.

"Well you're staying the night so we'll all have to live with your choices," she says with a smirk before she leaves the room.

You can feel the irritation radiating off of Chris as he drives his sister's minivan to his house so the two of you can pack overnight bags. The kids, however, seem completely oblivious to their uncle's Scrooginess as they sing along with the Disney Christmas album playing on the van's sound system.

Arriving at the house, Chris tells the kids and Dodger to stay in the living room while the two of you go to his room to pack. You follow him back to the bedroom and close the door behind you.

"I really don't mind staying the night at your mom's tonight," you tell Chris. "If that's what you're worried about."

His surly attitude fades as he turns to you. "That's not what I'm worried about, but I'm glad," he says then frowns. "Is my attitude that noticeable?"

"To me. The kids were too busy singing," you assure him. "If that's not what's bothering me, then what is?" Then you remember what day it is. "I mean, if you can tell me."

"I can't tell you," he says with a wink. "I just have to rethink something."

"Whatever it is, I'm going to love it," you assure him. "So don't let it ruin the rest of the day."

"You're right," he says, pulling you into his arms. "Thank you, I love you."

"I love you, too," you reply, leaning in for a kiss, only to be interrupted by a child pounding on the front door.

"Are you guys ready yet?" one of the kids asks from the other side of the door.

"Give us ten minutes," Chris calls back. He gives you a quick kiss and then the two of you get to packing.

After returning to his mom's house, the afternoon passes quickly. Chris seems to take your words to heart and gone is his Grinchy attitude. The two of you play outside in the snow with the kids before coming inside to warm up.

With a lot of cooking planned for tomorrow, dinner tonight is pizza from the family's favorite pizza place during which the kids try to decide which Christmas movie to watch after.

You are surprised when Chris's mom announces that everyone gets to open one present tonight, but you quickly notice that no one else is surprised. Obviously, this is part of their tradition.

Everyone files into the living room and his mom passes out gifts that are all wrapped in the same plaid paper.

"1!" Chris yells out.

"2!" two of them echo.

"3!" another person shots.

Then it's pandemonium as the room is filled with the sound of people tearing paper. Not wanting to be left out, you open your present and find a set of red plaid pajamas. Looking at Chris's, you see he got a matching pair. Then he holds up a smaller shirt that is clearly meant for Dodger.

Looking around the room, you see that his sister and her family all got red and white striped pajamas pants with matching Christmas shirts while his younger sister, her boyfriend, Scott and his boyfriend got the same plaid as you and Chris. Then you see his mom, holding up plaid pants that match yours but the same shirt as her daughter's family.

"Everything has been washed," his mom announces. "If anything doesn't fit, let me know, I bought extras and we will find something." She glances at the clock on the wall. "Let's get changed, I believe the Polar Express is scheduled to leave the station in fifteen minutes."

The kids squeal with excitement and race for the stairs.

Thirty minutes later, you are all dressed in your Christmas pajamas and settled as The Polar Express plays on the TV. 

After the movie ends, his mom reads 'The Night Before Christmas' and then the kids are sent upstairs to go to bed while the adults watch another Christmas movie.

Only once the second movie ends does Santa make "his" appearance as the men bring in Santa gifts hidden and the women fill the Christmas stockings.

Then it's bedtime and everyone goes upstairs.

It's five am when Chris wakes up. He isn't a morning person, but he always wakes up early on Christmas morning.

Glancing across the bed, he smiles when he sees you still fast asleep.

Slipping out of bed, he leaves the room to go to the bathroom. On his way back, he pauses at the top of the stairs to see if he hears anyone downstairs. Hearing nothing, he returns to the bedroom and pauses when he sees you sitting up in bed.

"Merry Christmas," he greets you. Then the idea comes to him. "Let's go downstairs."

"I have to pee first," you tell him.

"Alright, I'll meet you downstairs then," he says.

He waits until you leave the bedroom before he opens his suitcase and pulls out the small box he'd put in there while he'd packed the day before. He quietly goes downstairs, not wanting to wake anyone up just yet.

Entering the living room, he finds the room lit only by the Christmas tree lights and he gets into position as he waits for you to come into the room.

Butterflies flutter in his stomach as he hears you coming down the stairs.

"Chris?" he hears you call.

"In here," he calls back.

Walking into the living room, you freeze when you see him down on one knee in front of the Christmas tree.

When he says your name, your feet move of their own accord and you soon find yourself standing before him.

"I'm still not entirely sure what I did to deserve you," he says with a nervous laugh. "But I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you by my side. Will you marry me?"

"Yes," you answer.

He slides the perfect engagement ring onto your finger and then he stands up. He pulls you against him and kisses you.

It isn't until the two of you hear cheers that you realize you are no longer alone.

Turning, you see that his entire family is standing in the doorway, wearing big smiles on their faces. Then you spot the bottle of champagne and a second of sparkling cider in his brother's hands and see that his mom and sisters are holding cups. They'd all known.

"Seriously, guys?" Chris sighs, but even you can tell he is faking his displeasure. "Did you have a bell on our door or something?"

"You always wake up at the same time on Christmas morning," his mom says, leading everyone into the room. "It's the only day of the year that his internal clock works exactly the same," she adds as a side note to you. "We just wanted to celebrate with you guys."

Drinks are poured and toasts are made, most of them welcoming you into the family, but a few are good-hearted teases directed at Chris, which make you all laugh.

In the end, it's a beautiful start to Christmas morning, even if you're all slightly tipsy.

[nyancatkuroo]

Smoke Sesh Blues Pt.1

Pt.1 Terushima/Kunimi/Kenma x Reader ll Weed 

Pt.2 Saeko x Reader ll Molly + Alcohol 

INTOXICATED a  Miki Mouse Whorehouse collab.    

A/N: Here is my second collab fic for the whorehouse and I couldn’t be more excited! This is a Dark Content fic, so 18+ please dot not interact or you will be blocked.  (This one doesn’t have any NSFW in it but it doesn’t mean I want a bunch of minors interacting with my content).

TW: mentions of alcohol, weed smoking, mentions of shrooms.

WC: 1.5k

Sitting across the room was the most beautiful woman you’d ever seen, well, beautiful might not be the best word to describe her.  Ethereal, and transcendent might’ve been the words you’d use to describe a really, really attractive woman, but Tanaka Saeko was not just any attractive woman.  

Where beautiful meets savagely charismatic, ethereal simply wasn’t enough to describe the sheer magnetism that the young blond woman exuded, simply sitting there, grinning from ear to ear.  Her sharp, dark eyes and toothy grin hit you straight in the guts, and that’s when you fell, hard and fast, and painfully.  

Next to the blonde was a young woman equally as attractive as Saeko herself, and if Saeko wasn’t the definition of ethereal, the raven-haired girl sure was.  With a pale and delicate face that screamed of poise and grace, a criminally sexy mole on the left side of her chin, and blue eyes that made a chill of pleasure run down your spine, Shimizu Kiyoko was the epitome of everything you weren’t.  

Saeko had her right arm around the younger girl, hugging her close, as if afraid she’d run off.  “I’d take precautions too, if that was me,” you thought.  Kiyoko was one of the smartest and prettiest girls in campus after all, and despite not knowing her personally, having talked to her only once or twice because of mutual classes, it wasn’t hard to understand why she was one of the most sought after girls. 

Well, that and the very amusing reputation preceding her since she entered university two years ago.  The thing was, the dark-haired girl wasn’t Saeko’s girlfriend, but she was definitely intertwined with a Tanaka. Saeko’s younger brother to be exact, Tanaka Ryuunosuke.  

The two were rumored to have been going out since Kiyoko’s high school graduation.  Despite having let it be known pretty early on in her academic life that she had a boyfriend, with a younger partner still in high school, all the hungry frat boys up for a challenge and every business major in a radius mile who thought she “deserved better”, apparently made it their mission to woo her.  It made for pretty good entertaining drama to watch, but your heart went out for her. 

Based on what Saeko told you, keeping you updated on the family drama, the first year was really rough on the young couple.  With her younger brother finally on campus this year, though, overcoming all the annoying dudes was easier done a job at two.  Especially with a barking protective idiot and Kiyoko’s punching one-liners, which you wouldn’t expect coming from someone so calm and collected.  Perhaps it wasn’t that surprising, apparently, from what you’d heard from Saeko, Kiyoko’s comedic timing was unmatched.

And okay, you obviously knew Saeko, and if Kiyoko wasn’t her girlfriend, what was the big fuss all about?  Jealousy, simple as that. It was 10 pm on a Friday night, which meant parties around campus were raging from one hard to get in-club to home parties and make-shift park dancefloors. Fridays were made for debauchery and every single student who didn’t work a night shift was accounted for, every student except one, Ryu.  

Saeko’s younger brother, a baldy with a lively personality, was running late because of his group of friends.  Something about “Noya wrecking havoc once again” and “the trio trying to fix things, again”.  You didn’t know what the issue was but it was a problem for you because that meant that Saeko had to act as guard dog for the younger girl, which meant less time spent making you feel all sorts of sinful little pleasures.  

Saeko wasn’t your girlfriend either, which is why you didn’t have that close connection to Kiyoko.   You guys were simply friends with benefits, lots and lots of benefits that included midday brunches, and late-night movie and make-out seshs, but still, only friends with the hall pass.  

You were making eyes at the blond, desperately trying to make her notice you, amongst the hordes of horny 20-somethings year old guys trying to get at Kiyoko, but without luck. Tired of waiting and wanting to actually start enjoying yourself, you decided to go explore the rest of the house the party you currently were in was hosted. Leaving the living room, you ventured into a surprisingly big kitchen where you spotted Terushima Yuuji running his little side hustle. With a hum and an easy smile plastered on your face, you made your way towards the young man.  

You knew Terushima from years ago. When you and your friend Issei started venturing into the wondrous world of drugs and alcohol, he mentioned how he knew this guy from a rival volleyball team who was supposedly the best plug in the area, which Terushima was.  The shrooms you bought off of him never disappointed and the weed he provided really was that good fucking kush. Tonight though, you felt needy and wanted to let loose, so molly it was.  

You put your hand on Terushima’s shoulder, making him aware of your presence, and he turned around, a slight frown on his face before he recognized you and greeted you with the sickest bro shoulder-bump-hand combo. You loved this dude so damn much. 

“So, what’s it gonna be this time my little pogchamp?”

With a grimace you pushed the young man’s face with your hand and laughed.

“You’ve got to stop watching your Tiktoks on Instagram, you’re like two months late to that trend my guy.”

“Ain’t no problem, when a king does right by his subjects the peasants don’t have a choice but to laugh along”, he grinned.

At that, you bursted out laughing, holding your belly because of how ridiculously funny that statement was. “Out of pocket, Teru, out of fucking pocket.”

With a whatever, and a roll of his eyes, Terushima asked what you wanted and gave you a few little pills that fit just right inside your jean pocket.  

“You know you’re the best.” Sending finger guns his way, you were about to leave, on a quest to find another interesting adventure, when Terushima called your name.

“Hey if you wait a couple minutes until I’m done here we can go smoke a few. Kunimi just bought this new bong and it’s pretty fucking sick, you’ll love it.”

With nothing better to do, you agreed and after a while, Terushima was done and the both of you left the kitchen and made your way to the second-floor, towards Kunimi’s room. When you arrived, the door to the room was closed but you could see the smoke filtering out of the red lit room, the people around too busy in their own affairs, or simply not caring enough, to notice the very obvious hot-box going on behind the closed room.  

When you got in, Doja Cat’s Kiss Me More was playing on loop, and you unsurprisingly found Kunimi and Kenma sharing the bong. The pair could outsmoke you any day, but you genuinely enjoyed their company.  

There was no one better than those two to have a chill yet feel-good smoke sesh with, cuddles and an infinite supply of munchies present every time. You sat next to Kenma and he immefiatley started nuzzling you, passing you the bong.  On the back, you could hear Kunimi telling Terushima he was being too loud and that he’d kick him out if his voice reached higher levels than Toad’s. Terushima was right, paired with the right weed, this bong was way too powerful and it only took you a couple of hits to start feeling.  

You laid down, Kenma still close to you, and started singing along, while playing with Kenma’s hair.  Yeah, this was definitely your definition of a good time, but despite how good you were feeling, and how warm the little guy you were cuddling with felt, you thought something was missing.  The pills in your pocket started feeling heavier, unease growing  inside of you.  Lost in your worry, you apparently started petting Kenma too roughly, if the kick in the knee he gave you was anything to go by.

“Sorry”, you mumbled, only to receive a small groan for an answer.  

You don’t know how long you stayed like that, cozied up on the floor with your friends, listening to Doja’s newest collab, but the moment was disturbed when a foreign source of light appeared.  Someone had opened the door and when you saw who it was, your heart nearly skipped a beat.  Fucking feelings.

With a gentle smile on her face, Saeko was looking at you with what, for a split second, you thought was fondness, but a moment later her eyes went back to their usual playful glee, and her toothy grin returned.  

“Ryu got here like an hour ago, I’ve been looking for you, but I see you don’t really need me to have a good time, hm?”

By that point, you felt more sleepy than high, but seeing the woman occupying your every thoughts appear out of nowhere, with what looked like heavenly light all around her, which was just some crusty hallway lighting, woke you up faster than you cared to admit. You kissed Kenma on the cheek, patted Kunimi on the head, and slapped Terushima on the shoulder as a goodbye, and before they could complain about the disturbance, you were out of the door.