#him being attractive to me is like truly at the bottom of my priority list tho

[todayisafridaynight]

So, here’s a question I don’t think anyone’s asked or at least it’s been a while… why is Jo your favorite?

i was trying to find the post where i explained it in depth but i'll give a tl;dr his backstory regarding masato and his implied childhood abuse recontextualizes a lot of his behaviors and actions as well as adds extra layers to his devotions to arakawa and the speculative progression of that relationship going from strictly 'transactional' (being that he's only there to see masato and arakawa just Happens to be there) to genuine respect and adoration and that makes my brain tingle. also i think hes hot

[mirrorballannie]

"i care more to be loved. i want to be loved"

dear reader,

the first time i heard jo march say this i had to give myself time to contemplate whether i feel the same or not.

being able to experience romantic inclinations from playful crushes in the first and second grades, to puppy loves in the sixth, seventh, and eighth grades, and to being in my first serious relationship during ninth and tenth grade completely skewed my expectations on adult relationships.

when my first boyfriend broke up with me the summer before eleventh grade i was very much ecstatic to be single. don't get me wrong, it wasn't a bad first relationship. his intentions were genuine and he did truly love me. for that, i will always appreciate him and remember him fondly. i would be lying if i said i never enjoyed being loved by him because i did. i did love feeling important to someone in a romantic way. but seriously, what is a teenage romance story without the two immature leads, right?

i was happy to be single again because i felt like i was missing out on my independence during such formative years of my life. i wanted to learn about who i was without being obligated or tied down to another person. from time to time i would ask myself if i truly did love him but can never arrive to anything conclusive. my childhood best friend, hannah, would reassure me by saying there are different types of loves that will come into someone's life and that this love is the typical immature type of love that would just never withstand the test of time. she would reassure me that i would one day find that type of love that is exactly right for me.

so then i went on with my life making friends with like-minded people, enriching the friendships and connections i already have, and truly improving my understanding of myself (one of those realizations is that i am bisexual and am very much attracted to girls as well as guys). romantic relationships were at the bottom of my priority list.

then college came and i had a crush on this guy, owen. we were kind of friends. friends in a way that can hangout in a bigger circle but not really very close type of friends. i never truly acknowledged or gave any thought about these feelings until our last year of college (also because my feelings were never given any room to flourish because of the stupid pandemic that deprived us of so many human experiences for too long). any way, long story short, owen is the first person i thought about actually being romantic with since my last boyfriend. i saw the potential that us being together could have. not that i didn't try getting to know other people but i just realized that casual dating and online dating are not for me, personally.

so, with all that said, i admitted my feelings and got rejected. and i accepted it. i accepted his offer of friendship and that was supposed to be that. however, our mutual friends somehow couldn't just let it go and would continue to tease us. for months and months any little interaction owen and i would have would be reduced to us flirting so we minimized any chances of us interacting at all. we were somewhat successful, except for that one time our friends and and us were getting drinks and we got dared to make out in a room full of people. i know, big mistake. it never got acknowledged by me or him ever again. but our friends? oh they were relentless.

my college best friend, thea as well as hannah are witnesses to every frustrations i have ever felt regarding the situation. not just regarding our relentless, teasing friends, but my frustrations over myself for not being in control of my feelings and for looking like i kept chasing after him even after being rejected.

very recently however, ryan, one of owen's best friends, and i had a heart-to-heart and i gathered up my courage to ask him if they hated me and ever thought of me as a boy-crazy girl who could never take a hint. he very prettily laid out that no, they never thought any of that and proceeded his perfumed monologue by saying that owen likes being my friend and that our personalities match and that he likes my presence and all that. he also kept reassuring me that out of their circle of friends, owen has the biggest heart. it was all very flattering to say the least.

few days later after that i found out or it was confirmed by a mutual friend of ours that owen had liked thea and was asking around if she was single again the few months thea and her girlfriend kayla were broken up (they've been back together again quite a while now).

now i'm here writing all of these down to say how confused i am about two things. first, i do not at all understand how some of our mutual friends would continue to tease us together if they had known for a long time that owen liked thea. and why did ryan have to explain to me how owen and i's personalities match and that he likes my presence? i don't want to think of them as malicious as that is not how i knew them to be. and i also don't think they are dense and unaware that they have somehow raised my expectations due to their incessant teasing. (also, as i have said earlier, i have frustrations about not being in control of my feelings and that i should be in control of it no matter what anyone else say or how they might affect it).

secondly, it just hit me that people can just say one of the most sweet and wonderful things you would ever hear about yourself and still, they wouldn't want you romantically. some people can think that your personalities gel together or that they like the presence you bring in their life, but still, they. don't want. you. and i can't, for the life of me, reconcile that thought. i have come to resent what ryan said because now, it doesn't make me feel good about myself. for the first time EVER in my life, i have asked myself, "am i not enough?" i have so much love i want to give (romantically) and nobody wants to accept it from me.

to bring it back to what jo march said, no, i don't care more about being loved. i find that what was lacking from me from my first relationship was that i never gave it my all. i never showed my first boyfriend the extent or the capacity of how much i can love. and now that i am able and willing to show that extent, nobody would wants to receive it.

i wonder if any one would.

yours truly, mirrorball annie

[dizzydancingdreamer]

Persephone's Symphony | Night One | Persephone

Hey lovelies, here's the next part. It's a little longer-- I got carried which, if you know me and my work, tends to happen frequently. I do hope you all enjoy and thank you so much to everyone who has sent me kind words and thoughts and ahhhh thank you!! I am forever grateful. Now, without further adieu...

Synopsis: In which he is the bad one— the dangerous one, the clunky one, the one who only knows how to break things— and she is the good one— the fragile one, the soft one, the one who knows how to put things back together— and he has to keep her alive long enough for anyone else— anyone who can do more than kill— to save her like she deserves to be saved— to save her from him. There are no pomegranates, no three headed dogs, and no requirement to stay— that is, if they don’t count an assassin on the loose out for her neck. In that case, three days in a safe house doesn’t feel like a long time— just long enough for Persephone and Hades to remember why opposites attract.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader (third person)

Warnings: meh some angst, some talk of death-- the normal for this series

Word count: 5.2k (omg)

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Master List

The rest of the day goes smoothly. Well, as smoothly as a day can go when there’s someone out there trying to kill you. Maybe smooth is the wrong word. For dinner she pops a frozen pizza in the oven— she’s already used up her quota for homestyle cooking on the grilled cheese and, besides, Bucky doesn’t seem to mind. If he does then he doesn’t say anything about it, at least. He pounds back five slices— she really doubts he hates it that much. She eats three. Had it just been her she would have eaten one— maybe. She doesn’t have the energy these days to eat more than that. It’s a paradox, one that has her going to bed tired and waking up exhausted most days.

Something is different with him though. She wants to eat more because it means that she gets to sit a little longer at the creaky wooden table and pretend to be normal. She never thought feeling normal would mean eating cheap pizza with her bodyguard in a safe house but, well, they say normal is relative, right? Usually she eats in the dark, under the glow of whatever movie she deems fit to fill the silence that night. Sitting across from him makes her feel like she has some semblance of her old life back. Like she has a life at all— even if he’s being paid to sit there and listen to her prattle on about nothing.

After dinner is a little more awkward. She spends the next two hours milling about, pretending to read this book of dogs she had found earlier on the coffee table. She had always wanted a dog when she was younger, one of those huge great danes, charcoal black and big enough to snuggle with. The kind that would keep her safe and follow her everywhere she goes. There’s one just like she had always imagined on page one hundred and nine. Sleek and beautiful and huge. That’s probably why she keeps going back to the book.

All she really does is look at the pictures, not that she would tell him that. She can see him glancing at her every so often and she would like to keep her guise of being smart up for as long as possible. She wasn’t lying when she told him that she was the top of her class— she was, and valedictorian too. She is smart. Well, smart when it comes to technology at least. The rest is debatable. Her mother used to tell her that she’s book smart— that if she were kidnapped and dropped off in the middle of nowhere she would be screwed.

If only her mother could see her now— could see that she’s holding up.

You know, if holding up means wanting to scream and cry and throw this stupid Big Book of Dogs against the wall because she can’t scream and cry. She’s holding up on the outside— that’s what matters. If everyday is as bearable as this one then she’ll be able to do all three before she knows it. She’ll be able to sit in the dark, spoon in one hand, Chunky Monkey in the other, and throw whatever the fuck she wants at the wall. For now, though, she just has to look at the pictures of the great dane and swallow her screams like they’re ice cream.

Eventually she stands, shifting on her feet, trying not to cringe when the boards squeak under her. It doesn’t make his head turn and look at her— how can it when his stare has been burning into her since before she stood up? She doesn’t really know what to say— it’s nine-thirty and she could sit there for another two hours— two or three or seven, what’s the difference?— but there’s no point in pushing the inevitable. Eventually she is going to have to get ready for bed and then, by default, actually go to bed.

How is that going to work?

A picture of her laying next to him pops into her mind, one where her limbs are curled tight against her chest, her legs ramrod straight, afraid to even do so much as breathe. Not out of fear that he’d hurt her or anything like that, though. Out of fear that she’d embarrass herself is more accurate. That she would wake up— if she even slept at all— with her body sprawled on top of his like the protagonists in one of her cheesy, unrealistic rom-coms. This isn’t a movie— she doesn’t want it to be. If this is her life’s movie then she wants to have a word with the director. She wants out. This isn’t the script she agreed to.

She doesn’t know what to say so she doesn’t say anything, only gathers her bag from where she stashed it next to the couch. A threadbare messenger bag big enough for a few pairs of leggings, her older brother’s Dodgers t-shirt, and some toiletries. She slings it over her shoulder, acutely aware of the fact that his gaze never leaves her, watching as she straightens and turns, meeting his icy blue eyes without so much as a hint of shame forming in them. Why should he be ashamed? It’s his job— he’s being paid to stare. That’s what she tells herself. It doesn’t make her feel any less exposed— any less seen.

For a moment she just looks at him— like really, truly looks at him. Sure, she’s been with him for roughly twelve hours now. Theoretically she’s had plenty of time to look at him. And of course she has— there’s no way she could have avoided it even if she wanted to. She has looked at him just not like this. Not the details. The facts. That’s what this is— a fact finding mission. Yeah, that sounds right— that’s what she’ll say if he asks, at least.

She takes in his face first, craning her neck slightly to do so. Slightly means far enough that your head touches your shoulders now. She ticks things off in her head as goes— bronzed skin, strong jaw, straight nose. She finds it hard to believe that his nose has never been broken. She drops lower— pink lips, the bottom one fuller. She doesn’t linger there despite the ache that grows in her throat. When was the last time she kissed a man? Too long ago.

She continues on her mission before she has time to stop and think about what it means to stare at her bodyguard’s lips and think about kissing. Absolutely nothing good, that’s what. She tries to distract herself with his broad shoulders and the way his henley stretches at the seams, scrounging for any and every ounce of space. For a moment it works. She starts thinking about the kind of regime one would have to undergo in order to get to his size, then about where he has to buy his clothes, before finally landing on what it would feel like to slip her arms into his shirt and to be totally engulfed—

Nope— she flicks her eyes even further down, skimming over something that, though she’s been looking at it for the better half of all day, she still can’t wrap her head around. His hand. His metal hand. She can feel his stare turn to lead on her forehead— feel him waiting for her to ask.

She’s not going to.

Not because she doesn’t want to know the story. Of course she wants to know! Her whole life is— or at least was— technology. She wants to know why he needs it, who made it, what it’s made of, if it’s connected to his nervous system, if it’s— the idea is there. She’s curious— she’s a scientist. Just like it’s his job to keep her alive, it’s her job to be enthralled by innovation.

That doesn’t mean she’s going to ask though. She likes him too much to do that. He’s nice enough to her and he doesn’t treat her like the little orphan girl that everyone else does. He doesn’t tiptoe around her— not that he could. He’s too big for that. He just doesn’t treat her like a freak, so she won’t treat him like an experiment.

And, of course, he’s a human being not a machine. That’s probably more important. She likes him and he’s a human. Priorities or whatever.

She meets his gaze again, watching him watch her, her face setting on fire. “Bedtime?”

What the fuck is wrong with you, y/n?

He presses his lips together, holding her stare for a beat before shrugging his shoulders, giving the henley a run for its money. “Bedtime.”

She turns at that, scampering up the stairs, listening to the thumping of his boots against the hardwood. It’s not a race but it’s also not not a race— she wants to get to the bathroom before he can so she can lock the door. She needs five minutes. That’s it. Just five minutes. Maybe it is a race.

“Hey— shit— wait!” She doesn’t, she only pumps her legs harder, almost slipping as she bolts into the bathroom, slamming the door and clicking the lock shut.

He really thought she wasn’t going to try that, huh? She learned her lesson this afternoon— the man takes his job very seriously.

The knob jiggles and she sticks her tongue out at it, finally in a space where she can let her bones relax. For the first time all day it feels like her skin isn’t on fire. It’s weird— she almost misses it. The door handle jiggles harder. Almost.

Five minutes, that’s all she needs.

His voice cuts through the door and she almost groans out loud. “You know I’m supposed to—”

“I know—” she starts pulling things out of her bag, hastily dropping what she doesn’t need and gathering what she does onto the vinyl countertop, very much aware of the ticking clock— “but the window in here isn’t even big enough for me to crawl out of so I think I can brush my teeth, yeah?”

She can practically feel the stress rolling off him, seeping under the crack between the door and the tiled floor. Half of her feels guilty but the other half couldn’t care less— she’s a grown ass woman and she will use the toilet without help.

She hears him let out a loud sigh and practically jumps in excitement— she won. “Fine— you get ten minutes, got it? Ten minutes and then I break this door down.”

“Aye-aye, captain.” Thank gods he can’t see her right now or she would most definitely melt through the ground.

“You’re down to seven now.”

She shakes her head at her reflection, scrunching her nose and rolling her eyes at herself— “That’s fair.”

She hurries to slather some toothpaste on her brush, plopping it into her mouth as she shimmies out of her daytime leggings and into her nighttime ones. A fashion icon. She somehow also manages to take her dad’s hoodie off, avoiding the toothbrush and replacing the tank top underneath with a fresh one from her bag. Take that, Barnes.

She scrubs at her teeth, simultaneously digging through her pile of things for the deodorant she knows is in there. She finds it after a moment, rinsing her mouth and running the bar one too many times over her armpits— there’s absolutely no way she’s about to go into that bedroom with even the slight possibility of smelling bad. Especially when she still doesn’t know the sleeping arrangements.

She swipes her things back into her bag, shoving them in roughly, not noticing the hairbrush teetering precariously on the edge of the counter. It’s like it’s taunting her, just waiting to get her in trouble. That’s exactly what it does, too— just as her eyes meet the sinister blue plastic it’s too late, the brush already hurtling off the edge and crashing against the floor. Of course it has to hit the tiles head on and miss the hoodie by an inch. Time freezes for a moment when she hears the clang— well, there go the last three minutes of solitude.

She scrambles back just as the door slams open, fully expecting it but not any less startled, the area where the lock would be splintering into a million tiny pieces of wood— of dust— he pulverized the door! Her heart pounds furiously as Bucky surges forward, his jean clad legs pressing against her exposed shoulder, his body rigid as he does a full circle of the tiny bathroom, yanking back the shower curtain as if an assassin would really think that is the best hiding place. God she’s so fucking mortified.

He doesn’t move away from her when he finally looks down, his dark eyebrows drawn into a tight line, chest heaving so hard she wonders if the material is going to split right down the middle. His leg against her is hot, even through the material. Almost as hot as her face— face, neck, shoulders, toes.

“What happened?”

She meekly holds up the blue plastic brush, squeezing her eyes shut. “He just snuck up on me Bucky— I thought I was a goner.”

She cracks an eye open to his clenched jaw, his still heaving chest now much lower— closer. He takes the brush from her hand, setting it on the counter before offering his own hand— the flesh hand— out to her. She takes it, letting him effortlessly pull her body from the ground without so much as even a grunt. Before she knows it she’s eye level with the buttons on his shirt, leaning all the way back in order to meet his simmering crystal eyes.

“We’re not doing that again.” We’re. As in both of them— a team.

She tries to keep from trembling at his deep voice. It doesn’t work. He notices— of course he notices— and takes a step back. She doesn’t have the heart— or the gall— to tell him that she’s not shaking because she’s afraid of him.

“It was a hairbrush.” She sighs, curling her arms around her chest, suddenly feeling more exposed than ever under the surprisingly bright fluorescents.

Of course now, when she’s standing in a flimsy tank top, is the one time the lights aren’t dimmed.

He doesn’t back down, seething his words between his teeth. “This time— this time it was a hairbrush.”

She shakes her head, dropping her eyes and bending to scoop up her hoodie— she doesn’t want to see him angry at her. It makes her feel guilty; like her her chest is caving in on itself. She doesn’t need that on top of everything else.

“Fine, whatever.” She grabs her bag, brushing by him.

She knows that she’s being childish. She isn’t an idiot, contrary to what her mind likes to tell her. She’s just exhausted. Exhausted of having to always look over her shoulder, exhausted of wondering who’s going to die next— if she’s going to die next, exhausted of having to actively try to stay alive. She’s just exhausted in general. She doesn’t want to die but, gods, if she isn’t so damn tired of having to think about it. Aren’t you supposed to just live? Not think about living?

She pushes open the door to the bedroom, dumping her bag next to the cedar chest at the end of the bed, refusing to turn around when she hears his footsteps— much quieter than she’s yet to hear them— enter behind her. She crosses her arms again, digging her fingers into the flesh hard enough to give herself something to focus on other than how much she wants to rip every strand of hair from her head. Her eyes wander over the olive duvet, noting how the color makes the black iron frame pop in contrast. Maybe she should change up her bedroom back home.

She bites her lip— she’s stalling. It’s a queen sized bed, more than big enough for both of them. Maybe she should offer it to him. There’s barely any room on the floor to sprawl out, only a small space either next to the dresser beside the bed or in front of the chest. Either way he would probably have to lay as stiff as possible to avoid bumping his limbs. The right thing to do would be to offer it to him— to take the floor.

She listens as he takes a step, the air behind her shifting, and she tenses. “Look, I think we should talk—”

“Do you want the bed?” She tries to keep her tone balanced— to keep from hurling the words at him like daggers. Or like hair brushes.

“I’m serious, I’m sor—”

She whirls around, her hair flying around her face, features schooled but tone edging closer towards being unhinged— she just needs to sleep. “Do you want the bed?”

She doesn’t meet his eyes— she’s tired of that game, it's time to start a new one. This one’s called how long can y/n stare at the buttons on his henley until before she sets them on fire out of sheer willpower. His chest deflates, his hands twitching at his sides before curling and slipping behind his back. He’s looking at her— of course he is. It’s all he does. It’s his job.

“You take it.” He says it so quietly she barely hears it, his tone the picture of resignation. It doesn’t make her feel good— she didn’t think it would though.

His stare never leaves her. She’s still not looking at him but she can tell. It makes her skin burn from her ears all the way down to her chest, her skin prickling like she's being prodded by a thousand mini suns. She feels like she’s in the desert and she forgot to put sunscreen on. Is this what flowers feel like? Does the sun beat down so relentlessly on them that they feel like they’re being set on fire? As relentlessly as he watches her?

It’s his job, it’s his job, it’s his job.

“Okay.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

She lays in bed for three hours, eyes wide open and body pin straight. The room is pitch black, spare a hint of light pouring in from under the door. It shines a stripe onto the olive duvet, one that she just barely flicks her wrist back and forth through. Not enough to ruffle the loud blanket— which for the record crinkles louder than a chip bag when she moves even an inch underneath it— but enough to watch the light dance over her skin and keep her from going completely mad. She feels like a cat chasing a laser— entirely moronic but strangely entertained. Alas, all good things must come to an end.

By the time the fourth hour rolls around she is beyond restless. The strip of light got old a half hour ago— which, granted, kept her entertained for far longer than she would be willing to admit but still. Now she wants to move. She needs to move. If she were home she would still be awake. The digital clock beside the bed flashes one-thirty, scarlet red and glaring at her. It’s not even close to the ungodly hour in which she usually crawls into her bed, pulling the blanket over her head and praying for the sun to magically disappear. Not even close.

She can practically hear Lindsy Lohan calling her name— it’s Wednesday, y/n. On Wednesdays we wear pink. Yeah, she knows Lindsy! Unfortunately the big man on the floor doesn’t know that. Usually her Wednesday's aren’t so blocked— is it even Wednesday? It doesn’t matter. She just wants to watch Mean Girls now— with or without the Chunky Monkey.

She waits another ten minutes, mulling the idea over as the anticipation steadily grows in her stomach, churning her organs into soup over the idea of having to tiptoe past her sleeping bodyguard. She holds her breath a few times, making sure his breathing is even and calm. Making sure that he’s asleep. Each time his breaths are the same, gentle, even hiss of air. In, out, pause. In, out, pause. Over and over and over again. For a moment she debates staying and just listening to him breathe for the rest of the night. But no— that’s creepy and she’s sure that she can be in and out without him waking up in the hour and thirty-seven minutes it takes to watch the movie.

Yes she counted and every minute is worth the risk— she’s doing it!

She takes a deep breath, sliding as silently as she can under the covers. Each movement feels magnified— like someone is holding a microphone to her limbs. She just prays that the microphone isn’t connected to his ears. What are the odds that he’s a heavy sleeper? Nevermind, she doesn’t want to know.

After what feels like an eternity of inching her way to the edge of the bed her foot finally shoots over the edge, greeting the chilly air and sending a jolt racing up her spine. She’s really doing it. She slips the other out next, rising onto her elbows and holding the position. She can’t see her legs— hell, she can’t see her hand two feet in front of her face— but she can feel the space depleting as she slips off the mattress. Biting back a hiss as her toes brace against the hardwood, she just barely stops herself from hopping up and down. If she were home she would amp up the theatrics, maybe throw in a squeal for good measure— forget technology, being a drama queen is her true calling.

Just not when there’s a man who she needs to stay asleep laying a few feet away from her.

She shuffles blindly forward, trying to remember where she saw him lay down before she turned off the lamp. That was four hours ago though and she’s starting to think that all that time playing with the crack of light has fried her brain. She thinks he’s near the chest but she can’t be sure.

She could swear—she could drop the loudest f-bomb this planet has ever known. She would, too, if she knew it wouldn’t wake him up. All she wants to do is watch some petty, pretty girls fight over a mediocre brunette. Is that really too much to ask for?

No— the answer is no. So she does what any self respecting woman would do in that situation and she wings it. She guesses. That’s respectable, right? Right. She takes each step with care, searching for any warm spots that might give her a hint as to where he is, all the while chasing after that little crack of light like it’s heaven. Because that’s what it is— a haven from having to lay alone with her thoughts all night.

As was to be expected sooner rather than later, her toes brush against a rather hot patch of wood and she freezes. He’s here— somewhere— she just has no idea where here is. She squints, searching for even a hint of the man. When she comes away with nothing, the scream— the one that’s never quite gone, always just simmering in the back of her throat— surges. She has to swallow— swallow, gag, same thing— in order to keep from foiling her own plan.

She brushes her foot forward. Slowly. Painfully, excruciatingly slowly. When her toes brush against the folds of a blanket she gasps. It slips out before she can stop it and she plasters a hand over her mouth as soon as it happens, praying that it isn’t too late— that there’s still a chance she can make it.

She hears Bucky shift on the ground, holding her breath, her toes a mere foot away from the soldier. She counts in her head— one, two, three, oh fuck is he moving, four— before taking another step. Repeating the process, it takes four rounds of this little tip toe game until her hands finally land against the door frame, searching through the darkness until her fingers curl around the knob. Mean Girls here she comes.

“Where ya’ going?” Bucky’s voice cuts through the night easily, rich and deep and cruel.

There isn’t even a hint of sleep in his tone— he was awake the entire time. Her face flushes, her neck searing hot. She can almost hear her skin crackling where the straps of her tank top touch her. She should have known he wouldn’t be a deep sleeper— or sleeping at all, apparently. Damnit.

“I, ah, was just going to the bathroom?” Really? The bathroom?

She has never been so thankful for the dark than she is in this moment, if only because he can’t see the way she rolls her eyes at her own stupidity and scrunches her entire face up. She can’t scream— that idea’s already been scrapped— so it’s the next best thing. That doesn’t stop her throat from bubbling though, the frustration knocking on her windpipe like the friendly neighbour back for even more sugar.

“You’re a terrible liar, you know that?” She swears for a moment she can hear a hint of laughter in his voice, just enough to make the accusation bearable.

She whirls around, hands glued to her hips and trying not to slam her foot down like an insolent toddler. Something hot flares up in her chest— something which she hasn’t felt in ages. Anger. It makes her want to smack him. She wouldn’t, of course, but she wants to— she wants to wipe the smirk out of his words. She wants to more than she’s wanted to do anything in a very long time.

“What do you want me to say then, hmm?”

She can just make out the way Bucky pushes himself up, his shadowy figure now taking up more space. Taking up space in general— of course now she can see him. If she were closer to him she is sure his head would sit above her belly button, right under her brea— stop that, y/n!

“How ‘bout the truth?” God she can still hear that insufferable smirk.

“That was the truth.”

“It wasn’t.”

His breath comes in hot puffs against her stomach— he’s closer than she thought. She doesn’t realize her tank top has ridden up until his face is inches away from her exposed skin. She tries not to shudder as she yanks the material back down her abdomen. Traitorous body!

She wants to rip her hair out— again. “Yes, it was—”

He’s standing now, pushing his way towards her in the dark until she can feel the heat rolling off his body, face to face with a hulking chest. “Just tell me what you want so we can do it, alright?”

There it is again— we.

She can’t breathe. This seems to be becoming a trend— her not being able to breathe when he’s around her. This time it’s her fault though. She squishes her eyes closed, taking a moment to pull in some much needed air. It does little to help her— it smells like nutmeg and cinnamon. She has no idea how he manages to smell like a bakery— or how she hasn’t noticed until now, when she needs more than anything to pull away from the warmth and not fall deeper into it. Unprofessional, y/n— you’re supposed to be the grieving daughter.

She takes another moment, ignoring how he shifts on his feet, clearly becoming impatient, before finally whispering— “I wanted to watch a movie.”

A pause— a long one— before a soft ‘okay’.

For a moment she thinks she hears him wrong— no way the giant soldier is down for movie night with her. Shouldn’t he be telling her to go back to bed? Telling her that it isn’t in his job description to babysit her— to keep her entertained? Surely he doesn’t actually want to watch a movie.

“You don’t have to—”

“Actually, I do.” Oh yeah. He has to follow her wherever she goes. She almost forgot that she might die.

Die for what— wanting to watch a god damn movie?

“Forget it— it was stupid.”

She goes to brush past him, tucking her shoulders up and into her neck, trying to put some space between them as she tucks tail and slips back towards the bed. Talk about a busted ego.

A hand curls around her forearm, halting her retreat. “Let’s watch a movie— can’t sleep anyway.”

She swallows thickly. If she were to turn her cheek a few inches she is sure it would brush against his shoulder.

“Are you sure?”

“‘Course I am.”

She nods— she knows he can’t see her but she doesn’t trust her voice— and that’s how she ends up watching Mean Girls with a man large enough to rip her in half with his bare hands. A few times she glances over at him, searching through the glow of the TV to the other side of the supple leather couch where his gaze remains locked on the screen. She’s even sure she hears a few breathy laughs— like he’s trying not to laugh but he can’t help it.

The big bad bodyguard likes chick flicks.

About halfway through something unexpected happens— her eyelids begin to heavy. It’s stange, the clock on the wall reads only slightly past two in the morning. She never sleeps before six. Regardless, though, she curls her legs into her body, tucking them under the hoodie she had replaced before leaving the room. Her head slopes against the arm of the couch, eyes fluttering a few times before dropping shut. She’s not going to sleep, obviously— just resting her eyes.

She feels something heavy pool on her lap and the faintest wisps of fingers— some warm and some cold— adjusting the new weight. It brushes against her shin— a blanket. He put a blanket on her. She pulls it closer, dragging it over her cheek, trying her best to stave off the sleep tugging at her limbs. Maybe a conversation will help. There are a few things she’s been meaning to tell him.

“I didn’t mind it.” She whispers it but she’s sure he can hear her over the all but muted TV.

The couch cushions shift, sinking for a moment before stilling. She can picture him facing her now, his head tilted, blue eyes serious. Always on alert, always ready to defend.

“What?” He even sounds defensive— like he’s waiting for her to drop a bomb on him.

Silly man, can’t you see that she can barely even force the last word out of her mouth with how tired she is?

“Doll. I—” she yawns, pulling her limbs closer to her, tucking a hand under her head— “I didn’t mind it.”

He doesn’t say anything right away. If it were daytime she’s sure she would have cared but for now she’s okay not feeling any of the prescribed embarrassment.

“Oh.”

She doesn’t say anything else, only snuggles deeper into the arm of the couch. It must be the exhaustion talking— that’s what she’ll tell herself tomorrow anyway when she’s forced to confront this conversation again. For now she just gives in, letting herself fall into the darkness without fear for what feels like the first time in months.

_________________

Tag List: @xhollycowx @remembered-license @dumble-daddy @hellotvshowtrash @thesummerbucky @elijahs-wife @cari1bunny @im-just-star-dust

[misterbitches]

i had the misfortune of finally watching/getting through what happened in whatever episode where he gets raped so im gonna talk about it and tag it cos that's what a bitch fuckin feels like, got it? i do what i want aint no limit bad ass bitch aint never been timid. woopsie realized i got the nicknames confused oh well lmao

it's just logistically and plot wise like there's literal plot holes in this and i'm taking the production and set-up into account along with the actual content and development. im an ARTIST OKAY im jk i mean i am and i am pretentious and terrible but look. i didnt get that degree and im not in a house worth of debt for nothing ok. it's called writing on tumblr about my grievances of shows that dont matter and do not respect me as a fat black american woman either so it is my fault yet here i am.

anyway it was worse than i imagined and their talk after (with chengren) was even worse. that's what i mean about making the lines their own (the actors) bc teng teng sounded like a straight up motherfucking moron and im like

bECAUSE IT'S HIM EVEN THO IM LIKE WHAT THE FUCK DID U JUST SAY U STUPID BITCH? but then it's like awwww and they also care about his wellbeing obviously??? but no? but it's like ok still teng teng said it even if it's stupid because he is a character and charles puts that forth. the people that fail the most to do that are xing si's family but that's not the actors fault because it's the literal material. you're like wait what but you just said...?

so i know they have no script editors i guess i think i find this season ACTUALLY fascinating because of just how egregious it is. i also went back and watched history: obsessed which i thought i liked because of their chemistry even though god the production....but i tried rewatching it and i was like wow this is worse than i remembered and the production issues were even worse because some of the music was SO LOUD AND BAD HOLY FUCK and their whole rship isssssss a sight to behold lmao

so man i guess it really is the power of anson/charles. which is good cos we love to see it...sort of but also a lot.

i honestly....because i've been able to pay attn more to the aftermath of the rape going back and putting it into more context and focusing (just barely lmao) is hm even worse. the inconsistencies are insane. it's not even just about the act but the writers have zero idea where they are going because they have no interest in exploring it. but the way in which it happens is like fascinating. yong jie literally thinks he owns xing si and it doesn't matter if he was kissing him or not or asked for a kiss on the lips (which dude what the fuck? i'll get to that) because he was plied with "extremely strong drinks" and his mom knew about it....which girl congrats you're an accomplice to the rape of your son by your other son?

but first of all...the kissing thing. in what fucking world would he (xing si) want that unless he thought he (yong jie) was someone else. i can't say their attraction is evident because we are being lead by this team to think so; they create this false sense of sensuality already so to me that signifies that they never intended for them to have a bond as brothers. it just feels cheap and fucking lazy (which it is.) even if he did, which doesn't make sense considering the context THEY CONSTRUCTED, it wouldn't matter because he was so fucking drunk which.... at that point nothing is fun, you feel sick, who wants sex like that? does he not have whiskey dick? did they have a condom? was it not painful for him considering? even if this was something to easily get over like was the dick good? it couldn't have been. and then, on top of that, there's the fact that you can change your mind or whatever but also that people do get aroused in these situations bc it is human nature (that's if they can literally get aroused which if the drinks were allegedly sooooo strong that nigga would be out so....again like even practically here it doesnt add up. have these people ever been drunk? if not, write what you know girl. cos sometimes it's like i think some of u r trying to be cool when u dont have 2 b lmao)

so yong jie coming on to him previously may be seen as like push-and-pull but here's the thing. right after it happens (the rape and it's rape so call it that you'll be okay) xing si gets up and goes home and is terrified and upset. he acts like what we have seen or even felt after a violation. he's scared, clutching his bag, it's like...you know...decently coming off as truly distressing (the actor isn't bad at all and i like that he's dark. i just massively hate this for him but hey at least he can show some chops.) like honestly man that fucking sucks and hurts to see. if we've been there we feel it. or part of it is realizing belatedly what happened. a lot of times that drop in your stomach is the worst.

but somehow for some reason, to which i cannot understand, the three of them begin to talk as if xing si pressured him? which maybe i missed something and that is possible—dont feel like going back to look—but that also made no sense. like what kind of false memory is this? why would he think he wasn't willing? and if he thought yong jie wasn't and that he pressured him how does he remember like...anything about the sex?!?!??!? besides waking up and being with him. like i guess he felt yong jie's MASSIVE DONG imprint but ??!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!??!? MAKE IT MAKE SENSE!!!!!

god then the logic of the top/bottom thing is like i said i wasnt going to get into it but it's actually really funny. this whole thing was hilarious. honestly because I DO NOT UNDERSTAND WHAT THAT MEANS. he could have totally raped him in that way but how did you get to this CONCLUSION FROM THAT??????? BY YOUR LOGIC THAT'S NOT HOW IT WORKS? IF HE IS THE BOTTOM AND PENETRATION IS THE ONLY FORM OF TRUE CONSUMMATION AND RAPE BECAUSE APPARENTLY, BASED ON ANATOMY, IF YOU HAVE A DICK IN UR BUTT UR A GIRL THEN HOW. DOES. THIS. MAKE. SENSE. AND THEN

AND THEN

AND THEN

AND THEN

this whole stupid conversation happens so we get to the conclusion that xing si violated him ok cool but that means that something is wrong. that is the CONCLUSION WE CAME TO A SECOND AGO?

also the other rapist is a villain and muren isn't in love with him so, once again, you're breaking the rules of your own world about acceptability which is why most of this is absolutely mind bogggglinG that iit's fuckign comical. like i actually when i can stomach it start laughing or my jaw is slack because it's so insulting as a viewer because there is like 0 logical followthrough.

because whatshisface barges in, kisses him in front of his friends without permission, then says whether you were willing or not which is hm. at that point how u gonna change that around but let's not bother with logic here. i am simply here to point out how this makes no sense according to the rules they set up even outside of the basic rule of life which is hm dont rape people maybe.

so now we know xing si was raped, they believe he was raped, he himself believes he was raped, and whatshisface literally says he doesn't care even if he was willing (he wasn't) so he admits to rape. i don't believe in the police and i hate them (BL industry needs the cops but dont get me down that road) but no one...thought to go?

because according to history 4 logic nothing matters so im sure if he went to the police you could handwave the homophobia since there's no actual context for anything besides their whimsy. but they dont want to do that because they aren't interested in an arc of growth; redemption isn't possible unless he is removed from the family but again no work on thinking this through or thinking about the victim's feelings. because gay sex? who fucking knows. supposedly progressive taiwanese writers of gay shit (like how supposedly progressive the world is. as in it is not and this behavior is the norm and bl perpetuates that) can't think of transformative justice?

and then they gave bad advice so we wont acknowledge that because teng teng doing anything wrong/stupid is frequent but hurts me and also that storyline is not real so i pretend they are not there outside of this post

so all of this is just straihgt up clownery now because it's fucking absurd like logically, practically, human-wise. the kissing thing is inconsequential but it was such a lazy cheap way out lmao cos they really wanted it to seem consensual but that's not how it works. on top of that their attraction makes no sense because whatshisface is just there. he is just there. he's nothing and no one so the sentiments are even more empty and on top of that he doesnt listen to a single request fucking obviously because the basis of their relationship is fucking rape so fucking listening and respecting his partner is not on his list of fucking priorities. he's literally so fucking annoying even without being a rapist it's like someone please beat his ass.

and then after all of that you want us to feel bad? with your horrible writing, poorly misplaced music, stupid costumes (those fucking SHOES THEY ARE HIDEOUS, AND MOST OF THIER CLOTHES DO NOT FIT IT'S LIKE WHY), questionable fucking editing. we're supposed to wnat them together? this sounds literally fucking crazy but bear with me lmao even with the rape they could at least have SOMETHING i mean like i cant believe im fucking saaying this. but like in addicted heroin which is fuckin tragic and awful at least there's a MODICUM of interest but honestly that show s a fucknig drag. idk they lookd good together? here we have 0. nothing. and it doesnt motivate. watching obsessed again i can see why i liked it in the beginning bc they have good chemistry but the acting and production adn like everything about it plus the rape-y vibes it's just too much. you need to pick one thing so if you're going to be a shit writer at least supplement it with something. this thing is nothing.

and even more nonsensical and what boggles my mind frankly out of all this is the mother's involvement and the father's final response. there are NO consequences? theyre all happy?

ok so lets go through this:

1. 2 boys grow up 2gether, one of the boys is fucking psycho, the mother knows but does nothing??????????????

2. one of the sons moves out so his father doesn't get a hint that's he's fucking gay. ok fine. he has 2 best friends, a job, an apt. he is fine.

3. aforementioned brother is obsessed with him for SOME REASON besides being crazy?

3.5 no one has done anything during him growing up to help him not be crazy?

4. mom says to husband who is their father also just in case we forget "im afraid he will lose his humanity"

4.5 again, do nothing. 0. just like oh man hes crazy. guess that's just our son ;)

4. who cares. plies him with alcohol purposefully to rape him. not even dubious (even though dubious is fucked and not okay or is just not. fucking real. these shows are contextless when they want to be or even movies or whatever so it's like largely not up to the task to understand complexity in human rships and then oversimplifies it constantly because that's what we do IRL. but people have fucking feelings you know and we realize when things don't feel good or right to us either very quickly after or having to process it. and once you're eyes are opened you may feel as something was fucking ripped away from you. for the modc couple this would be a very logical conclusion for the high schooler the thirty year old dated but again logic or feelings are up to their whimsy. no one cares bc everything can be counted as dubious so honestly it's a fucking stupid fucking topic like again why are we litigating what is and isnt consent when you could just like idk. read cues? consent? wait? not be a freak? like we all know what is proper human shit so even if we are watching this uncritically which u cant bc it's glaring and stupid it's just even more dumb) so it was honestly a rape plot like he literally planned it soooooooooo??!?!

5. aftermath of rape the victim is like literally fucking bereft and confused. and a rape victim. like that's what they are insinuating and what also he is to be clear.

6. boy tells him "idc if i raped u i luv u lmao"

7. mom ENCOURAGED THE BOY to get him drunk because her other son was too nice? she encouraged her adult son to rape her adult step-son (but her real son because she repeatedly says you are my son and the dad does too THEY GREW UP TOGETHER WHEN THE KID WAS IN AN IMPRESSIONABLE STATE) so THIS ALSO MAKES EVEN LESS MOTHERFUCKING SENSE

8. everyone finds out about his rape and he isnt mortified he's just concerned about himself being gay to his dad?????? except it's not really about his gayness bc now it's about his sudden love for his rapist brother? which? hm ok. understandable the dad is like wow i do not think i like this

9. dad knows all of it is fucked up, everyone does, knows the mother fucked up, knows he fucked up. doesnt like it because he is normal. so we know this is terrible? ok great so—

10. father says "i can't accept this...but i'm willing to give you my blessing" ok see here's the thing. when you write you have to think about the things you are putting on the page and what you have written previously. this quite literally made no sense how the fuck are you going to not accept them but give them your blessing? does this crew know what the fuck words are? i'm assuming they went to some sort of school to obtain jobs here bc there cannot be natural talent or experience. maybe most of them are rich. fuck i do not know but this also makes no sense. just the literal logic of it it's like fucking insane the whiplash.

10.5 apparently this father is also shitty. everyone here sucks and they are basically begging me to think xing si is a fucking idiot so i dont even want to look at him if he is an object he doesnt matter so now i want to kick him. thanks a lot you made the victim get absolutely fucking nothing

they KEEP PUSHING the brother thing it is so insane and it's liek GUYS WE GET IT WE UNDERSTAND THEYRE "RELATED" BUT NOT RELATED SO IT'S OK HE WAS "RAPED" BUT NOT RAPED but you're GOING BACK ON YOUR OWN RULES!!!!!!!!!! WE GET THAT THEY ARE BROTHERS!!! WE'RE OVER IT NOW BUT WHAT IS THIS WHEN WE ALREADY ESTABLISHED SOMETHING? I AM CONFUSION? they flip flop between my son, my brother my actual brother, and cannot fucking distinguish between love for your father and love for your romantic partner? so to me what i see is that the father wants to fuck the son. that's the conclusion i am garnering now considering nothing matters and his love for his "brother" is the same as his love for his dad lmao. they couldnt even do that in a way that made sense. like damn anybody can get anything. these ppl who are doing this have to be fucking rich and/or have connections.

also this guy sounds literally like a textbook abuser like he says constantly "im the best choice" is a rapist is awful holds capital (oh hees "saving" smh ur trapping her!!!!! RETIRE!!!!) also wears terrible shoes so i am like ur alllllllllLLLLL FUCKING CRAZY ur all literally crazy and then they are trying to set rules and boundaries in their fucking house like WHY ARE THEY LIVING TOGETHER EVEN? even tho oh my god they know he raped him and for some reason they are both allowing to live in the house but they dont want them to have sex??!?!?!??!??!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!!?!?!?!?!!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!!??!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?! i get that this is their house but this is like at this point these ppl are writing anything and now whatshisface is acting like a 2 yr old again and we are supposed to find this cute? like it makes 0 sense why do u fucking care u literally encouraged ur son to rape him so they cant have consensual sex under your nose now and have to wait four years? this is coming from the son who couldnt wait until someone was sober enough to realize hes fucking psychotic and should be killed also the fact that they act like being 20 means u have no fucking brain like this kid is in med school supposedly how do we know like hes a liar and an idiot so. also wait do they mean undergrad? how are you in med school at 20? is he a genius? girl i dont care lmao i guess i missed that but it's not like it matters so whatever

even if we ignore the stupidity of the literal acts, the grossness of the content, the absolute inability to write coherently or even remotely in a way where we would even want to see them together which is like....u set it up at the beginning so he punches "the love his life's best friend" also holy fuck im sorry remember when he punches muren because xing si got too drunk. so i'm guessing whatshisface is that good of a bartender that he makes super strong drinks and gets xing si drunk but his alcohol is magical therefore it doesn't make him sick. his alcohol is the type that gets you drunk but somehow doesnt get to your liver even though that's how we get drunk but dont ask guys he's only in med school and a bartender so i think he knows best (seriously have the main writers had a day of fun in their lives? have they ever been drunk? are they toddlers? drunk babies could probably do better tho.) i get that he was also jealous but if this kid is SOOOOOO genius (he understands social cues lmao he has the cpacity to project onto his victim so im like miss me with the not understanding shit. go to a fucking therapist like seriously did no one care abt this kid? his mother thinks he's like almost a goddamn murderer. how is she not dead? how are they all not dead? how do any of them know how to drive with this type of brain?) then he would understand that they are very clearly friends since he watched them part in a very platonic way and since he apparently knows what love is cos he thinks....he can....make someone fall in love with him bc he loves them? again, i wouldnt know hes 20 and taiwanese and im 29 and black from AMERICA so im WESTERN* so you know. different life experiences i guess XD

even if we do mental gymnastics to get it to a place where they "had sex" and he didnt rape him there's 0 ZERO ZERO ZERO ZERO ties to the literal story they wrote and the rules they set up. i'm going ot assume they dont know wtf theyre doing and i know for a fact we all care more about their dumb show than they do but it's actually startling how piss poor this is it's like idek what to compare it to. the continuity is awful awful awful they needed a script supervisor majorly and they are making bank and are going to make fucking bank fof this shit. and itll just continue like that until IRL material changes and that's facilitated by these very same groups they choose to profit off of and exploit by propelling it into the mainstream and litigating homosexuality through capitalism. and i'm being specific with homosexuality. i dont want a GL market like at all and i know why we wouldnt have it either and that has everything to do with the nature of BL, capitalism, coercion, and the fanbase being young girls and women. i don't think in this day and age we can safely say all the fans are straight; i'm sure a majority but many women or people on the gender spectrum and sexuality spectrum also consume it. frankly, it's possible the women who write it could be or something too. i dont rly believe any1 is str8 lmao but im just saying it's not out of the realm of possibility. but it isnt about that at all. that's why we wont see "good" female characters (like well written) often that's why we won't see trans women or kathoeys or fat people or black asians in it. a lot of it is is a choice we participate in whatever. but holy fuck dude u could at least respect the audience's fucking intelligence. i'm talking about everything i think that is encapsulated in the project but it's even more jarring and worse because it's so insanely inconsistent and poorly done. like how we jump from one conclusion to another is wild to me. even their first "night together" and he wakes up im like girl....u no ur ass felt it. this nigga broke into his house and was like "im gonna have u" like it's getting weird

just make xing si suffer offscreen not us the stupidity is staggering, mind blowing, hilarious.

how wong kar wai, a straight man from HK (or at least married to a woman), or barry jenkins, a striahgt black man, write/do stories well about people they wouldnt knw about their experiences directly is....well thinking like using their brains and like knowing all types of people? the man who co-wrote moonlight is a hOMOSEXUAL, leslie cheung was fucking gay or queer (and he committed suicide and that's important also RIP homie) both are hailed as queer cinema like WKW wanted to do something else and invested time into it, changed the way he played around with structure, moved away from his crime oriented stuff. he THOUGHT about it and this film is about their reality. it's a harsh film, idk how i feel about it (but my fav movies of his are the crime ones or the messy ones where it's clear he didnt write a script lmao fallen angels is one of my fav movies its' abt assassins kinda) but i know it means something. and he didnt like what HK had previously wasnt enough. it is not the only cinema that should be shown since it's such a stark reality and depressing but it is a real depiction so we can have all sorts of stuff. no this isnt WKW level or moonlight level but i know for a fact these people think they are doing something because artists always do i say this as one and someone who is equally as useless. you're making a statement.

i also hate the westerner component of peoples analyses. first of all dont do cultural relativism. we can critique and respect. but second of all how are we going to keep saying "dont put western ideals on this" when that is what is happening anyway because that's part and parcel for soft power and capitalism. how about taiwan's history with the KMT? what about the regimes young people fought about? aided by US imperialism which permeates through society and affects material conditions, views, democracy, identity and that goes into culture and media. hm? what about that? is that reality too fucking western for people? that we are doing the same thing again now? is that okay to talk about or is that only on your time?

then there's the argument that this is just entertainment. yea no shit but the thing is if we r gonna talk about marginalized groups and watch bc of marginalized groups and then be expected to identify then i dont see why i cant put this in context. even if it wasnt fucking serious we'd still judge it. but it's so pompous and again like i wouldnt say EYE think it's art but it is "art" in the literal sense and no self respecting artist would ever go "man this means nothing." of course im not sure if they do respect themselves so hey but u cant just go oh man it's entertainment when it literally rests on the fact that HOMOS are MARGINALIZED. it literally rests on the fact that WOMEN ARE OBJECTS. you either want progress or you dont. i dont understand being so demanding but not beign specific in the demands and not trying to use your brain. if you dont want to use your brain don't. but if you are looking , engaging, and keep making these arguments or telling ppl it doesnt matter whilst complaining about how much others care is hypocritical at best, willfully obtuse at worst. both bad. :)

(also all this + another thing; it is insulting to have this like wedding happen based off of this stupid relationship when people fought so hard and had to push it. now they can use the material conditions to their advantage but it's so ridiculous. also because there is difficulty still in getting married in taiwan i'm honestly like....the boldness of the writers...)

[victoodles]

Corruption (Crowley x Angel Reader) Part 1

I finished Good Omens yesterday and I wrote this today. The second part (aka the filth) will be coming soon! Also on AO3!

Goody Two-Shoes

That’s what he'd been calling you for the past 6,000 years or so. You were a rule-abiding angel - obediently following orders with no questions asked. Always with an eager flap of your wings. Past tense, however, is key here.

Were.

Now you found yourself lazily draped over the arm of a demon’s throne in his own abode, white dress pooling around your thighs. A cup of wine in hand, held up in the air as you idly swished the liquid. You felt like a girl in one of those oil paintings you saw during the Renaissance.

Like ‘The Venus of Urbino’

Crowley chuckled, bemused but humored. “Like the what now?”

“Oh! Nothing,” you said, forgetting the thought with a swig of your drink. You hadn’t realized you’d actually spoken aloud.

He had recently turned you on to the joys of wine: Chardonnay, Sauvignon blanc, Cabernet, the list goes on. Those uppity Archangels had created a trend amongst the humans. They claimed the stuff was a vice, abhorrent, and immensely sinful. How drab.

Later on, they passed it down the angel hierarchy as gospel, essentially condemning it. It was clearly meant for slothful humans with no faith. You made it a priority to avoid it at all costs, lest you eternally displease your overseers.

However, it seemed Crowley was to be much more...persuasive than the hogwash lectures from Gabriel and Michael. The influence they had over you was unraveling, as much as you tried to deny it.

For this, Crowley seemed to find quite a bit of fun in teasing you throughout the centuries. He ruffled your feathers, quite literally. You had always been by the books - no ifs, ands, or buts. After all, the higher-ups did assign you to tote after Aziraphale once he “lost” his flaming sword. Keep him on the straight and narrow. You hadn't expected the infamous snake of Eden to be along for the ride.

Crowley had quickly made a game with his friend on how many times in one conversation he could make you scoff in contempt. His current record was seventeen.

But the tit for tat was never malicious in nature like his kind was so inclined towards. Much like Aziraphale, he thoroughly enjoyed your company and the banter along with it.

Perhaps even a tad more than Aziraphale.

Try as you may, you couldn’t fathom why the angel would ever keep the company of a demon like Crowley. Demons and angels went together as well as one could expect of fire and gasoline. But despite all your angelic instincts, you decided to keep their friendship (and yours) out of your reports to Heaven.

And as much as you tried to remain prickled towards him, you soon found yourself inching closer and closer to Crowley.

“So I told Cain, ‘In my humble opinion, I think Abel isn’t worth his sheeps' shit.’ I thought he would take it out on his brother’s herd, not beat him to death with a rock,” Crowley explained with an exasperated sigh. “Alas.”

Appalled but not surprised, you clapped a hand over your mouth. “You aided in creating humankind’s first killer?!” Pride tugged at the corner of Crowley’s lips at your declaration.

“Well when you put it like that, it sounds far more exciting doesn’t it?”

You threw a velvet cushion at his head - he dodged it with a laugh. “Crowley! That’s terrible,” you squealed. Crowley leaned back on his palms along his stone table, shrugging nonchalantly.

“In my defense, Cain did receive protection and promises of vengeance from God afterwards,” he said as if it were something to boast about.

“Only for the price of everlasting exile,” you barked back dryly. Crowley regarded you from behind his sunglasses, a devilish (no pun intended) smirk on his face.

“Oh sorry, princess, I forget how positively tame you are in comparison.” Pink rushed to your cheeks at the emphasis on your new nickname. He had a plethora of them -  sometimes a new one for each day of the week.

But the innuendo behind this one had your wings twitching against your back, eager to hide your newfound bashfulness. It was a habit you inadvertently developed whenever Crowley decided to get especially cheeky with you.  

“E-excuse me,” your voice wavered, rising an octave with each pronounced syllable. Crowley’s simper only grew. He brought the bottle of wine on the table to his lips, ignoring the glass he had already poured.

“You’re not exactly the most anarchic, princess. Peace and order appeals to you too much to have any real fun,” he mocked with a click of his tongue.

How dare he!

You turned your nose up at him, “I’ll have you know, Mister Crowley, that I can be quite adventurous.” As if to prove the sentiment, you raised your glass at him. “See? I’m drunk, with a demon!”

That last point was made to really drive home the fact of how bad you were. Crowley was not impressed. He took a hearty sip from his bottle, rolling his eyes in the process. Your frustration only grew at his dismissal.

Crowley regarded you as he drank, loving how the remnants of your blush left your cheeks an enchanting shade of red. You always seemed to captivate him regardless of circumstances. To say he was attracted to your purity, amongst other things, wouldn’t be too far from the truth

A purity he selfishly wanted all to himself.

The demon found himself quite enamored with you for reasons that would be too...saccharine for someone of his ilk to admit. But when you look at him with your big doe-eyes, the heart he swears he doesn’t have beats just a little bit faster. Though he persistently insists it’s just to appear more human when Aziraphale inquires.

He can’t help it. The moment that innocent gaze turns into a fiery glower, he swears he’s never seen anything more intense in his existence.

Sultry. That’s the best word he can use to describe you right you right now. Pursing your lips on the rim of your glass, you attempt to quell your agitation with wine. Your free arm hand loosely grasps the back of the chair, head lolled. He took note of how much leg you were showing as you gently swung your feet back and forth. There wasn’t an ounce of virtue in your posture.

If he didn’t know any better he would’ve thought you a succubus, attempting to disarm and seduce him.

A thought crossed his mind as he released the bottle from his mouth with a pop.

“You know,” he began, slowly licking the remnants of wine off his lips. You noticed, and tried to ignore the thrumming in your chest. “I bet you’ve never indulged in any of the other physical pleasures humanity has to offer,” he said lasciviously.

Plush feathers tickled your spine as you desperately tried to contain your wings. You lurched forward in your seat, choking on wine while he has the gaul to snicker at you.

“The audacity-“

“Well have you,” he cuts you off before you can chastise him. You’re taken aback by how forward he’s being. Petulance then fills you.

“O-of course I have,” you sputter pathetically. He quirked an eyebrow, silently asking you to continue. You face forward, straightening yourself out in a sad attempt to gather more composure.

“...There was a sweet Parisian lad who took me to Carnaval way back when. He tried to teach me to dance and, well, you know how the saying goes. In the end he graced me with a kiss on the cheek under the moonlight. Oh, it was all rather romantic.”

“Quite the little minx, ain’t you? I feel like a sinner in church just listening to ya, princess,” Crowley huffed, throwing back another gulp.

You were burning up more than you knew possible. While other ethereal inhabitants may choose to partake in certain...activities, you decided to stick to modesty. To be chaste. It’s how all proper angels should be!

Right?  

“And I suppose you have then,” you grumbled, defeated.

With that, Crowley’s demeanor shifted. Previous inhibitions gone from a simple question.

He placed the bottle back down, removing his sunglasses in the process. Serpentine eyes, half lidded and glowing a faint yellow in the evening light, bore into you. His legs spread tantalizingly.

Another pang against your ribs.

It suddenly ceased when he pushed himself up and began to saunter over to you.

“Why yes,” he said sensually as he approached.

“Yes.”

Step.

“I.”

Step.

“Have.” His hand found a perch on the ornate backrest as he towered above you. He pushed your legs apart with his knee and stood between them. You inhaled sharply, your glass slipping from your grasp and shattering harshly on the floor beside you. Neither of you paid the mess any mind.

Crowley chuckled darkly, daring to lean in closer. “Lust, quite an enjoyable thing really. Lucifer truly did the world a kindness with that particular circle of Hell,” he mused, looking downward almost fondly. His free hand caressed your cheek, featherlight.

Ironically, you felt heavier. The weight of your unspoken attraction to the demon was crashing down upon you. You tried, for countless years, to subdue any unseemly desires. An angel could not intimately coexist with their mortal enemy, a demon.

...Right?

It had always been a challenge the more attached you became to Earth. To Crowley. Your efforts were tumultuous, yet overall successful. But now, in this moment, it was unbearable.

Suffocating.

Again Crowley slid closer, noses mere inches apart. The sweetness of the wine still lingered on him. “Skin on skin. A heat in your belly that can only be satiated by submitting to carnal urges. Kissing, biting, fucking,” he purred against the shell of your ear.

An unfamiliar shiver wracked your body; you’ve never been this close to another soul before. The rumble of his impish laughter sent that same shiver lower that time.

Those eyes, snakelike but bewitching, they had to be putting you in some sort of trance. It was intoxicating - may it forever bound you within it’s honied depths.

Those eyes.

Behind them was longing, need, warmth.

“Tell me, Angel,” his thumb traces your plush bottom lip. “Would you like to know?”

Ensnared.

“K-know what?” The words were barely a whisper.

The devil always hears.

You planted your own Garden of Eden and reached for the apple of your own accord. The snake hisses with delight from beyond the underbrush.

“Would you like to know what it’s like?” His lips are almost upon yours now, waiting patiently for what they knew would eventually come.

Temptation is a cruel master.

[softbluefanfiction]

Kyoya x Tamaki - Changing Times

Chapter 1: The Artist

Warnings: Thoughts of suicide, mentions of past suicide attempt, self hate, sad times, do not proceed if this is not for you!!

National Suicide Prevention Hotline: Call 1-800-273-8255

Now, to begin! Hello friends, I am very excited to be writing again, and really hope you like my story! Its an idea long in the making and I feel very excited to move it along! I am pretty busy, so it will never be left on a cliff hanger, but you may have to wait a little bit in between parts, and if I ever drop the story I will upload information about what the ending would have been! I just wanna have you be not be worried about being left on edge, as that is never fun!! Time to proceed with the story now, I really hope you enjoy! (Also, its been a hot minute since I watched the show, so bear with me just a bit on that please).

Kyoya is the silent, mysterious type. That is what allures girls in, his aura that leaves all to question. That is what makes the club money, and what gives him the chance to learn proper ways to run a business. That is what makes his father proud.

Kyoya stops at that thought, his fingers, covered in paint, coming to a halt once more. His thoughts always drift when he paints and, like all good artists he thinks, they sway to more unsavory parts of his mind, but this train of thought is forbidden. It goes beyond the palatable amount of pain, and moves into feelings that tighten Kyoya's chest and make his hand stop in its tracks. So, he removes those thoughts, takes a deep breath and continues.

He was using a paint brush when he started painting, and really tried to convince himself he was not going to make a mess. Now, his hands are covered in various sunset shades along with everything in the near vicinity, and his plan to contain himself has failed. He always looses himself in painting though, it is the one time Kyoya truly relaxes, even with his venturing thoughts.

Kyoya never really knows what he is painting, unless the painting starts with a defined idea. Generally, any art piece Kyoya makes comes from a general color palette then moves from there. Then, once a picture starts to form, he moves into it. It is common for landscapes to arise from his strokes, but faces of those around him may come into place as well. Last week he painted the really nice boy from french class, Liu.

He does feel somewhat creepy when he does faces, he did not get permission, why should he have the right to paint the person? He still does though and what does it matter, no one will see it. That thought sends a pang through Kyoya's chest. He truly loves his art, and is excruciatingly proud of it. Its really the only thing he is proud of doing, the only thing that he does for himself. Kyoya takes a break from his work to clear his eyes and take a breath once more.

Looking back up at his piece, he has yet to see a picture forming, maybe it is somewhat cloudy though. He proceeds with an audible hum, making some defined lines then zoning out once more.

He woke up feeling a bit more downtrodden today than usual. As requested by his sister and therapist each, he took his meds and set off for the day. They seemed to work for a small while, but wore off far too quickly, he should start taking extra with him to school just in case. He had to stay after today and work out extra finances. The club just had another theme day and Kyoya wanted everything squared away before going home, and he was grateful finished early enough to paint.

Tamaki had stayed after with him, not wanting Kyoya to be lonely. A small smile crept onto his face at that thought, knowing someone cared was nice. Tamaki had ended up falling asleep on a couch near where Kyoya was filling out his papers. He was informed he would be bored but when did Tamaki ever listen?

He was so adorable though, just laying there in the beams of light. A light blush crept across Kyoyas neck, but his thoughts still wandered across the shades of Tamaki's face. The angles that the light made, how he was laying, the calm, still somewhat glowing expression on his kind face. That painting would have been magical. Honestly, in any position Tamaki found himself, Kyoya would find that painting to be a captivating one.

Kyoya was no airhead, he knew he liked Tamaki. He knew he wanted to kiss him awake today, and cuddle on that couch. He knew that every look Tamaki gave him, he wished it to be one of deeper care. He knew that he read into ever gesture, every touch, hoping to find something there. But it was not meant to be. Tamaki liked Haruhi, and Kyoya liked his family. He had the ability to love women, and was attracted to many, so, he would find one of those to replace Tamaki and to not make his family a scandal.

Kyoya was sadly sure of that future, but for now, he was going to add one more beautiful element to the painting in front of him.

All of Kyoya's strokes were now deliberate, this is the part he liked the most. He added curly hair, and a face looking upwards, with closed eyes. The face was calm. More orange, then he grabbed a circular brush and dabbed a bit at the clouds. Then the painting was done.

It was an angelic face, placed in front of a glowing sunlit background, soft clouds floating all around, no ground in sight, and the blush on the cheeks were not pink, but matched the darker shades of orange in the background. He had tried to make Tamaki, but in all reality with the curly hair it looked more like Huni. He could never get anybody perfect from memory. Either way, Kyoya was proud of his work. He got his hand half way through his hair before he realized he would need to take an immediate shower.

Audibly groaning, Kyoya got up and cleaned his work space, carefully placing his painting in the corner to dry.

Then, just before he set off for his shower, he looked back into his room. Sitting on his desk in a neat row was his medication, alongside the others was his newest anxiety pills. He had tried many, but all seemed to have horrendous side effects, this ones only real issue was stomach aches and how many times Kyoya would have to take it in a day on order to have it work all the way through. His lips tightened as he thought about taking one. He had taken his depression meds earlier and sure, when he was painting he was fine, but was he really?

After some contemplation, Kyoya almost walked away. He stopped barely outside his doorway, thinking back on what happened last time he made a decision like this.  

The day it happened he had chosen not to take his depression medication, and had not slept well. He barley existed that day, only doing what he needed to do to put on airs that he was fine, which was not a lot, and collapsing as soon as he got into his house. Everyone was out, and the maids were told, as always, not to disturb him. Kyoya tried to paint, but only made a brownish mess that he angrily threw away. After that he really does not remember what happened until waking up in the hospital.

Fuyumi found him, and stayed with him right up until he recovered. Thankfully, she had come into Kyoyas room that night to see him, and tried to wake him up. Had she not done that...

Kyoya shook his head, and turned back to his room. He could not hurt her like that again, and he had not been left home alone for awhile, he wanted her to know she could leave. Go hang out with friends, and have fun. He needed to take care of himself while no one was around for her to feel comfortable doing that. So, Kyoya took two small pills and made his way to the shower.

No one outside of the family was to know. Everyone was to be told that Kyoya was contagiously sick, and that is why they were seeking medical care and no one could see him. That was the only thing he heard from his father in the hospital, then he left, never even looking at his son. Kyoya was fine with this, the absolute torture it would be for everyone to know what happened was enough to make him feel sick without his pills. It still very much hurt to have his father care so little. His therapist said it was just his father coping, but Kyoya was hardly sure of that.

Whats worse is members of the club are getting suspicious.  Haruhi, being the only member with any mental dexterity, never really fell for it. She had noticed that Kyoya was off that day and asked about it. Kyoya of course dismissed this as the start of his illness, with support from the other club members, but he still was not sure she completely believed the lie. At the very least she does not seem to have any clue of what really occurred, just that what his family is saying is untruthful.

But now, the other members are getting suspicious. Ever since the incident Kyoya has been going to therapy twice a week and he can also call an emergency meeting if he needs it or simply speak over the phone through a panic attack, instead of meeting on a strict biweekly schedule. This is much harder to plan around club activities, and he has often been absent from meetings, with no explanation.

So, of course, the twins refuse to get out of Kyoyas ass. Not only that, but him being gone is not exactly on the bottom of the priority list for other club members either. The twins antics can be ignored, but the other members also wishing to know what he is doing makes things far more difficult. Of course, Kyoya explaining that what he is doing is simply his business and that they do not really need him there is not working.

As Kyoya begins to formulate a plan to stop the other members of the club from driving him up the wall, he feels his meds start to sink in. With a sigh, he relaxes his shoulders into the warm water of his shower, and allows his mind to take a break. He smiles, proud of himself for not giving into his thoughts, and relived to be feeling better.  

Hooray!! Alright, I was gonna add some more to this chapter, but it all does not feel right, like there needs to be a pause before moving into other things. So, this chapter is more of a set up chapter than anything else, and next chapter we will start to see some more story progression. The time period for this is just after summer, I dont remember when exactly the show ended, but lets pretend it was at the beginning of summer, and Kyoya attempted in the summer, then he started school a few weeks after, more will be explained in the fic but I wanted to give you a short time frame just to set it up. Also, I did not want this to be in first person, but I did want it to show more of Kyoyas thought process, which explains the sort of contradictory thoughts I narrate sometimes. Like, his art makes him feel better, but he still felt sad while doing art, and probably should have taken his meds before starting, but still didnt realize he needed to. This will be fleshed out more throughout the story, and Kyoya is going to realized some of his flawed thinking.

Okay, enough me telling you things before I spoil the story for you!!!

I REALLY hope you enjoyed and I cant wait to start on more! I wish you the most delightful of times, and love you all! Thank you for reading!!

(This was cross posted from my Wattpad account Bendrowned-, So if you wanna check it out there, please do! Thank you so much!)

[feelsgoodink]

DEJA VU (Elijah Mikaelson x Reader)

Your eyes locked in on Sabine as you shook your wrists forward, and though the woman you were glaring at looked like the beautiful, tragic which you had met months ago, you understood that you were actually staring at Celeste Dubois, your boyfriend's ancient, dead lover.

You had only seen her actual, real face in Elijah's fever dreams, you remembered the day his brother poisoned him with the vampire venom and you and Hayley had to practically nurse him back to help. Even though neither of you could do anything but sit there with him and watch as he lost his mind.

You wondered if not for his weakness, if Elijah would of ever told you about her at all, maybe not in the detail of showing you how it felt when the two of them kissed, or the warmth of her dark, bronzen skin pressed against his own paleness, but rather would he of told you of his love for her; and the strength of his attraction for her heart and soul rather than just her body.

You remember being surprised by Elijah's furiosity with her, his dominance that was light-hearted and quirky that even now you almost craved to see that side return to him. Often times, you wished you could tease him about the whole 'I believe there will be some sort of spanking in order' ordeal, often times when you were alone and the memory popped into your head you tried to conceal a giggle.

You weren't upset or jealous of her, rather remorseful for your boyfriend, and with her story you understood just why he so protective of you, why he tried his hardest to keep you out of the drama that was this entire war amongst the monsters, try as he might you knew that you were just as invested in this as anyone now. You knew that Celeste was an example of exactly what Elijah never wanted for you. And by the way she looked at you through Sabine, you could tell she intended to make you understand that.

"You've got me here in this damned cemetery. What do you want?" You asked her, your voice sounded off through the whole burial ground. "Killing me isn't going to get you any ancestral power, it's only going to piss off like 3/4 of the french quarter." You added, sarcastically.

"I'm sorry, I happen to have my own priorities besides supporting the rest of the witches, (Y/N). Starting by making Elijah Mikaelson realize he's made the same mistake too many times. Here he is, doing it again. Never thought he would be falling in love and taking two girls on down with him, though." Her voice seemed rehearsed, as if she was struggling with the jargon. As if English was not her native tongue. Celeste's french accent was begging to bleed through Sabine's New Orleans dialect. Two girls? You crossed your arms and tried to figure out what she was trying to say before she could elaborate.

"I gave him the choice of saving Klaus, Rebekah, or Hayley and he chose Hayley over his two siblings who he allowed me to die for? It's a shame I wasn't able to include you in that list. Then things would of gotten far more interesting." Celeste continued. You felt your heart knock a little harder.

Elijah and Hayley and their closeness had occupied the back of your mind from time to time in moments when you were insecure, the idea that Elijah could have more motives than his niece keeping him drawn to her had plagued the weaker part of you for a while. But you knew that Hayley was your friend, and above that Elijah was your boyfriend who had found you first in Mystic Falls, Virginia and taken you with him wherever he intended to go from there.

"Elijah would not let a child, born or unborn, be hurt, especially not his own blood. That's his niece and Klaus would of wanted her to be safe before himself- if he loves his daughter like we believe he does." You reasoned with her.

Celeste laughed. "Klaus doesn't care about that baby. He doesn't care about Elijah, or Rebekah. He's going to kill Rebekah within 48 hours, trust me, none of that family has loved eachother as strongly as Elijah loved either of them."

You grimaced, unsure of what she meant. "Elijah loved you, Celeste." You told her.

She smiled at you, with a nod. "Yes, he did. But he didn't love me enough to save me from his brother. If he truly loves you, he would of left you wherever you came from, he would of walked the other way. Because now, you're going to die for him."

"Just like you did?" You interred. She scoffed.

"He had a choice to keep his brother under constraints, but his maljudgement made him careless. Now his carelessness is going to cause his maljudgement. That's where we're different, (Y/N)." Celeste told you, in her words you could feel a betrayed, warped sense of hurt within her.

"He loved you and has still loved you every single moment that he has breathed even after you died. He always believed that you were a pure soul and a casualty that he blamed himself for in every waking moment. He's sorry, doesn't that have to mean something to you?" You pleaded to her, shaking against your restraints, chained against a concrete mausoleum with your hands falling asleep.

Celeste charged forward and grabbed your shoulders, you froze in a quick,startled fear.

There was a fire in her eyes that resembled the same fire that lit her family like candlesticks.

"He isn't sorry enough! But he will be. He's lost Hayley to the werewolves and he's about to lose you to the worms." The insanity in her claims caused your spine to rattle.

"Hayley isn't and never has been his, Celeste. You should know just as well as me if not more so how how protective he is of family, and unless you really are just an evil, decieving bitch, then you know that's one of the reasons why we love him." You directed your emotions on that accusation more so than anything else right now. You watched as she faltered.

"if you choose to love Elijah, you choose to die for him." Celeste told you.

"And If I die for Elijah, I will die for him. Then I will die for Klaus. Then I will die for Rebekah, I'll die for Hayley and I'll die for that babygirl. If I'm only here to die for someone, I'd rather be killed for a cause as noble as Elijah Mikaelson than from some disease that takes me when I'm 90." You felt a brave, dignified revelation crawling up from your throat and jumping to her with the venomous words and spit from your tweaking tongue.

"That won't be necessary, (Y/N). No one else is dying tonight." You beamed past Celeste and standing there in a clean pressed suit and illuminated by the moonlight was Elijah, who's dark knit eyebrows were furrowed together intensely and his lips almost appeared in a pout, his hands in his pocket.

Celeste rolled her eyes, pulling a razor blade from Sabine's jean pocket and holding it against your neck. You raised your head by reflex and closed your eyes, bracing yourself.

"Don't you do it, Celeste!" Elijah yelled, he charged and pulled her from you and to the ground. You watched as she stood back up and ensnared his hips with her hands, grabbing him like holding onto handles. "Or what Elijah? You'll kill me? I'll just take another body and when you fall in love with the next pretty thing you'll be stuck wondering if it's really just me. You'll never be happy again." She hissed at him. "I want to ruin you, Elijah."

She watched as he became speechless, she let her finger poke out his bottom lip and she stared past him and to you. "What would of happened if you would of had to choose between her and Hayley, Elijah?" She asked. You watched as she sent a wink your way. She turned Elijah around so that you could see the startled, confused expression on his face. His shoulders tensed.

"Tell her how you would save Hayley, even if there wasn't a baby involved, tell her that you would of let her die. Tell her how if Klaus were to tell you right now that he wanted her dead, you would drown her in a tub just like you found me-"

"Stop!" He yelled to her, pushing her to the ground, Elijah could not handle another moment of her sending flashbacks into his head of finding her under the cold water, lifeless. He once loved this very woman, and now the face was changing and Elijah could imagine that it was you in the water, and it terrified him.

"Tell her that if you had to choose between her and Klaus, look her in the eyes and tell her that you would choose her. Tell her that and I mean it and I won't kill her." Celeste was standing up now, and in her hand making a quiet clicking noise was a gun. Something that a vampire could care less about, but you, a human- this was a white oak stake.

Elijah's bottom lip quivered and his hands convulsed, you could tell that he was in deep thought, and you weren't upset with him for this. You knew just how much his family meant to him, you knew just how much Niklaus was priority to him, and as you had said, that was one of the reasons you had fallen in love with Elijah.

"Its okay, Elijah. It's okay." You told him, trying to smile and calm him, but the fear of dying had brought tears to your eyes. You noticed his were turning red and irritated with moisture as well. "Klaus is redeemable, I know he is just as well you do. If I have to die for that, then it's okay. Elijah I love-"

Elijah's lips hit yours before you even knew he was upon you, his hand gripped to one of your restrained wrists and his lips collided sloppily, desperately with yours. He parted from you and turned to Celeste, towering in front of you like a brick wall. "I would choose (Y/N) before Hayley, Rebekah, or Niklaus. I would choose her before myself. And if the choice would of had to been mine, then I would of chose her over you, Celeste. I have never felt a love so strong as my love for her." As you listened to his speech, you felt your heart flutter and your tears started to flow, you cried out knowing just how much Elijah cared for you, for him to say this to such an important person to him.

Celeste gasped, and you could feel as her heart broke again. She bit her lip angrily as Sabine and she clenched the gun in her hand. "I won't tear you apart, not yet. I want you to not be ready the day you watch her die. You better watch your back, (Y/N). You'll like my new face a lot more." With that, she aimed the gun to Sabine's head and she pulled the trigger, the shot caused you to squeal. You closed your eyes and refused to look at the carcass.

Elijah ran to you and sheltered your eyes, hearing footsteps. He looked up to find Monique Devereux, who disappointedly nodded to him. "You were right."

Elijah took you from your restraints. "Leave this cemetery and get back to the quarter. I'll see you when I get home. I am ridding us of celeste for good." He told you, as he looked up to Moni. You wrapped your hands around his neck before starting out the gate. "Elijah?" You called to him as you held the steel gate in your fingers. He longingly gazed at you. "I love you."

Elijah walked slowly over and kissed your forehead. "Always and forever. I extend that vow to you."

You thought about that your entire way home. As you crawled into the bed the two if you shared, you chuckled at how fast your heart was beating.

Always & forever.

[robbiwrites717]

Master list of my Davekat fic recs. This is long so keep reading for the entire list. Also, unless a fic was explicit I included it on this list so be aware and still read the tags! I wanted to include my thoughts about each fic but it’s been well over a year since I read most of them and it would have been exhausting to read back through all of them so i just included the authors’ summaries instead. I have major respect for every fic and author on this list, seriously they’re amazing <3 Happy Reading 

A Bump in the Road - by leopharry - Daycare AU (teacher Karkat/gaurdian DAve/kid Dirk) - Ch 1/1 - 10260 words

After earning his Master's degree in education, Karkat can't find a teaching job, so Kanaya gets him a job as a toddler teacher at a daycare, much to his chagrin. Dirk is his quietest and most behaved student; in fact, Karkat has never heard him speak, and he's curious. What kind of person could raise such a child? And just how long will Karkat's patience last in a room full of two year olds?

Alpha Rats Nest - by sicklekind - Meteorstuck - Ch 1/1 - 9911 words

Dave and Karkat have a long overdue, late-night discussion about the upcoming final battle (and lots of other things, too). 

AMC Gremlin - by PeachBriseadh - Coffee Shop AU - Ch 1/1 - 2267 

A drive through window is probably not a good place to confess your feelings to the boy of your dreams, particularly when said dream boy is working it.

Apple Juice, Chips, and Bandages - by Weevilo707 - Humanstuck/Convenience Store AU- Ch 2/2 - 5338 words

Every time he comes in he gets the same three things. A bottle of apple juice, a bag of chips, and bandages.

Astronomy in Reverse - by PunkZucchini & sicklekind - Pen Pal AU - Ch 9/10 - 53857 words

Dave and Karkat are intergalactic pen pals, originally paired together for an extra credit school outreach project. Now, three years of correspondence later, they're best friends... and Karkat is finally immigrating to Earth.

Blood Dragon - by Corvid_Knight - Fantasy AU - Ch 8/8 - 11609 words

Fantasy-set homestuck AU in which Dave has a shit life, but he just managed to rescue a dragon...who also happens to be a nice guy. Now he's just got to keep his brother from finding out. Good luck with that, Dave.

Breathe - by Lilith_In_The_Garden - Highschool AU - Ch 31/? - 54700 words

Your name is Dave Strider, and there's nothing good about John and Rose changing schools.Without your twin sister and best friend, you've been left socially crippled at school, and barely coping at home. You're nearly certain that your mental health has been slowly spiraling downhill. You have no clue how you'll last the year to high school graduation. In all this, there's just one single ray of light.Your name is Dave Strider, and there's nothing good about John and Rose changing schools. Except for meeting Karkat Vantas.

Book Covers - by me ( cuz im an egotistical asshole) = College/Guardian AU- Ch 28/28 - 136611 words

Karkat has had a shitty life and has had to bust his ass for everything he has. He has no patience for spoiled, delusional, lazy people and this is exactly what he thinks Dave Strider is. They get paired up together for a project in their college English class and when Karkat accidently learns that Dave is fighting to keep custody of his younger brother Dirk, he learns that he may have been completely wrong about Dave and shouldn't have judged a book by it's cover. A story of two damaged boys coming to each others rescue and growing as people. <3

Broken - by Aurellyn - Pale Romance/Moirallegiance - Ch 1/1 - 18911 words

This has been an increasingly common occurrence recently. Maybe it’s because you’ve got so much time to just sit around and really think, maybe it’s because you don’t really have anyone to talk to, you don’t know, but you’ve been feeling literal oceans of insecure.It’s like someone ripped a bandaid off of an old wound, or broke the dam or some shit, because lately all you can think about are things you never wanted to think about literally ever again. You’ve been thinking about your Bro, your life before the game, and it was only yesterday that it really, truly dawned on you that you’re actually really scarred by it all. The strifing, the constant tiptoeing around the one place that you should feel safe, paranoia of being stalked by a God damn puppet.It haunts you, and it’s maybe had more of an impact on you than you want to admit.

Cold Desert - by gidgit - Neighbor AU - Ch 7/? - 48493 words

Curiosity killed the cat.It probably just wasn't as good at being nosy as Dave is.

countdown until the end of the world - by divingred - Alpha Session/Memories AU - Ch 6/6 - 17291 words

You’ve seen them before, in countless dreams like this, but this is the first time they’re so clear. They’re so big, they seem almost inhuman, not to mention their color. Deep black pupils against golden, almost glowing, sclera. Even though they’re nothing like a pair of human eyes, there’s a softness there. This is someone who cares about you. You don’t want to look away.Your name is Dave Strider and you feel like you’re forgetting something important.((au where alpha dave picks up a certain troll))

Demon Eyes - by Corvid_Knight - Demon/Hunter AU - Ch 28/28 - 84335 words

In which Dave goes in to kill a demon for his bro, and things...don't exactly go as planned. Really, absolutely nothing goes as planned, but that's...somehow okay. Mostly.

Don’t Forget the Sun - by Weevilo707 - stranded Alien AU - Ch 23/?(DISCONTINUED) - 204539 words

Karkat Vantas always accepted the fact that he was not going to live past nine sweeps. It was just a certainty of his sad, miserable life. At least, that was until his friends found out and decided to hatch a plan to get him out of the Alternian empire. A plan that actually worked.Now, he was stranded on an alien planet, at the mercy of some strange creature that was either trying to help him or going about some freaky ritual of flirting with your food before you eat it.Also, aliens have sunglasses.He was better off dying on Alternia, wasn't he?

falling in love's a struggle - by divingred - college AU - Ch 4/? - 7784 words

“What. The. Fuck,” You manage to spit out, “Kanaya, did Terezi just bring a human?”Who the fuck is this guy anyway!? You stare daggers at the guy. He’s tall… pale, with light hair, wearing an obnoxiously bright red jacket and black skinny jeans. He’s even wearing sunglasses at night, what a complete fucking douchebag. The complete opposite of you.--or alternatively titled; falling in love with your ex-girlfriend's new awful boyfriend

File It Down, Polish It Up - by introsquirrel - Ch 1/1 - 20713 words

Trolls have some weird priorities. They can’t bring themselves to invent conditioner, but they have automatic manicure kits and gossip about which blood caste produces the best in claw hygiene. Dave has never really given much thought to the state of his nails. His time is better spent memorizing lame movie quotes and actively *not* flirting with the grumpy troll version of the Second Coming.On an unrelated note, being a teenage boy is hard. Literally. (Insert dick joke here.) It’s hard and having a hot sister doesn’t help in the slightest. Not that Dave finds his sister attractive in any way.Nope, not going there.

Fortuitous - by Java_bean - meteorstuck - Ch 21/? - 111066 words

Dave and Karkat build a pillow fort and an unexpected chain of events occurs.

Hard To Stay And Watch You Walk Away - by LandofMistandSecrets - Meteorstuck - Ch 1/1 - 7502 words

I thought too hard about scenes that happened in the GO timeline that we never saw the retcon version of and then this came out. The "will we still be able to be best bros" conversation re-imagined for post-retcon. Somehow Karkat is even more insecure. Also I always wanted Rose and Karkat to talk in canon so hey have a bunch of them too, thanks.

hey there bright-eyed mister melancholy - by attentionmerrymakers - Meteorstuck - Ch 1/1/ - 2338 words

This is why you are sitting in Can Town making your fifty-sixth scale replica of a sheep.

how...did you tell your friends - by sburbanite - post sburb/sgrub - Ch 4/4 - 7906 words

Unfortunately, you don't fancy your brother's suggestion on how to break the news to John...There's no other way out of it, you're going to have to just tell him.

If I Lose Everything In The Fire - by HexMeridan (myrainbowshoelaces) -  pacific rim AU - Ch 20/22 - 108975 words

The Kaiju - or Horrorterrors, as the trolls call them - first invaded Earth through a transdimensional rift at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean. Serving the Condesce in her quest to add Earth to the Alternian Empire, these monsters have terrorized humanity for twelve years. With the help of rebel troll factions and the adaptation of Alternian mind integration technology - The Drift - the Interspecies Defense Program has fought back as the last line of defense between the Kaiju and Earth.Karkat Vantas was a Jaeger pilot, fought for freedom in the Assault on the Breach that brought trolls to Earth. The loss of his co-pilot left him bitter and full of rage, but desperate times have lead to him being recruited to join the fray once more.Dave Strider is the best and brightest the Interspec program has to offer. Jaeger Restoration Project Head, highest simulation score on record, and younger brother of the Deputy Marshal - except he's not allowed in a Jaeger.Nobody expects them to be Drift Compatible

Improvidence - by biodigitaljazz - Meteorstuck Series - Four separate multi chapter fics 

Part 1 - Your name is Karkat Vantas.Your life is unnecessarily complicated. Part 2 - Your name is Dave Strider.You’re the baddest MC this side of the meteor and damn do you know it. Part 3 - Your name is Karkat Vantas.And you are the most beautiful and superlative specimen of complete and total relationship failure in the history of everyone and everything. Part 4 - Your name is Dave Strider.You really wish you could remember everything.

Locked Up - Weevilo - Meteorstuck - Ch 1/1 - 9272 words

Dave had always been the one best prepared for the game. He was able to handle the shit it threw at them and push it down a lot better than everyone else could.It might have fucked up everything else about him, but that didn't matter.He was fine.He was always fucking fine.

Love in the Time of Juggalos - by sburbanite - Alpha timeline AU - Ch 37/37 -  80521 words

Alpha-Dave has everything anyone could want: fame, fortune, legions of adoring fans, and a shitty hatchback car.

But behind the shades is a man who knows the world is ending, and who wakes each morning expecting to see a lover who isn't there. Someone he's never even met. 

M.C. Escher that’s my favorite MC - by Unda - Soulmate AU - Ch 42/? - 587474 words

Dirk has a plan, when he's 18 he's going to take Dave and get him the fuck out of their terrible lives and start over. Until then being the barrier between Dave and Bro is his only job, his soulmate is just going to have to wait goddamnit. Dave has a plan, it involves getting internet famous and not going gay, easy right? Karkat also has a plan, to repeatedly track down his dumb as rocks soulmate and get him to actually talk to him for fuck's sake.

Palisades, Palisades - by magicites - Summer Camp AU - Ch 4/4 - 46,422 words

In your memories, you see Dave Strider, fourteen-years-old and made up of lean muscle and awkward limbs that he would still need a few years to grow into fully. Crows surround him, all cawing impatiently, vying for the chicken sandwich in his backpack. He swears loudly as he swings a stick at them, trying to get them to leave him the fuck alone.“Stupid feathery assholes,” he’d always complain once he finally shooed them away.You tear yourself out of the memory. You miss him, and you hate yourself for it.

Perspective - by MsGeekNerd - Meteorstuck - Ch 85/85 - 63833 words 

In which Dave Strider and Karkat Vantas are Bored as Hell and Eventually Grow Close to Each Other in Multiple WaysKarkat wants nothing more then to be entertained, Dave can supply that entertainment.A story of friendship turned crush between my favorite dorks

Purrbeast - by wittykitsune - Meteorstuck - Ch 1/1 - 1140 words

Dave takes a dare to pet the grumpiest troll on the meteor. Instead of violence he is met with a very different reaction.

Reclassify - by notwest - Meteorstuck - Ch 1/1 - 2917 words

warning: this is a highly cliched, self indulgent first kiss meteorficyou know you love it though

Songs Made on the Meteor - by apocalypticTaco - Meteorstuck - Ch 3/6 - 11752 words

Once the train of aimless tree blabber has left the station, you remember why you agreed to meet up in the first place. Leaning forward to sit up properly, you turn to Dave.“So,” you say, “what did you want to show me?”“Oh! Yeah, I forgot about that, sorry. The topic just fucking strayed from me like some kind of toddler seeing a candy store and waddling away from mom. Chubby little bastard gets me this time. Here.” He plops out one of those music tables onto his lap, and motions for you to come closer.

(It's music, and along the way they fall in love.)

Sun - by mintboy - highschool Au - Ch 8/? - 14205 words

I’ll never be able to do what other teenagers get to do. When the world robs your health from you, robs your face from you, they rob from you everything else you’ve ever wanted. Because people are fucked up. And all they see is what’s on the outside.Inspired by the book Wonder by R. J. Palacio.

The Calm is Terrifying When the Storm is All You’ve Known - by happikatt- no-sburb AU - Ch 39/39 - 178722 words

There were two kinds of trolls who went to Earth: rich shitheads with too much money and free time, and desperate assholes who couldn’t survive on Alternia, even with the best efforts of the young Condesce. Karkat hated the planet almost immediately, but with his home planet too dangerous for mutants, he really didn’t have any choice but to hide out on this weird little diurnal planet. At least he’d be safe. Or so he thought, right before blundering his way into an accidental friendship with the son of an anti-troll terrorist.Slow burn, shifting perspectives; romance really isn't the focus here but it'll still play a significant part; extra content warnings will be posted with each relevant chapter

The Highlights of being a Split End - by Introsquirrel - Meteorstuck - Ch 1/1 - 7381 words

On the list of "Things Karkat Needs to Remember To Pack for Surviving This Fucking Game, In Order of Priority," hair styling utensils fell somewhere between "rubble that crushed my lusus" and "last sweep's decomposable trash, recently unburied from the back lawnring, along with all those bodies of the undead I had to kill." In other words, somebody needs to give that boy a brush.

The Lucky Ones - by daniomalley - Stowaway AU - Ch 10/10 - 51182 words

Lost and stranded on a ship millions of miles from Earth, Dave wants nothing more than to stay hidden from the crew until he can get somewhere safe. But then he runs into another fugitive and suddenly things become a lot more complicated.

the sun coming through - by astrogyaru - College AU - Ch 11/? - 98804 words

You're not sure what to expect when you go to college out of state, in a place that you've never been to before and where you only know one person. Awkwardness, definitely, and a little bit of homesickness, too. Falling in love with your internet buddy's best friend that you kind of hate, not so much, but somehow it happens anyway.Or: Dave and Karkat fall in love, from both of their perspectives.

Time Travel and Troll Grubs - by Corvid_Knight - Earth-C - Ch 16/? - 24723 words

AU in which Dave has An Idea and follows through with it, leading to him and Karkat raising a shitton of grubs.

“Truth or Truth?” - by assumare - Meteorstuck - Ch 1/1 - 4799 words

Dave and Karkat kill time on the meteor together and play a human party game to learn about each other's lives before the game and prepare for what may come after.The meteor was not a place you could spend time alone. At least, not out in the open.

Waffle House - by notwest - humanstuck - Ch 4/? - 15487 words

Dave Strider is almost 18 years old. His hobbies include avoiding Bro and eating at Waffle House.In the worst moments of his life, Dave finds comfort in a run down restaurant, the family he never knew he had, and in one particularly cranky waiter.

What To Do When Your Boyfriend Is Too Hot - by ayyyy(RosaAquafire) - Earth C - Ch 1/1 - 6846 words

Moving to a new universe and a new paradigm brings a lot of changes. And Dave kind of likes the way things were before, back on the Meteor, when he had Karkat all to himself and didn't spend sleepless nights waiting for the shoe to fall.

Within, Without - by reinkist - Meteorstuck - Ch 37/37 - 78311 words

Dave just wants to be left alone. What's the point of anything when what's broken can never be completely fixed?This is the story of Dave Strider and Karkat Vantas, on the longest journey of their lives.

Your Interpersonal, Intergalactic Relationship: A Beginner’s Guide - by sicklekind - meteorstuck - Ch 1/1 - 8342 words

A beginner's guide to playing hopscotch, overcoming internalized homophobia, and falling in love with your alien best friend.Disclaimer: results may take up to three (3) years to appear.

[silviasutton1989]

Stability (Liam x Riley)

Author’s note: I don’t really like what i did with this chapter but I need to get all this out so tat I can move onto other stories. I do hope that it isn’t that bad though. Start from the beginning HERE.

Rating: M/T some sexual innuendo but not bad.

Words: 2000

Summary: Liam deals with his feelings for Olivia and steals some alone time with Riley.

Liam leans back in the leather conference chair. The room is filled with European diplomats to discuss an update on their old trade treaty, He tries to focus, as this i his  fist conference as King. His father didn’t trust him to go alone so the fact that the former king came to chaperone him on the meeting was an added push to prove himself tonight.

He needed today to go well, but his thoughts were elsewhere. Olivia.  He hitched in a sharp breath the second he allowed his mind to say that name. Her lips, how soft they were when they claimed his own, her long red hair flowing down her bare body, these images had him captive since the moment he had awaken today. But the thing that distracted him the most was those sounds that flew from her lips. Last night had been a whirlwind of events but despite the surprises they entailed his thoughts still remained on her.

He hadn’t realized that his phone was is his hand until he Pressed Olivia’s name. Before he could stop himself he quickly sent her a text.

Hey just wanted to check on you….I’m sorry about last night.

His heartbeat quickened when he felt the phone quickly vibrate.

Are you apologizing because you regret it?…

No not at all last night was incredible I can’t keep it out of my mind.

He kicks himself as soon as he hits send.

What I mean is I don’t feel that last night was a mistake I don’t regret it I hope you don’t either.

I regret allowing you to answer the door. I wasn’t finished with you.

A smile crepes on his face.

Oh yeah? What did you have in mind?

The meeting draws to a close. As Liam stands to leave out his father grabs his arm.

"Liam I have been meaning to talk with you. Sit.”

Liam,reluctantly obeys. He feels the phone vibrate in his pocket but doesn’t dare to see Olivia’s response. They wait for everyone to leave.

" Son you have to know by now that you will always have eyes on you. I don’t know what you where thinking! Texting while in a conference! And another thing.  Yes you can give your security detail a night off but we have servant’s, drivers, guest, the press everywhere, even the staff on that train knows who you are. imagine their surprise when they see their King kissing a woman who is not his betrothed!"

The two men lock eyes Constantine takes a large sip of his water. "Look I know how it is being a young lecherous man. In my day I may not have come to my sleeping quarters at all if I didn't have someone to bring back with me. And don't get me started on that Leo. But my time was a different time. There weren’t phones that could record your every movement. You have got to be more careful and truly think about your actions, son. You are not just a young man anymore you are King. Your not focusing--"

Constantine pauses. He takes a deep breathe before beginning again in a more softer tone.

"With the abdication of your brother and the whole coronation debacle another scandal will only hinder your rule. Our private and public appearance matters. Liam I know you will be a great King. Don't let gossip take away from it"

Liam doesn't respond. But soon sees the concern in his father's eyes a decides to confide in him.

"Father can I ask you something? Was it hard choosing your queen? I mean did you love any of them?"

Constantine coughs briefly and answers, "Love is a fickle thing. We tend to overate it. We as royals do not get the luxury of being in love. Our obligation to the country is priority over anything, even love ."

"I did love my first queen though. Leo's mother. I fought tooth and nail for her. My father didn't think she would be a great fit to be queen but I was in love. When I think back about it all I can see now that my focus on her was how she made me feel.  Like a man not a king, not royal. That's what separated her from the others. But this life it strips all that away over time. When she left I became bitter. I had a crown, a country, a son and no queen. What attracted me the most about her, her ability to give up her whole world for me, almost ruined me when she left me to have it back. I always knew she could leave and I always knew in the back of her mind she wanted to. The day she finally did I never thought I could be in the presence of another woman much less love one. But then I met your mother."

With that King Constantine stands his son fallowing suit. He hugs him and softly tells him. "You have chosen a beautiful lady Liam. She will be a great queen. And do you know why? Because choosing her was the feasible answer. No scandals no drama she didn't drop out during social season. That's vital for the life you will be living, son. Stability above all else."

With that Liam is alone with his thoughts and soon checks his phone.

Meet me tonight after the opera and find out. 

______________________________________________________________

Riley walks into the grand foyer, the beautiful details and craft work are breathtaking. In that moment she was glad Maxwell had convinced her to go. She stands with her group listening to Olivia go on about how the decor is a replica of her family's estate. But her attentions drifts once she sees Drake walking up to them, a small bouquet of flowers in his hands. He nervously walks over combing his hair back with his fingers until he is face to face with Riley.

"Hey."

"Hi Drake who are the flowers for?"

Before he could answer Maxwell interrupts

"Oh man guess what it looks like Queen Regina wasn't the framer. Tell him Riley."

Drake and Riley lock eyes they awkwardly look away. "Yes I just spoke with her she really doesn't deal with Bastien enough to give him orders and she also is the reason I came back she wanted me here for Liam"

"You forgot the part about her and Madeline being related!" Maxwell jumped in.

"Yes that too." Riley says watching the wheels turn in Drake's mind he clenches his jaw and then responds. She still loved him and despite all her vowing and swearing last night she desperately wanted to kiss him right there.

"That means it was King Constantine?" Drake questions.

"I don't know. But he is next on the list."

Coming out of his trance Drake realize he still has the flowers in his hand.

"Oh these are for you I was wondering if you would like to watch the show together?"

As Drake hands her the flowers Olivia scoffs "Those flowers are almost dead... you’re such a commoner..." They exchange looks and Olivia hurriedly walks away.

"Wow Drake these are beautiful. I would---"

"Excuse me Lady Riley" A royal guard interrupts standing behind Drake. "The Royal Highness has asked for you to join him in his private balcony to watch the play."

Riley takes a moment. Yes she wanted to spend time with Drake but this was her chance to ask Liam what he thought about his dad framing her. Her choice was difficult but she knew what she had to choose.

"Sorry Drake I need to speak with Liam. We can meet up after." She walks toward the guard and he takes the flowers from her and hands them back to Drake. It only takes her a few steps before Drake grabs her elbow.

"Wait I need to tell you something. Liam knows. He knows about us."

"Wait how does he--"

"I went to his room last night to tell him that you are mi-- to tell him how we felt about each other.  And he was with--"

"Wait so you took it upon yourself to tell him! Shouldn't we have done that together? You know "the right way'." 

"Yes but he needed to know... I couldn't wait."

"Oh you don't have enough restraint to tell Liam but can resist me every chance you get? You didn't handle this right at all Drake! What about the Beaumont's? What if he is calling me up there right now to tell me to go home? I have to go. I have to fix this."

Riley walks up the grand staircase leaving Drake at the bottom holding his flowers mouth agape.

The first and second acts of the play breeze by. Riley sits awkwardly in her chair as Liam watches her. Both have thoughts swirling in their head of each neither knowing how to start. Riley begins,

"So is your father here I haven't seen him"

"No he had prior engagements before our trip to Shanghai tomorrow."

Riley is quiet again and with that Liam scoots over in his chair closer to her. He brings his arm around her subtly rubbing hers with his fingertips.

"Riley I'm glad you chose to come up here. It seems like every time I offer you time alone with me you decline. Being with you has made my entire day."  He begins to squeeze her arm, slowly pulling her closer to him.

Riley looks up to him, and mistaking the look for an invitation Liam leans in and kisses her, softly at first waiting for her to return the kiss. She does. She kisses him even more softly as he had. He then moves in closer bringing his hand from her arm to the small of her back pulling her in closer kissing her deeper.

"I am not a jealous man" Rings in Riley's head followed by "He knows about us"

The kiss ends and Liam smiles at her. Riley gives a small smile in return. He leans forward whispering in her ear. "We have at least an hour in here undisturbed. I'm all yours Riley whatever you want."

Liam looks deep into her eyes he moves his hand to her waist squeezing it in want. And as they begin to kiss again, thoughts begin to swirl in his head of her on the floor with him her dress hanging by her waist feeling her hands and lips exploring him. The warmth of her and exploring what was inside. He imagined what she tasted like how loudly could he make her say his name in front of the entire building. His curiosity making him moan in Riley's ear as he begins to kiss lightly down her neck.

For a second Riley was enjoying their moment. His lips were soft his kisses to her neck were thrilling. But it was the fact that all of this did feel good that made it all feel too wrong for her.

"It was your father Liam! Your father framed me!" Riley quickly stands up tears forming in her eyes. Partly because of all the drama she has endured over this love triangle and partly because even if Drake wouldn't care she felt kissing Liam was a form of betrayal.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes I spoke with Queen Regina and Bastien's orders didn't come from her the only other person is--"

"My father....Stability above all else." Liam stares at Riley who is almost out the door. He stands and watches her, "I will fix this Riley I am so sorry."

Riley doesn't respond tears flowing down her face. Somehow she makes it to the limo she wanted to tell the driver to take her to the airport. But with no money she knew she wouldn't get far. Instead she leans back in the seat, she wipes the wetness Liam left on her lips and waits.