#i have ocs on the brain again and i finally had the time to mess with blender again

[goldoradove]

[X]

[honeytae]

the right choice - jk

pairing: college student! jk x college student! oc

genre: fluff, friends to lovers/mutual pining

summary: for as long as you’ve known jungkook, you would think that you’ve witnessed all sides of him. but when you notice the way he’s looking at you right now, you think you may be wrong about that.

warnings: loosely based off the song yes or no, mutual pining but they’re both so clueless, IT’S SO OBVIOUS, it’s finals season so OC is stressed tf out, this jk is such a boy but he’s so sweet, he calls her pookie, OC is affectionately fed up with him but oh well, there’s a santa hat appearance, the tats and lip piercings are here to stay, vulnerability grosses the OC out, hand holding is the norm, SUSPENSE, kissing, teeny tiny bit of making out at the end

word count: 4.6k

the air in your dorm room is uncharacteristically quiet. you can almost feel that the peace won’t last long in your bones, especially with your best friend jungkook sitting a mere foot from you.

jungkook was known as the most extroverted introvert on campus. quiet at first, but once you made it into his inner circle, you were in for endless spur-of-the-moment spontaneity and long nights full of utter chaos. for now, though, you enjoy the comfortable, delightful silence in the otherwise overstimulation of your brain.

unsurprisingly, the silent scrolling of your thumb along your phone screen is soon interrupted by an oversalted pretzel smacking you on the knuckle, sadly falling to your bedspread.

“ew, jungkook!” you whine, retrieving it from your duvet cover and swiping the salt grains off the previously clean fabric. you shoot a warning look at the man sitting opposite you on your bed when he dares to snicker while watching you clean his mess.

“are you twelve?” you ask while popping the pretzel into your mouth, jungkook smirking as he leans forward to rest on his elbows

“you love it,” he grins, wiggling his eyebrows to get you to crack a smile.

“yeah, whatever,” you relent, sliding your phone into your hoodie pocket.

it’s almost like any other tuesday you two spent in your dorm. the only difference is that you have nothing but time since classes are canceled with the impending blizzard outside. there is a uniquely calming air with no assignments forcing you to sit at your desk and keep you there the rest of the night.

you set your chin in your hand as you gaze out the window, the sound of jungkook’s foot repetitively tapping on your bed frame fading into the background as you watch the flurrying snow catapulting down to whichever surface it finds first. it’s funny, you think. you used to love the snow as a kid, count down the days until the next snowstorm struck. but then you got old, you suppose; it became a stressor for you, another thing you had to deal with rather than indulge in.

“hey, what’s up with you today?”

you blink a few times after registering jungkook’s voice closing in on you, finally breaking eye contact with the window and glancing over at your inquisitive friend.

you barely suppress a snort when you realize he has a Santa hat on his head, when the fuck did he acquire that?

but as usual, it’s a ploy to get you to break a smile, and it works.

“am i acting weird?” you wonder, shifting forward so you can smack the fur ball at the end of his hat, the impact making it lay over his other shoulder. you barely stifle a laugh at the abruptness of the action, jungkook overdramatically cocking an eyebrow at you as you pet it down the right way again.

“you’re just,” he waves his hands around, gesturing wildly in an attempt to convey what he can’t verbally, “distant, i guess,” he settles on.

you suppress a smile at his struggle to express himself, an oddly charming trait you’d gotten to appreciate over the time you’d known him.

“sorry koo. i’m just a little out of it, i guess. i haven’t had much of an attention span since finals started,” you sigh, jungkook humming to himself before curling his lips up to touch his nose. it was a quirk of his you’d noticed years ago, one that meant he was thinking. it had you equally excited and terrified at the same time, because jungkook’s ideas were never… simple.

you raise your eyebrows as you watch him stand up from his seat on the end of your bed, making his way across the room and collecting his coat and yours from the hooks on your door.

“what are you doing?”

jungkook doesn’t answer you with words, instead, he just drops your coat beside you and quickly starts digging in your closet to toss you a hat.

“if you make a mess in that closet, you’re cleaning it,” you remind him, rolling your eyes at the immediate clatter noise punctuating your words.

“oops,” he mumbles, standing up and waving you off before you can say anything else. “it’s fine, i put everything back!”

you don’t fully believe him, but you know he has more respect for you than to leave your closet a complete disaster, so you hope for the best.

“if you say so,” your voice ends on a higher note, giving away your skepticism as you roll the hat on over your head.

“to answer your question, we are getting out of here for a while,” he finally explains the sudden transition from your lazy day, “you’ve been studying way too hard. you’re literally smarter than most of the class, you have no reason to stress out as much as you do about this stuff,” he shrugs, and you try to ignore the way his words make your chest warm. it’s nice to hear it once in a while, you suppose.

“should we even be going out there? there’s an advisory out for like, the whole area,” you gesture out the window where the snow billows on, staring at jungkook as he holds out your jacket for you to put your arms into.

you do, hesitantly. he does the same, stating “we’ll make it quick, don’t worry,” leading you to the door where you both step into your boots.

your lazy afternoon is evident by both of your sluggish movements. despite the heaviness of your limbs, you feel a certain buzz whenever jungkook hatches an idea. you always, always have fun with him, no matter what’s on the agenda.

today is a rare day where school and work aren’t interfering with your respective schedules, the first one in about a month. you feel a little guilty about that, to be honest.

admittedly, you sometimes get so in your own head that it becomes easy to forget about calling or texting. luckily for you, jungkook is pretty good about staying in touch. he almost always stops by on his way home from class to give you snacks to get you through your night lecture, he sends you stupid memes at all hours of the night to remind you of your synched sense of humor, and makes a habit of facetiming you whenever he witnesses something so cool you just had to see it too.

spying him out of the corner of your eye, the fondness melts right off your face when you realize he’s still adorning that dumb santa hat. his hand extends to the door handle, and your eyes widen in panic as you say his name.

“hold on,” you said, reaching out for the door, “i am not stepping out with you in this hat,” you gesture to the red monstrosity covering jungkook's head.

“what? no way, the hat is staying,” he reaches for the door again, unbothered and ready to step out before you slap your hand against the door.

“jungkook, please,” you begged, staring into his twinkling eyes as he laid his hand over yours on the door handle, an impromptu staring contest starting between you two.

ah, yes. another thing that bonded you and jungkook was your stubbornness. neither one of you settled without a good fight.

“i am not leaving here until you take that hat off. also you need to promise me we aren’t doing anything illegal,” you extend your pinky with a determined knit of your eyebrows.

“i pinky promise,” he grins as he lazily bends his pinky around yours, “but the hat stays on, pookie.”

“okay then,” you act as if you are about to kick off your shoes as you walk back to your bed, grinning when you feel him wrap his arms around your waist to pull you back to him with a whiny “nuh uh!”

“yeah, huh! we are not walking around like santa and mrs. clause right now,” you huff, eyeing the way the hat sat on his head closer as you leaned back on his chest. you hate that he actually makes the hat work for him, but it doesn’t surprise you at all. on anyone else, it would look plain stupid. jungkook has the magic touch, though; every new style, hobby, and passion he tries looks good on him.

“fine, scrooge!” he relents, “but i get to walk you to the rest of your finals looking like this,” he poses, melting into a grin when you sigh in defeat.

“see! i can compromise,” he practically sings as he tosses the hat over to your desk, holding the door open for you and following you out into the hallway with a toothy grin that voices his triumph.

you shake your head in mock disappointment, unable to stop from grinning as you pat down your coat pocket to make sure you have your key with you before pulling the door shut.

“yeah, yeah. just don’t embarrass me in public today, you doofus.”

and he hasn’t, surprisingly. but by the time you get to your destination, which jungkook deemed top secret information, you are presented with another issue. the sun is now setting and the winds are starting to pick up at a brutal pace.

“this better be worth it,” you shiver, and you swear jungkook’s teeth are chattering beside you, but you honestly can’t tell with his puffer hood so far over his face and the pelting ice coming at you from all directions.

jungkook may respond but you don’t hear it, not when he grabs your hand and hisses at the nipping breeze, making the executive decision to lead you across the crosswalk to get into the parking lot.

when you finally look up from the ground, you squeeze his hand in excitement, spying a sign on the door with ‘Bakery & Cafe’ at the forefront.

jungkook eyes you when you uncharacteristically squeal, chortling to himself when you whisper an awe-struck, “heaven.”

“enjoy it, this is the only heaven you’ll get int- okay, okay!” he bellows out a belly laugh when you rip your hand from his and recoil it to your chest, letting him reclaim it with a huff.

“you know, sometimes i think you need a clamp on that mouth,” you purse your lips at your friend, who merely hums in response as he opens the door for you to step into the warm air of the cafe.

you both sigh at the contrast in temperature, shuffling further into the establishment to eye the menu.

“find a spot and i’ll order us some good shit,” he delegates, rolling his neck to look at you when you laugh through your nose.

“some good shit? i swear to god, you better not order the whole menu again. i got way too sick to even function last time we went out!” you remind him, jungkook grinning at the memory from last semester.

“hey, all that mattered was that you enjoyed it! trust me though, i wouldn’t do that to either of us again,” he says, your confused gaze softening as he lets his bottom lip protrude in a perfect pout. goddamn your best friend and his insane duality.

it was one of the things that intrigued you the most about him. your first impression of jungkook was that he looked scary, to be honest. the only color he ever wore back when you first met was black, he had a lip ring hooked over his bottom lip, and what looked like a skeletal hand tattooed on his forearm.

however, all of your expectations were proven wrong when you got paired to work with him on a project halfway through your first semester. he was softspoken and relatively reserved at first, but once you cracked his initial shyness, he laughed a lot…and in reality, he was insanely dorky.

“i was the one with the stomachache, koo,” you remind him, leaning against his arm as you waited for the person in front of you to finish ordering.

“yeah, but i had to go to class for a week without you! professor jung almost ate me alive,” he shuddered at the memory. you roll your eyes at his dramatics, directing them sideways to look at the man.

“anyways, i was just gonna order some hotteok,” he proposes nonchalantly, but it’s obviously feigned as he knows it’s one of your favorite snacks from childhood.

he smirks when you gasp and grip his arm, immediately bobbing your head in excitement.

“okay,” he grins, “i’m serious, go pick a spot. i’m paying tonight,” he wiggles his eyebrows, taking out a stack of cash from his latest weekend gig.

“wait, seriously? no way,” your brows knit together, taking a step back to eye him skeptically when he nods. “we always go halfsies. what did you do?”

he merely squints his eyes and shoves his shoulder into yours, instinctively reaching his arm around you when you sway with the force.

“i didn’t do anything. it’s christmas, stop questioning my kindness,” he sasses, pursing his lips as he crosses his arms stubbornly.

“oh!” you gasp, placing your hand over your heart, “in the spirit of christmas!” you can’t help the sarcasm dripping from your words, and jungkook can’t help the grin on his face from spreading wider by the second.

still, he rolls his eyes. “whatever dude, you suck,” he says, but his actions contradict his words when he reaches over to pick a stray string off of your hat that was annoyingly hanging over your nose.

with that, he moves forward to take his place in line, with you scooting off to find a window booth across the cafe.

when you’ve sat down and taken your bulky winter coat off, your gaze wanders out to the blistering snow again. you notice it’s coming down harder, and you can’t help but let your mind wander to your exams tomorrow, wondering if those would end up being canceled as well. it would be nice to get another day off with jungkook, you think.

you sit there for another few minutes before you are broken out of your finals trance once again when a mug is set down in front of you, sweet chocolate immediately filling your senses as you inhale the steam coming off the liquid inside of it.

“cocoa, too?” you smile, lifting the mug to observe the whipped cream melting further down into the cup.

“duh! now eat up,” he gestures to the steaming plate of hotteok in his hands, transferring it to the table as he takes a seat next to you.

you snort at the way he immediately digs into the sugary pancakes, eyes closing in satisfaction as his head bobs from side to side in approval at the taste. you love the way his nostrils flare and he almost looks angry when he thoroughly enjoys food.

“damn, these are good,” he voices his thoughts, both of you humming in unison when you take your first bite at the same time he takes his second one.

“no shit, i literally need this recipe,” you murmur, savoring the sweet spice of the cinnamon swirled through the pancake dough.

“you distract them and i’ll steal it,” jungkook responds through a mouthful of food, round cheeks lifting when you nod your head along to his plan.

“it looks like it’s getting worse out there,” he notes after a moment of silence. he notices your plate is empty and serves you another portion onto your side platter.

“okay, grandpa,” you tease, the man pulling a look of mocked offense as you continue, “if you recall, someone just had to pick today of all days to go on an adventure off campus,” you quipped, raising your eyebrows at the man as he smirked down at his own hot chocolate resting in his palms.

“and someone has to get you back safely too. so i’d appreciate if you enjoy what you can here and we can bring the rest back whenever you’re ready,” he purses his lips stubbornly, corners of his mouth turning upward when you roll your eyes despite taking another big bite of your snack.

when all is said and done and you are both slipping back into your winter gear, there is a noticeably significant amount of snow that has accumulated on the ground since you were last out.

“shit,” you say at the same time as you step outside the warm cafe, doom looming over you in the form of gray clouds unleashing a mix of snow and hail. you loop your arm through jungkook’s when you lose your footing on the slick pavement beneath you, cursing out of shock.

“aish!” he hisses at the vision of you nearly going down, gripping you tighter when you regain your balance. he struggles to hold onto the box of leftover hotteok for a moment, but ends up rebalancing it in his palm before anything disastrous can happen. and it’s for his own good. if anything happened to that hotteok, you wouldn’t be able to let it go for days.

“you good?” he checks, reaching to pull your hat further over your ears from where it had slipped up in your near fall.

“good,” you respond, “it’s definitely time to get home, though.”

somehow, you both navigate the rest of the parking lot without another fall. clinging onto each other, you make it to the cement which has luckily been treated already to be less slick.

other than the occasional curse at the wind and snow blowing into your faces, it’s quiet. the serenity and comfort you’ve been dreaming of the past few weeks.

you feel guilty for neglecting jungkook for this section of the semester, especially knowing he probably doesn’t even hold any resentment against you for it.

“hey, thanks for getting me out today,” you murmur, jungkook’s hum nearly silent with the pitch of the wind.

“thanks for letting me,” he responds quietly, “i know it wasn’t on your agenda for today.”

you shrug your shoulder against him, “you know how i get at this time of the year. worried about making the right choices.”

he nods, having witnessed the many dilemmas you’d had over your major with the difficulty of your classes.

“but i’m pretty much always up for anything you have planned,” you grin, knocking your shoulder into his playfully. you whine as he wraps an arm around your neck, bringing you in closer to him with a deep laugh.

shuffling along the sidewalk, the gravitational pull between you is so natural that you don’t even realize how close you’ve gotten. his arm is a comforting weight over your shoulders, his head dipped low to brace against the wind.

“i like it when you get spontaneous on me.”

you hear but don’t see the smile in his words, gripping onto him tighter when the wind whips at you again.

his cheek turns to the left and bumps against your own, and you both chuckle at the clumsy action.

you lift your eyes from the ground and over to him, your breath catching in your throat when you realize your noses are touching.

you’re closer than you’ve ever been before, and you realize you quite like this view of jungkook. you can see all of his tiny moles decorating his face, and you get a close-up of the scar along his cheek from when he and his brother got into a fight when they were kids.

for as long as you’ve known jungkook, you would think that you’ve witnessed all sides of him. but when you notice the way he’s looking at you right now, you think you may be wrong about that.

he’s looking at you like you put the moon in the sky, and all of a sudden you’re leaning into each other further. your eyes break contact when they flick down to his lips, something you’d only ever done in what you thought was your darkest dreams. you feel like you should do more logical reasoning in this moment, but your thoughts instantly slow down when his hand tentatively rests under your jaw, tilting your chin up and tilting his head to the side.

time seems to stop, and all of a sudden his lips press against yours and all the breath gets knocked out of your chest, gripping the rough material of his jacket to stabilize your spinning head.

and even though you’re certain it’s cold enough to get hypothermia and frostbite, you find yourself feeling a warmth spread from your chest to your fingers and toes.

kissing jungkook feels so right, which feels so morally wrong. he’s your best friend, your favorite person. you’ve promised yourself to not do anything to jeopardize what you two have, and yet everything is telling you to keep going. what is happening right now?

but then he swipes his tongue along your bottom lip and you open your mouth against him, and you swear your brain short circuits when his tongue meets yours. he tastes sweet from your treats back at the bakery, pulling you in for more. you wrap your arms around his neck and hear him let out a quiet hum, a sound that makes you tighten your grip on him.

he kisses you like he has nothing to lose. like someone who’s not only ready to risk it all on a bet but someone who is doubling down.

you eventually pull away to breathe, immediately regretting doing so when you’re met with ice pelting your face. jungkook winces when he sees the way you cringe, taking his gloved hand to rest it on your skin in an effort to protect it.

when you open your eyes again, there’s a look you’ve never seen in jungkook’s big brown orbs. they have a softness to them, which you soon realize is vulnerability. he’s always so calm, cool, and collected that you almost can’t believe you’re seeing him in another state.

his lips are still wet from your kiss, proof and evidence of what you two had just done.

“oh my god,” you murmur, taking a piece of his hair and removing it from its current spot draping over his eye.

and oh my god is right, because his brown eyes are sparkling at you right now and you swear he holds the entire galaxy of stars within them.

“would you cringe if i said that i’ve wanted to do that for a while,” he asks, grinning when you fake a gag.

“me too, or whatever,” you timidly admit after a moment, warmth instantly flooding to your cheeks when his face lights up in response, wrapping both arms around you with excitement.

“you like meee,” he sings, and his voice is so loud that you know a few people are turning their heads to look at the two of you.

your cheeks continue to burn up involuntarily, the impact of his words making you feel even more flustered.

“oh my god, be quiet!” you laugh, jungkook watching with amusement when you turn around to continue the brief walk up the path to your building. nevertheless, you slip your hand into his waiting palm, giving it a soft squeeze that he reciprocates.

you both quicken your pace when you see that someone is holding the door open for you, grateful you don’t have to dig in your pockets with your numb fingers for your key into the building.

one would think that an event such as kissing your best friend would make things tense. jungkook, however, seems to be in his normal state, singing a song you’re unfamiliar with as he escorts you through the threshold of your building.

walking through your dorm, nothing feels weird. surprisingly, you feel relief, like a huge burden has been lifted off your shoulders. you don’t know if it was the hotteok, or the man currently leading you back to your room that changed your demeanor today. but you had a feeling it was the latter.

the immature part of you dreads the moment you step into your dorm and have to talk about what happened and what it means for your relationship. you know your therapist would scold you, but you can’t help but feel like your first instinct is to tame the fire that kiss brought within you.

you’ve never known jungkook to be casual with anyone. he has a big heart, with a lot of love to share. still, you know you can’t expect any more than that spur-of-the-moment kiss from him. it just wouldn’t be fair to either of you.

before you can get any further inside your head, you’re brought down to earth by a squeeze of your hand and a soft call of your name. you realize you’re now in front of your door, jungkook leaning against the wall and looking at you fondly.

you stare back at him, realizing for the first time that he was just as deeply in his own head as you were. he wears his heart on his sleeve, and you can practically feel his insecurity radiating off of him in this moment. you hate it.

you press your thumb to smooth over the worried wrinkle between his eyebrows, the action inciting a sigh to escape his mouth.

“is this the part where you tell me to go home and fuck off, pookie?” he bites his lip and quirks an eyebrow, and you can’t help the way your eyes follow his mouth’s movement. his lip rings glisten in the fluorescent lighting of the hallway, and you smile, but give another roll of your eyes as you pull out your key card to your room.

you hear him snicker quietly beside you, the soft noise fueling the feelings you’re so accustomed to with jungkook. he always has loved the way he can make your eyes roll so easily, the little shit. you would never say it out loud, but secretly, you love it too.

his question still hangs in the air between you, but you love the art of suspense. plus, the way his bottom lip is trapped under his teeth right now is so attractive you wish you could frame it.

the high-pitched beep of your door followed by the unlatching of the lock is all the permission you need to end his misery. you pull him closer to you by the bottom of his jacket, guiding him back into your room and basking in the surprise evident across his features.

in that moment, you toss all your worries out the window and realize what you want in an instant. jungkook, who never fails to make you feel included. who takes care of you when you’re ill, who drives miles for you just to get that soft serve ice cream you crave on random winter nights.

you don’t know why you’ve tiptoed around this for so long.

but when your hands settle on the base of his neck once more, and you briefly feel his breath wash over you as he dips down to meet your lips for the second time, you know you’ve made the right choice.

butterflies erupt in your stomach when his hand goes to support the back of your head, and the kiss grows from one of a tender nature into a higher intensity that makes you cling to him. your head goes dizzy and your knees grow weak, his soft lips opening against you as his fingers massage needed relaxation into your head.

swallowing each other's breaths and noises when the kiss gets heated, you’re not even phased when jungkook clumsily drops the box of hotteok on your floor.

pulling back to admire the man, you smile when you realize he’s doing the same. his eyes bounce over your features, pressing his forehead to yours as you catch your breath to finally answer his question.

“quite the opposite, actually.”

[wildernessuntothemselves]

Jealousy, Jealousy... | Part 3

A/N: don't even have a summary for this. oc is in love with gyu and gyu is in love with another girl but both are virgin losers and gyu is a horndog who would let oc do what she wants to him just as long as he gets to cum.

Word count: 3.3k

Genre: Smut, angst

Warnings: fem!reader, semi-public sex, handjob, orgasm denial, cunnilingus, sub!beomgyu, dom!reader, sub!reader, dom!yeonjun.

A/N: so I have split the chapter into two to get it out faster and to give good time for events to sink in. sorry guys but also not very sorry because i like to torture you lol

"The girl you've been obsessed with for years has invited you to her party but instead of trying to talk to her, you’re hiding in the closet getting jerked off with her right outside. This is why she never gave you the time of day. You’re such a pervert, Beommie." 

"Yes, baby. Whatever you say." Beomgyu breathes heavily, leaning into your touch. He always becomes so pliant once you have his dick in your hand.

"You've got nothing in your brain but sex, huh?" You ask, jerking him off and true to your words, he already looks so dumbed out.

“No.” He answers your rhetorical question, legs buckling when you drag your palm repeatedly over the head of his cock, precum sticking to your skin.  

“Careful, Beommie. Don’t fall.” You laugh, your breath causing goosebumps to erupt along his neck, and he lays his head back to give you more space, silently asking you to kiss his neck, and you do, hearing him let out the prettiest half-moans half-pants. 

“Can I cum?” 

“Hmm.” You pretend to think about it for a few tortuous seconds, letting one of your hands trail under his shirt to play with his nipples. 

“Baby!” He sputters, his nipples are just so sensitive. 

“You can’t. You’ll make a mess and everyone will know what you did. They’ll all know you came all over yourself like a big pervert.” You choose your words specifically to rile him up, feeling his cock twitch in your hand. 

“I don’t care. Just wanna cum.” 

“But she’ll see, baby. She’s going to be disgusted.” 

“I don’t care. I don’t c-care. Just need it.” He’s delirious, too gone to even think about her. Just the way you like him. You know he’s hanging by a thread and any second now he’s actually going to cum, and so regrettably, you let go of him, causing him to yell out. 

“No!” He cries and you immediately cover his mouth with your hand to quiet him. “Hush, Beomgyu! Someone will hear you.” 

“Why?” He cries out when you remove your hand. 

“I told you. I don’t want you to make a mess. You can cum when we get home.” 

It’s a lie, of course. Truthfully, you just wanted to punish him for once again openly salivating over her in front of you. 

“Then let's go home.” 

“Not yet. I wanna get a few drinks first. I’ll get out of the closet first. You wait a bit and come after me. You should probably wait a bit anyway for that to go down.” You grin, glancing at his poor red cock. 

“You’re evil.” 

“I know.” You put his dick back in his pants and zip them up. “Don’t touch yourself.”

You get out of the closet with a huge smile on your face. This evening started horribly with you having to sit beside Beomgyu and watch him tear through Haeun’s clothes with his gaze, openly lusting after her as if he doesn’t care who sees. But once you had enough alcohol in you, you decided to do something about it and whisper in Beomgyu’s ear to follow you to one of the closets. Being the horndog he is, he followed right after, finally interrupting his leering session. 

Okay, maybe getting him to pay attention to you by giving him a handjob at a party wasn’t your proudest moment but you did get him to stop caring about her. Maybe in time you’ll get him to forget about her completely. Maybe he’ll even start looking at you differently, and he’ll realize you’re the one who truly loves him…Oh, who are you kidding? He has been obsessed with her for–

Lost in your thoughts, you smack right into someone, the drinks they were holding spilling all over the both of you. 

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry, I'm such a drunk idiot." You immediately go into apologizing, not wanting to antagonize the person further, but when you look up, instead of an angry frown greeting you, you see him with his head cocked to the side and a grin on his face. "That’s okay, doll."

“Yeonjun!” You gasp, slightly relieved knowing the person isn’t going to fight you, but still horrified at the damage you’ve done to his white shirt.  “Your shirt is all ruined!"

"It's alright. It’s your dress I’m worried about."

You look down at your dress which was equally soaked and now clinging to your body uncomfortably. “Ah, shit. Let's go wash off before the stains will set." 

You drunkenly drag him to the nearest bathroom. Once you’re inside, you turn to him. "Take off your shirt."

“Oh, is this finally happening?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you and you roll your eyes. “Off.”

"Bossy. I like it." He takes his shirt off and hands it to you, and you bashfully look away from his half-naked body, taking the shirt and running it under water while he grabs a towel and wets it, washing off his stomach, or more accurately–his abs.

Still, you can’t help but to sneak not so subtle glances at him, drawn to the sight, before blushing and looking away when he catches you.

“Like what you see, doll?” He teases, winking at you. 

“Shut up.” You rub his shirt with some soap to get the last of the stain out. 

“I can guarantee you, he doesn’t look like that.” His voice is suddenly so close to you, and you look up to see him right next to you, cornering you between his body and the sink. 

“Stop it.” You put a hand to his chest, which you immediately come to regret as the skin on skin contact makes your treacherous heart flutter. 

“Why? Why are you so hung up on him? The idiot doesn’t even realize how much you love him. He’s too preoccupied with her.” You try to look away at the painful mention of Haeun but Yeonjun gently turns your face back towards him. “Give me a chance to make you forget him.”

“Yeonjun…” 

“Can I?” He leans forward, his face inches from yours. 

Should you really be doing this? Beomgyu had told you to stay away from Yeonjun specifically. He would be very pissed off if he found out that you let him kiss you… but then again, why? Why can’t you kiss Yeonjun? It’s not like you and Beomgyu are together. You’re free to kiss whoever you want, dammit!

‘To hell with it.’ You think, surging forward to close the distance between you and Yeonjun. 

His lips are the softest lips you’ve ever felt. Granted, you only kissed two other boys before, Beomgyu being one of them, but still. He was so confident with it too, guiding you and coaxing you to open up to him, letting him taste you and you him. It was slow, purposeful–so different from Beomgyu’s kisses. 

No. You need to stop thinking about Beomgyu. That was the whole point. Forget Beomgyu. 

“Get off her.” Beomgyu shouts. 

Beomgyu? 

Yeonjun moves away from you, or more accurately is pushed off you. 

“Beomgyu, what are you doing here?” You gasp, horrified at having been caught by him as if you were cheating on him or something. It didn’t help that his reaction made it seem like you are. 

“I was looking for you. I thought I told you to stay away from him.” He hisses, clearly angry which just pisses you off. Whatever fleeting sense of guilt you felt for kissing Yeonjun quickly dissipates in the face of his inexplicable wrath.  

“You don’t get to tell me what to do.” You snap back. “And if I want to kiss Yeonjun, I will.” 

“He’s my friend!” He shrieks, as if that means something.

“So? That doesn’t mean I can’t like him.” 

Beomgyu reels at that. “You like him?” 

Both boys stare at you expectantly, waiting for your answer, and you stammer under their gaze. “M-maybe I do.” 

Beomgyu’s face hardens and he turns his back on you and walks out the door without another word. 

What? What did you say? 

“Oh no, did I just fuck up?” You fret, moving to run after him, but Yeonjun grabs your hand, stopping you. “No. You stood up for yourself. If he doesn’t want to be with you then he doesn’t get to tell you who you can be with.” 

“You’re right. He’s not my boyfriend.” You try to assert, but quickly lose your confidence. “And now he will never be. He just saw me kissing his friend! That’s like incest!”

Yeonjun bursts out laughing at that. “What? That’s ridiculous. Do you even hear yourself?” 

You want to be mad at him for trivializing how you feel. This is serious! You may have just lost your chance with Beomgyu! This is no laughing matter!

So then why are you laughing like he’s just cracked the funniest joke you’ve ever heard? “Oh my god, you’re right. What am I even thinking? This is stupid.” You huff out between cackles, “I’m so stupid.” 

Yeonjun stops laughing first, gathering you in his arms and waiting for you to calm down. “You’re not stupid. You’re in love.” 

“Yeah.” You confirm, bitterly. 

“And he’s an ungrateful idiot.” 

“Maybe.” You fiddle with your fingers. “But if there is a one percent chance I can be with him, I don’t want to ruin it by having him think I’m fucking his best friend.” 

Yeonjun sighs, stepping back. “Fine, go to him. Explain what happened to him. But for the record, I think you’re making a huge mistake.” 

“I know.” 

______________________________

You scour the party looking for Beomgyu, but you can’t find him anywhere. Did he leave already? Is he that mad? 

You lament your poor choices as you open up another door, stumbling across yet another couple engaged in less than savory activities with the woman spread out on the edge of the bed and the man with his face buried between her legs. 

“Whoops, sorry!” You yelp, knee-jerk reaction to slam the door shut suddenly halted when the man kneeling on the floor turns towards you and you see an all too familiar face. 

Beomgyu?! 

They both stare at you, Haeun with her dress pushed up and Beomgyu with his lips glistening with something you don’t want to think about. He makes eye contact with you before he turns around and presses his face back between her legs. 

That fucking slut. 

You slam the door shut and storm off with another target in mind. When you spot the colorful haired man, you drag him behind you to one of the empty bedrooms you saw earlier. 

"Hey, what’s going on--" You cut Yeonjun off with a kiss which he doesn’t resist much, making use of the unexpected opportunity. But when you separate, he takes the chance to ask, "What happened to Beomgyu?"

"Fuck him. I want you.” You kiss him again, suddenly nervous about what you’re going to ask now that you’re right in front of him. Still, you push through, murmuring against his lips, eyes sealed shut, "Want you to eat me out."

Unfortunately, Yeonjun doesn’t immediately give in as you had been praying he would, and he pulls back to ask you, "Are you sure?"

"Yes." You answer, still refusing to open your eyes. But the asshole won’t accept that. 

“Look at me, doll.” He demands, cupping your face in his hands. You take a deep breath before opening them, looking him dead in the eyes. “I want it.” 

"It just seems–"

"Do it, Yeonjun!" You snap then immediately regret it, feeling mortified at the possible rejection. God, you didn’t think this through, did you? Just because he wanted to kiss you, doesn’t mean he wants to eat you out in the middle of a party. He’s not Beomgyu. "Unless you don't want to."

Yeonjun lifts you up and drops you on the bed, the breath whooshing out of you as you make impact with the mattress. You don’t even get the chance to ask him what the hell he’s doing before he spreads your legs and gets between them. "It's my pleasure, doll."

He starts by licking over your panties, and you’re so glad he is easing you through it because even that makes you tingle. His tongue moves up and down your slit in slow, deliberate strokes, turning you on until you’re not sure if your panties are soaked because of your arousal or his saliva. And once it’s completely see-through, he hooks his finger under it, pulling it to the side. 

The first direct touch of his hot tongue against your sensitive pussy has you jolting, your hands shooting out to grab at the sheets. But Yeonjun pulls away for a second, grabbing your hands and putting them on his head.

"You can hold onto my hair, doll." He grins, looking devastatingly handsome, “Pull on it when I do something you like.” 

That’s a dangerous ask because you’re pulling his hair as soon as he puts his mouth on you again. Not that he minds, you can see his smirk as he stares up at you, tongue teasingly swirling around your swollen clit. 

“Don’t tease.” You whimper, holding onto his hair tightly. 

“Why not? You’ve teased me long enough, pretty girl.” He purrs, pressing soft kisses against your pussy while his thumb rubs maddeningly around your entrance. 

“Yeonjun…” You whine, taking your hands away and trying to close your legs, but he pins your legs back down before returning your hands to his hair. “Keep your hands on me. I like it.” 

“Pull my hair harder. I like it when you’re rough with me."

Beomgyu’s words ricochet inside your skull, tearing up your brain. No. Don’t think about him. He’s in another room with another woman, probably fucking her by now. Focus on the man who actually wants you. 

“Did I lose you?” Yeonjun’s voice cuts through your tortured monologue. 

You look at him, embarrassed at having been caught. 

“Then let me make you forget about him.” He vows, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking on it, making your brain short-circuit. 

“That’s it, doll. Just focus on me.” He flicks his tongue from side to side, causing electricity to shoot up to your belly. 

“Oh god, Yeonjun!” You gasp, pulling at his hair, which just makes him do it with more fervor, alternating between rapid flicks and long languid licks up the entire length of your pussy. You’d be embarrassed by how quickly he builds up your high, if he didn’t look like he was enjoying it so much, moaning into your pussy and staring up at you as if he wants to eat you whole. 

“Feels good?” He smirks, fingers finally breaching your empty pussy. 

“Yes, yes!” You groan, head thrown back as he pumps his fingers inside you, his full lips latching onto your clit once more. 

The feeling of his fingers filling you up, fucking you open, and the unrelenting attack on your clit from his mouth has you teetering on the edge in no time. But then an unwelcome image pops into your brain–Beomgyu with his messy hair and his lips swollen and glistening with arousal–and suddenly it wasn’t Yeonjun between your legs and it wasn’t Haeun Beomgyu was eating out…

No, it was you on the bed and Beomgyu between your legs, looking up at you with his big, brown eyes that seemed to beg you to cum, and you do. You have to bite down on your tongue to stop from screaming his name as you shudder and whine, thighs clamping around Yeonjun’s head. 

Yeonjun. 

You jerk up, orgasm still not quite passed, and blink the haziness away. God, you’re disgusting. 

But Yeonjun has no idea what is going through your head. He has a big smile on his face, proud of himself for making you lose it so easily. 

“You liked that, doll?” He climbs up your body to kiss you, and you hesitantly reciprocate, not wanting him to sense that anything is wrong. But when he starts getting handsy again and you feel his hard cock pressing against you, you quickly push him away. 

"Wait. I can't–I'm sorry.” You stammer nervously. 

“Oh. Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, I just…” Whatever lie you were thinking of dies on your tongue when you make eye contact with him. You can’t lie to him. “I just need to go home."

“Of course.” He backs away, but you can see the disappointment on his face. “Is it… because of Beomgyu?” 

You don’t reply, but that is all the answer he needed.

___________________________________

Still, he is gentleman enough to take you home. 

“You didn’t have to do this, you know.” You tell him for the tenth time, feeling guilty after basically rejecting him. 

“I know. I wanted to.” He reassures you once again, no hint of annoyance in his voice. “I know Beomgyu usually takes you home, but since he’s… occupied, I didn’t want you to walk home alone.”

“Right.” You mumble, staring at the ground as that painful image of Beomgyu between Haeun’s legs flashes in your mind. “Well, thank you… and I’m sorry. I just don’t think I’m ready yet.” 

“Hey,” He walks towards you, propping your chin up with his finger. “You don’t have to apologize. You don’t owe me anything.” 

“I know. I just wish things were different. I wish I wasn’t so pathetically in love with him that it feels wrong to even be with someone else. Which is stupid, I know. Beomgyu and I aren’t–” Your phone rings for the 10th time since you left the party, cutting you off, and you glare at the name flashing on the screen. 

“Beomgyu again?” 

“Yes.” You roll your eyes, silencing it. 

“Answer it.”

You stare at him as if he grew a second head, and he rolls his eyes. “He’s probably worried about you. We left without saying a word to him.” 

Damn it. You guess he’s right. You didn’t even think of that. 

"Hello?" You press the phone to your ear but quickly move it away slightly at the immediate shouting coming from it. 

"Where the fuck are you?" 

"Home." You answer unenthusiastically, which just pisses Beomgyu off more. "You went home by yourself?"

"No, Yeonjun took me home." You elaborate nervously, scared of how he’s going to react, and boy, does he not disappoint. "Well this is just fucking great. I've been looking all over for you, freaked out of my mind that something happened to you and you're back home fucking my friend."

His words reignite your anger all over again. “I didn’t think you’d come up from between her legs long enough to notice.” 

“So you’re getting back at me by fucking him?”

“I didn’t–you know what, Beomgyu. I can't deal with this right now. I'm going to bed."

"I’m not done–" You hang up on him, too exhausted to think about what any of this means. 

"He's not happy, huh?"

"Nope." You sigh. What a fucking terrible night. 

"I don't get him. If he's jealous, why doesn't he just ask you out?"

"He's not jealous. He's just–” Just what? Why is he even acting that way? What is he so angry about? Because you’re ‘fucking’ his friend? So what? “I don't know. It's complicated. We've been messing around and I guess he got annoyed when he saw us kissing."

“Well, are you guys dating?” Yeonjun asks and you almost laugh. “No. Nothing like that. Just… just messing around.”

"Then he has no right to be annoyed." He states simply, and he’s right. He doesn’t, and you can’t make sense of why he is so all you manage is to lamely mumble, "Well, he's protective of me."

To which Yeonjun snorts, "You mean possessive."

Is he? Why would he be? Is it because he is not used to you having a boyfriend before? Not that Yeonjun is your boyfriend.   

"My brain hurts. I need to sleep." You groan, pulling at your hair in frustration before your hands fall to your sides with a slap. “I’m sorry, Yeonjun.” 

“Don’t be.” He reassures you, “I’ll be here when that idiot inevitably does something to completely push you away.”

________________________________

A/N: as always I always love to hear feedback even if it's just how much you'd like to punch gyu lmao. currently i don't know how many parts the remaining plot will be divided into so it could be 2 or 3 more similar sized chapters to this.

just for fun, i'll do a poll every chapter to see if people change their minds on who they want oc to end up with. but i've already decided on what to do so the votes are just for fun

Taglist: @wonwooz1@yaorzu-blog@allylikesdabee@rkivezzs@malieno @leviathanlee26 @yomomas-stuff @kurisaiyunobara @girlwholovekpop @zuzuhasablog @viaaasdiary @ho3forkpop @skzvcr

[darkbluekies]

Night drive with silas. Maybe reader had a stockholm syndrome?

The best for you

Mafia!yandere OC x stockholmsyndrome!reader

Summary: after a while in the basement you've finally broken. You're finally obedient.

Warnings: Stockholm syndrome, manipulation, kissing, great fear, hints of violence

You messed up badly. You should not have tried to escape. Look where you ended up — in the darkest corner of his basement with your ankles chained to the stone floor. Reduced to nothing more than a dog.

You're not sure how long you've been down here, but you've been given the opportunity to use the degrading potty four times by now by rough, evil men. Or was it more?

A string of light lights up a small portion of the basement and heavy steps coming down the stairs makes you tense.

"Y/N, baby, it's me", Silas says softly and moves closer to you in the dim light.

He's wearing his dark clothes with his shirt unbuttoned two buttons down and rolled up by his sleeves. In his right hand he holds a see through plastic bag. There's something inside …

"Hi, little thing", Silas says and sits down in front of you.

You press yourself closer to the wall, wishing nothing else than to melt into it and disappear.

"No, no, no, shh, it's okay", he says quickly. "I'm not going to hurt you anymore. Everything is over. I'm here to help."

You doubt that.

He picks up something from the plastic bag and holds the hand open in front of him. A green ball is lying in his palm.

"I got you grapes", he smiles. "I've washed them twice, so you have nothing to be skeptical of."

You look at the grape, hunger roaring through your stomach. Your hand twitches.

"That's right, baby", Silas smiles, "it's yours, take it."

With his reassurance, your hand snatches the grape from his open palm and places it in your mouth. The sudden taste makes you grimace and he smiles, picking up one more. You hesitate. There has to be something waiting for you. He can't be this nice. You're sure that if you try to take the grape, he'll grab your hand in that tight grip he usually has.

"Don't be scared, baby", Silas says softly. "They're all for you."

You shake your head quickly, pressing closer to the wall. You won't fall into his trap.

"They are, I promise", Silas says, moving his hand closer. "Take it."

Your hand snatches the grape just as quickly.

"I'm going to remove the cuffs, okay?" Silas says and moves closer.

Your hands attempt to grab the plastic bag, quickly regretting it. You stare at him with wide eyes, waiting for any sign of anger or disappointment. Nothing.

"You can have the bag if you let me unchain you. Deal?"

You nod hesitantly and hold out your hand. Silas places the plastic bag in your palm. You start to pick up grapes, chewing quicker than the speed of light while he unlocks the chains. He leans back on his hands, looking at you fondly.

"Tasty?" he asks.

You nod carefully. He can tell that your hands are shaking.

"Can you give me one?" he asks and holds out his hand.

You look at his rough hand and down in the bag, contemplating. Slowly, you pick up one of the grapes and drop it in his hand. He smiles and pops it into his mouth. You turn your face down into the bag again. In the corner of your eye you can see him sit up straight again and move closer. You have no time to escape before his arms are wrapped around you in a gentle hold. You forget how to breathe or move. Entire body, all muscles, tense up. You want to push him away or yell at him to let you be, but your brain is having a multipurpose shutdown. The only thing coming out of your mouth being measly whimpers. Silas rubs his hand over your back softly.

"It's okay, little thing", he whispers. "You don't have to be afraid of me anymore. I love you so, so much."

His hand comes up to massage your roots. All of these actions are so soft and after being chained up in this cold, hard and unforgiving basement, you can't do anything else but slowly relax. He notices that and brings you closer until your body is pressed into his. Tears are building up in your chest. You've wanted to cry since you got locked down here, but you haven't dared to. Your tears would have reminded you of how badly you hate your life. But now that you're in Silas’s warm embrace, the walls keeping the tears in are slowly but surely collapsing.

"It's okay, little thing", Silas whispers. "Let it out. I will protect you."

His words sound so genuine that it aches in your broken heart. All you want is for him to treat you normally, why cant he? You suddenly think to yourself that … maybe he does treat you normally, it's just you who are so difficult that he sees no way out than to chain you in here. Tears start to escape your eyes and you're quick to hide them down into his shoulder. He locks your head in place with his hand. You cry out all the frustrations you've felt over both Silas and yourself, over everything and everyone around you. Silas sits in silence, listening. When you finally stop, he pulls your head back and cups your wet cheeks, caressing them with his thumbs. Maybe he isn't too bad after all …?

"Do you want to go upstairs?" he asks with sweet eyes. "Sleep in our bed for a while?"

You nod. Suddenly his touch doesn't feel that poisonous anymore. He stands up and helps you up on your feet. With his arm wrapped around your waist, he brings you upstairs. Now that your stone wall has been removed from you, Silas is the best substitute for you to hide in. He melts everytime you move closer, but he silently hopes that he hasn't broken you. You usually get scared after being locked in the basement, your mind resets like a video game.

His men follow you with their eyes, always interested to see how you've been tamed this time. You press yourself closer to Silas. Not a word needs to be spoken, he already knows.

"If you look at them again it'll be the last thing you ever see" Silas warns his men, bringing you to the stairs to the second floor.

You glance at him, heart softening at how he stood up for you.

He helps you up to your shared bedroom and into the bathroom. You're allowed to take a quick shower before he tucks you into the bed. The soft material around you feels like heavenly clouds compared to the ice cold Hell you've been kept in. It doesn't take more than two minutes before you're knocked out cold with his hand caressing your cheek.

When you wake up, the room is empty. You shoot up, first thought being: "where is Silas?" You look around in desperation. You can't understand this new thinking, this sudden urge to be perfect for him. Be so perfect that you'll never have to end up in the basement again. You've never been so dependent on Silas like this before. Your heart is hammering, all nerves in your body screaming to be close to Silas. Without him, you'll only do something wrong and end up there again …

He must be down in his office, you think and hurry up from the bed. You run over to the door, grabbing the handle.

"Where do you think you're going?" Silas asks firmly, coming out from the bathroom. "I can't even take a piss without you trying to run off."

You breathe out in relief and run over, hugging him tightly. The man freezes in shock and confusion.

"What's going on?" he asks.

"I thought you left!" you mumble. "I got so scared."

He relaxes, understanding. Carefully, his arms wrap around you with a soft smile playing on his lips.

"Of course I won't leave you", he says comfortingly. "I love you, my little angel. Love you so much."

He notices how you glance down at his lips. You need to be close to him.

"Do you want me to kiss you?" he asks smugly.

You nod quickly. He smiles gently and leans down to connect his lips with yours. You respond quickly. He almost flinches in shock, but is quick to match your pace. He almost loses control to you, but is quick to regain it. There's no way you'll get to lead the action. Silas melts into a puddle in your embrace. Your mouth is heavenly soft … and you taste like his wildest fantasies.

"I'm sorry, Silas", you mumble. "I-I shouldn't have tried to run away from you. I don't know what I was thinking, please forgive me."

"You are forgiven, baby", he reassures you.

"I never want to end up there again."

"You won't. Just be as good as you're being now and you won't ever have to see that awful place again."

You breathe out in relief.

"I have to run a quick errand", Silas says.

"Don't leave!" you yelp.

Silas chuckles and caresses your cheeks. "Let me finish, will you? I was going to ask you if you want to come with me. It's just a nice little drive."

You nod. Silas takes your hand in his and leads you out the door, down the stairs.

"Boss, you can't go now!" one of his men says, stressed out of his mind. "We have so much to do!"

"Don't talk to him like that!" you cut him off, a warning to him what will happen if you anger Silas,but also feeling offended that they disrespect him.

"It's okay, baby", Silas smiles and wraps his arm around your shoulders. "You don't have to get involved." He turns to the man. "I do what I want. If you'd paid more attention, you'd know that I'm going on a business errand, not a fun trip. So step aside before you embarrass yourself any further."

The man clears his throat and gives the two of you space. You pity the foolish man. Surely you can't be the only one knowing about the harsh — brutal — consequences?

Silas leads you out to his black, shiny car and opens the front door for you. You jump in and buckle yourself while he gets in behind the steering wheel and turn on the engine.

"If you want, you can just drift off to sleep", Silas says and backs out of the driveway.

You shake your head. Silas chuckles, knowing that you'll be blacked out in twenty minutes anyway.

Twenty minutes pass and you're still awake, much to his surprise. Your eyelids are hanging, deepy wishing that you could let yourself sleep. Although he's given you permission, you're scared that he'll be mad at you for leaving his company. He is unpredictable after all. You soend the time to watxh the twinkling stars up in the night sky, look at the streetlights you pass. It all is so pretty. There are barely any people out by now, but that's almost nicer.

Silas turns to look at you.

"Why are you still awake, baby?" he smiles. "You're obviously tired."

"I shouldn't leave you alone", you whisper regretfully. "I won't be good then …"

"You will be good. You will be the best even, I told you it's okay. Go to sleep, sweet thing."

"Are you sure?"

He chuckles and takes your hand, squeezing it softly. You feel a shameful thump in your heart. Deep down, you know you shouldn't trust him, but oh, how much you really want to.

"Of course I am", he responds. "I took you with me because I know you fall asleep in cars. I'll even put on some calm music for you."

And he does. A sweet, hypnotizing tune enters your ears, making you smile slightly. This time, sleep is inevitable. Only a few minutes later, you're gone. Silas smiles and caresses your cheek with his free hand. He finally succeeded this time. You're finally obedient — finally his.

[etherealising]

chapter five | we keep this love in a photograph

masterlist | ↢ previous chapter | next chapter ↣

pairing: carmen berzatto x f!reader | f!reader x the bear crew | male!oc x f!reader | carmy x claire | carmy x wingwoman!sydney |

summary: as plans are set in motion and renovations move forward, carmy finds himself entangled with the thought of you.

warning(s): guilt | grief | language | mentions of death | mentions of suicide | substance abuse | recovering addict | idiots in love | self-sabotage | insinuation of sex | semi-edited | please let me know if i missed anything

wc: 7.1k

It was 4 am, and the heat from your oven warmed the kitchen. The biscuits lined up nicely on the cooling rack, You hadn’t given much thought to the task at hand, too busy trying to remove yourself from the guilt-ridden thoughts that plagued your mind most nights.

Peach juice coated your hands, the rhythmic act of peeling them helped you to silence the foreboding thoughts fighting their way to the forefront of your brain.

The handwritten recipe card was placed strategically out of the way to not get ruined while you worked around the kitchen. You were no chef that much was obvious, but your mom taught you the art of cooking from a very young age. Instilled in you a sense of independence.

Standing in your kitchen as the night began its metamorphosis into day, you couldn’t help but reminisce about the role your mom played in your life. As a single parent, your mom was adamant about you knowing how to live life without having to depend on the goodwill of others. And even when the Berzattos entered your life, she made sure that you were never too comfortable.

You were allowed to spend as much time with the family as your heart desired, your mom wanted you to understand and enjoy human connection. But she’d always make sure you knew how easy it was for a person to walk out of your life. She liked to remind you that you couldn’t control other people’s actions, and just because you were important to someone today, didn’t mean those same feelings would transcend into tomorrow. To take a little, but never too much, to allow a certain level of comfort but always remember your role in other people’s lives is never as important as you may think.

All the peeled peaches sat atop the cutting board, awaiting the moment they would be pitted and cut into symmetrical slices.

Parents, either unknowingly or not, pass down their own beliefs and ideas to their children. Children who were essentially sponges waiting to soak up whatever knowledge and information was thrown their way. You knew this first hand, your mom’s need for independence is the same flaw that now afflicted you even into adulthood.

The independence that was so far from what you craved growing up, so drilled into you by your mother, that you instead hid behind your dependency on the Berzatto family.

That same need for independence that you had finally given in to and had almost killed you five months ago.

While your mom saw her life lessons as a teaching moment to never overstay your welcome. You easily disregarded it growing up, how could she not expect you to live in your vulnerability, to depend on people she had so easily allowed to love you and take up space in your life?

You didn’t blame your mom for allowing you to know the Berzattos but you blamed her for the part of you that would always remember her words. Always make you second guess if your actions affected people the way theirs did you.

Her words once again made an appearance when Carmy first distanced himself from you and finally made a permanent home in your head when Mikey passed away.

A shrill beep alerted you, the oven was ready. The peaches are pristinely cut, along with the previously made peach simple syrup both awaiting use.

Gingerly adding all the ingredients to your Dutch oven, you placed the lilac pot into the oven before beginning to clean up the mess you made.

You knew your mom did her best raising you with the hand she was dealt. Your father, a shadow you’d never know. Her own life experiences an excuse to protect you from the world, from yourself.

As her health deteriorated, you watched your mom's outlook on life become less skewed. But what good would that do you? The little girl you once were absorbed her constant message and stored it in the back of your mind for safekeeping, awaiting the day such a pessimistic ideal system might one day be put to use.

The timer on your oven was ticking down, the hoard of minutes left until the peach cobbler was done brought on a feeling of despair. Watching the timer dwindle minute after minute felt like a metaphor for your life at the moment.

Time was running out, and maybe that wasn’t true but you sure as hell did feel that way. The time you had left to confess your shortcomings to Richie quickly passed by. The expiration date for whatever the fuck was going on between you and Carmy fastly approaching.

You couldn’t allow these things to continue festering in your life. The weight of them exhausting you, you couldn’t keep pushing on like everything was okay like nothing had changed between any of you.

Choices you made inadvertently affected them just as much as they affected you. You didn’t want this wall between you and them anymore, and even if the wall was nonexistent to them; it was very much real to you.

You would figure things out, you had to. There was no time like the present to commit yourself to fixing the lives you had messed up.

It was easy though walking through life as if you hadn’t ruined anyone else’s. It was almost like you hadn’t, if they weren’t privy to your vices, was there any point in coming clean? Any point in apologizing to them?

Those thoughts were wrong and you knew it. You had to admit your wrongdoings to yourself, to understand why the people you loved the most in life were deserving of an apology, because if you didn’t you would constantly spend the rest of your days justifying why your actions were okay.

Justifying the fact that because you didn’t mean to overdose, that made everything you did okay. That, because you were just going through a mentally tough time in your life, turning to stimulants to aid your grief, was fine. That you were trying to forget for all the right reasons.

Reality was though, there was no right reason for the choices you had been making this whole time. And that was something you still had to come to terms with.

Closing your eyes, your head fell back, face pointed towards the kitchen ceiling. A tired sigh escaped your lips, the exhaustion of recovery taking its toll on you. Tired of standing in the kitchen and being berated by your mind you decided to begin outlining the exposè you were hoping to write on The Bear.

Busying your mind was the easiest option right now, too much unnecessary thinking put you back into the mindset that got you into this mess. Silencing any unwanted thoughts was no longer an option for you, but focusing on something else was proving to work for the time being.

You had made a colossal mistake. Who did you think you were to bring people who cooked for a living a sweet and savory cobbler? That wasn’t your initial plan when you couldn’t sleep this morning and decided to bake. But after removing the dish from your oven allowing the aromas to swim through the foundation of your house, you couldn’t bring yourself to keep it.

A dish that was introduced to you through your mom and the lineage the both of you carried. A dish that Mikey would always want for, but never expect when you did make it for him. A dish that you had spent countless times baking with Carmy by your side the two of you messing up the recipe more than once.

A dish that you once loved so much, but after your mom's death it always tasted like something was missing. And now baking it for the first time since Mikey’s passing you couldn’t even stomach the sickly sweet smell of it.

Walking through the lot to the back door, you were unsurprised to find it unlocked. Entering, you began walking through the kitchen making your way to the counter to place the pastel Dutch oven, the tote bag with vanilla ice cream you picked up on your way there following quickly after.

You weren’t sure who was already here at this time but thought it’d be a nice thing to do by offering them a bowl of the diabetes-inducing dessert. The chunky knit cardigan you were wearing was relegated to the stool next to you, the kitchen felt unusually warm, or maybe that was just your body's natural reaction to being in the restaurant.

Since Carmy had taken over the joint you couldn’t pretend you knew where anything was located. You knew Carmy to be the type of person to run a tight ship, expecting a certain standard from his co-workers.

Searching through the various storage spaces lining the kitchen, you unconsciously bobbed your head to the music singing through your headphones lost to the angelic voice streaming into your ears.

Locating a stack of clear containers you grabbed them before searching for any utensils to eat with, trying four drawers before finding and pulling out a mix of forks and spoons. Finally making your way back to the counter you began ripping the plastic from the store-bought ice cream.

The noise in the kitchen alerted Carmy, the time on his phone signifying that it must’ve been Syd. Inching toward the kitchen he stopped for a moment to check the monthly timelines that were hanging in the front. Every day was filled with a new task, it would be do or die from here on out to even think about opening in six months.

Making his way into the kitchen he stopped the body taking up space notably not Sydney. Your head bobbed up and down to whatever was playing through your headphones. The quiet hum of your voice easily met his ears in the silent kitchen.

He watched as you raised a spoon into your mouth, confused as to why you were in his kitchen this early in the morning. The closed-off kitchen setup didn’t allow him to see what's taking up your attention.

Quietly maneuvering around to get a better view of you, the sudden thought that this may have been an invasion of privacy quickly crossed his mind. He was moments away from leaving you to your own devices before he spotted the scars painted down your right arm. The deepest one tracing from the top of your tricep to your elbow.

Small cuts littered around the larger one, almost like the smaller ones were put there as accent pieces to the main scar. Carmy couldn’t help but wonder what the fuck happened to you after you left his apartment that night, looking from afar it looked as though someone had gone at you with a broken beer bottle or something.

The movement of your arm drew his attention to the reflection of light off of the tape-like bandage above your elbow. His eyes found two bears he would know fucking anywhere, the amount of times you forced him to watch that movie with you and Mikey drove him fucking insane.

Seeing you in this kitchen reminded him of when you were teenagers. It was hard to come to terms with it but he resented you for working at The Beef, resented Mikey even more for allowing you to. It wasn’t fair to you, the more he thought about it the more he realized a lot of the shit he did and felt wasn’t fair to you when you were both younger.

Carmy made his way around the counter you were working at, stopping in front of you the only thing separating the two of you was the steel slab of metal. He wasn’t sure how to get your attention, not wanting to startle you. Standing there watching you shovel what he now knew to be peach cobbler, the nutmeg and cinnamon aroma delicately caressing his nostrils.

The scent easily transported him back to all the moments the two of you spent in borrowed kitchens making this exact dessert.

You were so caught up in the music blaring through your headphones that you hadn’t realized the presence standing in front of you. You jumped spoon clanging against the table as a tattooed hand reached out for the no longer empty container housing the contents of your homemade cobbler and store-bought ice cream.

“Jesus fuck Carmen!” A hand raised to clutch at your chest, you understood how Tina felt yesterday after you snuck up on her. You quickly pulled the headphones off dropping them onto the counter, “Why the fuck are you sneaking around and shit?”

Carmy stared at you blankly, eyebrows raised before his head nodded toward the bowl he was aiming to grab. You rolled your eyes before nodding, “Sure Carmen, almost give me a heart attack in this shit hole kitchen, oh and while you’re at it don’t forget to try my peach cobbler.”

“Heard.” A small nod was sent your way before he shoveled a spoon full of the dessert into his mouth.

A scoff escaped your lips, you picked up your discarded spoon before taking another bite of the ice cream. The atmosphere between the two of you became awkward real quick, neither of you willing to break the silence, neither of you knowing what to say to break the silence.

“So uh, what’s with the cobbler?” You eyed Carmy surprised he was the first to break the silence, you shrugged distracting yourself by putting the lid back on the Dutch oven to persevere the content's warmth.

“Dunno, couldn’t sleep,” it's not like you were lying to him, but standing in his presence acting as though everything was okay made you feel guilty.

“You uh still bake when you can’t sleep?” The sigh you let out was an indication of how this small talk was the last thing you wanted to be doing.

“Obviously Carmen,” your hand shot out to gesture to the pastel pot between the two of you.

“Right…right.” The drumming of Carmy’s finger’s against the steel caused a slight irritation in you. Nodding you wiped the non-existent grime from your hand on your pants.

“Right, well I need to finish my proposal.” You walked the spoon you’d been using to the dishwashing area before joining Carmy one more time, “I’ll be in the dining area if you need anything.”

“You said uh, that you were writing about Mikey and The Beef.” You nodded, waiting for him to finish his sentence, it didn’t sound like much of a question so you weren’t sure what form of response he was expecting.

The silence stretched around the kitchen, an unwavering stare down between you two filling the air with even more tension. You expected things to be stilted between the two of you, but things felt like they were on a whole other level now.

“Well, this is for everybody,” finger quickly pointing at the treats you bought. “It’s kind of a thank you for letting me be a part of this, even if you guys don’t sign off on the article.”

“No, yeah um awesome.” The blank stare you aimed in Carmy’s direction bordered on disgust, leave it to him to make an awkward situation even more awkward, it sure was a talent of his.

You picked up your tote bag and cardigan before heading to the dining area, hoping there was still a table and chair you could occupy. If working here with Carmen meant every interaction would be like pulling teeth, you’d make sure to ignore him like the plague.

“Is that peach fucking cobbler I smell?” Richie’s voice carried through to the dining area where you had sat staring at your finished outline.

You finished a bit ago but didn’t want to chance running into Carmy while it was still just the two of you here. Hearing Richie’s voice and the slight noise as you slipped your headphones off proved that you were no longer alone with one of your oldest friends.

“Baby! Where’s Baby?” You laughed maneuvering out of your seat to head back into the kitchen, unsurprised to find Richie and the rest of the crew gathered around containers of ice cream and cobbler in their hands.

It seemed too early in the day to attack your tastebuds with such a sweet confection, but it was kind of your fault for bringing it in in the first place. You made your way to Sugar’s side with a small smile on your lips as she ate her portion.

In the month after your release, before your house was ready you stayed with Nat and Pete. Your restless energy was channeled into your mom’s dessert recipes, a way to keep your mind occupied and the only way you knew to thank the two adults who hadn’t given up on you.

Nat constantly made it obvious that she missed the constant sweets you would bake just for her.

The two of you made your way to where everyone else was gathered around, you couldn’t lie seeing the empty pot caused a sigh of relief to leave you. You weren’t sure if you could handle being ridiculed by chefs for your poor-tasting dessert.

“This don’t taste like moms baby, you do somethin’ different this time?” Richie eyed you as he raised the spoon to his mouth, it may have tasted a bit different but that didn’t deter him from finishing his serving.

“Uh yeah, a friend of mine taught me how to make this peach simple syrup. It like helps the biscuits stay moist or something. Chef talk isn’t my strong suit.”

Carmy wasted no time before looking in your direction, he was situated across from you, and no matter how hard he thought about it, he couldn’t remember ever teaching you how to make a peach simple syrup. He watched as Marcus began talking your ear off about the dessert, the two of you falling into quiet conversation as you found a connection in sweet confectionery.

It was hard to watch as you so easily integrated yourself into the crew, Syd raptly listening to yours and Marcus’ conversation as if you were some award-winning chef and not just some journalist who knew how to bake. As he stood there watching everyone in the kitchen, he couldn’t pinpoint why his thoughts surrounding you seemed so bitter, he didn’t hate you, didn’t think he ever could.

But as he focused on you more, he realized that you were a part of Mikey he never really got to know. Of course, you were Carmy’s best friend but when things between the two of you fizzled out, Mikey’s role in your life became larger, even if you were separated by states and time zones.

Carmy knew he didn’t hate you, but it was hard for him to look at you and not see the relationship he wanted with his brother. He didn’t blame you, but he resented the way it seemed so easy for Mikey to love you, to be open with you.

Catching your eye he nodded his head in the direction of the dining area curious to hear about this article you were thinking about writing and maybe learning more about how it all connected back to Mikey and The Beef.

He made his way to exit the kitchen assuming you would be following behind him. Carmy stopped before turning around, he couldn’t make this decision by himself or at least that was his excuse as he called for Sugar and Sydney to join the two of you. It was probably all for nothing though as he knew the two women were already on board.

The four of you took seats at the table, the arrangement was oddly reminiscent of the meeting yesterday, this conversation taking place at the same table. You sat lonely on one side of the table while the other three occupied the other side.

You glanced down at your laptop in front of you realizing it might be better to join the others, the graphics would have been all for nothing if they couldn’t see them. Quickly grabbing your laptop you wandered over to the three individuals before plopping it in front of them on the table, you walked to grab the closest chair scooting it next to Carmy. You were too worried about the response to your proposal to be worried about being in such close contact with Carmy.

Sitting down you tried not to let the brush of Carmy’s leg against yours bother you, adjusting yourself in your seat before clearing your throat.

“Uhh, I made a PowerPoint,” the time you spent hiding from Carmy this morning allotted you the opportunity to do so. “It’s pretty self-explanatory, but I’ll walk you through it.”

You began clicking through the slides, the nervousness you were feeling earlier taking a backseat as you so easily settled into your element. Time flew by as you grew more passionate about the article with each slide going into even more depth than the information in the presentation did.

“The reach this article will have might just be the difference in The Bear’s success or the lot of us paying back a loan in 18 months.” The smile on your face was enough to show how excited you were at the prospect of being able to go forth with your project.

“Or you know, the food might actually play a part in The Bear’s success,” you looked in Sydney’s direction, confidence shot before noticing the small uptick at the corner of her lips.

You nodded a small chuckle leaving your lips, “I guess the food might play a part.”

Two smiles directed towards you helped to make you feel infinitely better about the whole situation, you were doing your best to disregard the figure sitting next to you. Not doing a very good job as his leg continued to brush against yours which felt like every millisecond, you didn’t want to assume he was doing it on purpose but it did disrupt your focus while explaining your presentation.

“I think it’s a great idea. We’re going to need the exposure,” your eyes shot to Nat as she began speaking. “I mean, there’s really no cons to going through with this.” The encouraging smile Nat sent you reciprocated on your lips.

When nobody spoke up Syd began nodding along, “Yeah, I-I think it’s a great idea, though my opinion may be a little biased.” Her words drifted off into a soft mumble as she realized her previous reading of your work may have influenced her answer.

The two women’s agreement seemed like all you needed, no sign of Carmy itching to chime in. The lull in conversation created an opportunity for everyone to take their respective leave and work on their tasks for the day. You gathered your laptop in your hands and moved the chair you were using back to its original spot.

Making your way to your bag and cardigan you began putting your laptop away and making sure all your belongings were in there so you didn’t leave any valuables behind. You tried to ignore the presence that stayed in the room with you, not in any mood to deal with Carmy’s hot and cold attitude.

“Why is this article so important to you?” Carmy hadn’t said a word doing your entire explanation. It would've been easy to believe he wasn’t in the room if it wasn’t for his warm leg constantly pressing against yours. His arms crossed over his chest, it was hard to pretend you didn’t know what was hiding under the knit crew neck he was wearing.

You found his eyes, the exhaustion in them a mirror to your own. For a minute it was easy to imagine the two of you were teenagers again, the urge to find a seat next to him again and pour your heart out scratching at the back of your mind.

“Can I be honest with you?” You took a glance in Carmy’s direction watching as he relaxed his arms almost like he was opening himself up to whatever you had to get off your chest.

“I uh,” a sardonic chuckle passed through your lips. “I told Mikey I’d write about him one day and…and by the time I finally made it far enough into my career he…he left us.” Carmy’s face didn’t give much away about his feelings making it a little easier to continue your train of thought.

“It's just something I need to do I guess,” you shrugged your shoulders as you faced Carmy once more. The want to be near him won over, taking a few steps to the middle of the table before leaning against it, the once large gap between the two of you now lessened.

“He uh, called me that night. I was at a screening for a friend’s documentary so I just let the call go to voicemail. Texted him after that I’d call him in the morning.” It was weird, Natalie had seen you at your lowest and you had yet to tell her the whole story behind the infamous voicemail that kept you up that night. But standing here with Carmy at this moment gave you a sense of safety you had been lacking.

“I remember waking up in the middle of the night with so many missed calls from Nat and Richie, your mom even called me once,” a humorless laugh escaped your lips, the confidence you had earlier to tell this story dwindling with each word.

“I finally answered Sug’s next call and I remember before she even said anything, I felt like this ache in my chest.” Your hand had subconsciously moved to your chest pressing against it as though you were trying to relieve a bout of heartburn. “And I just…I could feel that something was wrong and you know my first thought was you, tha-that something happened and we never got a chance to fix us.”

“But then Sugar lets out this heart-wrenching sob, like this bone-chilling cry that just like freezes your blood and I’m sitting there listening to her cry and then I’m crying and I don’t even know why yet. And it feels like…like we’ve been on the phone for hours just crying with each other before Pete calms her down enough,” the shakiness not only evident in your voice but your hand that was still resting on the table by your hip. “And it's silent for a moment but I know, the moment the first syllable passes her lips it's like I lose all of my senses and I’m just sitting up in bed, numb to what she’s saying. And it can’t be real, you know because Mikey just called me only a couple of hours ago.”

“As soon as I’m off the phone with Nat I immediately call Richie, and the first thing he says to me is ‘Baby I’m sorry’ he apologizes to me like his best friend that he probably spent his whole day with didn’t just blow his brains out.” The lump in your throat was begging to be free, something you wouldn’t allow to happen. “And Richie is sitting there fucking consoling me because I’m too goddamn selfish to take one fucking breath and make sure he is okay.”

You finally meet Carmy’s eyes again, waterline wet with the tears you won’t allow to fall. “I guess I say all of this to say I owe this article to Mikey, maybe if I had just picked up the fucking phone he’d still be here with us.”

Carmy has no idea how to respond to anything you’d just told him at a loss for words as he allows your emotions to sink into him. He gently reaches his hand out, not knowing if a comforting touch would help, but wanting to do his best to let you know he was there with you. The two of you sat in each other’s presence, the weight of your confession weighing heavy in the room. Carmy knows nothing he says will change anything, it won’t bring Mikey back and it won’t lessen your grief, so for a while, he doesn’t, the two of you sit there connected by your hands.

“Uh, I’m not sure how much Sug told you, but there are these Al-Anon meetings for uh family members of addicts and I’ve been going for a while now,” he gave your hand a small squeeze to make sure you were still listening. “It helps to understand what Mikey was going through.”

You looked down at the man below you, a blank look on your face. You gave him a soft smile as your thumb caressed his knuckles, “Yeah I uh I’ll look into it.” You had wanted to laugh, the irony of the situation not lost on you but you appreciated the help Carmy was trying to offer.

The approaching footsteps easily forced you back to your side of the table, quickly occupying yourself to look busy so you wouldn’t have to explain why you were alone with Carmy. You listened quietly as he and Syd began conversing about something that was none of your business.

“I’m just gonna hang around here before I’ve gotta be at work if that’s cool with you guys?” You looked at the two chefs more so telling rather than asking but still wanting to be polite.

Syd nodded “The more hands the better I guess.” You sent a small smile in her direction before heading to the door hoping to make yourself useful and occupy your mind from the guilty thoughts.

Avoiding Carmy’s eyes as you not going unnoticed by him, though neither of you expected the conversation to take the turn it did. He was relieved that you still felt comfortable enough with him to have a conversation of that nature.

Sydney was doing her best to focus on the chaos menu with Carmy. But with it being the first time in a space so personal to him, she couldn’t help but take in the small details around his apartment that gave a look into who he was.

It was surprising to her really, the whole apartment was bare, lackluster of any interpersonal items besides Carmy’s belongings that one would expect to see. Syd tried not to come across as nosy, or too interested in the small things her eyes did catch onto, but it was hard.

Like the group picture stuck to his fridge with a random cheap banana magnet that no one ever knew they had but it just appeared in their kitchen one day. Or the aesthetic-looking knife set that Syd would equate to something a suburban mom might have in her kitchen and not the gritty anxiety-riddled chef she was cooking with.

What really prickled her curiosity though, was a picture of the two of you strategically placed above the stove. Syd was awarded a glance as Carmy removed his closet from the oven, she couldn’t tell how recent it was from the few seconds she saw it, but it did make her question what Carmy’s idea of an ‘old acquaintance’ was.

It was probably her third pass by the stove before she was finally able to take in a clear understanding of the Polaroid. She would admit she was surprised, the content of the picture far from anything she would ever equate to Carmen Berzatto.

It was of you and Carmy. The two of you were lying next to each other, whether on a bed or the floor, Sydney couldn’t tell. One of your arms was raised, presumably holding the camera in your hand. Even though the moment was captured in time, Syd could feel the intimacy through the photo, almost making her feel too uncomfortable to even be so intrigued by it.

Syd had seen the smile gracing Carmy’s face once or twice in real-time, something he usually kept to himself. He looked happy lying there next to you, like your being there eased him. She focused on you to find you were focusing on him, your head tilted up a little, eyes gleaming full of love.

You looked at Carmy the way Syd’s dad talked about her mom. Like your entire life was destined to be entangled with Carmy’s.

As Sydney focused on the picture once more, she finally noticed the number written on the white space of the Polaroid. Her only assumption that it must’ve been yours.

Her curiosity had finally gotten the best of her. From the way you two interacted, to the Polaroid she was sure she had taken in every detail of , there was history between you and Carmy.

“Hey uh, can I ask you a question?” She moved to sit at the table where Carmy was prepping pasta. She wasn’t sure whether she should beat around the bush or just outright ask her question.

Carmy raised his head, eyes catching hers before giving a slight nod, Syd took a deep breath. She would consider her and Carmy friends, but she didn’t want him to think she was crossing some line. “Uh what’s the deal between you two,” she said your name for clarification, not yet sure if she was allowed to call you by the nickname so many others did, and not wanting to make you uncomfortable.

Carmy froze for a minute, but his recovery was so quick if Syd wasn’t paying attention she wouldn’t have caught it. “It’s just uh, you called her an acquaintance, but I don’t think anybody gets those vibes from you two,” she trailed off not wanting to make Carmy feel pressured.

“I mean you have a shrine to her above your stove.” Carmy’s head snapped up to Syd before looking at the picture above his stove, Syd’s soft laugh signifying her quip as a joke.

“Fuck off,” he chuckled along with her, the weight on his shoulder at the idea of talking about you lessening a bit. “She uh, we were best friends growing up, she lived across the street from us.”

Syd nodded her head waiting for any more details, she wasn’t normally one to pry but Carmy’s explanation sounded like such bullshit compared to the way you two acted around each other. “So you guys like never dated or anything?” Syd’s curiosity caused the question to come across as less casual than she hoped.

“No, no. Just friends,” Carmy nodded eyes still on the pasta doing his best to distract his mind from Sydney’s line of questioning.

“Did you ever like, I dunno want more with her?” Carmy stopped eyes finally meeting Syd’s, he stood there for a moment just taking in her question. Although you once admitted your desire for something more with him, he still hadn’t. And he wasn’t sure if now in his kitchen with Sydney was the right time or place to do it.

But Syd didn’t need him to verbally answer, the look in his eyes told her more than what she had even asked. The two of them were only speaking about you and the longing in Carmy’s soft blue eyes was enough for Sydney to feel like she interrupted a sudden declaration of love.

Sydney cleared her throat, averting her eyes not at all meaning to get into anything too personal. Just a bit curious about the nature of the relationship between you two. “So any ideas on how to make this chaos menu…thoughtful?”

Carmy was grateful for Syd’s diversion of topics. If she had picked up on the tension between the two of you, he was sure the rest of the crew had. And if that meant everyone was privy to the unfinished history between the two of you then neither of you were as sly as you thought.

You lost Hayden somewhere between first entering the store and him wandering off for his necessities. You didn’t mind though, he was nice enough to offer you a ride home and stop by the store as the two of you brainstormed about your respective dinners for the night.

Wandering around on your own in a store you had never been to probably wasn’t the smartest decision you made. Case in point is the fact that you were standing in the alcoholic beverage section trying to fight the urge to peruse through the variety and pick your favorite form of poison.

The sound of your name caught your attention, eyes shooting to Hayden’s impeccably dressed form. You’d be the first to admit maturity had done him good, the sleeves of his button-up shirt rolled up to show off his toned forearms. The top three buttons were undone, his chest giving a preview of what he had to offer.

His lips wrapped around your name again, a slight frown to his brows. He looked around the aisle before his eyes landed back on you with a small smile decorating his lips, “You okay?” You watched as he checked you over, the action irritated you a bit. Was he expecting you to go batshit crazy in the middle of the grocery store and just start hammering away at the countless bottles?

“Fine, just got distracted. I um, I just need some açaí and I’ll be good.” You gave him your best smile hoping it would reassure him, the one he returned ensured just that.

The two of you made your way to the frozen food section, meaningless small talk passing between the two of you.

“I can’t believe you still eat this shit,” you scoffed, quickly grabbing the bag of frozen açaí from the freezer. Closing the door as you made your way back to Hayden the two of you ready to make your leave.

“If I recall, you had no problem eating this in my dorm all those years ago,” the boisterous laugh that escaped Hayden caused a similar one to leave you, neither of you having brought up this topic of conversation since reuniting.

“Had to replenish all that lost stamina somehow,” your eyes widened slightly Hayden’s smirk did nothing to quell the heated feeling spreading through you.

He walked past you, grabbing your hand so you would follow behind him. “What’s got you quiet all of a sudden?” You knew he was teasing you, the tone in his voice bringing a chuckle out of you.

“Just wasn’t sure how well you remembered our college shenanigans.” The shrug of your shoulders was supposed to feign nonchalance, but the wide grin on your face proved the opposite.

The two of you had lost any rush to leave the grocery store, casually walking around hands entwined together. “To forget a girl like you would be criminal,” you faced Hayden nose scrunching up at his words a laugh bubbling out of your lips.

“Didn’t you get married?” Hayden laughed, throwing his arm around your shoulder as the two of you continued around the store aimlessly just enjoying the company of an old friend.

“You didn’t want me the way I wanted you. Had to move on at some point.” The melancholy tone in his voice caused a feeling of guilt to shoot through your heart. You nodded a sad smile gracing your lips, the squeeze on your shoulder helping to alleviate your remorse.

“Listen, Hayden, I didn’t mean to hurt you or anything,” you sighed as you moved to stand in front of him. “It just wasn’t fair of me to commit to a long-term relationship with you when my heart wasn’t in it.” He nodded a smile sent in your direction.

“No, I uh I appreciate it, wouldn’t have married Marlene if you didn’t set me straight,” you smiled happy there was a bright side to this whole situation. “Probably wouldn’t have divorced her either. Hey, should I send you my lawyer fees or.” Hayden trailed off, grin returning to his face as you laughed swatting at his bicep.

All he saw in his head was you. As dramatic as it sounds it felt like the thought of you was keeping him alive, from the way you had all but disappeared when they opened Mikey’s locker. To the photo above his stove that was seared into his brain. So preoccupied with thoughts of you he had missed the aisle he intended to go down three times.

Finding his destination Carmy made his way down the aisle, stopping as he saw you laughing with a man he didn’t recognize. His mind going back to the conversation he had earlier with Sydney, Carmy did want more with you. He wanted a lot more than what the two of you allowed to transpire all these years.

Carmy wanted a life with you, a life where he was the one making you laugh in the grocery store. Where his apartment wasn’t just filled with a, year old photograph of the two of you, but filled with your presence.

He envisioned a life with you, and he wasn’t sure why he had sabotaged every chance you had given him to make that a reality. Carmy continued his journey through the store, thoughts of you played heavily on his mind. It didn’t matter what he wanted though if he never gained the courage to tell you. There was a lot unsaid between the two of you, but you had made your feelings clear. Tried to reconcile whatever relationship the two of you still had left. And the ball was in his court, had been since your impromptu visit last year.

Even when reunited with the girl he had crushed on once upon a time, you were still at the forefront of his mind. The woman in front of him is a cruel reminder of all the ways he messed up with you.

Carmy’s thoughts ran so wild with you as he entertained Claire’s conversation, that he didn’t think twice before giving her a number that had been left on a Polaroid a year ago and now decorated the space above his stove; but not the contact book in his phone.

a/n: it’s here!!! i think this chapter is pretty tame which is kind of out of character lol. thankful to be done with this chapter so i can explore some ideas i’ve been having! thank you all so much for your love and support! please support me in whatever way feels comfortable!!! 💜

tag list: @hawkins-2000 @elliesbabygirl @allbark-no-bite @anakinswh0re3005 @rexorangecouny @thecraziestcrayon @fruitcupsworld @nishinoyahhh @lilylovelyxo @ridingthehotmessexpress @noas-ark @jadeittic @hellokittyever @luvr-bunnyy @sxgees @fandomhopped @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @kravitzwhore @chanluvr @readingwiththereids @chims-kookies @ladygrey03 @ferida-kahlo @wanderlustnightwanderer @how2besalty @armydrcamers @jointherebellion215 @jackierose902109 @blkbxrbie-esther @ajordan2020 @head-slut-in-charge @magnet-girl @thebookwormlife @sevikasblackgf @writers-hes @senassn @bunnysthngs @gabbycoady13 @randomhoex @mattmurdocksstarlight @shinebright2000 @royalestrellas @khena @kailyn-g05 @ovaqma @fire-treasure-iii @frequentnosebleeder @awatt31 @cauliflowerpatch

[sparklecarehospital]

been reflecting on my year a bit, and i was thinking about something. i think i know what the best thing i did for myself this year was.

making cometcare public. making the ask blog.

ive had this AU stirring in my brain since 2019, ever since i got really attached to doomi during the haunted arc. one reason i went so long without revealing pollarrydoomi as a ship to readers was because doom's crush wasn't public information until late 2021.

i had kept his crush a mystery for 3 years, but revealed it after a fun experience where people figured out who it was through guessing. i'm pretty sure i did a poll about it? asking people to guess who they thought it was, and uni won the vote, meaning everyone had already figured it out.

after pollarrydoomi was revealed and i started drawing art for it and people made fanart for it, i still couldn't post any of my AU art because ally wasn't public and she and howie were in the AU. in july 2022, for the comic's birthday, i revealed ally as a character to the readers. others around the time had started to notice characters i had in pfps and i ended up telling everyone i did have pollarrydoomi ship kids, but i didn't make them public.

in november 2022, i revealed eve on toyhouse. after her reveal, i would soon reveal sly as well in december 2022 on my birthday (revealing sly as a birthday present to myself is such a funny gesture now that you guys know how important he is to me). over the next few weeks i revealed cream, frosty, and marco as well. all of the main cometkids except chem.

then one day someone out there suggested that i make an ask blog for the cometcare AU. it was such a spontaneous decision, and i didn't even really know what i was gonna do with it at first. i was just kinda messing around. but when i made the blog i realized that if i wanted this AU to be experienced in complete authenticity, i couldn't make uni cis.

so i revealed uni being trans through the blog, despite the fact i'd gone so many years without ever revealing her identity. why did i do it? there's a lot of reasons. not wanting to make her a "dad" in the AU contributed, but also i felt like it wouldn't be detrimental to the story to confirm a character being trans. it also made me (and the crew in general) a lot more comfortable being able to properly refer to uni with her actual pronouns.

making the ask blog really changed me, because finally i could share this little family and comfort story i'd built in my brain with the world and make it real and make content for it and let people consume it.

but what stopped me most of all?

i've said it many times before... but i felt like it was cringey.

i felt like making an AU with 93985893844 fankids in a ridiculous complicated polycule wasn't something a Serious content creator should do, and i was really worried the reception would be negative or people would think it was stupid or something. i did NOT expect it to become as popular as it is. the blog actually has more followers than the MAIN ASK BLOG for the canon comic. it was received SO POSITIVELY and the fact it was just kind of blows me away.

it means so much to me. being able to share the most special thing in my life with people and for people to actually like it and have fun with me and want to see it, and for me to be able to not have to follow strict professionalism about spoilers and chronological storytelling, and being able to change and add in things whenever i felt like it. it's such a freeing experience.

when i was a kid, i used to make stories and OCs and i didn't take them as seriously as i do the sparklecare reboot. this kind of turned into my entire life and career kinda, so i had to take it more seriously. but making this AU honestly just makes me feel like i'm a kid again, it makes me feel like i can have fun and literally do whatever the fuck i want without worrying what people think or if it's realistic or if it makes any sense.

i know though, that some people don't like pollarrydoomi. and i know why. whether it's because of being attached to barruni (of course, they're the canon ship and main characters, i get it) or just having discomfort with the idea of shipping doom with anyone when canonically he hasn't experienced a redemption arc... i get it. i know not everyone likes it.

and that's okay! people are entitled to having their own feelings about content. i understand it. and i've come to accept that's always going to be the case with anything i do with these characters.

but i'm still going to do this for myself. i do this because it makes me happy to just have fun and not worry about being serious all the time. it feels good, especially when it's with characters that are really really important to me.

cometcare is genuinely the most special and important thing i've ever made for myself, it's such a huge piece of my identity and it makes me who i am. and being able to make this story public and share it with people and share these things that have been in my brain for so long with others means so much to me.

that's why i think it was the best thing i've done this year. it's kind of literally changed my life to be able to talk about them. it's made me happier than i've ever been making content. i'm not just making it to entertain myself alone anymore, i'm making it to entertain others like i do with other stuff. and the fact people actually like it still is unbelievable to me.

so, i guess my outlook for next year as it comes is to continue to stop taking everything so seriously. i can tell my stories however i want to. i hope others can realize they can do this too.

please make whatever you want, whenever you what, as much as you want, even if it doesn't make sense or if it's "cringe". you will be so much happier when you realize as a creator you DON'T have to take all of this so seriously. the comic still exists and people read it even if i'm doing this. You Can Do Whatever You Want And Nobody Can Ever Stop You. the only person who can stop you is yourself when you let your inhibitions get in the way of your ability to create things for yourself.

have fun! life is too short to take everything you do seriously

[crystallizsch]

massive art dump of yuuna :3

this is one of my two yuu ocs. my first one in fact!

their name is yuuna :D

i'll have an official intro post for them and for my other yuu oc (yuusha tala) when i finally finish them

anyways i just want to dump all the art i did for them a while ago all in this one post.

also i'll ramble a lot—

leona and yuu (referenced poses: 1 / 2)

idk they just have a silly (non-romantic) relationship

riddle and yuu (referenced poses: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4)

shout out to my short king, RIddle Rosehearts

yuuna isn't supposed to be that much taller than Riddle 😭

it was only supposed to be slightly

(audio from ohshc bloopers here)

this was funnier in my head tbh

i initially gave them haruhi from ohshc's as a voice claim because i wanted yuuna to sound androgynous (and because ohshc has a special place in my heart)

also theyre just losing their mind studying theyre very dumb (affectionate)

so i was listening to "The Joker and The Queen" (by Ed Sheeran ft. Taylor Swift)

and i have a tendency to put one single song on repeat when doing artwork

and i made this. i am happy with it because i like doing fluffy, good-feeling art :3

(but oml, i love riddle's outfit but drawing it SO much work so im pretty happy with how it turned out)

jamil and yuu (poses referenced: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6)

hey guys i think i might have a favorite.

(i also rambled about these in particular more here)

yuu, grim, ace, deuce

hghgnfdhj i honestly have mixed feelings about this one.

on one hand, i think it's really sweet and cute. on the other, it looks hella awkward bc it's one of my first fanarts for twst 💀

yuuna sprites

so uhhh i made... sprites for yuuna

i did a lot

(they're not really in the "twst art style" bc i don't have THAT kind of patience, plus it takes less time and i will die if i don't get every idea out of my brain)

━━━━━━✦ school uniform

yuuna is a choker and fingerless gloves person

this was when i had zero idea how the nrc uniforms worked

but honestly i still don't fully dislike it

━━━━━━✦ pe uniform

the idea for this one is that at first yuuna was wearing the outfit on the right before they officially got their pe uniform on the left

but they still use the one on the right outside of class

━━━━━━✦ labwear

i have nothing to stay ack

this is probably the one i had the least problems with bc it's so straightforward

━━━━━━✦ ceremonial robes

oh my god i was so happy when i finished this

i love how it turned out

i had to pull the patterns from the official game assets (thank you alchemivich we'll miss you 🙏) and mess around with it A LOT to get it right

━━━━━━✦ sleep wear turtleneck hoodie

these are just some of their personal outfits

sleep wear is self-explanatory

turtleneck is just a casual outfit

the hoodie was during their janitor era. and i headcanon is that the hoodie is something they found in ramshackle and decided to keep it.

━━━━━━✦ port wear silk adorned

i love how the port wear turned out overall but oml i gave up on some of the little details

for the silk outfit AAA it took me forever BUT i'm so happy with how it turned out i tried to every single pattern by hand, i had to simplify a few things

i had to *COUGH COUGH* trace over some accessories and patterns though to get it right ;;;

━━━━━━✦ glorious masquerade

i was going for a musketeer sort of vibe with this one!

i wanted it to be similar to grim's as well with the ripped cape and the big feather hat

the mask was supposed to be cat-like but i'm kinda unhappy with it, idk how to do masks 💀

━━━━━━✦ halloween I halloween II

went so hard on the spider/witch motif on this one. and again i made it similar to grim's

since technically it was the ghosts who gave them the outfit, i imagined that it would be cobweb-based because they said they just took stuff around the dorm to make the outfits (???)

but yeah that's the idea :3

(also i imagined during halloween 2 malleus was like "i think your halloween outfits would be better in green" so that's why grim's ribbon went from purple to green like that one scene in sleeping beauty with the fairies)

augh deuce :(

i was inspired by this line by deuce's starsending vignette to make this homesick yuu mini comic below

(anyways just wanted to dump all these here. thank you if you've read this far :D)

[marclef]

⭐The Fabled CAT Longpost.⭐

well, it's finally done. over the last few months i've seen a lot of people posting their Pizza Tower OCs, and basically all of them are so freaking pretty and i wanna squeeze and love all of them. and so, here i am today, finally feeling brave enough to officially share my little Pizza friend with the world.

(first time making a post like this, hopefully it's not too cramped to read.)

cat drawings and lots of writing ahead.

So, a bit of backstory. Some time before the events of Pizza Tower, Pizzahead did all sorts of experiments on creating new life and stuff, for example the Peppino Clones/ Fake Peppino. A brief experimentation of his involved using the brains of various deceased animals/people into new bodies, regardless of compatibility, to see if they'd still work. Eyhm was one of these, a stray cat off the streets with a spare brain put into her. She barely has any memories of her past life, besides the fact that she was definitely human... and that she was quite young. She chose her name for herself though, based on remembering only the first letter of her old name: M.

At some point, Eyhm and the rest of those "created" through this experiment managed to break out, and for a while, she's just wandering aimlessly around the outside world not knowing what to do with herself. But eventually, by some strange force she finds herself heading back to the Pizza Tower again... and that's when she meets Peppino.

Personality-wise, Eyhm's normally pretty kind and polite to those she meets, but she can get very anxious in unknown territory. Thankfully throughout the Pizza Tower, she had the likes of Peppino and Gustavo to protect her, and after the game's events Peppino ends up adopting her to stay in the pizzeria after she has nowhere else to go. So, now she spends most of her time at Peppino's, providing company and a bit of happiness to her newfound friends.

By far though the one Eyhm gets closest to after the game's events would be Fake Peppino. They both relate pretty heavily, having been "created" in some form by Pizzahead. Back inside the tower as well, Fake Peppino noticed how much Peppino was trying to protect this cat, and so, it's only a natural Peppino thing to do then isn't it? He spends a lot of time with her, and if anyone tries to mess with his little kitty, things get messy.

She and Brick get along good too. They're both weird animals (and I definitely based her colors off of Brick's heh), plus the idea of this tiny kitten being friends with a rat much larger than her just delights me.

Eyhm also likes The Noise a lot for some reason. She thinks he looks like a bunny. Noise does not really like her back.

But yeah, after a rough start to her life, Eyhm gets to be comfy with her cool two dads, her giant rat friend, and her giant very friendly goopy frog. And this weird bunny/rat guy that shows up sometimes.

so yeah, that's about as much of the Cat as i have for now. she's half the reason i'm too afraid to share my own writing stuff but, maybe someday. hope you like my weird little cat gremlin child.

[malarkgirlypop]

Lemonade Chapter 2 (Eugene Sledge x Fem!OC)

I forgot about this story TBH, I got stuck, I think I need to re-watch the pacific again to get my brain going again. Also the other chapter I posted didn't get much interaction so I thought I would put it on hold cause I didn't think anyone would notice ahaha.

Based on the HBO show and the actors who portray the characters, no hate to anyone involved.

Tag list: @next-autopsy, @xxluckystrike, @panzershrike-pretz (sorry if you didn't want to be tagged in this, let me know if you want off.)

“Something sweet?” I asked, holding out another cup. The men who passed us looked terrible. Gaunt, dirty and detached. The other nurses around me spoke to the men, welcoming them back from their mission. Most of them men smiled back, some even flirted. I tried my best not to cringe at their emaciated bodies, or injuries. My heart hurt, I had no clue what these men had seen but judging from their faces they would never forget. Our bright white uniforms looked pristine to the grime covered marines, we seemed out of place. Sticking out like sore thumbs. But the General decided it would be a good pick-me-up for the soldiers returning from their awful battles. 

“Hi, welcome back.” I said warmly to the marine who had stopped in front of me, handing him a drink. The man stood still, not moving to take the cup from my hand. I smiled trying to think of what else to say, “It’s good to see you.” Still the man stood staring directly into my eyes, glaring. My smile dropped, as I gulped. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him. The marine who had been in charge of the stand told the man to move on, even then he didn’t flinch. 

“Why are you here?” He requested. The other nurses around me had stilled. We had been told to be weary, that the men that we knew before they were shipped away were not the same. Some had become more violent, easily provoked. Like they were wild bulls and we had to be careful not to spook them. They were unpredictable.   

“I’m here to serve my country.” I replied to the man, “Same as you.” His intense stare pinned me to the ground. He scoffed, taking the cup from my hand and tipping it back, then throwing it to the floor. He marched away not looking back. I let the breath I had been holding out, Ellie nudging me to get back to work. I plastered another bright smile to my face and continued to hand out drinks to the men. But for the rest of the day the man's eyes were burned into the back of my mind.

“That guy was scary.” Mary said to me as we packed up the stand we had been serving the drinks at. 

“Mary, don't say that! You don’t know what he has been through.” I scolded her, feeling bad that in the moment I was also scared. 

“Girl’s stop chit-chatting and let's go, we have things we need to do.” Ellie said as she folded the table cloth we were using. I picked up the table, folding the legs back underneath to make it easier for me to carry. 

“Hazel that table goes in the far storage tent, once you are done come meet us in the mess for dinner.” Ellie said as the rest of the nurses gathered the equipment we were using to take it back to the kitchen. I gave a sharp nod heading in the opposite direction to everyone else. I made my way through the camp, saying polite hellos to the men I passed. Some of them offered to help me carry the table to which I refused, “No it’s ok I got it.” I smiled at the marine who looked concerned, “Are you sure, isn’t that heavy?” He asked, looking at the table I held to my side. 

“Really it’s fine!” I said moving forward, the table was getting more heavy the amount of times I had to stop, they were making my trip take longer. I moved faster through the camp, stopping a couple of times to readjust my grip. Finally making it to the storage tent, I placed the table down where there was space, not caring much if that was its actual position. I shook out my tired arms. Wiggling my fingers to get the blood moving again. I wiped my brow with the back of my arm, “God it’s hot.” I muttered, fanning myself with my hands. I don’t think I have been this hot in my life, the weather here is so humid it’s like walking into a sauna. It almost feels like you’re being suffocated by the heat, it’s so thick. I finally convinced myself to walk back into the hot sun. I make my way to the mess. I can see now why all of the men barely wear any clothes. All of their uniform sleeves have been torn off to be short, some of the men walk around without any tops on. I wish I could do that, these dresses that they have us in are tight and thick. They are also white which is so impractical when we are dealing with all bodily fluids and they want us to keep them clean. Plus the amount I am sweating and the dirt and grime on my skin from having minimal access to showers really doesn’t help. I arrive at the mess to sit down with the girls before we have to move on to help in the infirmary. I push around the food on my plate, the heat for some reason doesn’t make me hungry and the thought of having a full stomach in this swelter makes me feel uncomfortable. 

“What? Are you not hungry?” Mary asks from beside me as she loads her fork with food. I shake my head pushing my tray towards her. She shakes her head.

“No, I'm about full myself.” She says also pushing her plate away. We sit and chat waiting for the rest of the girls to be done. We have to eat early so that the marines can come in and have dinner altogether and while they are doing that we help out in the infirmary.

I walk down the sandy path to the tent that has the injured and sick men. Mary walks beside me rubbing her stomach with a pained expression on her face. 

“Are you alright?” I ask her. Peering over at her, she looks pale and sweaty. 

“No, I think I ate too much.” She groans, looking ill. I pull her to the side of the path and let the nurses who follow behind us pass. I rest the back of my hand on her forehead, she’s sticky and hot. She’s a lot warmer than me though as I test my forehead heat against hers. A sheen of sweat covers her face, her appearance is pallor. 

“Girls hurry up!” Ellie calls from ahead of us. 

“Do you want me to take you back to your tent?” I queried as Mary took a deep breath shaking her head. “Are you sure? You don’t look well?” I asked again to be certain. 

“I’ll be fine, I just need to get out of this heat.” Mary replied weakly. I took her arm and dragged her along to catch up with the group. We stopped outside the tent, as Ellie went inside to speak to the doctor. 

“They are ready for us, Dr. Alpin will tell you what he needs you to do.” We followed Ellie inside the tent after she had given us the brief. The pungent smell of infection filled the warm air inside the tent. I did my best to breathe through my mouth, trying not to inhale through my nose so the smell wasn’t as strong. I heard Mary retch beside me. Ellie was quick to turn around at the noise. Mary had tried to straighten herself, but she couldn’t hold her gagging. 

“Hazel sort her out, we don’t need her puking on the men.” Ellie scolded, flicking her hand in our direction to shoo us away. I took Mary by her elbow leading her out of the tent. Only making it a couple of steps before she was hunched over and puking onto the ground. I rubbed small circles on her back as she got the remaining food out of her stomach. We made it back to the tent as I let her rest on the cot, I gave her water, and a wet towel to place on her head. 

“You rest up, drink water. I’ll be back soon.” I promised her and she weakly shook her head, her eyes still closed. I dipped out of the tent and went back to the infirmary. 

“Hazel how is she?” Ellie asked as I stood beside her. 

“She’s fine I gave her water, I’m sure she just needs to be out of the heat. She may have heat exhaustion. I will keep an eye on her tonight.” I reported back to the more senior nurse who gave a curt nod at my explanation. 

I was given the task of wound cleaning. I went around to the men who had big open skin lesions. They looked miserable as I washed their wounds with water and covered them the best I could with the little supplies I was given. I did my best at small talk while still focussing on the task at hand. It’s hard work but I like it, getting to help people is my calling apparently.  

After a long evening the girls meander back to their tents ready to get some rest after the big day. I check on Mary who snores softly in her cot, I rewet the cloth and place it back on her forehead. I slump down on my own bed, my heavy lids struggling to stay open. 

My eyes flutter open to the sound of chatter and movement. I yawn and stretch out my limbs. Getting into my uniform for the day. I nudge Mary awake. 

“How do you feel?” I ask her as she sits up looking dazed. 

“I had the weirdest dream, but other than that I feel better.” She smiles getting up and pulling on her clothes. I take my toothbrush outside to clean my teeth outside the tent. I sit on a fallen tree and brush my teeth, Mary joins me. 

“Hazel!” I heard being yelled across the camp. I look around to see who called my name. Ellie strides into view. I groan internally, I like Ellie. She is fair, but she likes me too. That means when she needs a job done she comes to me, she trusts I can get it done. 

“Yes?” I ask shielding my eyes from the bright sun to see her. 

“Can you grab the table again from the storage tent?” Ellie requested. I nodded my head standing from my position to put my toothbrush away before doing the task. 

I head down to the tent making my way quickly. I look down at the floor to ensure I don’t trip and also so I don’t get stopped to talk to by the passing marines. 

“Nurse! Nurse!” I hear being yelled, I lift my head to where the voice came from. A young man stands outside of his tent. He beckons me over with his hand. 

“Yes?” I say to the man. He is taller than me, dark thick curly hair and wide blue eyes. He grins at me as I approach. 

“Can you help me?” He asks in a thick southern accent. I look into the tent behind. I see the figure of another man inside. He moves inside the tent before I can answer him, he holds the flap open for me to follow. 

“I’m not supposed to go inside your tent, Sir.” I admitted. He only grins wider. 

“Oh we don’t bite, Miss.” He teases. I sigh, following him into the tent. I can make this quick, then no one will need to know. I can get the table and arrive back like nothing happened. 

“Now tell me, what is your name?” He inquires. I give him a confused look, wasn’t this an urgent request or did he only do this to bring me into the tent. I stiffen my stance. 

“Hazel Evans, Sir.” I replied politely. He chuckles at me. I shift wearily under his gaze. 

“I’m Snafu, but enough with the pleasantries. I need your help.” He changes the conversation, becoming more serious. 

“How can I help you?” I ask, scanning his body he has no apparent injuries or wounds. 

“Do my eyes look yellow?” He asks moving closer, widening his eyes for me to see. He leans forward, his breath tickling my face. I stare into his large eyes, his sclera appearing normal in colour. I raise my hand pulling down his lower lid to see the interior. The skin appears pink with healthy blood vessels. 

“They look fine Snafu, nothing to be worried about.” I smile at the man reassuringly patting him on his shoulder. 

“I told him that!” A voice comes from behind me, I turn to look at who spoke. My eyes go wide when they land on the tall man. His brown eyes locked onto mine, just like they did at the lemonade stand. I instinctively take a step back stunned. Snafu’s hands rest on my shoulders from behind me. He chuckles lowly hovering by my head. 

“Did Sledge frighten you?” He asks, looking from me to Sledge. I sober myself, shaking my head. I step out of Snafu’s space, my heart rate still beating fast. A tightness grows in my chest as Sledge continues to stare at me with the same angry eyes. His jaw tight, posture ridgid. I slip back on a smile. 

“No, I just didn’t hear him behind me.” I lie. “Hi, my name is Hazel.” I say extending my hand to Sledge. He glances down at my hand and then back up to me. 

“I heard.” He says shortly, not taking my extended hand. I clear my throat dropping my arm back to my side. I give a sheepish grin as my stomach knots. I need to find an excuse to leave. This Sledge guy doesn’t seem to like me very much. If looks could kill, I would've been dead yesterday and today. I gulp, finding it hard to tear my eyes away from him. My eyes scan over his face taking him in. His soft white skin now marred with dirt and cuts, his angled jaw set with anger, his brows knitted together as he stares back at me. I wonder what he sees? I don’t have any makeup on, my thick brown hair is pulled back off my face into a neat bun as the nurses cap I wear is pinned to my head. My white uniform stands out against their dirty pants and topless torsos. I break eye contact first, turning to speak to Snafu who still stands behind me. 

“I have to go, but if you need anything you can always go to the medical tent.” I smile making my way for the exit. 

“Why would I go to the medical tent, when I know you Hazel.” He gives me a cheeky smile, as I give him a laugh, “I’ll come find you.” He winks at me. I turn to leave my eyes catching Sledge’s again, he still stares at me with caution.

[dendrobiumorchid]

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐒𝐚𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬

✦ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 : a demon is tasked to live in the mortal realm for a whole year amongst humans under the order of hades. when meddling demons mess with her documents before ascension to the human realm, she is forced to attend university, where she meets a semi-popular group of boys who take an odd liking to her.

✦ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : ot7!enhypen x fem!oc

✦ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : non-idol!au, university!au, demon!au

✦ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 : major death, mentions of torture, blood, mentions of bad parents, inaccurate depictions of god, (lmk if there's anything i missed)

✦ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 2.9k words

✦ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 : appearance of nct members (mark & yuta)

zero | one

She wished she was never born. At least to her current parents, the ones who inflicted this pain on her. While they weren’t physically causing her this pain, their actions were the reason why there was an agonising burn in her back and her chest. 

The rope was rough against her skin, the weight of her body and gravity against the rope dug into her neck and cut off the air going to her lungs and brain. She could not even make noises as they had cut off her tongue.

Blood pooled in her mouth, dripping down her chin and to the floor. If she gasped, the blood would rush down her throat and drown her. It was cruel of the men who put her through this. She had been hanging for a few minutes already, yet she was still not dead yet. 

Why must they put her through this torture? She was just heading home from the market after buying something her mother needed when a group of men abducted her from the streets. They had whipped her, poked her with hot metal, beaten her within an inch of her life, and carved her tongue out, while they jeered and mocked her cries of pain. All because of her parents’ actions. 

She was exhausted. She didn’t know how long she had been abducted for she was in and out of consciousness from the pain. If she had to guess however, it had been two days at least if not more. She wondered what atrocities she had committed to go through this torment. 

Finally, black spots were covering her vision and she could feel the asphyxiation do its harm. She smiled at the relief she would finally gain. Hopefully, the Heavens would have mercy on her in the next life. 

“Wake up.”

Her eyes fluttered open at the voice. Why wasn’t she dead? She couldn’t feel the agony anymore. Her back was not burning and she could feel her tongue in her mouth, intact and whole. She whipped her head around, glancing at her surroundings of perfect blue skies and white fluffy clouds beneath her body. 

“You’ve finally awakened.”

The voice spoke once more, its voice booming yet whispering simultaneously. The voice was neither man nor woman, high nor low. It was ambiguous, and yet it left a warmth in her. However, she was still left questioning her current existence. Was she saved? Had someone found her body before she succumbed to her injuries? 

Her mind spiralled and her breathing picked up and the unanswered questions invading her mind, until the voice spoke again. 

“Do not panic. I’ll answer your questions one-by-one.” 

She listened to the voice, taking a few deep breaths before calming her mind. Letting out a cough, she brushed her hand through her hair before taking another deep breath. 

“Calm now?” 

She nodded her head and a chair materialised out of nowhere next to her. She jumped back at the chair, whipping her head around as she tried to wrap her mind around at its sudden existence. 

“Take a seat, and I’ll answer any questions you have.” 

She gulped, sitting herself down on the chair while glancing around. She tucked her hands under her legs and asked her first few questions. 

“Where am I? And who are you?” 

“You’re in the heavens, and I’m the ruler of it.” 

She blanched at the voice’s answer. Anxiety and disbelief soaring into the heavens— fitting in her current predicament. Despite her ill-timed joke, she did not laugh, but instead felt as if someone threw a stone at her head. 

“I…died?” 

“Yes, you unfortunately passed away due to the injuries and asphyxiation. Now, your soul is in heaven and ready to work for me.”

“Work for you?”

What did they mean by work for them? Was she to turn into an angel and work for God?

“Yes.”

Her head whipped up at their reply. Could God read her mind? Had she asked her question aloud?

“Yes, I can read your mind and you didn’t say your questions out loud.” 

Her mind deteriorated instantly. For God to constantly be in her mind made her uncomfortable. Her only sanctuary was now accessible to others, and without her consent as well. Nonetheless, she gave up on the subject, God being able to access her mind shouldn't have shocked her that much. 

“Are my…parents saddened by my death?” 

God stayed silent at her question and she lowered her head in bitter understandment. Of course her parents would not be saddened by her death, they were the reasons she had passed away after all. 

“What did you mean by ‘work for you’?”

God didn’t seem to mind the sudden topic switch, instead they seemed relieved by it. 

“You’re going to become an angel, and help the mortals with their issues. Like, granting their prayers and whatnot, with my permission obviously.” 

Being an angel didn’t seem that bad, maybe she’d like it. 

“That’s great! You’ll start right now!”

Suddenly, her chair disappeared while a pair of wings and a halo materialised rapidly. She let out a sound of utter confusion and astonishment. 

God let out a chuckle, before the clouds parted to reveal a glowing light. 

“Apologies, but your mind is still too mortal to comprehend my physical form, so I had to transform myself into a light to protect your mind from imploding on itself.”

The knowledge God imparted only caused her to nod her head dumbly.

“Now, let’s start your first mission. There’s a child who wishes to grow taller; you are to sprinkle this dust on their body when they’re asleep.” 

God placed a pouch of what she guessed was mystical dust before the clouds beneath her feet parted. She let out a shriek, falling from the heavens and down to earth rapidly. 

“Use your wings.” 

God reminded, and she quickly urged her newly-acquired wings to flutter, just so she wouldn’t become a grotesque puddle on the dirt. Thankfully, they listened, and now she was slowly fluttering down to a house where she assumed the child was sleeping in. 

She phased through the roof of the house and ended up in the child’s bedroom. Ignoring the odd feeling of being in a child’s bedroom secretly while everyone was asleep, she took a handful of the mystical dust and sprinkled it on top of the child, granting their wish. 

Finished with her ‘mission’, she flew back to the heavens where God awaited her, still in their incorporeal form.

“Great! You’ve finished your first mission with no difficulties! Now, you just have to meet a quota of one prayer per day!” 

She thought that God was weirdly ecstatic about the prospect of her granting prayers, maybe they were tired of answering many prayers everyday since the dawn of civilisation. Well, it shouldn’t be that hard. 

“Anyway, you’re free to roam around and intermingle with the other angels until your next mission tomorrow.”

A golden gate that she hadn’t noticed before opened at God’s words. Past the gates were other angels flying about, chatting and laughing with each other. It truly looked like what every depiction of the Heavens were. 

She made her way to the gate, only to pause at the opening and gaze at the seemingly organised chaos inside. Taking a deep breath, she took a few steps pass the gate before relaxing when she didn’t light on fire. 

Maybe she could get used to this life. 

“By the way, your daily quota increases every few months until it reaches 100 prayers per day! Have a nice time!” 

She whipped her head back to stare at the gate in horror as it slammed shut, God’s words running through her mind. 100 prayers per day? That was impossible! God, kill her now.

‘No can do, dear Peony.’

God’s voice echoed teasingly in her mind, but she didn’t pay much attention to it. Instead, her attention was directed to what they had called her. 

‘Peony?’

‘You were wearing a beizi with a peony embroidered onto it. So, I thought it would be fitting for it to be your angel name.’

God’s explanation was sound, yet it left a bitter feeling in her mouth. She hadn’t liked the beizi her mother forced her to wear, and to be tortured in it didn’t help, but she wouldn’t dare mention it to God, not when they seemed proud of it. Just like a maidservant in the royal palace, she wouldn’t dare go against the words of those in power. 

She sighed but joined the other angels, easily mingling with the friendlier angels of the bunch, although they were all nice. 

That was over 600 years ago. Now it was the 17th century and she was still a prayer-granting-angel. She had gained another six pairs of wings a few centuries ago, indicating her rank of being a high-ranged angel. Everyday she grants wishes of mortals who worry over small issues like love and everyday endeavours. She couldn’t help but be jealous of the mortals at times; she wanted to worry about whether the boy she likes would reciprocate her feelings as well. 

Regardless, she sucked it up and tried her best to ignore the prickling sensation in her heart every time she granted their prayers, until one fateful day. 

“Dear God, please let Kim Seokhwa return my feelings.” 

It was a standard prayer, the girl had prayed for the reciprocation of her feelings so she made her way to the house of the boy. 

When she phased through the roof of his house however, it was dead silent. She couldn’t hear anything except for the sounds of hushed crying. Phasing through the walls of his roof, she found Seokhwa in his bathroom, curled up in the tub while tears streamed down his face. 

He was nearly stark naked save for his underwear, however she didn’t pay much regard to it. Her attention was instead focused on the cuts and bruises that littered his skin. Some were old and fading while others looked to be fresh from a few hours ago. 

She was horrified. Why was he beaten and bruised? Was he getting abused? 

“Dear God, why does she keep treating me like this? What did I do to gain her anger? I wish she would stop. I wish Jung Taeha would just get what she deserves!” 

His cries to God rang in her mind. The pouch of mystical dust in her hand felt heavy as she realised what she could do. Her eyes flitted from the pouch to the curled up boy and she threw away any and every inhibition in her mind. 

While she felt bad for not granting the girl’s prayer, this was more important. She muttered a tiny ‘sorry’ that went unheard by the boy and entered his mind. She felt bad for invading his privacy but she needed to know who this Jung Taeha was. However the mental image of the girl in question made her blood boil. 

She immediately zipped her way to the culprit’s house, the pouch of dust clenched tightly in her fist. She phased through the wall, where the figure of Jung Taeha,the girl whose prayer she had nearly granted, was sleeping in her bed. 

There was no hesitation when she poured the mystical dust over the cruel girl’s body. In fact, there was a sadistic satisfaction when the mystical dust started burning Taeha’s skin. Taeha launched herself upright, screaming at the indescribable pain that she was undergoing. 

Taeha ran to the bathroom and blasted the shower, trying her best to relieve the burning sensation but to no avail. She continued to scream while her parents banged on her door, demanding why she was screaming like bloody murder. 

All the while, she watched as Taeha’s flesh melted off her bone and the girl crumpled into a ball of melted flesh and exposed bone, basking in the righteous fate the girl had faced and returned to the boy’s room. 

Seokhwa was sleeping soundly in his bed, unaware of the atrocity she had committed. She snapped her fingers, and another pouch of mystical dust materialised in her hands. She grabbed a pinch of the dust and sprinkled it over his body, chanting a healing prayer in her mind as she did so. 

Once she was satisfied with her work, she phased through his roof one last time and flew back to the Heavens. Yet, when she reached the fluffy white clouds, they would not part for her, even when she forced them to. 

“Peony, do you understand what you have done?!” 

God’s voice bellowed out, anger lacing each word with venom. She didn’t understand what was wrong, she had brought justice to an innocent. 

“That boy’s prayer was not supposed to be granted! The girl had not deserved the harm you inflicted on her!” 

“How did she not deserve the fate I bestowed upon her? She is fortunate that the boy’s wish was only for comeuppance and not her life!”

Thunderstruck all around her, some nearly hitting her as she stared defiantly at the Heavens. God merely growled at her words, attempting to soothe the anger boiling inside of them. 

“It is not your task to decide the girl’s fate.”

“Yet you are incapable of delivering justice!”

Her insult cut off God’s words, destroying all restraint in the being. 

“How dare you insult me! I created you! I gave you life! I turned you into an angel!”

“You only turned me into an angel to do your bidding! Granting prayer after prayer for several centuries! I only became an angel because you handed me an ill-fated life!”

Her words only spurred more anger in God, who was unable to deny her statement. Lightning struck closer to her and she knew that it was only a matter of time before God lost their temper and struck her directly. 

“Fine, if your mortal life is what you believed to be ill-fated, I will show you something worse!” 

Lightning finally struck. She let out an anguished scream at the ineffable pain as she felt a scorching burn in her wings before they halted completely, causing her to fall from the skies. From the corner of her teary eyes, she could spot four of her wings incinerated into ashes, dirtying her remaining wings. 

An excruciating pain exploded in her head as her halo broke in two, before stabbing itself into her forehead and mended with her skull. Blood leaked from her halo-turned-horns, dripping into her eyes and leaving a stinging sensation. 

She plummeted from the Heavens, past the mortal realm, and into the scorching depths of the Underworld. Her body collided with the dirt of the damned and her bleary eyes peered at the Heavens. 

“For committing a deadly sin, Huang Yangyao will now serve as a demon for the rest of her existence, unable to repent and return as an angel in the Heavens.”

God’s words were declared for all the angels and demons to hear, ultimately sealing her fate as a demon in the Underworld. 

Whimpers fell from her throat as the aftershocks of the transition ached her tender limbs. She could barely register the words of the demons surrounding as they crowded her being. 

“Move! Don’t—deals—back—work!”

The muffled words quietened and she could feel a pair of hands on her delicate body, lightly shaking her. 

“Are you alright?” 

She could barely nod her head in response and she heard the demon tsk before calling out to someone. 

“Hyung! Can you give her something? She’s still reeling!” 

Feet shuffling and clothes ruffling could be heard as the demon that held her continued to lightly shake her, as if to make sure she stayed conscious. There was a pause before she felt something cold pressed to her lips, and liquid dribbled into her mouth. 

“Drink that, it should help with the pain.” 

A different voice sounded out this time. It was calmer than the other demon—more authoritative, making her less panicked. She obeyed the voice, swallowing the drink that flowed into her mouth until she felt her aches disappear and bones mend back together. 

The drink was pulled away from her and she felt something damp wipe across her face, ridding her from most of the blood that caked her face. She cracked open her eyes, registering the reds and browns of the Underworld before focusing on the demons that surrounded her. 

“You alright now?” 

She nodded her head and the demon closest to her pulled her up into a sitting position. 

“Welcome to the Underworld. I’m Mark and he’s Yuta.” 

She bowed her head towards them before standing up from the ground, stumbling slightly at the shift of weight on her back. She muttered out a ‘sorry’ to the both of them before stretching out her wings, feeling ache in her back. 

She craned her head back to see two pairs of black wings instead of four pairs of white wings, and a pang of sadness and despair in her heart. She reached up to her forehead to feel the two halves of her halo embedded in her skull. 

She sighed, but disregarded her sadness. She folded back her wings and combed her fingers through her hair. 

“Hello, my name is Huang Yangyao. I will be in your care.”

[beefromanoff]

Going Under Ch. 32

summary: I think this is what we'd call a missed connection?

characters: Bucky Barnes x OC

soundtrack: Love You Too Much - Bee Gees

warnings: fluff, pop star fantasy x love story, set in an AU where the Avengers reunite after Civil War, pre-infinity war, slight angst, hurt/comfort, lonely reader/OC.

author’s note: HI AGAIN, I got this one up super quick because I was considering putting it in the last chapter but also wanted to get one out so I just made them into two. I want to go back and edit some of the last few chapters because I feel like I rushed through them and didn't give them as much TLC as the earlier ones, but I'll let you guys know if I do that so you can go back and reread. anyways, enjoyyyy! I promise I won't drag the angst out forever!

ilysm, thank you for reading! please let me know what you think!

chapter list

________________________________

Bucky

The Quinjet sliced through the night sky, the city lights of Manhattan twinkling below. Inside, the atmosphere was tense, an undercurrent of excitement and anxiety palpable. Bucky sat in the pilot’s seat, his jaw clenched, eyes fixed on the approaching skyline.

Natasha and Wanda exchanged a glance before Nat finally broke the silence, "Okay, Barnes, what exactly is the plan when we get there?"

Bucky glanced back at them, uncertainty in his eyes. "I... I don't know. Just need to see her, you know?"

Wanda raised an eyebrow, "See her or talk to her?"

He sighed. "Both, I guess. I messed up, and I finally realize it and…I just need to fix it."

Natasha crossed her arms, studying him intently. "This is a pretty big swing for one night, Buck. Are you sure you’re ready for this?"

“Aren’t you the ones who dragged my ass out of the gym to stage an intervention, like six hours ago? Wasn’t this the goal?” 

“Of course, the goal was to get you to pull your head out of your ass,” Nat shifted in her chair, tugging the hem of her dress down. Neither she or Wanda was thrilled to be told they were either getting ready on the jet or getting left behind. “I just expected you to, I don’t know…think it through for a little longer before making your grand gesture.” 

"I know," he admitted, a pained expression flickering across his face. "But seeing those pictures tonight...seeing my girl with my friends…I had all of that in my life and I ruined it. I need to make things right. I know it sounds crazy but I just…I don’t want to waste any more time than I already have."

Both women gave a soft, knowing smile. “Okay.” Nat squeezed his arm. “Let’s go win her back.”

The Quinjet descended toward the landing pad on the Avengers’ Tower. A quick hundred story descent in the elevator, and they were stepping out onto the streets of Manhattan. As arranged, a car was waiting to take them the few blocks to the lounge that Nat had confirmed their friends were still at.

As the car doors opened after a short, tense drive, the sounds of the city flooded in – distant traffic, the murmur of late-night debauchery. The trio stepped out, immediately beginning to draw attention as they walked to the front of the line.

Wanda nudged Bucky. "Remember, you're here to talk, not to make a scene. We're in public, and Gianna deserves better than a dramatic confrontation."

Bucky nodded, his resolve solidifying. The bouncer eyed them skeptically. "Invitation only." Stepping forward, Bucky let out a low growl as he pushed up the sleeve on his shirt. Like hell if some steroid-brained security guard was going to derail his plan. Before he could take matters into his own hands, a delicately manicured one stopped him.

Natasha flashed a smile and flipped her hair over her shoulder.. "Check the list again."

The bouncer’s eyes widened, immediately recognizing Natasha, and let them through with a nod. 

“I had it under control.” Bucky grumbled sheepishly. 

“I know you did.” 

Gianna

The thumping of the bass reverberated in her chest as Gianna found herself caught up in the night and fully losing track of time. Tony and Sam were leading the charge, going shot for shot with a bachelorette party they’d met at the bar. Somewhere on the dance floor, Madison was dancing with a still-starstruck Peter, who was doing everything in his power to keep her from toppling over.

Amidst the chaos, Gianna spotted Steve sitting in a plush corner booth, offering a reprieve from the noise. He raised his beer to her, gesturing for her to join him as she desperately tried to untangle herself from the crowd. Gianna slid into the booth gratefully, shielded from the cacophony around them.

"So, how's life, Cap?" She smiled, sipping on her drink. She’d been nursing the same espresso martini since they’d arrived over an hour ago, he noticed. 

Steve chuckled. "You know, same old. Saving the world, the usual stuff."

"Boring day job," she teased. The conversation was light, easy. It had always flowed between them before and didn’t seem to be too different now. Although there was no mistaking the hint of guilt, of pity that Gianna could see in his eyes. Like he felt bad for her or somehow held himself responsible for his best friend’s actions. Maybe she was misreading it, and it wasn’t either of those things. Maybe it was just sadness, seeing what could have existed if Bucky hadn’t done what he thought he had to. 

As if reading her mind, Steve took a more serious tone. “We all miss you, G. It hasn’t been the same since you left.” 

Gianna paused, her gaze drifting to the twinkling lights of the club. “I miss you guys too. More than you know.” A moment passed where neither of them spoke. Steve followed her gaze into the crowd, the noise seeming thousands of miles from their booth.

"How's he doing?" Gianna bit her lip after speaking, her voice so soft that anyone other than a super soldier wouldn’t have caught it. 

Steve sighed, his expression briefly clouded. "He's...struggling. It hasn’t been easy on him either. We’ve been trying to help out, but you know Bucky; he's not great at expressing himself."

"Yeah," Gianna acknowledged, a bittersweet smile playing on her lips before faltering. "I wish... I wish he had just talked to me."

Steve nodded, understanding reflected in his eyes. "He's got his demons. Sometimes, most of the time, he fights them alone. Even I don’t know half the battles he’s waging."

“I’m glad he has you. Even if he chooses to do it alone…I’m glad he isn’t.” 

A somber quiet settled between them, strobe lights above the dance floor casting shadows in the dimly lit booth. Steve set his bottle down on the table and leaned forward onto his elbows. “You aren’t alone either, you know. We’re all here if you need us.” 

Gianna gave a half smile before raising her glass to her lips and finally polishing off the martini. A cocktail waitress, likely hoping for either a photo or a large tip, immediately swooped in with a fresh one and whisked the empty glass away. Steve watched her take a sip and didn’t fail to notice that she was suddenly drinking a lot more quickly after the mention of Bucky. 

“How are you doing, G? Really?” His voice was soft.

Gianna paused, eyes staring blankly ahead. For a moment, the public facade dropped. The smile, the rosy cheeks. Her eyes looked gaunt, exhausted. "I love him, Steve. I probably always will. But right now, I... I can’t stand him for what he did." She set her jaw. “I am so angry. All the time. I don’t know how to feel anything else. I was happy before him, or at least I thought I was. I didn’t know what I was living without, and then…there was Bucky. He was everything and he made me feel everything and life was just…better. Brighter. I thought I had everything, but once I met him, I realized I’d walk away from it all and never look back so long as I was walking with him.” 

She slowly twirled the stem of her glass between her fingers, smiling sadly. “I found what I was missing. Or so I thought. Then…he just pulled away. I could feel it, you know.” She met Steve’s eyes. “When I started losing him. I didn’t want to believe it. I told myself it was something else, it wasn’t us. Things between us were perfect. Then they just…weren’t. It felt like I was stabbed and I couldn’t stop the bleeding. I just had to sit there and watch the life leak out of me. Then, right when I thought I knew pain, he came in and destroyed me for good.” 

Her lower lip quivered, but Steve knew she wasn’t done speaking. He had a feeling she hadn’t really been listened to since she left, maybe even before that. A pang of guilt hit him in the chest. 

“He wasn’t supposed to leave. He was the one person who saw me. He was supposed to be here…he was supposed to stay. I was fine on my own, I liked my life. But Bucky…” A single tear slid down her cheek, cutting through her perfect makeup. “He came into my life and made me realize everything I could have, everything I was missing. He let me fall in love with him and then he fucking left. Now I’m here, alone again, telling myself it’s better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all but that’s just bullshit. I would rather have never felt love than to have felt it and now have this gaping hole in my heart where he was supposed to be.” Her fist hit the table hard enough to rattle the glass. 

The intensity of the moment seemed to surprise her, jolting her back into her poised persona. “Damn,” She mustered a soft smile. “This is why I don’t drink vodka.” 

Steve's gaze was soft, concerned. He opened his mouth to speak before being distracted by a group approaching their booth. Gianna saw them first, eyes brightening as she recognized someone. Quickly brushing the tear off her cheek, she slid out of the booth to greet them. A brunette man led the charge, pulling her into a friendly hug. As he pulled back, Steve recognized him as the actor set to play Bucky in an upcoming movie. The one Steve had encouraged him to sign off on. Watching Gianna embrace the man who looked shockingly like his friend, albeit with smaller stature, he felt slightly guilty. He reminded himself that as much as he tried to protect Bucky, he was a grown man who made his own choices, and this was the result of one of those choices. Deciding to be polite, he slid out of the booth after Gianna and waited for a chance to introduce himself. Noticing his presence behind her, Gianna stepped to the side and gestured between the two men.

"This is Sebastian Stan, a good friend of mine. Seb, this is Steve, Captain America himself." She smiled easily. 

Sebastian extended a hand, and Steve shook it with as genuine of a smile as he could muster. "A man who needs no introduction. It’s an honor."

"Nice to meet you. A friend of Gianna’s is a friend of mine." Steve replied, the noise of the lounge already making him want to retreat to his booth. Sebastian seemed nice enough, but he didn’t exactly want to stay and exchange life stories. As he excused himself to handle the small matter of Sam hoisting a petite brunette onto his shoulders for some unknown reason, he heard their conversation continue behind him.

"Long time no see. How was the week?" Gianna asked.

Sebastian chuckled. "Well, your advice has been invaluable. I'm starting to understand the guy a bit more. As much as anyone can. I know I say it every time I see you, but seriously, thank you for your help."

Gianna leaned back against the plush booth, sipping her drink. "It's not every day you get to help someone play your ex on the big screen, right?"

Sebastian laughed heartily. "True, true. But seriously, your insights have been gold. I’m sure it isn’t easy, but I’m sure he’d appreciate knowing you care enough to help me get it right.”

Gianna nodded, her expression thoughtful before she decided to shift gears, winking. "Just thank me in your Oscar acceptance speech and we’ll be even.”

Bucky

The lounge was alive with energy, the music pulsing through the air. In the hour it had taken them to get to the doorstep, the place had hit capacity. The line stretched around the block with people hoping to get a chance to party with their favorite celebrities. The low lit room was teeming with people. Some on the dance floor, some at the bar, some huddled in the plush booths lining either side of the room. This was exactly the kind of place he never wanted to be. Too many sounds, too many people. Maybe if he could actually get as drunk as all the other patrons, it wouldn’t be half bad. Unfortunately, that wasn’t possible. So he hated nightlife. Tonight, it was a necessary evil.

Spotting Gianna across the crowded room, Bucky's heart quickened. She was facing the right side of the room, talking to someone blocked by the crowd. She was smiling, laughing, the same way she always seemed to be photographed lately. 

Bucky took a deep breath, the noise of the crowd fading as he focused on the task at hand. Nat and Wanda flanked him, silent support in the midst of the chaos. He made a mental note to thank Wanda for her solidarity. On any other night, she would have fled as soon as they got inside. She loved places like this. Tonight, she hadn’t budged from his side. Taking a deep breath, he began to weave through the crowd.

As Bucky navigated the crowded space, his eyes scanned the room until they again landed on Gianna. This time, he paused. The sight of her happiness, genuine and infectious, was both a balm and a dagger to his heart. From this closer vantage point, he could see her so clearly. Clear enough that he could tell her smile wasn’t fake. Close enough that he could see exactly who it was that she was talking to.

Heartache surged through him, icy in his veins. His breath caught. A whirlwind of emotions churned within him. Jealousy, regret, and a sense of unworthiness surged back to the forefront. He was torn between the desire to interrupt, to hold her and tell her he was sorry and beg her to forgive him. To tell her he loved her and would never make such a stupid decision again. He was torn between the reason he came and the realization that Gianna appeared truly, genuinely happy.

The internal conflict waged on, and finally, he made his choice. Gianna looked content. She was here in her element, with the kind of people she was supposed to be with, her laughter was genuine, and he couldn't bring himself to disturb that.

He turned away, face solemn.

"Bucky?" Natasha's eyes were sharp, reading the turmoil etched across his face.

He shook his head. "Not tonight. I can't... It's not the right time. You were right.”

Natasha exchanged a knowing look with Wanda, but Bucky interrupted before either of them could speak. “I’m sorry I dragged you all the way out here. You guys should stay, have a good time. Tell the others I said hey.” He forced a smile, trying to look like he wasn’t falling apart inside. “I’ll hang back at the tower. Don’t get into too much trouble.” 

He tousled Wanda’s hair before turning to leave, his broad frame weaving through the club's patrons like a ghost. The two women watched as Bucky, cloaked in shadows and the weight of his own decisions, departed from the club alone.

Gianna

A flash of red hair caught her eye over Sebastian’s shoulder, immediately grabbing her attention. 

“Nat?” Her voice was overjoyed. “Wanda?!”

"G!” Wanda squealed, running the last few steps between them and engulfing her into a rib-crushing hug that Nat joined.

“What are you guys doing here?!” Gianna beamed, forgetting about the conversation she had just left.

Natasha smirked. "Well, we couldn’t let the guys have all the fun, now could we?”

“You’ve got some catching up to do, if you’re looking to compete with them.” Gianna grinned, gesturing to the bar, where Tony was now doing a rockette-style dance with half the bachelorette party.

“Say no more.” She gestured to the lingering cocktail waitress. “Three tequila shots, please.” Her eyes darted to Steve, sheepishly standing by the bar after a failed attempt to corral Sam. “Make that four.”

Gianna’s smile faltered, a hint of sadness in her eyes. "Guys…I'm sorry I haven't kept in touch. It's just...It hurt too much. I wasn’t ready yet."

Wanda gave her a sympathetic smile. "We understand, G. We didn’t think a thing of it. But we’re here now, we missed you like crazy, and we have so much catching up to do!" She waggled her eyebrows at Sebastian, chatting with the group he came with in Gianna’s absence. 

She rolled her eyes, waving off Wanda with a laugh. "You guys have no idea how much I needed this. Hey, why don't you come stay with me for a few nights? Catch up for real. I can show you my new place and everything!"

Natasha nodded immediately. "Hell yes. We missed our girl time." She linked arms with Gianna. “And our girl. Plus it’s been a total sausage fest at the compound and we need to get away from all the testosterone.”

They laughed and fell back into friendship like there had never been any pain or separation at all. Nat dragged Steve over to take the shot with them, and Gianna caught the way his eyes lit up when he saw her there. Right after the look of pleasant surprise, his brow furrowed and his eyes darted past her scanning the crowd. Barely perceptibly, Nat caught his eye and shook her head. 

Gianna furrowed her brow, feeling like there was more to the story. However, before she could press, Wanda grabbed her arm. 

“Let’s dance, I just saw Peter and -- oh my god, is that Madison Beer?!”

As they walked, Gianna couldn't help but cast a glance toward the entrance, a flicker of hope in her heart. She wished, just for a moment, that someone else would walk through that door. Someone she missed more than she cared to admit. But, with a sigh, she shook off the thought, determined to give herself over to the buzz from the tequila and the night with her friends.

[paddockbunny]

All Too Well – Chapter Six

Summary : Alessandra Lucciano tells herself she has it all. She is Daniel Ricciardo's girlfriend after all. Isn't she? Well, sometimes she has to work hard to feel like it and no more so than when some girl shows up and makes her question her life as she knows it. So what happens when someone else starts paying her more attention than her boyfriend? Pairing : Daniel Ricciardo x (OC) Alessandra Lucciano + Max Verstappen Rating : 18+ Word Count : 3,250 Trigger Warnings for this Chapter : Angst, rocky relationship, language, slight hint at rough sex, adult themes, strong emotions Song Inspiration for this Chapter : ""I know you by heart, and you don’t even know where I start" — "Come in With the Rain"

💞 Authors Note : I'm sorry this chapter has come out so late, I've been on vacation so I couldn't write nor upload due to time differences. I'm still super jetlaggedd so this is not proof read 🙏🏼

21:12pm – 3rd of October 2020 – Monaco – Daniel’s apartment.

Alessandra’s tired eyes could barely stay open during the flight back to Monaco. She could feel her whole body begin to slow down and her brain was clouded with fog. Her mind had been in use constantly the past week or so that she had been in Sicily at her grandmother’s side. She had arrived first out of everyone that had been called. Several days of worry while being at her darling Nonna’s bedside – her mother only able to join her on day six and aunt a further day after that. She should have been thankful she got to spend those days with her Nonna but not while she was so sick. It was nothing short of a miracle when she began to pull through the worst of her illness and sit up in bed and demand lemon ricotta biscuits. Ali finally allowed herself to cry on that flight back to Monaco and she was sure that she would probably look a frightful mess by the time she had picked up her luggage and got through to arrivals, where Daniel promised to pick her up.

But after waiting nearly half an hour with her suitcase she finally pulled out her phone and tried calling him. No answer. So she called again. And even one more time after that but still, no answer. She sent him a text asking if there was something he was forgetting to do in an attempt to keep the reminder light and jovial. A text, which also went unreplied too. After trying various times Ali was far too tired to stand there in the airport any longer – too tired but also too embarrassed – so she decided to just go outside and get a cab. She toyed with the idea of just going straight home to her own place but she had to know why Daniel hadn’t come to collect her like he had promised her he would. Ali remembered all of the texts and the phone calls between her boyfriend and her whilst she was in Italy. He comforted her and gave her soothing words of encouragement when she needed them most. It showed her that he really did care about her and in her worst moments he thought about her even if he couldn’t physically be with her due to racing.

The ride to his apartment felt longer than ever before. She wasn’t sure if she had fallen asleep in the back of the cab or not but she soon saw familiar sights and knew she could at least be getting into a cosy warm bed soon. It only took a further ten minutes till the car stopped and she tapped her card for payment. The driver helped her with her bags before getting back into his car to no doubt head back to the airport to wait on some other mug that hadn’t been picked up by their other half. She buzzed herself in with her security key and then hauled her suitcase into the elevator and pressed his floor. It wasn’t until the moment she laid eyes upon Daniel’s door that suddenly a feeling descended upon her slowly. What if the reason he hadn’t come to get her was because he was there…with someone else, with another girl. These horrible notions came flooding in and out of her brain like a rising and departing ocean tide. It all stemmed from that trip to Montana but still all these months later she had a feeling of dread whenever something like this happened. Something that gave her cause to be overtaken by alarm.  

She unlocked Daniel’s door and as she pulled her case into the hallway she heard laughter. Male laughter. Her mind had gone to the worst and she sighed with relief that it had all just been her own mind lying to her. She left her case sitting there beside the door and dumped her bag down on top of it as she allowed the heavy door to swing shut behind herself. Tentatively she walked down the hallway to the living room. The face she saw first was not that of her missing boyfriend but Max Verstappen. Staring back at her were those fucking sapphire blue eyes not ones of molten chocolate. “Oh…” He swallowed the clear liquid he had been drinking and tried not to dribble any as he got up from his position on the sofa. “Hi, uh…” He stumbled a little on his words but she accepted the fact that he hadn’t been expecting to see her so just raised a half smile at him. “Daniel’s just finishing getting ready.” He motioned to the other hallway that expanded from living room. As if he had heard his name being mentioned Daniel appeared in said hallway and gave her the briefest of smiles. She knew all along that he would have forgotten his promise but now him standing there in all dressed to go out, it was rather jarring. But then again, she was far too exhausted to be bothered to argue. Plus, they had a guest so arguing in front of him would have been rude.

“You’re going out?” Ali finally asked and she tried to keep her voice light even if it wasn’t the tone she actually wanted to use with him. She took in the state of her boyfriend. Dressed well in an expensive new “party shirt” (as he dubbed them) that she had never seen before. He had clearly bought the item specifically for going out tonight which meant it was something he wanted to look good for.  “Yeah, it’s last minute.” He paused and patted his jeans pockets overly dramatically. “It’s Haylee’s birthday.”

As Daniel looked around for his phone Ali blinked several times as if the brain fog she had felt earlier was now making her utterly delusional. Her mouth parted slightly and she felt the wind being knocked straight out of her. Haylee. The girl that ruined Montana for her? The one that came close to breaking Daniel and her up? The one that Daniel was very aware Ali wasn’t keen on? “I know you don’t like her so I didn’t think to mention it to you, thought it would just annoy you.” Then he disappeared back toward the bedroom where he was no doubt retrieving his wallet and Ali just stared into thin air. She had nothing to say. No fight to make. Certainly not after the week she had had. In her mind she had envisioned Daniel picking her up from the airport and engulfing her in a massive hug. She thought he would have been there to support her and want to have her curled up in his protective arms, as they lay in bed together. But evidently, she had overestimated his capabilities as a boyfriend again and this time for some reason it just left her numb instead of pissed off, angry or even hurt.

“If you’re not comfortable with it I could suggest we don’t go.” Ali had forgotten Max was even there so his voice startled her. She shook her head because it was probably a useless cause. She remembered what he had told her at his girlfriend’s event when she questioned him about the girl her boyfriend seemed to be rather obsessed with all of a sudden

*** MAX POV (Flashback)

“Well I better try find Elin, I think she’s forgotten I exist.” I rolled my eyes dramatically. But suddenly I had this strange feeling come over me when she nodded and bit her bottom lip. She had done that at that stupid fucking dinner party too. Her perfectly straight, pearly white teeth gripped her full, pouty, kissable bottom lip in an almost vice grip. It was enough to send this weird feeling all over me. One that made me want to reach out, put my hand on her cheek and command her to stop. I’d have seemed like a right fucking creep if I did that so I had to remind myself that regardless of how beautiful she was (regardless of any of the mental images I might have running through my brain of her) it was wrong. Just as I turned to leave she put her tiny little hand on my arm and I immediately halted.

“Max, have you heard Daniel mentioning a girl called Haylee?” Fuck. Why did she ask me this? How did I explain what I knew without making her curious or furious? I found my head nodding and my shoulders rising before I could work out what I could say. “Uh…yeah…uh….” Nice going, real smooth, Max. Style it out. Don’t be awkward. “She went to Montana right?” She looked down and slowly nodded. FUCK! Clearly the Montana trip didn’t go as well as Daniel said it did. “How does Daniel know her?” Ok, I can answer that. A nice and simple question.

“He’s known her forever.” I shrugged and immediately I regretted it. Jesus, why did this girl make me so nervous? “Her father was a team principal, he manages some of the drivers now. She’s been around the paddock since she was a child.” The information seemed not to surprise her. “So Daniel’s known her since he started racing?” “I don’t know. I’d presume so but I’m not sure.” “Have they always been so…” She made this gesture as if she was trying to find the words in English (God I know how that feels), “comfortable with one and other?” Now I clammed up. It was awkward. I knew all about the rumours of Haylee and Daniel – most of the paddock suspected things – but there was no way I could be the one to say anything. Regardless of this strange fondness I was feeling toward this innocent, beautiful girl, I couldn’t do that to my teammate. “Alessandra…” She looked at me with eyes that bore right into my soul. “If you have questions, you should ask Daniel. I’m not….” She scoffed at my words.

“He would just find a way into telling me it’s all in my head and that I’m just insecure.” The look on her face was the same one that she had written on it that night when he said he didn’t need her support at races. It was as if the words she had just spoken were how she actually felt about herself and that made me so fucking uncomfortable because she couldn't see how fucking phenomenal she was. But then again, what the fuck had Daniel been saying to make her feel that way? “But yeah, he’s your teammate and you have loyalty to him, that’s understandable. Commendable. You should go find your girlfriend, tell her that she’s won a fan. Her work is incredible. She’s so talented.” As she adorably rambled my heart tightened in my chest at how Daniel had made her feel about herself and how I really needed to have a word about it with him. Especially, as he had suggested I attend Haylee’s birthday with him.

***

“No. It’s fine. You should go.” Ali tried to raise half a smile for the innocent guy that probably had no idea why she had such an issue, where she had just come from or how she was feeling. Ali was probably being a buzz kill. When he returned she told Daniel to have a goodnight with a kiss to the cheek. She gave Max a brief goodbye before heading straight down the hall to the bathroom to run a bath. She still felt like leaving and returning to her own apartment, she could call another cab, but she couldn’t be bothered to do that. She just wanted to be soothed by nice warm water and then crawl into bed. They shouted a final goodbye before leaving and she felt rather relieved when Daniel’s apartment fell silent besides the sound of flowing water.

Her head rested on the edge of the tub. The water bordering on too hot but it she didn’t care. As Ali closed her eyes to switch off from the world, she kept seeing the girl from Montana. She saw her honey coloured hair, crystal blue staring eyes and that fucking smirk she so desperately wanted to wipe off her face. She knew Daniel had to have picked up on the insecurity she felt when she cried to him in LA. She hadn’t exactly lay the blame at the other woman’s door but she implied it heavily enough that she was positive Daniel had understood her stance on this Haylee girl. So that was why she felt such overwhelming crushing disappointment tonight. She had flashbacks to the way she felt during summer break and how soul crushing it was when she thought had electively chosen another girl over her. And now, he was doing it all over again even though he knew how much it bothered her, how much this Haylee girl bothered her. Tears began to slowly fall from her eyes before she knew it. The usually soothing hot water was doing little to soothe her tonight. Then suddenly Ali just let go. She let all of the bottled up stress from the past week flow out of her and mix with the upset at the scene tonight. Her heart no longer felt like it was on fire in her chest. It felt like ruined ashes.

02:45am – 4th of October 2020 – Monaco - Daniel’s apartment

Ali was awoken from a light sleep – the worry racked her brain too much to allow her to fall asleep fully like she had so desperately wanted – to the sound of the front door opening and closing again. Heavy, still shoe'd footsteps tapped away on the marble flooring. She waited for voices, thinking Max would come back with him, but they never came. Daniel was home by himself but she should be thankful that he was indeed home. She turned on the bedroom light when she heard something being knocked over followed by a slight laugh. Her eyes were puffy and slightly sore from the crying she had done earlier. The focus of all of said crying was now the drunken fool trying to find his way to the bedroom in the dark. She sighed once, got out of bed and found him leaning against the doorframe.

“Daniel.” She sighed when he smiled at her. “How much have you had to drink?” “Hmm…. not very much actually, I’ve been good.” She could tell he had at least half a dozen but wasn’t drunk enough for anymore than that. She would ordinarily be quite impressed by the restraint he had shown tonight but she was more interested in getting him to bed so she could attempt to get some sleep. He followed her to the bedroom and before she had a chance to help him remove his shoes, he was putting the moves on her. His hands reached around her and found their place on her ass, squeezing slightly harsher than usual. She tried in vain to make him focus. He just squeezed harder and groaned into her ear;

“C’mon baby….let me eat that pretty little pussy.” She didn’t feel the usual bolt of electricity shock through her core. She didn’t get excited as he set about lazily dirty talking like he usually did, it didn’t have the same effect tonight. In fact, it turned her stomach a little because she knew exactly where he was coming from, and in whose company.   

Really? Now? You forget me then want to fuck me?

He pressed her gently against the door to the bedroom. His hands lazily trailing toward the front of her silk shorts and just as his fingers dipped passed the waistband she grabbed his wrist and stopped him. She could smell the alcohol on him that directly disputed his claims of being good. “Not now…” He swayed a little but didn’t continue. She used the opportunity to get his shirt off him and he attempted to nuzzle into her neck.

“Where’s my good girl?” He lulled and she rolled her eyes. She was tempted to say his good girl was back in Italy and she had been replaced by a pissed off girl that had been left standing waiting on her boyfriend in an airport arrivals hall. But she decided against it. “Everyone wondered where you were tonight.” He added and she really wanted to tell him to shut the fuck up. He moved his body before she could get to the final buttons on his Gucci shirt. “Blake, Michael…” So they had all been invited. All the ones that had been on that embarrassing Montana trip were there but her. She didn’t have to search her brain very hard to know exactly why. She sighed and he picked up on it.

“What is wrong with you?” He had some drunken accusatory boldness in him but Ali couldn’t be bothered dealing with it. “Let’s just get you into bed Danny, please.” “Since you said please….” Before Ali had a single second to protest his hands went back to her ass again and this time, he was far too rough and she had to push him off her. For a mere fleeting second she thought about giving him exactly what it was that he wanted. But then she couldn’t bare the thought of fucking him while he was drunk and she was sober, not when he was too past it. Besides he probably wouldn’t be able to get it up, too much alcohol had that effect on him sometimes.

It took Ali nearly 45 minutes to get Daniel into bed. He took forever and kept making things difficult for her. He kept asking why she was in a mood, why she was angry with him and why she wouldn’t fuck him. But the final nail in the coffin came when Daniel finally lay down on the bed and stated; “I should have stayed at Haylee’s like she wanted.” Without a second thought, she grabbed her phone and a pillow and immediately went to sleep on the sofa. Haylee suggested he stay at hers? Had the others been asked the same thing? Did any of them go with her? Did Daniel decide to come home to her or was he made come home to her? And as much as she thought hearing something like that, something meant to directly wound her would indeed tear her apart, it didn’t. She lay down, pulled the blanket around herself and stared at the ceiling. It was only ten minutes later that she received a text from an unknown number.

000-754-334-980: Hi, it’s Max. I hope it’s ok that I got your number from Dan’s phone when we dropped him off. Just wanted to make sure he wasn’t too much of a hassle and he went straight to bed like he promised?

Max was sweet. He was thoughtful. And regardless of how much she wanted to ask if Daniel had gotten too close to someone else tonight, she didn’t.

AL: He did. Thank you for dropping him off. I hope he wasn’t too much of a bother. 000-745-334-980: I’m sorry he’s such a prick at times. You really don’t deserve it.

And then Ali fell asleep, praying her boyfriend loved her enough not to have done anything to break her heart and wishing she could find someone who treated her the way Max did.

💞TAG LIST : @inkfablesandstories @ggaslyp1 @thelightnessofthebeing @nunchuck-daddy @deathmet-al @pleasantducktimetravel @scotlynaurora @squidwardsluverxx @zxlla @anonymitysden @ravena-xx @onelovelife @tita010 @fishtankcleaner1000 @lenniebordeaux @bellasummer03 @melinoeg @organasith @lu-morningstar

(If your tag is not working please let me know so I can try fix it. Also, if I have forgotten you please DM me because I'm trying to keep on top of the tag list but its confusing.)

[lia404]

Get to know me better game—2 in 1 because I'm 6 months late

Tagged by: @baratrongirl and @missmewachu

Thanks for being so patient while I was figuring out how Tumblr works again and why I had a blue dot beside "Activity" (as in, notifications about tag games I've been sent 6 months ago. Better late than never 🤦‍♀️) Thankfully the tag games you sent my way are very similar so it won't be hard to do 2 in 1!

Last song I listened to: Chipzel - Courtesy - YouTube

The 1st track of Super Hexagon, composed by Chipzel. Chipzel's music has been a pick-me-up since 201...4 I think? And since I fell back into Super Hexagon around a week ago, the music has also found its way back into my work playlist.

Currently reading: Trick question! There is what I am MEANT to read, and what I am ACTUALLY reading.

What I am MEANT to read is To Shape a Dragon's Breath, by Moniquill Blackgoose, which has absolutely all the elements I need to love a book. The problem is that my brain absolutely refuses moving further than Chapter 1, and I've been stuck for MONTHS. The good news is that when it happens, I usually struggle until the moment my brain finally snaps and I read the whole book in an afternoon. Wait for me, Moniquill Blackgoose, I'll soon be raving about your book.

What I am ACTUALLY reading is... well, it's more re-reading, but I'm going through Happy Hour by Inkflavored and Keep the Light Shining by Clydeside, two Yu-Gi-Oh AUs that have been incredibly healing for me in the past months, for very different reasons. I wanted to re-experience them to see if I could turn them into fanbinding projects (if the authors give me the authorisation of course, but I haven't reached this level of confidence yet, let's give it time.)

Currently watching: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS.

Do you believe me if I tell you that it was an accident? It kinda was though! I wasn't the one who played the first episodes I just kept going afterwards. That said, I have fully adopted Yusaku. I kind of wish he could meet Philip from Kamen Rider W. Things would go so well.

Currently writing: this one is plain cruel, because after a drought spell of almost 2 years, I finally feel like getting back into writing (thank you, current obsession.)

I have 3 WIPs, one PWP because I like a challenge, one backstory of a character that has basically become my OC, and one AU that @wisyhana created and that I'm using as a wonderful sandbox. I am between 2k and 5k into each, nothing is complete, I'm losing my mind. But at least I'm writing again, right?

Spicy/sweet/savoury: Okay yes no it's cruel again and you will not make me pick just one.

If you've followed me these past years you know that I have completely lost my sense of taste between 2020 and 2023. I was lucky enough, and honestly even the specialised doctor said it was a miracle, to have most of it come back to me abruptly in March 2023, after 3 years unable to enjoy a bit of chocolate or a nice gratin. Some tastes are lost forever, but so few compared to what came back that I just can only be very very grateful and very confident in saying SPICY SWEET SAVOURY I'LL TAKE THEM ALL. I LOVE TASTES. ALL OF THEM.

Relationship status: I have been told polyamory looks good on me.

And I am lucky to have the most patient and tolerant lovers ever. EVER. I love them so much and I'm so bad at showing it because I am a mess. There isn't a day where my heart doesn't overflow with gratitude that they are in my life and agree to putting up with my bullshit.

Current obsession: Listen, Mew put it SO ELOQUENTLY I can help but quote:

mentally ill traumatised japanese teenagers and their ancient egyptian guys who hang out in their jewellery all playing card games.

So, yeah, current obsession is Yu-Gi-Oh!, and with it Duel Links, and everything children-card-game-adjacent. I am currently trying to figure out why everyone in this kid's show is so hot and delightfully traumatised. Characters after my own heart, all ready to be projected on and used for cathartic writing purposes. Other obsession is MEW'S FAULT TOO ACTUALLY since it's my newly founded Clan in Flight Rising. Ask me about my dragon Atem.

Favourite colour: I like my colour like my wine—burgundy. (I actually like all sort of shades of purple, violet and red, but I don't know how to list them.)

Tagging: Wow uh who do I know around here who is still active?

@twilightknight17 for sure (although I'm sure you already did it), @wingsonghalo maybe? Uuuh, I think @the-wanderer-of-thoughts and @istadris? You know, considering how inactive I am here, I think it's already a lot, but if you're not in the list and want to do it too, be my guest!

[peachywise]

Lessons in Honesty

steve harrington x reader

chapter 1

– other chapters: part 1 ⋆ part 2 ⋆ part 3 ⋆ part 4 ⋆ part 5 ⋆ part 6 ⋆ part 7 ⋆ part 8 

– synopsis: Being Robin Buckley’s younger sibling had always been uneventful, up until she got herself tangled with Steve Harrington. And really, you were happy for her. She deserved friends. What was bothersome was when he got let in on small secrets like your infatuation with Eddie Munson, and decided to take it into his own hands to try and get him to pay attention to you-- by pretending to be your boyfriend. 

– notes: it has been a long time since i have written fan fiction but here i am!! my dumbass loves a fake-dating plot and i couldn’t resist. i hope to update this pretty regularly, and i post here and under the same username on ao3. i think i’m going to continue to post this as a reader insert and then do an alternative version that’s with an oc (because i can and reader insert series mess with my brain) BUT here’s to hoping y’all enjoy it!!  read here or on ao3  _____________________________

“Stop staring, dweeb.”

The voice cut through a fraction of your brain fog. Not enough to draw your attention away from your current pin-pointed focus, but certainly enough that some semblance of normal thought would have eventually trickled back in. You know, had it not been for the second later when an arm cut across your vision and someone flicked you on the forehead. Patience was never your sister’s virtue.

Still, it did shock you enough out of the stupid little reverie you had fallen into that had been going on for a good five minutes. It was probably better she busted the daydream before someone else caught you and thought you were someone’s lobotomy patient left without supervision.

“Christ, Robin!” You huffed, slapping away her hand as she gave you an indignant look. It was distraction enough that you managed to flick her right back on the forehead right after. Maturity was never your virtue.

“That was a lot harder than I did it,” she argued back, already trying to thwack you once again.

It quickly became a sitting wrestling match as you tried to capture each other’s arms, biting low insults at one another as it went along. You finally managed to yank Robin’s arm down and back to her side, head twisting fast to see if anyone was watching the scuffle. Thankfully not. There was already so much commotion between the football idiots trying to knock soda cans off one another’s heads by throwing a spiral. They probably weren’t even trying to hit the can anymore with how much harder they laughed when the ball slammed into someone’s face instead. I mean— It was kinda funny.

“I sat beside you, and you didn’t even notice me. Do you think that if you stare long enough, it will intimidate Eddie’s clothes into falling off his body?”

The instinctual hand that slapped over her mouth at that moment might have been loud enough to draw some attention if it wasn’t so perfectly timed with the loud smack that came from the football hitting someone in the face again. Divine intervention at its finest. 

“You don’t have to say every thought that pops into your head,” you whispered harshly, eyes still nervously darting around just to double-check no one had heard. Your only solace was that you hadn’t decided to sit at a closer table to Eddie, who was far out of earshot halfway across the quad.

“Tell me about it,” offered a new voice from directly behind you. Shock and surprise rolled through your body as if electrocuted, eyes widening as a familiar figure sat opposite you at the picnic table. “The other day, she was complaining about how annoying it is that your mom tells embarrassing stories about you both to company, but then lets it slip in the same sentence that she wet the bed until she was nine.” Robin must have kicked Steve’s shin under the table because he let out an even more dramatic “Ow!” than you thought him capable of.

“What, did they realize they made a mistake in letting you graduate and rescind your diploma?” You asked him, probably a bit more snippy of a greeting than usual, given that you were still red-faced and deflated from Robin’s mental attack.

Robin gave a short snort at how Steve reared his head back an inch, his floppy hair moving with him like its own appendage. “Ignore them. They’re just mad Eddie Munson doesn’t know they exist.”

You always thought choking on water was something only people on television did when they were shocked. Turns out, It was very much an honest reaction and one you could do simply with your own spit. “I hope you trip over your own feet and the doctors have to wire your jaw shut,” you breathed out, covering your heating face with your hands as you tossed your head back, wishing you were anyway else. And by anywhere, you meant that in the truest sense there was. Let the footballers whisk you away and use your face as target practice instead.

“Munson? You like Eddie’ The Freak’ Munson?” Steve sputtered back. You were thankful that he didn’t just laugh in your face instead, like when Robin found out. You still felt the phantom feeling of her spit flying on your face when she did. Then again, maybe laughter wasn’t the worst reaction. When you removed your hands from your face and saw the genuine look of astonishment and confusion cross his features, brows furrowed, head slightly cocked to the side and studying you as if you were the freak, you began to wonder if you’d prefer the slice of a chuckle and not the hammer of a disappointed and alienating stare. “So you’ll joke about me never graduating— which I did, they can’t just take that back— but find that a desirable trait in Eddie? You do realize he was held back for two years.” As if his own words finally hit his ears, he screwed his face up like he smelled something bad. “Jesus, dude is like twenty years old.”

“I never said it was logical, okay?” you huffed back, folding your arms over your chest, then unfolding them, feeling too restless and itchy at the scrutinization your sister and her idiot friend were putting you through. “I know it’s not going to happen—known that since I was a freshman and joined the Hellfire Club. You can both let it go now.”

You’re a Junior now, and Eddie still treats you the same as if you were a wandering lost puppy he pitied and took in. You kind of were back as a freshman. No friends, not really anyone to talk to other than Robin, wandering around aimlessly in the hallways like the least scary ghost there was, given how many people tried to walk through you. You’d prefer outward avoidance to that. Still, things were different now. Maybe your only friends were members of the Hellfire Club, but at least you’d ranked up from lost puppy to social pariah but with a decent backbone. Eddie, however, clearly didn’t see it that way. His nickname of pipsqueak stuck and has followed you since. Sometimes, he shortens it to Pip, which would be fine if half the student population didn’t think that actually was your name. Some didn’t even believe you when you corrected them.

Robin raised her hands up in surrender, which was bullshit if you’ve ever seen it. “Whatever. Look, I’ve got band practice, so you have to walk home by yourself. Tell Mom to remember to leave the leftovers in the fridge this time, okay? I don’t want to accidentally eat a fly like last time because she left my plate out.” She said that with so much ease as she stood up and walked away, acting as if she hadn’t behaved like someone sprinkled rat poison on her tongue when it happened. It was pretty gross, to be fair. Just thinking about it made you mentally gag and reach for a toothbrush.

“I’ll be fine,” you called out, the same time Steve let out a disgusted mangled noise that sounded halfway between a dog trying to get a stuck piece of kibble out of its throat and a baby trying to say their first words. You stood up from the bench and swung your backpack over one shoulder.

Steve’s voice cut off your movement when you began to walk away. “Hey, let me drive you home. Your sister made me come all the way here to drop off her trumpet she left in my car. I’m already acting like a glorified errand boy today.”

You gave a short, breathy laugh, eyebrow raised. “Just today?” You asked teasingly. That got you an eye roll. “I’m good. Robin just acts like this town is more dangerous than it is. I assure you, a walk by myself will not kill me.” She’s had a tendency to hover lately. And by association, so did Steve, though you just assumed it’s because you were hanging out with Mike, Dustin, Lucas and Max lately, and he had that weird sort of older brother/fifth-wheel type relationship with them. You also assumed it had something to do with Nancy. A lot of what Steve did had to do with Nancy.

“Are all you Buckley’s this painfully stubborn? Just get in the damn car,” he fought back with as much patience as your sister had. Which, as stated earlier, is none at all.

“Steve, it’s fine.“ At this point, you were arguing back merely on some screwed-up principle. You might have gotten farther with it had Steve not stalked next to you and yanked your backpack from your shoulder, already walking off towards the parking lot with conceited expectations that you would fall in line and trail behind him.

You did. He had your bag.

At least you managed to snag one last glance at Eddie as you walked past.

“Has anyone ever told you that your bossy?” You muttered under your breath as you stopped at the familiar burgundy brown BMW that your sister had begun to use as her personal taxi. He tossed your bag into the back once he slipped into the driver’s seat, leaning over the center console to push open the passenger door you waited by.

“Has anyone ever told you that you have bad taste in men?” He supplied back, putting the key in the ignition when you slammed the door shut.

“Don’t start,” you said, staring at him heavily annoyed as he pulled out of the parking lot. “I’m not even as bad as you. Everyone sees the way you pine after Nancy.”

His head snapped so fast to look at you that you quickly smacked his arm to remind him to keep his eyes on the road. “Everyone does not— I don’t *pine* after Nancy, okay? I get it. She’s with Jonathan. We’re friends.”

“Friends who want to—”

“Don’t start.”

Alright. Fair.

Still, it was hard to believe the whole friend’s thing, not only because of the looks Steve gave Nancy, but the ones you saw her give him behind his back. Jonathan wasn’t here. He was in California. And whether or not Nancy just gave Steve lingering looks that were remnants of the past, there were moments you wondered if that was just it. Robin surely didn’t. She was pro-Steve and Nancy all the way. You were shocked she hadn’t already made embarrassing T-shirts about it.

“Don’t let Robin pollute your thoughts,” Steve broke the silence, a more quiet seriousness passing over his concentrated face. “She thinks there’s still something there, but there isn’t. Probably because all these dates I’ve been on lately have all gone to shit. I think Nancy even stares at me with pity about it too.” Keeping one hand on the steering wheel, he ran his other in a frustrated motion over his jaw. “It’s annoying. I wish everyone would get off my back about the whole thing.”

“Well, why not just tell them you’re seeing someone? Not like it has to be anyone in Hawkins. Dustin’s got that long-distance girlfriend of his.” It was easy enough to lie about that sort of thing, right?

Steve gave an unamused snort. “Yeah, like Robin will just let that one slide. She’ll see right through it.”

“Then just ask someone to pretend to be your girlfriend for a while. I’m sure plenty of people are lining up just to have a shot with the late, great Steve Harrington, even if it isn’t real,” you joked, though it was true. You’d never really talked to him before he became friends with Robin, but you remembered him from the hallways last year. Heard his name bounce around girl’s lips too often to ignore it.

“Thanks for that,” he muttered in return, hand gripping his steering wheel tightly as he went quiet once more. You shrugged, turning your attention to the window as you watched your neighbourhood come into view. Playgrounds, bright red fire hydrants, trees with tire swings hanging off thick branches. Yeah. Truly a terrifying small town if you ever saw one.

“But maybe you’re on to something.”

Of course, you were on to something. You may be hopeless sometimes, but you were actually pretty clever—

“Why don’t you date me?”

It was a good thing you weren’t the one driving. You would have crashed the car. He would have deserved it.

“You can just drop me off here,” you replied, reaching for the handle, thinking the best option in this scenario was to tuck and roll out of the car. Steve grabbed your wrist before you could. Damn.

“I don’t mean for real, smart ass. But think about it. It would solve my problem, and maybe even yours too.”

You turned back to look at him with a face that read, ‘maybe they should have taken away your diploma, after all.’ “And what problem do you see me facing?”

“Eddie. Eddie’s your problem. You want him to notice you, right? Jerk off’s never been my fan, and it probably annoys the shit out of him that I hang around Henderson and the other idiots. Add you to that equation, mixed in with a guy’s stupid need to have something they can’t have, and he’ll want to be dating you in no time.”

Huh.

“It’s surprising you were never a mathlete in school with logic like that.”

“Can you be serious for a second?” Steve pleaded back at you, turning into your driveway as he did. Even though you were home, you didn’t think getting out of this car was going to be any easier at that moment than it was any earlier.

“I am being serious!” You replied back, a small laugh escaping you at the absolute absurdity. You wouldn’t be shocked if this was just some elaborate prank set up by Robin to pay you back for ruining her favourite sweater a week ago. It was a bit overkill, but you had to appreciate the effort. “You’re the one not being serious. No one would even believe it anyway.”

Steve gave an oddly offended look. “And why wouldn’t anyone believe it? What, you’d never stoop so low?” Jesus, here he was, putting words in your mouth already.

“No,” you said bluntly. “I mean you would never stoop so low. What, the holy ex-basketball player dating his best friend’s little sibling who spends most of their days drawing alone or playing Dungeons and Dragons? Doesn’t exactly scream your type.”

He opened his mouth to argue back, judging by the narrowed look of his brows but decided to drop whatever it was. He deflated with a sigh into his seat, bringing up a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I-“ he paused again. “That’s not true, alright? Can you just think about it?”

You chewed the inside of your cheek, studying him and trying to understand why he was being so pushy with it. You could see how his predicament was bothersome. You’ve been on the receiving end of Robin’s persistent nagging countless times. But there was probably more to it than that if you were to bet. If Steve was so willing to sell himself out to try and make Eddie jealous, chances are he was hoping that using you would do the same for Nancy. He could deny it all he wanted, but there was still a hang-up there.

“Fine.” You relented, Steve’s hand immediately dropping from his face as he sat up perfectly straight like an obedient child just being told they could have one treat. You held up your hand to tamper it down. “Fine, I’ll think about it. Don’t get your hopes up.”

Turning back around to grab your backpack, you opened your door and slipped out of the car. Steve leaned over the seat and reached for the handle. You thought he would shut it and just be done with it, but he surprised you by saying, “don’t take too long. You don’t have to play hard to get with me,” with an infuriating smirk.

And then he shut the door in your face.

[frogletscribe]

Until It Doesn’t Hurt

Chapter 3: I've Been In The Dark Too Long

Summary:

20 years since the RDA was pushed off of the moon of Pandora, they are back once more. The RDA thinks their only problem is the traitor Jake Sully and his family, but as it turns out, Jake wasn’t the only ‘problem’ left behind 20 years ago. 

Anthe was a child soldier, stolen from their home and forced to learn the ways of the humans, erasing any of their connections to the Na’vi from before. Finally free from the RDA’s hold after being trapped in cryosleep, they're about to make themselves everyone's problem.

---

Anthe meets the Sullys.

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Pairing: Aged Up!Neteyam X Nonbinary!Na'vi!Reader/OC (OC and Neteyam are both around 20)

Warnings: Mentions of Past Violence, Mentions of Past Trauma, Mild Claustrophobia, No Use of Y/N, Blood, Self depreciation

WC: 2730 words AO3 Link Here

A/N: This chapter was such a struggle for me lol, i think i rewrote it three separate times, and ended up cutting half from what i had initially written. At least i think i kicked whatever writters block i had going on finallyyy.

Masterlist

Previous. Next

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The first thing Anthe noticed upon waking was the pain. Their right shoulder and bicep stung sharply, making them hiss as they rolled from their side onto their stomach. With a grunt, they pushed themselves to their knees, their eyes struggling to adjust to the low firelight around them.

“{You are awake.}” A woman’s voice spoke calmly from somewhere nearby. Anthe startled slightly at the sound, their brain slow to register the Na’vi being spoken. An elderly woman sat nearby, watching Anthe carefully, her gaze simultaneously calculating and curious. The woman was dressed in traditional Na’vi garb, an ornate beaded shawl hanging from her shoulders. She was clearly an important member of the clan, though Anthe struggled to remember how someone of this woman’s status should be addressed. Thankfully, the woman did not seem to wait for a response, simply setting aside whatever she was working on and moving to check Anthe over. 

Anthe took the time to take in their surroundings. They sat in a large hut, its walls lined with baskets and containers filled with various plants and herbs. Looking down at themselves, Anthe was still a mess, but someone had at least attempted to clean them up, some of the filth they had accumulated having been wiped away. Under their rag of a tank top, bandages had been wrapped around their chest and shoulder. The elderly woman adjusted the bandages with delicate hands when she spoke again.

“{Is there pain?}” 

“{A-a bit.}” Anthe swallowed. They weren’t very practiced in speaking Na’vi to begin with, having to keep what little they did speak secret in the past. Now the people that they had regularly spoken the language with were gone, and they felt a stab of insecurity as they stumbled over their words.

“{What are you called?}” The woman asked, shifting from behind Anthe to their front, continuing her inspection. The woman's hands were gentle, yet firm, and her gaze unyielding.

“{I-um, Anthe… Ma’am.}” They struggled, not remembering how to address another Na’vi formally. The woman simply nodded, not acknowledging the stumble.

“{I am called Mo’at. I am Tsahik of the Omatikaya Clan.}” Anthe just stared dumbly. The title of Tsahik was familiar, they knew it meant that this woman was important within the clan, but didn’t really know how. Context would suggest that this Mo’at was at least an important healer, but Anthe knew it had to be more than that, their own ignorance frustrating them. 

“{Come.}” Mo’at said, pulling Anthe to their feet. “{My grandson has been very worried about you, and the Olo’eyktan has questions.}” Olo’eyktan. That was another important title, but this one at least, Anthe could remember, it meant ‘clan leader’. Shit, they thought, quietly following the elderly woman out of the huts tent flap. Bad enough they had been caught by the Na’vi at all, but now they were going to be questioned? They didn’t even know how to explain their situation to themselves, let alone in a way true Na’vi could understand it. Or even in Na’vi for that matter. 

Mo’at remained quiet as she led Anthe to their destination. The camp was not what they had envisioned. From what they remembered, Na’vi made their homes in massive tree villages, but here, everything was cool stone. Various tents and huts had been erected throughout a massive chamber, but none of them felt very permanent. Farther ahead they saw a cave-like entrance that opened to nothing but sky.

“{Where is this place?}” Anthe asked quietly as they followed Mo’at through the makeshift village, trying to ignore the hushed whispers and stares of other Na’vi as they passed.

“{ay’Ram a’Lusíng.}” Mo’at said simply, glancing back at Anthe from over her lithe shoulder. Anthe frowned to themselves, not recognizing the words. 

“The Hallelujah Mountains.” Mo’at translated in english, seeming to have noticed Anthe’s lack of recognition. Anthe flushed, feeling embarrassed and self conscious, but Mo’at made no comment. Soon enough the Tsahik led Anthe to another hut, it’s entrance standing open, and the woman motioned for them to step inside. 

It inside of the hut was much the same as the one they had come from, however this one looked much more lived in and decorated, sleeping mats and bags of belongings lay near the walls instead of the herb baskets from before, and there was a small cookfire burning low at the center of the stone floor. A tall Na’vi woman sat tending the fire, her long braided hair tied back and out of her face. Next to her were two younger girls, both diligently chopping fruit and vegetables to add to the pot on the fire. The older of the two, Anthe noticed, seemed to have the four fingered hands of humans, rather than the typical three fingers of other Na’vi. Towards the back of the room was a young man, lazily whittling away at a stick. 

“{Sa’nok.}” The woman spoke, looking up as Mo’at and Anthe entered the hut. 

“{Ma ite.}” Mo’at said softly as she approached, leaving Anthe by the huts entrance.

“{Grandma!}” The younger girl smiled widely, hopping up from her seat and wrapping her arms around Mo’at in a hug. She couldn’t have been older than twelve or thirteen. 

“{Hello, Tuktirey.}” Mo’at smiled back, ruffling the young girl's braids. 

“{Tuk, finish helping Kiri chop the vegetables.}” The woman said, making the girl pout slightly as she let go of her grandmother. 

“{Yes, Sa’nu.}” 

“{Indeed.}” Mo’at nodded. “{The sooner we feed our guest, the sooner they will cease having the appearance of death.}”

It was then that the group finally seemed to notice Anthe’s presence, as several pairs of bright yellow eyes flicked towards their direction. Anthe resisted the urge to shrink back and run away, feeling too aware of themselves and their appearance. Was it really that bad? Sure they hadn’t eaten very well for a while, and they were a bit dirty, but death? They stood, unmoving and unsure of themselves, until Mo’at ushered them forwards with a wave.

“{Come child.}” she said, beconning Anthe towards the fire. “This is my daughter, Neytiri, and granddaughters, Tuk and Kiri. That back there is one of my grandsons, Lo’ak, and you have met the other, Neteyam, already.” Mo’at gestured to each of them as she spoke, switching to English as she did so, landing lastly on a face that Anthe recognised. Anthe wasn’t sure how they had missed him in their initial scan of the room. Neteyam sat against the wall, some abandoned weaving project laid discarded next to him as he leaned forward, bright eyes boring into Anthe as if they would disappear if he so much as blinked. He was the same warrior from the raid that had spotted them, and the same who had gone chasing them through the forest straight into the jaws of a thanator. 

Anthe remained quiet, unsure of what to say or do. They didn’t feel confident enough in their Na’vi to respond that way, but similarly had no idea if anyone beyond Mo’at and Neteyam would understand if they spoke english. Seemingly reading their mind, Mo’at spoke.

“We all speak English, child. You need not worry about being misunderstood.” Anthe didn’t know if that made them feel better or not.

“Um…” They shifted anxiously, too many eyes watching them. “Hello… I-I’m Anthe. I-um, I do speak some Na’vi…”

Neteyam moved closer, looking bright and almost excited. He looked poised to speak but the older girl, Kiri, beat him to it.

“{Oel ngati kameie, Anthe.}” Kiri smiled. “I’m glad you’re awake, Neteyam was quite worried when he brought you to the healers tent.” Kiri’s tone was playful, and kind, not at all what Anthe had expected when encountering other proper Na’vi. Then again, none of this had been at all what they had expected. Anthe glanced over at Neteyam, seeing him flush slightly, and swat at his younger brothers teasing hands as the younger boy joined the group by the cook fire. Anthe noted that Lo’ak, just like Kiri, had hands like that of a human. A hand patted Anthe’s arm as Mo’at gestured for them to sit. Neytiri had remained mostly quiet, watching the newcomer cautiously as she continued cooking. Her gaze made Anthe shift uncomfortably as they sat.

“Neteyam said you saved the war party. Is that true?” Tuk asked curiously, her yellow eyes bright.

“I-I don't know?” Anthe shrugged. They didn’t know how much they wanted to say about what they had or had not done, and certainly didn't want to take credit for saving anyone.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Lo’ak cut in. “Did you shoot down the helicopters or not?”

“I- well yes, but-”

“So it was you!” The younger boy grinned, leaning closer. “How did you manage it? Neteyam said you had a huge gun. Can you-”

“Lo’ak, stop it, you’re freaking them out.” Neteyam scolded, pulling his younger brother back.

“I’m just asking questions.” the boy pouted. A sense of melancholy nostalgia washed over Anthe as they watched the family before them bicker lightly. It was so familiar to how they and their siblings used to be, playing and laughing together whenever they weren’t actively training. Anthe took a breath, trying to recollect themselves. It had been so long since they had been around people, so much all at once was getting overwhelming. 

“{Tsahik Mo’at. I see our guest is awake.}” A man’s voice spoke from the entrance. Anthe whipped around, body stiff and alert. Their shoulder throbbed. The man was tall, his dreadlocked hair tied back and an elaborate neck piece resting across his shoulders. The Olo’eyktan. 

“Olo’eyktan.” Mo’at greeted the man with a nod. “This is Anthe.”

“Anthe.” The man nodded. “I am Jake Sully.”

If Anthe was not frozen in place before, they were now. They knew that name. They had heard it before. Their eyes jumped to his hands. Human. He was an Avatar.

“I know you.” It was out of their mouth before they had a chance to stop themselves.

“You do?” Jake’s voice was controlled and probing, a slight furrow to his brow as he studied Anthe. He dropped to a knee, making himself more eyelevel with them.

“You’re the traitor. Mercer said-” Anthe stopped. Mercer was planning on sending them and their siblings to kill a man named Jake Sully before the attack began. He had been described as a traitor, a marine that turned against the RDA and started fighting on the side of the Na’vi. Anthe and Tenak had been the only ones to hear the briefing as squad leads, the next day they were put into the pods. 

“Mercer?” 

“John Mercer.” Anthe conceded. Hiding things would likely get them into more trouble than they were already in. “He was in charge of TAP. He said you were a traitor to the RDA.”

“TAP?”

“The Ambassador Program. Na’vi soldiers fighting for the humans.”

“When was this?” Jake asked, his tone remaining calm but his posture was stiff, ready to strike if needed. On the other side of the fire, Neytiri pulled the small Tuk behind her, hand on the hilt of her knife. Only Mo’at and Neteyam remained unmoving from their places on either side of Anthe.

“I don’t know anymore.” Anthe shrugged. They felt numb.

“What do you mean?”

“We got put in cryo. I don’t know how long I was asleep.”

The room was quiet. Anthe didn’t bother to explain or elaborate. If Jake Sully was the same man they had heard about, he knew what they meant. 

“Why were you put in cryo?”

“When the fighting started, Mercer ordered us to be… put down. ‘Leave no trace’. Our teacher saved us. She put us in cryo. She said she would be right back.” Anthe didn’t look up to see anyones reaction. Being alone for nearly a year now, they had never said it out loud.

“When the fighting started… You mean the battle that pushed the RDA out?” Jake probed further.

“I guess so? They were all dead or gone from the HQ when I woke up.”

“How many of you are there?”

“Eight.”

“And the rest of your people are out in the woods?” 

“No.” Anthe took a deep breath. “Two of them, maybe. No one else has woken up. Or they did and I didn’t. I don’t know.”

“You’re alone?” It was Tuk that spoke. Her voice, small and soft. Anthe just nodded, not trusting themselves to speak. They hadn’t said it out loud. They couldn’t.

“How did the sky demons even get Na’vi to be their soldiers? You agreed to  this?” Neytiri spoke, she sounded accusatory and confused.

“No.” Anthe snapped up, defensive. “We were taken.” Neytiri held their gaze, then nodded.

“Where is your clan?” She spoke, softer now. Anthe deflated as the hostility leaked out of the room.

“I don’t know. I don’t remember. Dead maybe.”

“Is that why you don’t speak as much Na’vi?” Kiri wondered. Anthe nodded.

“Regardless, you are safe here. You saved a lot of people by taking down those helicopters.” said Jake. He had relaxed significantly, apparently deeming Anthe as not a threat. “Neteyam said you used a large gun?”

“Sniper rifle.” Anthe nodded. “But I dropped it when the thanator got me.” They winced slightly as they rubbed their injured shoulder.

“I didn’t think they made sniper rifles big enough for Na’vi.”

“It was specially made for TAP. There's only one, I think. I’d really like to get it back.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Jake smiled lightly, patting their uninjured shoulder. “You're free to stay with us while you heal. I’ve asked Neteyam to keep an eye on you.”

“Okay.” Anthe glanced slightly at the young warrior, unsure, and he smiled warmly.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

On that very first night, Anthe had snuck out of the Sully family's hut, in an attempt to leave without causing any more trouble. They found quickly that climbing out of High Camp was going to be significantly harder than they thought, especially with only one good arm, and gave in to simply sitting and looking out at the horizon, the sun already long gone, hidden behind the moon's nightly eclipse. Not long after, Neteyam joined them, sitting down quietly a few feet away to give them space. It was quiet for a long time before Neteyam finally spoke.

“How long have you been on your own?” The question caught Anthe off guard, as they snapped up towards where Neteyam was sitting. The movement strained their injury, making them wince with a hiss. The warrior shuffled towards them, looking concerned, but Anthe held up a hand to stop him coming any closer. With a sigh and slight adjustment, Anthe settled once more before they spoke.

“A year, I think. It’s hard to keep track.”

“And you never went to a clan for shelter?”

“No, there aren't many clans that would see me and not kill on sight. I don’t exactly look like real Na’vi.”

“I suppose… But you are still Na’vi, even if some things were lost to you.” Anthe looked at the man warily. He seemed so earnest, leaning towards them with a genuine look of concern. They shouldn’t trust it, couldn’t. They didn’t belong here. Anthe turned back to the horizon, pulling their knees up to their chest. 

Neteyam inched a bit closer, following Anthe’s gaze out to the forest below. 

“You’re close with your siblings?” Anthe said, surprising even themselves. Their mind had wandered back to watching the siblings interact, and the familiar feeling it gave them.

“I am.” Neteyam chuckled lightly. “I apologize if any of them made you uncomfortable.”

“No, no, they were fine. They just… remind me of some people I used to know.” Anthe curled further in on themselves, resting their chin on their knees, their tail curling around their feet.

“The others you were with before?” Neteyam’s voice was soft, gentle.

“Yeah…” Anthe felt tears welling in their eyes, blinking hard to try and will them away before they threatened to spill over. A weight came to rest gently on their back, pulling them close to an unfamiliar warmth. Neteyam held them carefully, mindful of their wound. The reality of their possession hit Anthe like a brick, the pent up stress and pain of the last ten months finally breaking them down as they sobbed in the warriors arms. 

[dovithedarklord]

Age of Monsters - Chapter Nineteen

Pairing: OFC x Simon "Ghost" Riley, OFC x König

Tags: Slow Burn, Slow Build, Enemies to Lovers, Alternate Universe, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, POV First Person, Not Beta Read, Medical Inaccuracies, Military Inaccuracies, AFAB OC

Trigger Warning: The story will contain violance, blood and smut in detail. Please, keep that in mind!

⚠️MDNI⚠️

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Author's Note

Leona goes to a party and receives love from someone that she is not prepared for.

Hello!

I'm sorry that it took so long to post the new chapter, but unfortunately, my personal life was a total mess (work, I was sick, I was struck by electricity - but that's good because now I can at least describe what it feels like from experience, if necessary:D), but I'm here again! :D

For today's chapter, I don't have many Trigger Warnings: Violence, some blood.

Have fun! :D

I.M.L. – Infected Mammalian Lifeorm I.H.L. – Infected Humanoid Lifeorm

if you're interested you can find the story on AO3: Chapter Nineteen

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The chirping of birds that filter through the cracks of the broken windows is almost idyllic, as I slowly make my way to the place of our next meeting, and the dazzling weather outside could almost distract me from the throbbing of unsatisfied desire in my muscles. After I left my favorite Hunter alone to process the remnants of pleasure caused by my skillful little hands, and with nimble steps, I marched back to the protective solitude of my room, then the heat blooming between my legs finally had time to reach my consciousness. Because as long as my nervous system was occupied with the fascinating suffering of Riley's body, the onslaught of the flames burning in my veins seemed quite bearable, but as soon as the heady scent of the man cleared from my nose and my brain was finally able to process the events, then the effect of my little action avenged itself with such force, that for the rest of the night, I trembled quite merrily from the agony. And although I could have relieved my torment myself, and without a doubt I would have had many enticing examples to choose from among the images that surged into my memories, but thanks to the masochism that had moved into my head, I managed to keep my hand from traveling to my panties, all night thinking of Riley's dark eyes swimming in lust and the tantalizing taste of him on my tongue. Because I know that later, when he finally catches me, his revenge will be even sweeter. And maybe the fact that no one has ever managed to elicit feelings like this from me should scare me, but it bothers me less and less what new things the Hunter helps me discover about myself.

And as my feet finally lead me to the dining room, my eyes immediately find the small group of people gathered around the table, who, although they are deeply preoccupied with studying the map spread out there, raise their heads almost as soon as I cross the threshold of the neat room. The speed with which my eyes connect with the masked Hunter's is quite amusing, and I can't resist the cheeky smile that crosses my face as I discover the almost invisible movement with which he clenches his jaw for a fleeting moment. And this single action is enough for me to know that I’m not the only one who feels the smoldering longing under my skin, but that the experience that I so generously bestowed upon him flashes in his head with perfect sharpness as well. Although it's obvious that professionalism has a priority over the emotions that are raging inside him at the moment, but no matter how experienced he is, I pay attention to his smallest movements with the sharp senses of a hawk about to strike. And it doesn't take more than a wandering glance and I can see how tension passes over the arch of his broad shoulders. Would you look at that…

And from the man's reaction, hundreds of devilish thoughts form in my mind once again, and despite the warning voice in my head, I give in to their temptation, and lifting my chin high, planting a playful sway in my hips, I stroll closer to the small bunch, enjoying how Riley's eyes narrow slowly but surely with danger from my obvious, naughty little ploy. And it seems that he is not the only one who becomes aware of my good mood, because my two fanboys also notice how suspicious and satanic the curve of the widening grin on my face is, with which I stride next to them.

"Someone is in a very good mood!" Garrick comments, and the sincere interest with which he tries to decipher why life has returned to me with such vigor after yesterday's exhausting exercise is quite sweet. And I'd be lying if I said that I didn't enjoy the concentrated confusion, caused by the little scene unfolding in front of them, emanating from my two friends. But unfortunately for them, this dirty little secret is only Riley's and my business for now.

"She's almost glowin'..." MacTavish notes, sharing his apt observations as well, and it would be impossible not to hear the suspicion in his voice, the weight of which accompanies me as I walk around the table with slow but springy steps. And it would be futile to deny that my pretty little body is almost bursting with a healthy glow caused by satiety and the excited buzz of my energy, but it's also a fact that my dessert was just as effective in getting me in this crazy good mood. And the dirty thought enters my mind, that maybe I should use the services of Riley's mouth-watering body more often as part of my beauty routine, if I can achieve such a spectacular result with it.

"My late-night snack helped a lot." I hint innocently, and the meaningful look with which my eyes glide over the masked man as I take my place next to him is completely intentional. And my tiny little remark just deepens the lines of wariness that appear on the faces of MacTavish and Garrick with clear outlines, and as their eyebrows rise almost in unison to meet in a worried grimace in the middle of their forehead, I bite the inside of my cheek to stifle the smug laughter that wants to bubble up in my throat.

And I have enough evilness in me to add to the confusion created by my words, and I know that my favorite Hunter doesn't miss that tiny touch, lasting only for a tenth of a second, with which my fingers run along his arm as I lazily lean against the table to take a closer look at the map, which is now interwoven with not only the captain's but also Riley's diligent little notes. Although the drawing of the winding streets of the colony, filled with keen observations, has nothing new to offer me, but I can feel the chocolate brown eyes almost burning a hole in the sensitive skin of my face, they fixate on me with such heat, and I'm mad enough to withhold my attention from him, even after I have so vilely reminded him of the power he has placed in my hands under the cover of night. Although it would seem like nothing more than just an overheated affair to anyone else, where he alleviated my misery and I, in return, helped his suffering, but much more took place between the walls shrouded in lust. Because this terrifying man, who could kill even the most bloodthirsty mutants with a single move, and who could grind every pitiful bone of mine to dust with his bare hands, gave me control over his body and his passion to play with as I pleased. And this rekindles the drunken joy in my head, because I strongly doubt that many people have had this privilege before. And although I know that his retribution will be a thousand times more painful, I would be lying if I said that I'm not filled with joy knowing that now only the presence of our audience prevents him from taking back the reins from me, which he actually gave me voluntarily himself.

But despite how keenly my senses are sharpened for every small and invisible move of Riley, even this concentration is penetrated by the probing stare, under the intrusion of which foreboding settles in my stomach like the first unpleasant spasm of an incipient illness. And I'm not so stupid as not to pay attention to this, because the experience of our exchange is still too fresh in my head to allow myself to ignore it. With careful slowness, I divert my gaze from the handwriting on the map, and the speed with which I meet the blue eyes watching me tells me that he has been studying the little performance caused by my good mood since I set foot in the dining room. And I don't like the cold interest that shines in those piercing, icy irises at all, because I have to maintain the eye contact by force, despite the fear, that the blood in my veins could turn into poison in the wake of his watchful attention. Because even though, like the night before, König leans his broad back against the wall with perfect calmness and disturbingly collected indifference, as if he would be doing a favor by gracing us with his presence on this briefing, I see the dark outlines of the thoughts in his head, reflected in the bottomless depths of his eyes. As if he were examining excitedly moving ants under a magnifying glass, wondering when the time would come to let the sun's hot rays break through the lens. And this only strengthens the scratching of the questions appearing in my head, which all demand an answer to the doubt as to when their help will turn into something less friendly. Because it would be quite foolish to think that that moment won't come.

And all I have to do is catch the tiny little movement in my periphery with which Riley takes a step forward, and I know that I'm not the only one who noticed the rather interesting behavior of the mercenary hiding by the wall. Maybe it's luck, maybe it's the benevolent hand of fate, but Price and Nik appear in time at the gaping mouth of the dining room to interrupt the situation reminiscent of a barrel of gunpowder, for the ignition of which sooner or later, but the spark will arrive, we just have to give it time. And I'm just wildly hoping it happens after we finally don't have to be stressed about whether that fucking serum is going to help unleash another apocalypse or not.

And although the wind of the forming storm is dying down, instead of relief washing away the growing gloom dominating our little team, the furrows on the captain's forehead reassure us that we don't have to worry that we will finally have a bit of easiness in our mission. And at this point, maybe I shouldn't be surprised that fate, while we float in the middle of the sea of shit, will push us down again under the putrid waves, because it would be unusually nice if we finally got some damn good news.

"Tell me you have good news, Nik!" Garrick calls out to our pilot, and although the hope, that the buddies of our Russian friend hiding in the colony might help us track down the Rat, is mixed in his voice, but from the faint lines of doubt appearing on the Hunter’s face, it is clear that thanks to the grim expression of our leader, he also sees pitifully little chance of this happening.

"I have news." Nik gives the not-so-eloquent answer, and from the way he curves his mouth into a rather sour smile, as he and the bearded Hunter walk closer to our small gathering lined up around the table, the suspicion forms in me, that even his connections of dubious origin were not able to bring us close enough to our criminal. And this can be a detour that we cannot afford in our race with time, which we already started from a disadvantage, unless we want to party with dozens of degenerate hybrid monsters in the not-so-distant future. And I suspect that this is the awareness that helps to dispel the last sparks of the previous conflict from everyone in a instant, because the tension fills the worn walls of the spacious hall with an almost unexpected suddenness.

"That doesn't sound very promising." Garrick shares his thoughts, which aren’t the least rosy, and although he manages to put the foreboding into words that the shadow of which settles between his arched eyebrows, but from the small movement with which his dark eyes search for the captain with uncertainity, I can tell exactly how strongly this bad feeling spreads its roots in his mind with each minute, because it begins to crawl at the hidden corners of my skull with fantastic enthusiasm for me as well. 

"According to Nik's contact, there is a club in sector F, which the Rat uses as his headquarters. He deals with business there almost every day." Price shares the first important piece of information with us, pointing to the small square on the spread-out map of the colony with his gloved hand, which presumably marks our thug's favorite cave. And although, based on the content of his announcement, there would be reason for us to be at least a little bit happy, but from the presence of the cheerless edge resonating in his deep voice, I soon realize that there must be some very sinister twist in this promising news. And my infallible intuitions tell me very kindly, that we are about to l have another chance to get involved in some unneeded excitement again. Great.

"That's good news, isn't it?" MacTavish asks in confusion, searching the tangled network of streets stretching between the buildings resting on the ragged map, no doubt already thinking about which road would be the most suitable to lead him to the Rat unnoticed, so that he could finally get his hands, itching from the repressed aggression of the last few weeks, on the bastard's neck. And although I'm sure they are buzzing with the motivation to finally make a nice bow from the asshole's guts in the most creative ways possible, but as I notice the dark clouds passing over Nik's eyes, I begin to suspect that he will soon blurt out the critical detail that will ruin my Scottish friend's bloodthirsty ideas. 

"His people are around every corner. It's impossible to get close to him without him knowing about it." Our pilot shakes his head resignedly, presenting the same problem that has kept us on our asses so far and prevented my brutal friends from digging their sharp little teeth into their victim. And according to this, even though we have become richer with a location, the situation hasn't changed, and the sharp ears and watchful eyes of our target are still waiting in every nook and cranny for someone to turn up to hunt him down. Because I'm pretty sure he is smart enough to know that his little transaction won't go unnoticed for long if clever enough bloodhounds pick up the scent at the end of the blood-soaked trails. And he is also aware of what valuable trinket he has laid his hands on, and that sooner or later the original owner will be looking for where his destructive toy has disappeared.

"We can be quiet." Garrick declares firmly, and there is no doubt that his statement is true, because if it only depended on their imperceptibility, then our target, with the help of their chosen torture methods, would have spilled where to find the serum long ago. But unfortunately, even their remarkable abilities cannot solve this situation any faster. "Especially Ghost." He adds, when his gaze settles on the masked Hunter, who stands motionlessly in silence next to me and just nods in agreement with his teammate's very apt remark. And although I have already experienced countless times what Riley is capable of, when the goal is conceived in his mind filled with merciless ideas, now we are not going to get anywhere with sheer force. Because we need the Rat alive, and this is a complication that severely limits the repertoire of their bloodthirsty tactics.

"Not quiet enough." Nik objects, nipping Garrick's positivity in the bud, which makes me almost feel sorry for the Hunter, as I see how annoyed he purses his pursed lips. But no matter his irritation, the Russian is right, if we screw up now, we are never going to be able to find the seller or the product again. "There is an extensive underground tunnel system under Colony No. 2, he uses that, and he can escape at any time. He got his name from this." The man explains, thereby revealing a difficulty that only adds another shovelful of potential complications to the pile of rotting misery and misfortune, which slowly closes us in its hot embrace. Because what are the chances that such tricky little pathways are hidden in the very colony where we are about to play a cat-and-mouse game with a seasoned criminal who probably knows these hidden passages like the back of his fucking hand. Fabulous. "He can smell the Hunters from afar." He adds this non-negligible addition to the end, confirming the hunch that has been buzzing in the winding furrows of my brain until now.

And as unfortunate as this development is for us, it's not even a bit surprising that an outlaw with dangerous business dealings has developed a sixth sense to know when his natural predator is targeting him. It's true that the main task of the Hunters is the methodical slaughter of mutants, but everyone is aware that enough criminals drift under their brutal little hands to know how unlucky it is to spot one of the colonies' faithful dogs. And although perhaps a lower-class Hunter would still be able to blend into the herd of unsuspecting civilians, as I run my eyes over my small team, it becomes painfully obvious that neither their imposing physical attributes nor their threatening aura make them ideal for getting close enough to catch the Rat before he takes off in one of his mouseholes. Because it's also quite evident that such an important gangster surrounds himself with a dozen lapdogs, and if a speck of dust falls suspiciously on the ground, he will hightail it out of there.

"But we need the information." Horangi finally joins the conversation, reminding us of the urgent fact that, even without his intervention, enthusiastically turns the atmosphere around us more pregnant by the minute. "I still think we should smoke him out." He says easily, leaning against the wall in the shadow of his overgrown companion as if he still wouldn't understand what the problem is with his otherwise undoubtedly bomb-proof approach. At other times, I might even present him with a sarcastic comment, to enjoy his reaction with my harsh little soul, I might even analyze what kind of weakness he reveals with it, but now my brain capacity is far too preoccupied with the problem, which is enriched with more and more details the deeper we dive into its exploration.

"It wouldn't do any good. He doesn't have that thing with him, that's for sure." Nik continues, adding to the previous obstacles, and he doesn't need to spell out why it's a complication for us that the fucker is not roaming the streets with our little potentially-world-ending chemical in his pocket. Because as the slurred mumble of a colorful curse leaves MacTavish's mouth, I know everyone suddenly realizes that we are now trying to reach into an anthill in which we have no chance of finding the queen by chance.

"So we don't know where the serum is." Riley summarizes, putting into words the very apparent difficulty that makes the whole situation just tad bit disastrous. Because, up until now, we have entered the new chapter of our complicated adventure with the assumption that the Rat, in fear of his product suddenly vanishing into thin air, will rather keep it close to himself for his peace of mind. And while it wouldn't have been far-fetched to think that he wouldn't even trust his own mother enough to let her guard such a valuable thing, but in light of the fact that there is a whole network of tunnels that he knows more intimately than his own dick, its more likely that he will hide there the goods that he acquired during such great efforts.

"No." Price confirms our fears, and this one word rolls off his tongue so grimly that it quickly becomes clear how happy he is about this turn of events. And I only need to observe how the little muscle on his jaw jumps to know, that it's only the self-control he has practiced over the years that prevents him from shredding the equipment into confetti to show off the frustration raging inside him right now. "He's a sly bastard, he knows it's not worth taking any risks until the deal is sealed." He explains, running his palm along his beard with a weary movement, giving way to an irritated sigh rising in his throat, in which the power of rage flowing from his pores is concentrated.

"Fuck." MacTavish pushes himself away from the table furiously, and drags his hands along the line of dark hair running on his head with such angry momentum that it seems for a minute as if he wants to tear out the short locks tangled between his fingers. "We're runnin' out of time." He names the most pressing problem of the whole case, and his tone is mixed with the restrained rage that tells me just how much the obstacles popping up in front of us bring him dangerously close to losing the last fragile crumbs of his patience.

And suddenly, a heavy silence sweeps through the room, settling into the cracks that spread like old, gangrenous wounds on the worn walls, and in this terrible quietness, nothing but the taunting of the cheerful chirping of birds that filters in from outside echoes. For it seems that karma, on the welcoming lap of nature wrapped in spring, is having fun with the corner it forces us into with each passing day, because there is no explanation as to why fate throws us more and more hurdles that we have to climb over with sweat and blood. But it must be said that this move is quite brilliant, because now that the solution to this absurd mess, full of mutants and death, is finally within our reach, we are forced to be at a standstill like a bunch of helpless idiots.

We might be able to use some clever trick to get close to our asshat, and I suspect it would take Riley approximately two minutes to pull this feat off if it was enough to gut the bastard. But we need him alive, or the chance of finding out where the serum is will be obliterated with his spilled brain marrow. And although it would be better for everyone if that wretched chemical rotted in the endless maze of tunnels, I have the sneaking feeling that such an interesting thing wouldn't stay buried forever. Because if the master rat were to die, there would definitely be some sharp-eyed minion who could find a way to satisfy the market demand, since in such organizations there is always someone who knows just enough to take advantage of the opportunity when it's presented on a silver platter along with the severed head of their boss. So the Rat must be alive, and most of all unsuspecting, because if Nik's information is only half-credible, then in the event of a raid, he will cut and run before my friends have a chance to work on him. And without the Rat, we will never find the our prize in that labyrinth.

But this one observation is enough to finally free me from my perplexity, and like a bolt of lightning, my brain is enlightened in a flash, and I suddenly feel incredibly stupid for ignoring the obvious answer that was right in front of my nose all this time. After all, there is someone in our little team who spent half her life perfecting that vile invisibility, with which she happily hid from the watchful eyes of the authorities, like a pretty, cunning little snake. Oh, Leona… you forgot about your wonderful past pretty quickly, didn't you?

"What if he leads us to the serum?" I present the introduction of my sly idea, effectively breaking the tense atmosphere. And this one question is enough for all eyes to be fixed on me in an instant, and I don't need to say a word for the captain to realize with his honed senses, from the first glint of malice that moves into my eyes, that something very interesting was taking shape in my little head. Because his eyes narrow suspiciously, like a tired parent who already knows that whatever leaves the mouth of his child, nothing good will come out of it for him.

"What do you mean?" Price inquires, and a layman might believe that only the caution of paternal worry sits in his tone, but I already know the man better than that, and I'm aware that the hoarseness that paints his voice with curiosity comes more from an incipient disagreement than from concern. However, my little plan will be the only thing that can pull us out of that screwed-up hole, from which we wouldn't be able to get out even with tooth and nails any other way.

"I'll solve your problems." I announce easely, waving towards the map with such an elegant gesture, as if I wasn't offering them my services that I had refined over the years. Although it takes a fleeting second for the spark to light up in each of their brains, and they understand what I'm trying to convey, even through the noise of the devilish thoughts raging in my head, I see how forcefully surprise mixed with outrage takes over the facial expressions of my little team. And I can pinpoint the exact moment when they realize what I'm offering, because the lines of genuine astonishment stretch through Garrick's face, turning his handsome features into something quite comical.

"Out of the question." Riley snaps almost without hesitation, and his objection is so unexpected that I'm forced to reward it with a bewildered look. And if the definite depth of his voice wasn't interesting enough, then the fiery light flashing in the dark irises ruffles my enthusiasm for my brilliant plan. Because it's rather difficult for me to understand why the pent-up anger moves into his muscles when we both know that we are floundering in the middle of a party for which this will be the quickest and surest solution. And the nasty little voice in my head whispers its nonsensical message in my ear, that this isn't the first time I see the faint lines of disapproval appearing on the skin coated in black paint, and maybe in his own way he is telling me that he is afraid of my little body being wrecked by someone else. But this sudden thought reminds me that this is exactly the reaction I need to do this tricky little venture. Because I'm willing to risk life and limb, so that I can feel how the hot displeasure emanating from his gaze burns my face for many years to come.

"Ghost is right. You're tryin’ to walk into the wolf den alone, lassie." The Scottish Hunter shares his doubts as well, and I have the opportunity to admire the firm lines of opposition on his face, because they arrange his features into a dark expression with such enthusiasm that it is quite sweet. And although the worry flashing in his bright eyes warms up my cruel little heart, his behavior gives me just one more reason to know that I came up with the right concept.

"I appreciate your concern, but you forget how I got into the team." I note this detail, effectively reviving the unfortunate slip-up committed not so long ago that ended my secret little hiding career. And although today I'm mostly grateful to fate for helping me move into the new phase of my life with such a merciless slap in the face, luckily it didn't turn me into a saint, so my experiences live on in me very vividly. And in light of that, ensnaring a damned criminal doesn't seem like a difficult task in the least, because over the years I've managed to make stupid bastards like him lose their minds and walk unsuspectingly into my waiting hands. And since muscle and sheer violence won't help us out in this case, it's time to use my feminine skills, because, with the honey of my charming little body, it will be much easier to lure in this disgusting fly.

"This is going to be real now. You won't have a weapon and you won't be able to call for help." Price warns, placing his large palms on the table, and as he leans forward, his shoulders tense and his gaze fills with something quite hard, which makes me understand that, although his not over the moon in the least, he is forced to agree to my reckless proposal, because, at the moment, out of the countless difficult roads, this is the least impossible.

"I don't need anything but my hands, do I?" I lift one of my pretty little hands, allowing only a fleeting moment for the energy pooling in her fingertips to heat up excitedly at the promise of a delicious prey. And they should also know that no matter how harmless I may seem, it's precisely this sneaky and mean ability that makes me such an effective predator. And we don't need more than that right now. "I'll go in, trick him, and wire him up. And he leads us to the serum."

"And what do you do with these?" Garrick names the only obvious problem, pointing his hand towards my eyes and sweet little canines, eliciting a nod of agreement from the Hunter with the mohawk, who merely raises one of his dark eyebrows with his hands laced into his tactical vest, curiously waiting to see what kind of answer I will give to this small unpleasant detail. "He'll find out that you're Extreme." The man adds to his doubts, curling the corner of his mouth down with sincere doubt, as if he had really shared a reason that could make my diabolical idea fail. And his naivety is quite amusing, because neither my unusual pupils nor my small teeth will be a problem, I just have to choose the right approach. And I'm pretty good at that.

"Don't worry." I utter lightly, and I see the worry on the faces of my kind friends when I spread my lips in a grin similar to that of a demon from hell. "I'll make sure he's not going to be able to focus on that."

⃰

Although it's already the end of spring, the night breeze that travels through the walls of worn buildings caresses my bare arms with chilly fingers, but I don't care that goosebumps prickle on every square centimeter of my skin following its attack. Because it just helps my attire for tonight to become even more efficient, and I can be almost certain that my nipples peeking under the thin material of my rather risque dress will beneficially distract attention from the dubious intentions with what I stroll into a nightclub in the middle of the street, loud with blaring music.

After our small discussion, I almost immediately stepped into the field of action, and thanks to Nik's rather extensive connections, he smuggled me through the walls of the colony so unnoticed that it once again raised the question of how did the man acquire such important friends. But considering how we managed to slip through the tight check with the help of some very questionable looking guys, I decided that some answers were better off buried, so I accepted that he got me close enough to the finish line to figure out the rest of my own like a smart girl I am. And it wasn't difficult for my nasty hands to find someone in the hustle and bustle of the nightlife who seemed unsuspecting and pretty enough to be worth stealing her fun outfit of the night. Perhaps, if I had been a little bit more compassionate, I wouldn't have had the heart to knock out an innocent civilian and strip her of the clothes, bought with great effort and presumably with a lot of credit, but necessity is a much greater force than niceness, so I only had exactly enough kindness to haphazardly hang my own clothes on her and drag her behind a container, so that she can have her well-deserved beauty sleep, with which I so generously gifted her.

Although even before the departure, they were full of worry and doubt as they set me up for my trip, now as I walk along the street bathed in flickering neon lights, I only hope that my friends, who have retreated into the shadows, will also see what kind of disguise I have put together for this exciting little occasion, because their little souls will immediately be freed from the pressure of the fear of my downfall. And the knowledge that my favorite Hunter is probably following my little action from the top of one of the buildings with prying eyes, only makes the swaying of my hips even more seductive, because, in my mind's eye, I see his jaw clenching under the mask as the idea slowly forms in his head of how he will teach me a lesson because of my obvious misbehavior. Because although I will do everything only for the sake of the success of the mission, the fact is that there is also a slight, malicious intent in me, with which I would like to finally push the man to the edge of the abyss of his patience. And even though I don't have the opportunity to ask him how he likes my dress that fits me like a second skin, I have a feeling that my audacity won’t go unanswered. Until then, however, he will be forced to watch as a spectator, because I was quite serious when I told them so innocently that I would find a way to make sure that no one would be able to pay attention to the little nothings that betray my kind. But it wouldn't be a problem even if that happened, because perhaps I would seem an even tastier snack to that dipshit thug.

There is no need for me to recall the road leading to the Rat's hideout, because the club stands out from the gray concrete blocks with such ostentatious splendor, as if it wanted to lead uninvited guests to itself with a deliberate intention. Maintaining the signs in all the colors of the rainbow must be a small fortune, and even if this wouldn't give it away, then the row of cars parked next to the sidewalk, perhaps salvaged before the outbreak of the virus, can be enough of a warning sign that it's not the simple everyday-people who have strayed here to let out the tired steam. Such a carefully guarded machine would supply half a colony with food stamps, and this kind of bragging is just another fine proof that our criminal feels safe enough to dare to allow himself such a show. And even without super-senses, I can feel the searching eyes fixed on me from the dirty depths of the hidden alleys, as I march closer to the building, noisy with the pounding of the bass. There is a vermin around every corner, vigilantly waiting to alert the boss. How fucking smart.

It seems that the sea of dubious figures may have gathered in honor of an even bigger occasion than usual, because the people crowding in front of the entrance are pushing and shoving almost impatiently to get into the party, but the sizable tough guys stationed in front of the door stand like an impenetrable wall in front of the mass. And maybe it should worry me that, falling in the middle of an unknown important event, there might be more dangerous thugs standing between me and my target, but the bigger the commotion, the less attention will be focused on a hot but silly little girl like me. Only one person needs to spot me, and I could easily make that happen even if I were woken up from my sleep.

Perhaps I should thank fate for luring so many idiots here today, because I mingle with a group of girls heading for the entrance with such imperceptible charm as I finally reach the wretched club, like I had always been one of them. With the greatest naturalness in the world, I link my arms with one of the girls laughing drunkenly, and when she just curiously raises her alcohol-foggy eyes at me, I send a jolt of my energy into her defenseless body with a cheerful laugh, just enough to make her focus more on not ending up on the ground from the sudden dizziness, rather than what kind of unknown stranger joined her in the fun. And I don't have to be disappointed, because the stars that must have appeared in front of her eyes make her feet, hidden in stilettos, suddenly buckle, and she distracts one of the big gorillas just enough to make him not want to examine us more thoroughly, while he lets us in ahead of the gathered herd into the pit mocked as a nightclub. I don't mind the series of disdainful glances piercing my back when I pass between the two security men with my small group of decorative ladies, because no matter the appearance of the mutants, the world hasn't changed so much that pretty, fuckable fresh meat doesn't have priority when it comes to partying. But this is exactly the little detail that will benefit me so generously today.

And as soon as I'm swallowed up by the corridor leading to the club, I move on with my new companions, accompanied by the shadows painted on the wall by the flashing lights, and I'm almost overcome with nostalgia, as the pulsation of the music resonates through my bones. The excited anticipation, that reared its head in my subconscious every time I drifted into a cesspool like this to look for dinner, moves into my muscles. And maybe the fact that I got richer with a delicious bite at the end of each evening developed a real reflex in me, because hearing the unrecognizable booming tunes, my mind almost automatically focuses on the hunt, as we arrive into the huge room full of people. When we reach the edge of the crowd writhing in a daze, I unobservedly separate myself from the bunch of girls to lean against one of the walls and spy on the field. According to the plan, I should spend here as little time as possible, because the shorter the time they see me, the smaller the chance that someone can notice what kind of delicacy has been thrown here in my person. And the success of my disguise and operation depends quite a lot on how sneaky I can be, so I have to be on the lookout.

I was not mistaken in that the Rat didn't spare the credit for furnishing his sanctuary with enough frippery, because the garish luxury emanates from every corner of the spacious hall with such violence that it's quite nauseating. Gilded tendrils run along the marble columns stretching up to the ceiling at the edge of the dance floor, and I can tell without much expertise that, despite the glitz, all the expensive-looking decorations are at least as fake as the stench of cheap booze in the air. And although the lights flickering rhythmically from the many lamps may distract attention from the tasteless mosaic of a lion's head on the floor, which the dancers are obliviously tramping on, it cannot be denied that this den belongs to a figure who considers fake splendor important enough to pack it into every nook and cranny. Perfect. He will be the exact target that my seductive little curves will be able to keep off his feet long enough to walk into my clutches, because it's enough to charm the eyes of such stupid idiots to turn off their brains.

I catch the thug I'm looking for with almost ridiculous speed, because the platform in the far corner of the dance floor stands out with an egoism worthy of him, on which he sprawls with such comfort as a self-proclaimed king. He leans back on the couch covered in cheap silk with almost grandiose confidence, gesticulating with such ferocity towards the grim-faced gangsters sitting on the other side of the glass table, as if he were sharing some truly valuable wisdom with them. And if he wasn't wearing sunglasses in the middle of the night, I would even believe that he has some brain cells in his head, but the whole picture looks like a pathetic show, which is usually performed by tough men like him to compensate for their small size. The thought occurs to me with quite a bit of glee, that karma could not have chosen a better target for me, because this kind of prey has such a pleasant aftertaste that is hard to beat. Because when they become aware of what it feels like to endure my attack so defenselessly, the rage and fear that fills them between my claws makes their blood taste quite spicy, like mature wine.

I only hesitate for a fleeting moment, then I let the power of habit take control of my body, and I push myself from my previous hiding place with such airy elegance that it fills every fiber of me with the lustful energy that I know will be able to draw my victim's attention to me. Keeping my eyes on my chosen target, I cut through the crowd of people united by rhythmic movements, and with the graceful steps of a cat about to pounce, I avoid the entangled bodies drifting in my path, almost intoxicated by the smell of nauseatingly strong perfume and sweat floating in the air. And although I haven't been lucky enough to practice the techniques I have learned through hard work for months, my hips start to sway almost unconsciously when I reach the perfect spot and begin my little performance. I let the power of the bass emanating from the huge speakers creep into my limbs and guide my every heated movement with invisible hands, and I allow myself to be immersed in my lonely dance, because the more intoxicated I appear, the easier it will be to convince my target that I am nothing more than a desperate, thirsty whore.

And even though I'm anchored far enough that those pesky little details that could later identify me cannot be spotted, I'm just close enough to attract interest, and when I feel the hot gaze burning my skin even through my closed eyelids, I forcefully tame the sarcastic grin that wishes to climb on my face into a seductive smile. The laziness with which I slide my hand along the line of my throat is intentional, as I throw my head back and focus all my bewitching charms into every small movement of my body, and there is nothing accidental in the way my eyes flutter open, as my fingers stop on their journey, lingering at the bold cleavage of my dress. And for a few fleeting moments, I pretend to be just jolted awake from the intoxication of the music, and then almost immediately I find the hungry leer of my chosen thug, who drinks in every corner of my enticing figure with such intense intrusion, as if I had really succeeded in hypnotizing him.

It's pathetically easy to pinpoint when he decides he likes me enough to want to taste me, because he even ditches those stupid glasses to adequately revel in my one-of-a-kind show. And although I know that I test luck with my braveness, but as my eyes are intertwined with his, my curious tongue glides over my lips with just a sensual movement, and when, for a moment, my fingers teasingly wander under the hem of my dress, snug against my thighs, then I know that I have won the game. Because that disgusting grin that spreads across his mouth is a painfully clear sign that all the blood has flowed from his brain to his dick, and from now on he is letting that tiny little organ guide his actions. How predictable…

But like someone who is quite innocently unaware of the deep impression I made on this idiot, I continue my inviting activity, because I know for a fact that it's only a matter of time before he invites me to himself. It's almost comical when, a few minutes later, a rough hand lands on my shoulder, pulling me out of my soft rocking, and I look back at the mustachioed gentleman, who presumably came to pick me up for his boss's cock warmer for the night.

"You got lucky, little girl." He says without hesitation, shouting over the loud music with his hoarse voice, and I don't need to be particularly well-informed about underworld affairs to understand what he wants to convey with his careless nod of his head and his words, because it's a universal signal that is the same everywhere in the world for ripe girls like me. And as I peek over the burly man's cheap, gaudy shirt-clad shoulder and spot the Rat, I have to suppress the laughter that rises in my throat, because even though he may be shining in his mind like a real jackpot, as he stands up smugly beckoning towards him with his fingers, it's painfully obvious that how easy it will be for me to hunt him down. Because it doesn't even occur in his stupid little head who he is inviting to private fun in my pretty little person. But it's not his fault, because the prey is never aware of when it is being stalked.

And it seems that the criminal leader sees the matter settled with this little instruction, because after a last little joking comment, he comfortably sets off towards the small, well-hidden door opening at the side of the room, and then his subordinate sees that the time has arrived to deliver the delicious package to his boss. The big hand of the gorilla firmly begins to guide me towards the edge of the partying mass, and I obediently let him expertly direct me towards my new destination, occasionally sneaking a little drunken uncertainty into my steps to make my already award-winning performance as authentic as possible. The easier victim I look, the less they will suspect what a nasty little plan I'm up to, and the easier it will be for me to disappear into the darkness of the memories of unknown girls. And from the contemptuous, dirty look with which the asslickers participating in the previous meeting examine my desirable little body, I can be quite sure that this is not the first time they have seen this scene unfold. And when one of the guys with a face disfigured by scars blows me a mocking kiss with an obscene but no less pitiful gesture, it also quickly becomes clear that their leader is generous enough to share his used toys with them when he is done with them. And because of this, the spark of mercy, which might have been hidden in the depths of my dark little soul, evaporates like the imagination of an oasis rising before a dying pilgrim in the desert. Not that I'm ever going to have any sympathy for my snacks, but this scumbag just makes my job easier by acting like the nastiest louse the world has ever seen. Wonderful.

My escort pushes me over the threshold of the door perhaps more forcefully than necessary, as if he is afraid that I will change my mind after seeing the narrow corridor bathed in red neon, and from the way his fingers tighten on my shoulder, I conclude that it wouldn’t be the first time that the courage of the ladies who wandered here disappeared. But he doesn't have to be afraid, because I continue to cooperate with the naivety of a silly bitch, and I let him nudge me towards one of the countless windowless doors, so that when, after a rough knock, the entrance opens, then he, without further ado, can usher me into the tiny room. And as the only way of escape closes behind me with a loud bang, the game, for what I dragged my sexy ass here in the first place, starts.

The over-decorated tastelessness has found its way into the crimson walls of the small room a well, and the smell of cheap cologne spreads like a disgusting disease from every corner, but I don't have to look long for the source that was able to plant this god-awful stench here. Because my criminal has already taken his place, and all my cells are filled with disgust and malice, as I see his hungry eyes sliding along the lines of my bare legs, and I don't have to think much about whether he likes my outfit for tonight, because between his spread legs, straining under the material of the tight trousers, there is the clearly visible proof of his opinion. And his enthusiasm might even be flattering, if he didn't make my work almost painfully easy.

"I liked your dance." He notes, and the hoarseness of desire settles into his voice as his gaze wanders to the delicate mounds of my breasts hidden under my dress, and this is exactly the reaction I need. Oh, you stupid fool. "Come here." He tries to lure me closer, but due to the impatience in his tone, his request sounds more like an order, but his rudeness doesn't bother me. Because even though he stretches out on the leather couch as the all-powerful lord of his little empire steeped in violence and crime, and a sticky aura of superiority emanates from every cell of him, he is no more than prey. Not even if he doesn't know who he's been left alone with.

"If you liked it, maybe I should give you an encore." I suggest coquettishly as I wander closer to him, and the seductive hum I put in my voice is quite intentional. And even without his affirmation, I know how much he likes my idea, because he slurps up the golden contents of the glass resting in one of his tattooed hands so hastily, as if he would regret every drop of attention it's taking away from me. How cute.

"Go on. Show what you’ve got and maybe you can entertain me some more later too!" He offers generously, and from the wide grin that crosses his clean-shaven face, I know that he truly thinks that he is giving me a real honor. And though my tongue is stung by the sardonic remark that takes hold in my mind like poison, I let him lull himself into this vain fantasy, because until then he doesn't wonder why his company tonight has become so willing. For even though I don't have the keen senses of my dangerous friends, I can still smell the sweaty stench of the gorilla's body wafting from the door, and this fool wouldn't have to stand guard if his boss's human sex dolls didn't want to run off so often.

But I don't even give that idiot time for suspicion to appear in his sparse brain cells, because I continue my lustful little dance much sooner than his pathetic neural pathways can start to work. And the tempting heat that weaves through my every move is conscious, as I slowly settle between his comfortably spread thighs, and the mesmerized expression with which he follows the erotic movements of my hips is quite charming. I make sure that lustful desire moves to every fiber of me, and as Riley's gaze, dark with pleasure, flashes before my mind's eye, I feel that the tingle moving under my skin only makes my seduction even more believable. The longer my show goes on, the stronger the weight of hunger in his eyes becomes, and I feel almost honored by how obviously I impress him. And as my single-minded thug wets his dry lips in fascination, I know it's time to get to the point.

The moment comes pretty soon when he loses his patience and feels just the sight isn't enough anymore, and then he leans forward with almost desperate speed to smooth his big palms on my waist. There's nothing gentle about the way he grips me, and I'm pretty sure if my little body wasn't amped up by my genes, bruises would stain my skin purple under his touch. As his fingers tighten and dig into me with hungry desire to stop the sensual swaying of my hips, and his gaze finally lifts to my face for the first time during our little acquaintance, then I let that taunting grin spread across my lips, flashing my pretty little teeth at him. I see the faint light of confusion slip through his lust-clouded eyes, but by the time he can understand why vertical pupils are looking back at him, one of my clever hands has already started on its dangerous little journey, and it's too late. My palm clasps to his bald head with such speed that he doesn't have time to come to his senses, and by the time his brain can understand what is happening, my energy has already reached his defenseless little body. His eyes roll back into his skull with an almost spasmodic force, as my ability pushes him towards unconsciousness, and as soon as the first wave of my power sweeps through him, he willingly slumps back on the couch.

And although I would love to continue to admire how pathetic he looks, as he lies on the cheap sofa with the grace of a rag doll, but unfortunately I have much more important things to do than enjoying these small pleasures. That's why I get to work instead, because it's only a matter of time before someone shows up after hearing the suspicious silence and wants to check up on our dear Rat. With a firm move, I position the man's heavy body, and with no less violence, I yank his shirt out of the confines of his pants, and as soon as his upper body, interwoven with blurred patterns, is revealed, my crafty little hands wander under my clothes to search for the tiny cloth pouch in which all the necessary supplies for my outing tonight were sneakily hidden until now. With nimble movements, I release the small package from the trap of the strap of my underwear to fish out the flat piece of plastic with which this half-wit will lead us to the goods that we are so eager about. And my expert eyes immediately start searching for the ideal place where the small device can find a new home on the surface soaked in black ink. And when I settle and find the perfect target on the supple skin of his steadily rising belly, I pull out the carefully wrapped blade that Riley had so carefully bestowed upon me. Although the small tool is no bigger than a few centimeters, the masked Hunter assured me that, despite all my doubts, the edge belies its size. And indeed, as I peel my tiny weapon from its protective holster, it pierces through the tissues, soft with fat, slicing the unconscious man's stomach with flawless ease, like a hot knife cuts through butter.

My nose is hit by the appetizing scent of the fat drops of dripping blood, and although my mouth instinctively salivates from the whiff of the metallic aroma, I have more pressing matters to take care of rather than indulge in a quick snack. And before I let the wandering thoughts in my head tempt me to be naughty, I activate the tracker and push it into the exposed wound with a not-so-subtle movement, just deep enough so that my unsuspecting victim doesn't have a chance to realize what a twisted little gift I have given him. Once I'm satisfied with the way the tiny device fits into the embrace of wet flesh, with the caress of the energy flowing into my fingertips, I help the injury heal as if nothing had happened. And I quickly wipe away the stray drops that try to roll down on the undamaged skin, treating myself to a small munch.

To ensure the success of the party, my cunning little hands search for the communicator hiding in the pocket of the criminal sleeping like a baby, so that the last guest of honor of the evening can also appear in the image of that small chip, which, thanks to Garrick, will function as our ears when our illegal businessman plunges into managing his affairs again. Following the Hunter's instructions, I pop open the back of the device and slip the tricky little piece of metal in among the sea of small components, so that I can then, with the same speed, remove the traces of my sneaky little activity and sink the gadget back into the depths of the guy's tight pocket.

And as quickly as I completed the finale of my mission, I decided so urgently that it's time to hop the stick and clear out, because according to the plan, my taxi will arrive after activating the chip, which is the end of this dangerous little fun. I only take one last look at the unfortunate fool, who is peacefully dozing on the couch, and he seems so vulnerable that an absolutely brilliant idea is conceived in the grim little corners of my mind, and guided by this, I snatch up his wallet that has wandered onto the leather cover and rob it from its contents, let him believe for the sake of appearances, that a thieving bitch knocked him out and that is why his private fun was so exciting.

Hiding my small blade in the depth of the narrow gap on the sofa cover and wedging the stolen credits into the strap of my panties, I put on the disguise I need for my leave. I walk to the door while ruffling my hair, conjuring the shame of a humiliated and exploited little girl on my face, and I know that my portrayal is authentic, because as soon as the dim corridor is revealed again and I come face to face with the tough guy guarding outside, I see the unmistakable sparks of contempt flash in his eyes, with which he accompanies my hasty escape. As if this disdain would drive despair into me, I hurry towards the nightclub, sneaking a sad sniff or two into my artistic show. And when the blast of deafening melodies engulfs me again, and the corridor leading to the sex cave disappears behind me, I drop my mask and throw myself into the crowd of dancers with determined urgency, counting down the seconds in my head until the babysitter finally realizes what happened to his boss, and decides to follow me in the hope of a friendly interrogation.

And my intuition doesn't let me down now either, because I'm just about to reach the middle of the dance floor when I catch the commotion on the other side of the crowded room in my peripheral vision. The door of the corridor hiding the windowless rooms slams open with such force that even the boom of the bass is penetrated by the crash with which the thick wooden board smashes against the wall. And the angry temper with which the tough guy bursts out, who so beautifully defended his boss's lustful entertainment, doesn't promise anything good, because I suspect that he will soon turn this fierce enthusiasm to my search. And although for the time being the cover of the herd of bodies hides me from the prying eyes, I know that my minutes are numbered, and the sooner I set sail, the less chance there will be that I will have to use the useful tricks learned in my training. Therefore, putting aside all subtleties, I push through the surging mass, and when I reach the edge of the herring party, I charge towards the exit, only passingly aware of how a dozen guards band together to avenge their leader's ugly grievances.

Even I'm surprised with how quickly I reach the entrance of the club, and for once I thank biology that it missed a few centimeters when planning my height, because it's the only reason that I'm able to slip through the tight protection of the humongous lackeys, blending in among the partygoers pouring out. And for a few narrow meters, I try to stick to a smaller group, because I see the hawk-like attention with which the dangerous-looking guys begin to scan the people loitering in the darkness of the street after they receive the order to find the Rat's vile attacker through the radio in their ears. The urge to escape fills every part of my body, but I don't give in to the pressure that moves to my stomach and tries to encourage me to run, because that would put the target on my back. Therefore, imitating drunken carelessness, I continue to hang out with the unsuspecting fools who function as my disguise, and all my nerves are strained in the minutes that seem like millennia that I spend in this feigned uncertainty.

And for a passing moment it looks like my luck will hold until I'm far enough, but as soon as I hear the inarticulate yelling of one of the security men calling my cover group to a halt, I know I have run out of fortune and I'd better take a powder. I don't wait for the thug's henchmen to catch up with us, but hastily kick off the stolen high heels from my feet, and breaking away from the unknowing, drunkenly carefree civilians, I start running at such frantic speed, like a gazelle running from a lion. And I have no doubt that if I don't manage to vanish quickly enough, they will gut me with the greatest joy for hurting their employer. This sufficiently injects the power of adrenaline into my muscles, which helps me increase my already hasty sprint, and excludes all distractions from my mind, except the thought of running away.

Accompanied by the rumble of heavy footsteps behind me and the sound of my shallow breaths, I race further and further away from the welcoming proximity of the deafening music and colorful lights, and I'm only vaguely aware that I should now reach the rendezvous point, as the previously lively neighborhood turns into gray desolation. And I'm just startled enough by the stinging pain of the bullet that grazes my shoulder to not notice the huge hand that emerges like a blurred shadow from the depths of one of the alleys, past which I run at such a rushed pace. And before my mind, blinded by stress, can even comprehend what is happening, the unknown force grabs me and pulls me into the stomach of the dirty side street as easily as if I were nothing more than a helpless rag doll.

The scream that creeps up my throat is reflexive, but before the evidence of the terror tearing into me can even pass my lips, a large palm clamps to my mouth, and the rough material of the glove absorbs my desperate whimper. And instinctively, the power to fight for survival awakens in me, and I try to trash against my attacker like a rabid cat, but despite the fact that a deadly amount of power flows into my fingertips, which could instantly bring anyone close to a stroke, I can't touch anything but the fabric of the black uniform. However, when an arm wraps around my waist, and I feel the power hidden in the muscles that press against a giant body, I freeze with the shock of a frightened animal caught in a trap.

And it seems that this fills the unknown assailant with sufficient satisfaction, because the strength of the shackles holding me in check eases a bit, and although I'm no longer afraid that the stranger will crack my spine or tear off my jaw with a random movement, it still takes a few torturous seconds, before the oxygen reaches my brain through the air inhaled through my nose, and quiets my alarmed thoughts so much that I can understand what is happening. And when I'm able to pay attention, the sound of shoes echoing in the street reaches my ears, and I only catch it out of the corner of my eyes as the group of minions sent after me storms past us amid angry curses. Only one guy spares a cursory glance at the inhospitable darkness where the stranger and I hide, but he has no chance of discovering us, for we are pressed up too tightly against the damp brick wall for a mere mortal to notice. As the noise of my pursuers slowly fades away, the furious pounding of my heart subsides, and as my nerve cells break free from fear, I have the opportunity to recognize who my new savior might be.

Although at first the scent that crept into my nose, reminiscent of pine after rain, seemed unfamiliar, now the smell of blood and gunpowder is too strong for the fleeting memory not to flash in my mind, which helps to identify who this unique aroma belongs to. And as I become aware of who has come to free me from my lonely mission, hot embers of anger glow up in my chest, spreading the fury like liquid lava in all my tense cells. While in other cases I would be able to take the man down with dripping scorn, the pull of ire bubbling up in my veins takes away all the will that would help me to hide my emotions. Because this bastard knows exactly that there could have been a thousand and one ways to end my operation effectively, but more pleasantly, yet he chose the method that would elicit the most entertaining reaction from me.

When my captivity, which lasts unreasoned seconds longer, ends, and the grip of the arms that enslave me like thick ropes loosens, I tear myself out of his hands with such momentum as if I had been burned by living flames. And I see how the cruel curiosity shines in the bright eyes staring down at me. Like a shield of ice that clings over a lake during the cold of winter, under which the lifeless bodies caught in an eternal trap rise like mementos of frozen, tortured souls. The kind of deceptive beauty that thirsts for blood and devours you if you give the icy hands a chance to take you away. And the Hunter has proven more than once what kind of ruthlessness lies beneath the motionless surface.

"The fuck is wrong with you?" I snap at him, filtering the enraged words between my teeth, and I feel how the fiery poison surging under my skin settles sparks of hostility into my eyes. I don't even try to force indifference on myself, because I see the morbid, merry light dancing in his eyes emerging from under the hood, from which I know that my chance to maintain my dignity has long since been lost. Because I'm sure that not one of my frightened trembles escaped his attention, and he felt the drumming of my terrified racing pulse all too well to now find the false mask of my apathy credible.

"I helped you." König states simply, and from the artificial innocence hidden in his accent, along with my skyrocketing blood pressure, my brain is filled with the forerunner of the red fog that, in a mean voice, tries to persuade me to wipe off the grin on his face, the wrinkles of which cheerfully gather around the black-painted skin. "That was the plan, wasn't it?" He inquires, putting a deceptive tone of confusion in his voice, which can make the hurt with which he cocks his head to the side seem sincere to anyone. Like he is a fucking martyr who can't understand why his heroic actions fall on deaf ears and violent rejection when he is so selflessly risking everything for a good cause. But he doesn't deceive me. Because even through my agitation, I can see how excited is that invisible movement, with which he pushes himself away from the dirty wall and takes a small, almost imperceptible step toward me.

"Yeah..." I agree, but even I can feel the unfriendly emptiness of the couple of sounds that roll off my tongue, as if I'm trying to drive the aftertaste of bitter medicine from my mouth. "Your only luck is that your uniform caught my gratitude." I retort, and even though I know how petty it is to let the acidic sting of malice cling to my words, I want him to know that his great idea could easily have ended with the phenomenal sight of his cold corpse without his gorgeous outfit. Because I hate to admit that even for a minute he had the fragile thread of my life in his hands, and it depended only on his deceptive benevolence whether he would kill me or not. Of course, it's obvious that he is still standing by us as a friend in our little mission, but I have no illusions that he would be able to make it look like an unfortunate accident, if he managed to be more powerful with his help.

"I felt it." He utters, almost without thinking, and there is something quite unsettling in the joy with which he declares this. Although I'm pretty sure if there was enough power in my attack that he felt its sting so strongly through the thick fabric of his clothes, it was anything but uplifting. "It was wonderful." He adds to his testimony, and for a moment I'm unable to decide whether the elated hum that resonates throughout his words is real, or whether the slowly subsiding roar of the storm stirred up inside me is the one deceiving my ears.

And for a few agonizing seconds, nothing else fills the silence between us, other than the soft buzzing of the street lamps, as I quietly stare into the eyes studying me, trying to decipher what is going on in his head. It's obvious that he is trying to provoke me in his own sick way, because this whole nerve-wracking intermezzo has no doubt something to do with how much I hurt his little soul by refusing his generous approach. Although my exotic little power can tempt the Hunters and stir up the pull of raw power surging through their veins, I doubt that he wants to indulge in this fleeting, lovely experience right now. And the angry noise in my head is effectively silenced when I realize how easily I allow him to take out his childish revenge on me. This moment is about nothing else but the mending of his broken ego. This helps to turn my previous fury into fatigue, and induces that exhausted sigh with which I finally turn my gaze towards the street on the other side of the alley. And my sharp little eyes discover the metallic shine of the body of the car cleverly hidden there, which is parked too deliberately for its position to be a mere coincidence.

"Let's go." I end the whole pointless situation with these few words, and without waiting for his answer, I set off towards the car, which is probably waiting for us, concealed in the blackness of the night, to ensure our escape. Although at first only the soft tap of my bare feet echoes in the embrace of the musty brick walls, I only take a few steps on the damp concrete before I'm joined by the heavy pounding of the Hunter's boots. And I try with all my efforts to tune him out, as he tails after me cautiously, but still, he follows me in intrusive proximity, like a damned dog that longs for the attention of its master, to see if they will throw it a crumb of a word of praise. But, unfortunately, he won't have this satisfaction.

"You did a nice job." He speaks up suddenly, and even if his words of appreciation come as a surprise, I don't give any indication that his message has reached me at all, because no matter how hard he tries to cover his intentions in sugary sweetness, I know what the game he tries to play. And I'd have to be terribly stupid to once again fall for the transparent tactic with which he tries to find out along which defenseless point he can catch me. Therefore, I turn all the capacity of my feverishly working nerves towards the pain that pulses in my shoulder like the stab of tiny needles, enjoying how the ache radiates through the skin torn by the bullet along with my heartbeat, beneficially clearing up the upheaval in my skull.

"It was brave of you to take on this task." The hooded Hunter shares his observations with me again, and for a moment, even in my resignation, I recognize how amusing it is as he continues his attempts, even though he can see that he has found a suitable challenge in me with his sneaky methods. "Your teammates will surely appreciate it." He continues his train of thought, not caring about the adamant indifference with which I stride forward, slowly reaching the end of the alley. As if he only wants to amuse himself with this unnecessary chatter, and I have no doubt that he enjoys the obvious determination with which I ignore him. Because no matter how hard I try to deprive the reaction he craves so eagerly, my speechlessness is just enough of an answer for him to feel it's worth experimenting further.

"But how long will this last?" He asks with sincere curiosity, and as soon as I realize what a stomach-turningly vile question he has asked, I'm unable to command my body in time, and I halt at the threshold of the uninhabited street as suddenly as if a bucket of cold water had been poured down on my neck.

And as I look back at the Hunter with a measured coldness, considering every small twitch, all my doubts disappear that he is only probing for my weaknesses by indulging in random guesses. Because the victory-drunk spark that comes to life in those blue eyes tells me exactly, that he deliberately saved this comment for the very end of his monologue. And it occurs to me how smart this merciless man can be to find that hair-thin, vulnerable little crack in my unbreakable armor so quickly, the existence of which even I was barely aware of.

"I think we've already established once that it's futile for you to play this game." I remind him in a toneless voice, and I consciously drive away all stray traces of the slowly simmering anger that was just dormant, and now he is trying to breathe life into it again. Because I can feel all too clearly how intently he studies the telltale signs of emotions passing over my face, just watching for an opportunity to strike. Like a vulture circling over the dying body of a wounded wild animal, waiting for its victim to finally breathe its last and tear the still warm, tempting flesh from its bones.

"I'm just trying to care about you." He apologizes, but his voice is still imbued with feigned compassion, which almost instinctively makes my stomach turn. There is no good intention in the way he towers over me, enveloping me into the all consuming shadow of his strong body, as if he is trying with every cell to plant the disgusting plague of fear and distrust in me. But no matter how deceitful and cunning he is, he needs much more than that to touch my soul. Because even though I find it hard to admit how closely he strays to the painful doubts that have arisen in my soul, I won't give him the pleasure of seeing the battle of feelings that are raging in my head.

"How fucking nice." I spit the words dripping with mockery, and it takes a conscious effort to keep the fury, that flares up inside me, from moving into my voice. Because a battle unfolds under the cover of the flickering light of the lamps, where my opponent is at least as foul as I am. And maybe some other time I would enjoy that I'm finally able to release the evil comments that form on my sharp tongue, but right now I feel all too well how the sharp claws of a predator are trying to close around my defenseless neck.

There is something viscerally unsettling about the way he comfortably ambles closer to me, like a big cat playing with its prey, generously allowing its victim to believe that it won't tear open the border of soft flesh covering its belly with razor-sharp teeth. It takes a torturous moment before I recognize the condescending kindness creeping into the icy eyes as he glances down at me, like he knows a secret that my feeble mind is not yet aware of. And as he finally stops in front of me with a few narrow, uncomfortable steps away, I have to forcefully steel every part of me, because the wild desire to escape rips into me so reflexively that my muscles almost ache with the effort I try to keep myself motionless.

"One day they will realize that you have to be tamed." He notes with unflinching calmness, and there is such conviction in his tone that makes his statement seem more like a fact than an uncertain prediction. As if he already knows that this horror is going to happen and regrets in advance that I will have to suffer the pain that arises from the infectious soil of disappointment. And if I were a little more naive, then I would believe that there is real concern in his voice. "Because if you're too dangerous, you won't be of any use to them."

And I feel how this one sentence sinks into my consciousness like a poison-soaked knife that stealthily pumps away the deadly disease sitting on the blade with every centimeter it spends immersed in the throbbing tissues. The image that flashes on the canvas of my memories is involuntary, as the insidious meaning traveling in his voice crawls into my mind, because it almost immediately sends me back to the neon-lit hole of the interrogating room. And now that the vehemence of my revenge has not settled in my head like a suffocating fog, I can recall the startled look on MacTavish's face when he saw how willingly cruelty spills out of me. And the realistic side of my brain tries to reassure me that they were aware of all the horrible details of my evil when fate first threw me in front of them, yet it takes agonizing seconds before the screams of rationalism can drown out the doubts. Because I'm also well aware of what I have to do to enjoy the warm care of my team, and I'm not afraid to get my hands dirty for it, since it fits in with the blood that sticks to me. And no matter how sharp-eyed this terrible man is, he doesn't know nearly enough about my deadly little friends and me for his words to be heard as real truth instead of provocation. This is still the “whose dick is bigger” competition, and like a real asshole, he wants to take revenge on someone who attracted his unwanted attention with her charming skills, but he was unable to bring her under his spell. How fucking sad.

"You have quite a lot of concern towards a stranger." I taunt, deliberately letting the cynical edge, which is trying to burst out of my mouth with such maddened enthusiasm, into my voice. This one small mistake appears as a glaring error with his intentions, wrapped in innocence. As much as he tries to play the bleeding-heart saint, we both know that his empathy stands on shaky ground when he has to direct it toward a wild stranger. Because I know that this man doesn't have an iota of compassion in him, which would make his concern real, since I saw with my own eyes the kind of bloodlust that hides in his eyes when he has the opportunity to take the reins from his restrained instincts. He is a monster like me, and beasts recognize their kind, no matter what form they take.

But no matter how much I manage to regain control over my coolness, I'm unprepared for the intimate movement with which he smooths his large hand on my bare shoulder for a fleeting moment. And I feel the menacing, volatile tenderness with which his long fingers release the strands of hair stuck in the dried blood that emerged from my wound, because the rough material of his glove presses against the sensitive skin just a breath harder for me to know what unspoken warning is hidden in the seemingly innocent gesture. And now, for the first time, I see something horrible flicker in his eyes, which makes me stare up at him, frozen in immobility, because I'm overcome by unconscious fear. Like when one looks into a bottomless pit, from whose endless mouth escapes nothing but the stench of death and decay.

"Because I'm mesmerized by danger." He murmurs softly, and I press my lips together to try to suppress the quivering that moves into them, because I feel what kind of terrible promise is sitting in the hum of his voice. And I don't want to give him a reason to make it come true. "And I want to be the one to take you in when you're discarded."

And as suddenly as he came, his thumb circling over the throbbing wound disappears as quickly, as he steps away from me to march out of the alley into the darkness of the night street with a carefree calm, and I wish he had dipped his claws into the gaping flesh, because that would have been a more bearable pain than the doubt that opens like a festering wound inside me. And although the liquid fire of rage seething under the surface breaks through my astonishment in the next moment, even the anger spreading in my veins cannot silence the barely audible whisper that is born in my skull. No matter how much my mind convinces me again, that this is nothing more than just a bastard with complexes trying to rile me up, I can't shake the nagging question of what if he is right?

And the thought that I might lose the warmth to which my starving heart has just begun to get used to, squeezes my insides with such agony, as if a cruel iron fist were trying to tear me in two. But I know what I have to do. And no matter what the cost is, I won't let that happen because that would kill me.