#i watched it live and didn’t even bother showing up the entirety of the last month or so

[daddynattt]

omg im so happy i found your blog, you’ve quickly become one of my new favourite writers !! 😭😭

the pussyjob and dirty talk in your latest nat fic was literally so perfect I s(creamed)🫣

Can you please write a fic with Nat that includes tribbing/scissoring? (only if you’re comfortable with it ofc) I think i’ve only seen like two tribbing fics with Nat in the entirety of tumblr so i’d love to see how you do with it! <33

you and me both! lol. thank you so much<3 i hope you enjoy this

You’re Mine

Summary: When Natasha sees you and Wanda dancing at one of Tony’s famous parties, she does what she can to steal you away and show you who you really belong to.

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Reader , Brief Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Warnings: Possesive Nat, Jealous Nat, Smut, Scissoring, Fluff, Tony being Tony.

Word Count: 2.4k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You looked in the mirror for the final time as you put on your jewelry and walked out of your room at the compound. Tony is having another one of his parties and said everyone has to attend that they can’t get out of it. You hated his parties as all anyone did was get black out drunk and sleazy men would always try to hit on you. If you were being honest, you only wanted one person to hit on you and that was a certain red head. Your relationship with Natasha was a weird one. At times she would appear stone cold, only interacting when you went on missions together or had team gatherings. Other times the two of you would flirt and play this game of cat and mouse. Lately, she has been around you more and has made flirtatious jokes along with lingering touches here and there. Your crush on the assassin was one that you can’t get rid of no matter how many times you told yourself she didn’t want you in a romantic way.

You sigh as you enter through the doors and look around you. Tony was at the bar taking shots with Bucky and Sam, already looking like he couldn’t stand on his own two feet for much longer. Steve was chatting with Wanda and Clint in the corner by the bar and Natasha was talking to some guy you’ve not once seen in your entire time of being an Avenger and living in the compound. You roll your eyes as you make your way towards the bar, already desperately needing a drink to get some alcohol in your system. You’re just going to stay at the party for one hour tops and make your way back to your room so you can lay in bed and watch the show that you’re currently watching. 

“Y/n! so nice of you to finally join us” you hear Tony slur from beside you, a cup in his hand of God knows what. You stare at him as he stumbles and almost falls. “How are you already this drunk at your own party?” you ask him bewilderingly. He taps you on the back quite harshly, the sudden force catching you off guard as you almost spill your drink on yourself as you stumble forward in your seat. “Watch it Stark, I am not afraid to kick your ass” you glare at him as you put your drink back on the bar countertop. He raises his hands in defense and smirks at you. “Now now no need to get so aggressive, leave that for a certain red head” You roll your eyes and glare at him again but the light tint of pink on your cheeks gives you away. 

“How about you shut your mouth because I have no clue what you’re talking about” you take a sip of your drink and turn away from him as you look around you once more. You smile as you see Wanda approaching you, inviting her with a wave of your hand to sit beside you. She smiles at you as she takes the seat next to you. “Is Tony bothering you?” she laughs at your annoyed expression when he quickly denies it. You ignore him as you smile at her. “When isn’t he? he’s so annoying” you say the last part loud enough so he could hear you. Wanda giggles and smiles brightly at you, and you can’t deny that she looks absolutely gorgeous when she does so.

“That’s Tony for you, i’m surprised you even showed up to the party” You smile at her and take another sip of your drink. “Well, he basically forced us and I didn’t want to face his wrath if I didn’t show up tonight, you know how he is. Besides, my company at the moment is very lovely” you slide your hand up her arm flirtatiously and you relish in the way she smiles shyly at you, a light blush accompanying her cheeks. You smile at her and get up, putting your hand out for her to grab. 

“Would you like to dance with me?” she smiles and grabs your hand, walking the two of you towards the dance floor. “I would love to, cmon” The two of you dance together, her arms around your neck as yours go around her waist, her body so close to you that you feel her breath on your face. You have a feeling that someone is watching you so you look to the side and notice Natasha looking

in your direction, a hard glare fixated towards the back of Wanda’s head. You smirk as you pull Wanda closer, if that is even possible, as you whisper something in her ear. You see Natasha walking towards you guys from the corner of your eye, her eyes not once leaving yours. 

“Hi ladies, so Y/n, I thought you said you were going to come find me so we could dance” you smile at her as you look into her eyes. “Hmm did I? I don’t recall, I was actually enjoying my dance with Wanda” her gaze is hard as she looks at you, her jaw clenched as she grabs onto your arm. “Well I guess it’s my turn now, sorry Wanda but i’m going to steal Y/n for a moment” before Wanda has a chance to speak, you’re being dragged away and out of the party. “What the hell Nat? what are you doing?” the wind gets knocked out of you as you’re slammed into the wall somewhere away from the party.

“Shut up. Did you enjoy your dance with the little witch? Tell me, or did you wish it was me instead?” she has that stupid smirk on her face that always makes you feel some type of way, her face is so close to yours you could almost taste the lipgloss on her lips. 

Before you can say anything, her lips are on yours in a bruising kiss that makes your stomach swoop, the butterflies in your stomach going haywire as your brain finally catches up and you kiss her back with the same intensity. When you feel the need to catch air in your lungs so you don’t pass out, she pulls back first and cups your jaw in her hand as she stares into your eyes. “You’re mine Y/n, and i’m going to show you who you belong to” you two make your way to your shared room and stumble through the door, her lips on yours the second you close it shut. Your head feels fuzzy as all you feel and taste is her. You have been waiting for this moment for so long and you are going to enjoy every second of it. 

You feel her hot breath on your neck as she kisses you there, leaving love bites wherever her mouth reaches, her hands on your butt as she squeezes you there. You run your hands through her hair and moan in her ear. “Nat please, I need you” you pant out as you feel her tongue licking your earlobe, biting it right after. You feel her sucking on your neck again, no doubt leaving many marks that will for sure be hard to cover up. You think she is trying to claim her mark, and the thought of it leaves you even more wet then you already are. She rids you from your dress leaving you in only your panties, pushing you towards the bed and laying you on your back. 

She kisses you hard and shoves her tongue in your mouth, the feeling of her tongue against yours making the ache in your core start to feel uncomfortable . You need her now as the overwhelming feeling of her has become too much for you to handle. She kisses down your chest, taking your nipple in her mouth as she sucks on it. You can feel your slick running down your thigh as you are unbelievably wet for her. “Fuck nat, just like that, feels so good” she bites your nipple and kisses down your body, she lays down as she gets in between your legs. She slides off your panties and spreads your legs wide as she admires her view, breathing in your scent as her mouth waters.

“God you are so wet for me baby, you’re absolutely dripping. I can’t wait to taste your sweet pussy” she licks your juices from your inner thighs, your breathing picking up at the overwhelming feeling of her mouth on you. You run your hand through her hair and tug her closer to where you need her most.

“Please Natty, stop teasing me, need your mouth so bad” you mewl out breathlessly as you look down at her. She gives you a long lick from the bottom to the top of your clit, gathering your taste on her tongue. She starts to lick your folds, looking up at you as she sucks your clit into her mouth. “You taste so fucking good baby, the best pussy i’ve ever had” you moan loudly as her tongue hits you in all the right places, feeling her stick her finger inside you as she sucks on your clit again. “Shit you’re so tight, you feel so warm around me” she fucks you with one finger then slowly adds another one, moving them in and out of you expertly. You are dripping wet that once you adjust, you swallow her fingers as she fucks you deep. “F-fuck don’t stop, that feels so fucking good” she moans against your clit as your nails scratch at her scalp as she fucks you faster, the vibration making your eyes roll to the back of your head. Her mouth and fingers feel so good that you can’t think of anything else. You’re close and she knows it as you clench around her fingers.

She moves up your body and sucks on your earlobe as she fucks you deep and hard, as she whispers in your ear, her voice hot and raspy. “You gonna cum for me baby? Cum all over my fingers, that’s it baby, such a good girl for me” after a few more thrusts you cum hard on her fingers as a strong orgasm washes over you, your breathing is heavy as she rides out your high. You lay there panting as you try to catch your breath. 

She slides her fingers out and you whimper from the loss of feeling, she brings her fingers to your mouth and looks into your eyes. “Open” you instantly obey and suck on her fingers, moaning at your taste. She bites her lip and gets up from the bed and takes off her clothes, joining you in finally getting naked. You bite your lip as you admire her, you’ve never seen someone more beautiful then her. You don’t know if your mind is just hazy from your orgasm but you think you see a hint of a blush on her cheeks and the thought makes your heart swell in your chest. “God Nat, you’re so beautiful” she smiles at you and joins you back on the bed as she kisses you. 

You feel her slick against your thigh and the fact that she is so wet from only pleasing you makes you feel immense pride. She pulls back from the kiss as she bites your bottom lip. “Fuck I wanna feel you, i’m gonna grind on you baby. Wanna feel your pussy against mine” she spreads your legs as she hovers over you, grinding herself on you, the feeling of her wet folds against yours igniting a feeling inside you that you’ve never felt before. “Fuck your pussy feels so good, it’s like it was made for me” she grinds on you faster, her clit hitting yours perfectly as she glides back and forth. You’ve never scissored with anyone before, the feeling of her pussy against yours makes you feel so unbelievably dirty, you’ve never felt something as good as this.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as she grinds faster, your legs slightly shaking as her pussy feels so good against yours. “God i’m gonna fucking cum, gonna cum on your pussy. Fuck you feel amazing, oh fuck i’m coming!” she sloppily grinds on you as both your orgasms wash over you, your body twitching as she rides out both of your highs, you are so sensitive that you can’t handle anymore. She breathes heavily as she looks down at you, your hair sticking to your forehead and your chest heaving, you’ve never looked more beautiful. She looks at you through hooded eyes and starts grinding on you again. You try to push her off as you’re unbelievably sensitive. “I can’t anymore Nat, ‘m too sensitive” she keeps grinding as she’s not far off from another orgasm. “Just one more princess, your pussy feels so fucking good against mine, fuck” both your clits were so swollen that the feeling of them hitting each other once more had you both so close to your release. “Yes yes yes, don’t stop Nat, i’m gonna cum” you were both so wet that squishing sounds could be heard in the air of the room as both your cunts rubbed together. “Oh fuck, Nat!” you scream her name as an even more powerful orgasm washes over you then the last one, your body shaking and twitching as she slumps against you, the both of you trying to catch your breath. 

“That was amazing” she kisses you sloppily as she continues to lay on top of you, relishing in the warmth your body provides. You lazily run your hand up and down her back as you smile. “So not that i’m complaining, because i’m definitely not, but what brought this on?” her raspy laugh makes you shiver and she looks up at you from your chest. “I got jealous seeing you and Wanda all over each other. I know i’m not an easy person to understand but I have feelings for you and want to be with you. I didn’t want to lose my chance before it was too late” you can see the insecurity in her eyes as she gazes up at you, you know she isn’t always in touch with her feelings so for her to be vulnerable with you in this moment, means more to you then she will ever know. You smile softly at her and stroke her cheek. “I’m yours Natty, I always have been. I want to be with you and only you”

[girl4music]

I have a confession to make. I don’t go to conventions for TV shows or movie series. In fact last year’s 25th Anniversary of ‘Xena: Warrior Princess’ was the first ever time I went to any convention for anything ever. And I’ve never really talked about it because I was afraid that I’d be met with backlash for it. But the time has come to talk about it. Why I’ve never been before.

The reason why doesn’t actually have anything to do with not living close or working too hard or no one to go with. That’s the excuse I make. The real reason why is because the creators (writers/producers/directors) never go to them. Only the actors. And for most people, that’s all they care about. The faces and not so much the minds. I’m the opposite. I care very little for who portrays the characters I love and care very much so for who writes them. When I went to the Xena convention, I played it off like I was all excited for Lucy and Renee with all the other Xenites. But I actually wasn’t there for them at all. I mean yes, I wanted to get their autographs and photo ops. But when it came to the one-on-one or even dual stage time they both got - I had absolutely nothing to ask. Not that I would have had a chance anyway given the lines were so long for questions but that’s besides the point. Even if there wasn’t - I’d have no questions. All my questions were for the only two writers that even bothered to show up. Steven L. Sears and Katherine Fugate. I was constantly asking them questions. And I was actually able to since few others even wanted to. Especially Steven. I got to talk to him for a whole hour.

There was however one actress I spent a lot of time talking with and that’s only because she didn’t hide away. She stayed in the vending areas selling her stuff. That was Jacqueline Kim who played Lao Ma. She was only in two episodes throughout all of the show and she still shows up to conventions year after year. I did have a significant question to ask her. Funny story actually - we clashed on our views about what we believed Lao Ma represented during her segment on stage. However, it was all good because she came up to me and explained why she disagreed with me. And once I heard her point of view thoroughly, I actually changed my mind about mine and agreed with her. I even danced with her at the last day after party Penny Cavanaugh of Xenites Retreat arranged - so awesome!

Anyway, all that aside. I honestly have more interest in the views and opinions of the creators than the actors. And I always will because I care about the narrative choices and in-depth thinking behind my favourite TV shows or movies. If Rob Tapert were to attend a Xena convention along with Lucy, that would be so amazing. I’d never stop asking him questions about the show that has changed my entire life and continues to teach me so much each time I watch it.

I just… all I really care about in interacting with art/entertainment is the learning process. The education. For me - it’s the behind-the-scenes crew that are the fundamental reason why a show is what it is to me. It’s never the cast. I love them. I do. I love that they portrayed my favourite characters of all time and I am extremely grateful for all their time and effort in doing so. But it’s the writers/producers/directors I want to talk with. Have in-depth conversations with. Because I know that they’ll be the ones to give me the answers.

With Xena - it’s a group effort. Lucy and Renee have always said that that everyone that worked on the set were the puzzle pieces to the whole picture we got. And I agree with them immensely. However, I know who it is specifically that I’d rather talk to about it. And for me - that was my favourite thing about con. The fact I got to meet and talk with the writer that I credit the entirety of Gabrielle’s representation and development to for a whole god damn hour! Because I know that it’s because of Steven why I am so invested in ‘Xena: Warrior Princess’ to this day and always will be.

My experience with him meant more to me than everything else that happened at con combined and I hope that he knows how much I appreciate his presence in everything and anything to do with Xena.

[zumpietoo]

Errmm....while this does quickly descend into batshit (cuz, again, Barfie isn’t endgame, etc....), and I’d say poor Jug was to Slizzy a placeholder, but “second choice” isn’t applicable.....and doesn’t really matter....

However, yes, she DID throw him away.....there’s no question there....cuz, the hilarious part in this? Slizzy’s shitty trash and always was.....so no cloo why she’s the prize each of them is so obsessed with....

Errmm....they were together for the entirety of season 6, culminating in an engagement, they were also essentially “together” on some level, for much of season 5----and, if you’re real about it? They started a deep emotional affair at the beginning of season TWO....

I hate Barfie, but it’s always been a thing...

Umm....dude? It IS what happened. Your “argument” is baffling, scarystarey, so now shit didn’t happen cuz peeps had a sad? Okaaayyyyy.....

And for you two? Umm....you should also go look at what YOU post...

Umm....dudes? Barfie’s canon, in every iteration, currently: depending on what’s returned to, we have:

A) Fuccbuddies about to try something moar serious

B) Engaged

C) Dullard HS sweethearts, with a side of pervy predatory in the mix.....

The show would have to go back, honestly, to moar like early season 4 (at the latest) to make jizzy work, etc, again....because most of season 4 turned into Slizzy seeking excuses to be a cheater....and then lying and then not bothering herself. Literally, it was the season where she shifted from emotionally cheating entitled hypocrite to just “fullbore selfish asshole”.

And I’M just convinced Snorty’s sending these to herself for attention...

TBF....MM has on a wedding ring, so I suspect it’s Pinkle wedding (or Gossip Clay?)---also, even if it IS “prom”, doubt it’ll be remotely epic, etc....cuzzz lammmmeeeee....but I think Slizzy enjoyed prom previously...and, again, so the Barfie is merely confirming that Slizzy was supremely unappreciative/not good enough for Jughead, so fine by meee....

Ummm.....that’s not what “star-crossed” means, either, Snorty....shouldn’t your fanfic writing/college edumacated ass know that?

Uhhh....sheepbrain? You’re the one who hates a stranger for dumping your fave, thus costing you a teevee ship (oh and smoking, OFC, the ultimate evvollll), his current GF of 2 1/12 years for “being in the way” and anybody (i.e. yours truly) for daring to not hate him.....I think the “whacky” (no “h”) and “crazy” would be youuuu....

Can you imagine A) doing the above, like sheepbrain or B) sending these to yourself, Snorty? Cuzz.....

Jizzy won’t be erased, but “topped”? Errmmmm I hate Barfie, too, but it is a thing. Also, again, who knew it was a competition?

Oh yes, Snorty....and don’t forget, write bad fanfic.....dude, you live in the past. And while they’ll also be, they’ll only be there in the past, with you. And, again pretend....

Errmmm....Barfie IS canon, so not getting that.

Ummm.....seasons 5 and 6 very heavily pandered towards them. I think the ones “watching with that attitude” (lolz, WTF????) and hating half the show so passionately are yourselves....again, we didn’t “get 4 seasons.....we had one short, amazing one, then they were split for most of 2 (with Slizzy as an elitist, lying cuntwipe), together, but seldom interacting in season 3, largely separating, with lying, cheating Slizzy in season 4. And almost always using Jug as a placeholder, taking him granted, claiming credit for his accomplishments...

It’s not the serve YOU think it is....

And what “dropped storylines” afterwards? The ones you made up in fanfic/pretended Slizzy was Tabs?

Umm....no, Snorty, they legit HAD this last season. YOU’RE pressed because you know jizzy isn’t happening ever again....and you trusted RAS, too, so, again, glass houses?

Uhh....also, again, #hey#3????

Uhhh.....scarystarey, see above. Same applies to jizzy. AND Barfie WERE together all of season 6, so noooo....and I’d say you’re responding with VASTLY moar than a “blank stare and a shrug”....Again, dude, season 4 was NOT a jizzy season....nor, until well past the mid-point, was season TWO....and thanks to PP’s cheating/endlessly splitting up, they barely had screen time in season 3.

uhhhh.....Snorty??? Go do that rewatching....and then tell me what you see!

Nah, just BAV endgame.....also, you guys are the ones predicting they go “back in time thru the mines in season 5″----all so it’s before Jug kissed a black lady..and now think that happens in the finale. With jizzy fully reconciling, too.

I mean, she was instantly preggers (and knew it) by basically raping Douchie in the Vale, so, you know.....plus, again, no moar bizarro than YOUR theories....

Scarystarey, it’s Snorty, herself.....

Wait....weren’t y’all the ones insisting they “block film” now? Plus it’s 13 days and counting.....and one would tend to imagine the finale will take a bit longer to film, so, yeah....they’re quite likely on ep 20, now....

[mrvlbimbo]

His (not so) secret admirer, pt 2

pt 1/2/3/4

She didn’t mean to stand him up. That was her last intention. Emergency cheer team meeting be damned she really wanted to see him. But then her nerves got the better of her and she thought maybe this isn’t such a good idea.

So she went to the cheer meeting, spanning almost the entirety of lunch. And when it was over she really questioned if she should go, only making her mind up when she passed some freshmen in the hall whispering about Eddie.

“Yeah he left lunch all excited about something.”

“Probably a drug deal.”

“He doesn’t get that excited for drug deals, I think it’s about a girl.”

“Please, Munson have a clue with women.”

That made her choice clear, she had to see this through even if she was terrified. There was a reason she had sent letters rather than ever bothering to talk to him, she was terribly nervous around boys she liked.

One time in 8th grade she had tried to ask a boy to dance at their end of year formal and she threw up a heap of Hawaiian Punch before she even had the chance to say a word. Needless to say, she wasn’t very popular with boys her age.

But Eddie didn’t know any of this and what was he meant to think when he sat waiting for the whole lunch period and she never showed.

He was starting to get antsy, stepping from foot to foot and pacing around the table. Sure, she had seemed genuine, but what if it was all some joke on me? He thought.

He was interrupted from his thoughts by the sound of a twig breaking and a small yelp of surprise. “You’re late.”

“Sorry. Cheer meeting ran late.” She scurried over to the other side of the table, picking at the wood and refusing to meet his eyes.

“Third period is about to start. I don’t want to keep you from more important things.” He knew there wasn’t really anything she could have done differently but he was still miffed that she had chosen the meeting over him, further instilling his insecurity that maybe she wasn’t right for him.

“You’re important…to me” insecurity gone, he almost melted at that. He kept his face calm, stubborn as always and not ready to give in.

“Why letters?” He asked offhandedly, trying to hide the way his fingers subconsciously reached for hers.

“I just… didn’t think you’d like someone like me,” she admitted, staring at the ground awkwardly. 

He just stood up and started to walk away, taking her heart with him. He turned back just as she looked up, finally meeting her eyes. “I do…like you…for the record.”

She didn’t know what to make of that, gawking at him as he casually walked away. It took her a while to compose herself and leave aswell, making her late for class. 

Surely the rumors would start to spread but she didn’t care, she just needed to prove she was serious about him. 

Her plan set in motion the next day, confidently striding into the cafeteria and stepping right up to his table. However her confidence was short-lived when he looked over at her. 

She instantly froze, eyes widening as she failed to say anything. “Aw my girl is a little shy, c‘mere.” He opened his arms and motioned to his lap, very clearly inviting her to sit on it. 

“Uh. Hi,” she addressed the table, sliding into Eddie’s lap. She was assisted by his arms wrapping around her waist. 

“I was right, it was about a girl,” one of the freshmen commented. 

“Not just any girl. My girl,” he announced, using that name again. It made her brain fuzzy, any rational thought leaving her. 

“So, why are you here instead of with your friends?” He asked, wincing a bit at how condescending he sounded. He didn’t mean to be rude, but his insecurity was still peaking through. 

“I felt bad about yesterday,” she admitted, ducking her head down in shame. 

“Well I accept your apology. On one condition, hold my hand?” He asked, a sly smirk crossing his face. 

She admired the twinkle in his eyes, so used to watching him from afar, she wasn’t sure how to react to being the focus of his attention. “Y-yeah. Ok” 

“You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to,” he assured her, clocking her hesitance and trying to soothe her. 

“I want to,” she whispered, lacing their fingers together. He tried to contain his excitement, wanting to seem cool and unbothered. However, the self satisfied grin on his face gave him away. 

Her little touches were getting him embarrassingly “excited” He was already half hard and he hoped it was somehow hidden by the tight fabric of his jeans. 

“Would you…uhmmm. Maybe want to come back to my place after school?” He asked, the way he breathed sensually against her neck in direct contrast to the insecurity in his words. 

She turned to him, nodding and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. Before he could even react to that she had scurried off his lap, leaving the lunch room as the bell rang. He’d have to work on that shyness of hers.

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[wkemeup]

Back to Bourbon Street

summary: When you’re badly injured on a mission, Bucky works desperately to keep you alive. Only, it might not be enough.  pairing: bucky x reader word count: 6.7k warnings: canon level violence, hurt!reader, poison, brink of death cuddling, angst with a happy ending

There is a moment of clarity amidst the chaos of the battlefield; a brief, impossible moment that allows Bucky to take hold of a peace he’s been missing for decades. The perfect storm of violence and adrenaline is one he’s familiar with, something he knows well enough to allow his mind to take a step back and give control to his instincts.  

Left jab. Right hook. Kick. Swipe the leg. Shoot.

The sound of the chopper above is muffled. The shouts of the men rushing at him with weapons and malice are indistinguishable. His body moves of its own accord and this is what makes him untouchable. Even with the Winter Soldier buried to the deepest parts of his mind, Bucky finds a relief in letting go of the control, of allowing an untethered detachment to rise to the surface just long enough to get the job done. 

Bodies in his wake, blood on his hands, and his mind elsewhere.

That is, until you come into view.  

Elegant in your movements, exceptional in your ability, you’re teasing Sam on the coms as you duck under the swing of a mercenary and clip him on the chin on your way up. You’re laughing, bright enough that it carries the several feet away to where Bucky is in hand to hand with a combatant half his size.  

He pauses, taken back by how clear your laugh comes through when the rest of the world seems muffled and distant. It’s not enough to give the scrawny opponent an advantage, because even as Bucky watches you with an awe and disbelief, his left arm snakes around the man’s throat and hurtles him fifty feet away with little effort.  

Amongst enemy lines filled with bad guys and guns, amongst the blinding snowfall and the blistering wind, amongst blood staining crystalized white upon the frozen dirt, you capture the entirety of his focus. Clear as day. Spotlight down from the sky. A wonder to behold.  

You catch his eye and for a moment his heart skips completely because you smile at him. A light breaking through a sea of shadows, wrinkling up by your eyes, a giggle in your chest, and Bucky’s knees nearly give out from under him. 

You must notice the fluster burning hot on his cheeks and you start to laugh; that same beautifully, sweet sound that shouldn’t belong on a battlefield. He smiles back.

But the moment lasts longer than it should. It’s something too kind for the evil you’re surrounded with and it’s taken away in a matter of seconds when Bucky sees the sharp reflection of a blade flicker under the haze of sunlight.  

His stomach drops as if he’s stepped off the edge of the cliff, as if he’s falling hundreds of feet into a dark ravine to the icy waters below, and he barely feels the sharp burn of a bullet as it skims his right shoulder.  

“Y/n!” he screams, wasting no time in firing fatal shots to the men around him before he rushes towards you.  

But he’s trudging through mud and quicksand and his limbs are fighting through the resistance of ocean currents. He’s trapped in a nightmare, he’s certain of it, because his body is failing him in the one place it’s not supposed to. Time slows down as he watches the flash of panic in your eyes.

He’s still a few feet away when the knife embeds itself in your stomach.

Something else takes over; maybe it's the Winter Soldier, maybe it’s something darker that has always resided inside of him, lying in wait, but his vision fills with red as he watches you clutch at the shoulders of your assailant, lips parted in shock, chest heaving as you glance down at the knife buried in your gut. A sickening smile curves up on the man’s face and he drops you to the ground.  

Bucky only vaguely registers the bodies that fall around him as he empties his clip. He can't look at you now, not as blood starts to seep around your suit and drip into the snow, so he focuses the brunt of his tunnel vision to the man wielding the knife. The satisfied grin drops as he notices Bucky raise his weapon. It only takes one shot, but Bucky fires six.  

By the time he reaches you, he’s skidding on his knees into the snow. It soaks into his suit and sends shivers into his spine in unpleasant memories of the ice, but he pays it little mind as he bends down to assess the damage. His hands hover over the blade, almost afraid to touch you, and he resides to keep the knife secure until he can safely remove it.  

“Hey, Barnes,” you mutter weakly and it snaps Bucky from his trance. He looks up to see you smiling at him, though your eyes are fluttering shut. Your breathing is shallow.  

“Don’t talk right now,” Bucky warns you because he can see the energy draining away. It’s happening too quick. The blade doesn’t appear as though it’s nicked any major arteries, and yet, you look as though it plunged straight through your heart.

You chuckle, though it’s faint and you wince in the effort. “Sick of my voice already?”

Bucky shakes his head, astounded how you can still tease him in your position. “You kidding me? Not a chance.”

He reaches up to press a finger to the coms to get ahold of someone, anyone, to get you airlifted out of here, only to find it slipped out of his ear in the struggle. A quick glance back behind him and he knows he’ll never find it amongst the snow. He clenches his jaw and tried not to let the panic show as he looks for yours.  

“Lost mine, too,” you mumble, gesturing to the broken pieces in the snow beside you. One of your attackers must have hit you hard enough to dislodge it and slammed it under his heel to cause that much damage.  

Bucky pulls in a deep breath, glancing up to the sky in search of Sam, only to find a dark cast of clouds carrying over. On the ground, dozens of mercenaries are engaged with the rest of the Shield team and more are piling out from the woodwork.  

“I have to get you out of here,” Bucky resides. He doesn’t have a plan, but he knows it’s not safe where you are. He slips a hand under your knees, another around your back, and hoists you into his arms. He’s lucky the blade is small enough that it stays nestled in place as he carries you away from the field.  

He tries not to think of what would happen if a mercenary caught up with him now. He was defenseless with you in his arms and there wasn’t a chance in hell he’d sacrifice you to save himself.  

The wind whips around the trees, snow stinging on his cheeks as it builds in the scruff on his cheeks. You curl into his neck as best you can and he knows it’s subconscious, that it doesn’t mean much more than you seeking out the warmth of his body, but it doesn’t stop the trace of a smile that pushes at his cheeks.  

“Stay with me, alright?” he pleads, though he’s not sure you can hear him. It earns a tired hum in response.  

A storm is approaching quickly judging by the dark overcast of clouds and the snow on his boots that inches up higher along his shins with every step. If the blade doesn’t kill you, the exposure will, and Bucky starts to pick up his pace.  

The field is nothing but a distant haze by the time he reaches an unmarked dirt road. He must have walked miles with you in his arms, fading in and out of consciousness, waking you up every few paces when your eyes started to flutter closed. The relief is overwhelming when he spots a cabin at the end of the road, obstructed by trees and overgrown weeds. Abandoned.  

“Almost there,” he tells you and you curl up tighter against him. A whine leaves your lips and he picks up the pace.  

Bucky doesn’t bother with picking the lock and slams his foot to the most vulnerable angle of the door instead. It whips open to reveal an empty living room; dark, with cobwebs hanging in the corners and dust upon the mantle. He rushes inside to escape the painful sting of the wind and the snowfall as it piles outside the door. His footprints are already swept away in the impending storm. 

“You’re alright, hold on,” Bucky mumbles, blindly searching around the room until he can lower you onto the couch. He wipes away as much of the dust as he can as he eases you against the cushions. Your face scrunches up in pain and he knows how hard you’re trying to hide it from him.  

He brushes a hand over your forehead and it startles him when he finds it burning hot. He doesn't have a lot of time.  

“I’ll be right back.”

“No! Wait--”

He freezes, stunned when he hears your voice so clearly. Your hand wraps at his wrist, clenching so tight it would have hurt if it wasn’t constructed of solid metal. When he meets your eye, he finds a pain stab straight through his chest, because he’s become so used to your light and joy and charm that the fear etched into your features ruins him completely.  

“Bucky, don’t go.”

His heart splinters.  

“I need to find a first aid kit. I’ve got to clean that wound before it gets infected,” he explains as gently as he can, sinking down to his knees beside you. You nod at his words, but you’re unconvinced.

“I won’t leave you,” he adds with a little more conviction.

His relationship to you is complicated; filled with teasing smiles and playful tension in the sparring ring, late night talks and comfortable silence. You were the first person he trusted in Shield outside of Steve and Sam, the first to make him laugh until his stomach hurt, the first to accept him completely and entirely as the man he is, not who he was in his youth or what Hydra made him to be. You didn’t ask questions, didn’t expect him to be anything he wasn’t.  

He cares for you and he knows, at least on some level, you must care for him, too. He can't imagine that anyone would be as sweet as you are with him if you didn’t. There’s too much violence to overlook, too much evil ingrained into his veins. You don’t seem to mind and Bucky wonders most days if you’re not simply an angel sent from heaven itself with the extent of absolution you grant to him. 

So it’s not a question. There’s no second guessing. He won’t leave you.  

“I’ll be right back,” he presses again, eyes flickering to the knife in your side. “I promise.”

You nod, letting go of his wrist, but he can tell you’re still afraid. He recognizes it in himself, how he’s felt as though if he closed his eyes for even a second, he might convince himself it was all a dream and he’ll wake up right back in Hydra’s cell. He realizes then that you’re wondering if Bucky steps out of your view, he might disappear entirely and you’ll be alone, facing the impending darkness on your own.  

“Hey, remember that summer in New Orleans?” Bucky starts, hoping to ease your panic through the sound of his voice as he slips from the room. “Sam was walking around Bourbon Street with a dozen beaded necklaces and tripping over his own feet?”  

Bucky can vaguely hear you chuckle weakly from the living room as he rummages through the drawers in the bathroom.  

He continues. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen Sam that wasted before. I had to carry him up three flights of stairs to his room.”  

Shifting through old toothpaste containers, wash rags, makeup brushes, Bucky knelt down under the sink in search of anything he can use. He grabs the clean towels and an ace bandage hidden behind the pipes and moves onto the first bedroom. He still needs something to close the wound.  

“Idiot passed out on me before midnight,” Bucky calls out to the living room, stealing a glance at you to make sure your eyes were still open. You smile at him, faded and faint, but he continues on. “You called when we didn’t show up to the bar, remember? You didn’t think you could keep up with Natalia’s tolerance and you wanted to push some of your drinks off on me.”

Bucky is surprised when his lips curve up into a smile at the memory. It was the first time anyone managed to convince him to stay a few days passed the scheduled mission. He always had such a hard time saying no to you.  

“Think that might have been the first night I went out dancing since the forties. It was a little different than what I was used to but the music had the same soul to it,” Bucky continues as he searches under the bed, through the closet, shoving aside old clothes and shoe boxes. He can feel the panic rising, though he keeps his voice as calm as he can manage. His hands are trembling until he finds a small white box tucked into the back corner. Red cross on the top.  

It’s missing a few pieces inside but it’s enough. Relief surges through him and Bucky makes his way back out to the living room.  

“Don’t know if I would have let anyone else drag me away from the bar long enough to get a whole song out of me,” Bucky says as he holds up the kit for you to see and quickly moves to the kitchen to wash his hands.  

“You’re a good dancer, Barnes,” you mutter out feebly, smiling fondly at the memory.  

It’s a good memory, he thinks. A little faded with time, but he can still recall how you felt pressed against his chest, how his left nestled along the small of your back, his right intertwined with yours. Slow movements, swaying gently to the soft strum of the guitar. 

Bucky smiles backs at you, pauses for just a moment to memorize the way your lips curve up so beautifully into your cheeks before he turns to the sink to wash his hands. The water comes out brown for the first few seconds before it clears up. He washes his hands quickly and gathers a bucket of water before he makes his way back to you.  

As he kneels down at your side, he tries to mask the flash of panic that courses through him as he catches sight of the blood seeped into the couch under your back and the sweat dripping down your temples. It’s wet in your hair and you don’t seem to be in much pain anymore. Just tired. Your eyelids fall heavy.

“Hey,” Bucky calls sharply, shaking your shoulder a little harsher than he intended. Your eyes snap open. “You need to stay awake for me, alright? You know I’m lousy at this stuff. Need you to make sure I’m doing it right.”

You laugh, though Bucky can tell it’s forced. You both know he’s lying. He’d tended to wounds of his own far worse than this before. But Bucky doesn’t care about causing himself pain. He powers through it, uses it as a means of strength. He knows how badly this will hurt you and he hesitates as he holds a pair of scissors to your suit.  

“I trust you,” you say so quietly Bucky isn’t certain he even heard it. You nod at him.  

Bucky takes a deep breath as he cuts away at your suit and removes the fabric away from the wound.  

“It’s going to bleed a lot,” he warns. “Don’t let it scare you.”

You nod, staring up at the ceiling as you try to prepare yourself.  

Bucky doesn’t say anything else, because he knows it will make this harder. Your chest rises a little quicker, hands clench into fists, and it takes nearly everything Bucky has not to hold your hand instead of the hilt of the knife.  

It happens quickly. He pulls the knife from your stomach in one fluid motion. You gasp at the sudden sensation, a cry in your voice as you bite down on your fist to keep yourself from screaming, and Bucky presses a towel to your side to absorb the gush of blood and it drenches the cloth in a matter of seconds.  

He removes it in favor of a clean one and drops the bloodied rag onto the floor. The next towel doesn’t turn red as quickly and Buck begins to exhale a sigh of relief. The blood flow is slowing down. It’s a good sign. It’ll give him the chance to clean the wound and stitch you up enough to keep you together until rescue shows up.  

It takes a while before Bucky dares to lift the cloth. It’s heavy in his hands and dripping with blood, but the wound doesn’t appear to be freshly bleeding. Bucky gets to work, humming quietly to himself as he cleans the wound as best he can. He can feel your eyes on him, watching as he tends to the wound and mumbles under his breath, but he doesn’t mind. You’re awake. It's all that matters to him.  

“You really need to do that?” you ask nervously as Bucky begins to thread a needle.  

Bucky shrugs. “There’s a stapler in the office if you prefer that?”  

You laugh, enough to cause a bit of blood to seep out from the cleaned wound and Bucky presses a hand to your stomach to stop the bleeding.  

“Hey! Don’t mess with my work!” he teases, thankful for a moment where you feel more like yourself than you had since he picked you from the snowbank on the battlefield. You nod, trying to contain your smile, though its weak and fading.  

“My apologies, Sergeant Barnes.”

“That’s Dr. Barnes to you,” Bucky quips back, distracting you long enough to slip the thread through your skin. You wince, hand gripping in tight to the straps on his shoulder.

“Yeah?” you mutter out tensely. “What decade did you get your medical degree in, Doctor? Feels pretty amateur from where I’m sitting.”

“You should be nicer to me, doll. I’m the one with the needle in my hand,” Bucky smirks. Only two more threads to go before the wound is closed and you’re taking it like a champ. Pride swells in his chest and he has the urge to kiss you, but quickly pushes the feeling down.  

“Imagine how I must feel,” you scoff playfully, exhaling a heavy breath of relief as Bucky sits back and cuts the thread.  

Bucky grins, brushing a clean cloth over the surface to wipe away the excess blood. “You did good. Try to get some rest now, alright? I’ll be here.”

He lifts a blanket up over your body and lets it lay against your chest. You smile at him again and he’s certain it’s the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen. He stands to clean up the mess around the couch when your hand catches his.  

“Thank you.” You squeeze his hand, rub your thumb over his wrist, something so tender and loving that it nearly jolts his heart straight from his chest.  

“Anytime, doll,” he replies as even as his voice will let him. By the time he finishes cleaning the bloodied rags and rinsing the red stains from his hands, you’ve already fallen asleep.  

Bucky takes his time as he gathers a few stray blankets and lays them down on the floor beside the couch. He knows there’s a room with a decent bed just a few feet down the hall but he meant what he promised you. He wasn’t going to leave your side.  

So, he lays down on the hardwoods, rests a pillow under his head, and stars up at the ceiling; content to listen to the soft sounds of your breathing until they too lull him to sleep.  

***

He wakes abruptly a few hours later. It’s dark outside, nearly pitch black in the cabin, and Bucky rubs his hands over his tired eyes before he realizes what woke him up.  

Quiet whimpers above him, muffled, pained. You’re crying.  

Bucky jolts up in a panic. He kneels beside you to find you curled up on your side, knees tucked to your stomach, tears streaming down your cheeks. You're sweating again, and it drenches into your hair.  

“Y/n?” Bucky begs, hands hovering over you, terrified to make it worse. “Y/n, talk to me.”

“It hurts,” you cry, barely able to mutter the words out. “It hurts... bad. S-Somethings wrong.”

Bucky nods, rushing up to the fireplace to give some light. It takes him longer than it should and he nearly shouts out in frustration before it sparks and a flame bursts onto the wood. It’s a faint flicker, but it’s enough.  

“Let me see,” he requests, and you release the blanket to let Bucky's slide it off of you. He helps guide you to lay flat on the couch and he knows how much it hurts you because you’ve bitten down so hard on your lip, it’s bleeding. You choke back a cry.  

“I know, sweetheart,” Bucky soothes, running a hand down your arm to find you shaking so badly it trembles right into his palm. You’re fully sobbing as he tries to pry your hands away from the wound. “I’m so sorry, but you have to let me see it, honey. Come on now. It’s alright.”

You pull your hands away, clutching them tight into the couch cushions and it's then that Bucky sees the series of large, angry, purple veins extending from the wound. Jagged lines protruding out across your stomach, stretching up towards your chest to your heart.  

Bucky can’t find his breath as he stumbles back. On the ground at his feet, the faint flicker of the knife catches his eye in the dim light of the fire behind him, and he bends down to pick it up. On its surface, hardly visible, is a sticky thin substance; green in color, bitter in its stench. Poison.  

“I’m gonna die, aren’t I?”

Bucky’s eyes snap up to you as the knife slips from his hand. It clashes against the hardwoods and echoes through the painful silence in the cabin, only obstructed by the muffled whistle of the wind outside and your faint attempts to stifle the sob etching its way through your throat.  

“No,” Bucky replies quickly, though his voice wavers. You’re unconvinced as tears slip past your eyes and you drop his gaze in favor of the ceiling tiles.  

“No,” he tries again, firmer as he kneels by your side. He runs a hand over your forehead to brush away the sweat, soothes his palm against your face and traces the line of your cheekbone until you dare to meet his eye again. “I’m not going to let that happen. I’m not letting you die today; you hear me? You’re going to be just fine.”

“Bucky...”

“You’re going to be fine,” he says again, determined. “Starks probably got a whole branch of the military searching for you by now. We both know how much of a soft spot he’s got for you. Hell, I’m lucky you’re the one I’m MIA with. Stark wouldn’t waste an AI suit on tracking me down. But you? Come on. He won’t sleep until you’re home safe.”

Bucky doesn’t know why he’s trying to draw a smile out of you. He’s terrified and he knows you are too, but dammit, all he ever wants to do is make you smile.  

“Tony would send more than an AI for you.”

Bucky chuckles, shaking his head. “You underestimate how much he dislikes me.”

“It’s been better, hasn’t it?” you ask, and he knows you’re trying to distract yourself from the pain, so Bucky nods.  

“It has. He hasn’t tried to kill me lately, so I’d consider that an improvement.”

You smile and Bucky’s whole world brightens around him. Sunshine through the night sky, past the dark clouds and the blizzard outside the window, flowers blooming through the snow. It's perfect. You’re perfect.  

But then the pain sweeps in again and steals your smile away, warps it and twists it until you’re crying so hard you can barely breathe and Bucky is helpless but to watch.  

There’s nothing he can do. He doesn’t know what the poison is, let alone how to counteract it. He doesn't often wish Stark was around, but he does in this moment. He’d know what to do. He could save you, take away this pain, in a way Bucky couldn’t.

He finds himself looking to the windows, watching as the snow continues to fall in blurring sweeps enough that he can’t see the trees beyond the clearing. He figures at least another foot of snow has piled up in the last hour but maybe if he could find the right layers in the back bedroom, he could make himself useful, venture out to find a nearby town or a phone or --  

“Don’t.”  

Your voice is barely a whisper but it punctures straight through to Bucky’s heart.

“Please don’t go,” you mutter out. “I don’t want to be alone when... when I...”

“Hey,” Bucky exhales, shaking his head, “hey, come on. What did I say? You’re not dying today, remember?”

He tears his eyes away from the window, forgets his plan because he knows you’re right. He can’t leave you. He wants to believe that his hope is enough, that his insistence will sway fate herself, but the truth is he doesn’t know. He can’t do much of anything at all, but he starts to wonder if there is something he can do to shoulder even an ounce of your pain.  

Slowly, Bucky slips an arm under your back and gently guides you forward just enough so that he can slide into the space behind you. You mold against him as he eases his way onto the couch beside you, gathering you up into his arms. He runs a tender hand over your stomach along the spidery veins around the knife wound and you don’t wince. It seems to come and go in waves.  

The next wave comes quickly and Bucky holds you through it the best he can. He’s never felt so helpless in his life; arms wrapped tight around you, a hand soothing along your arm as he tries to reassure you that this will pass, that Stark’s on his way, that you’ll be okay, but he doesn’t know if he’s telling the truth anymore.  

You exhale as the pain subsides again and you’re drenched in sweat. Bucky is too, but he doesn’t mind, not if it means he can give you even an ounce of comfort through this. You curl against him, careful of the fresh stitches in your side.  

“I’m scared.” It comes out broken and aching and Bucky’s heart lurches.  

“I know, honey. But I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, alright? I’ve got you. You’re not alone.”  

It’s all he can say.  

His own helplessness makes him sick.  

There’s a prolonged silence and Bucky finds himself keeping a finger against your pulse, just to be sure. He feels like screaming or crying or maybe both, but he exhales a steady breath and tries to calm his heart rate instead because he knows you can hear it.  

“I’m glad it’s you,” you say after a while, voice barely louder than a whisper. It’s faint, fading, and Bucky bites down on his cheek. “I’m glad... that if this is... if this is it... you’re here.”

It breaks his heart, shatters it to pieces. He’d trade places with you if he could, absorb your pain tenfold if it meant you’d survive this, but he knows it’s a fantasy. Bucky Barnes stopped allowing himself to indulge in such dreams a long time ago.  

So, he holds you a little tighter, dares to press a kiss to the crown of your head, and rubs gentle circles along your spine. He can feel your pulse weaken, how it slips to beats a little longer apart, how your breaths fall shallow and he’s not ready to lose you yet. He’s not.

“How about when we get out of here, we go dancing?”

You don’t say anything, but he can feel your smile against his chest, the warm of your breath as you exhale a tired chuckle. It takes nearly all of your energy.  

“Been thinking about it a lot since New Orleans,” Bucky continues. “It could be fun, you know? Get dressed up. Listen to good music. Beautiful woman in my arms. Sounds nice.”

“You should... You should go,” you tell him and he barely recognizes your voice. He clenches his jaw until it aches, brushes at the tear in his eyes you’re too weak to lift your head to notice.  

“I’m not going with anyone but you, so no deal.”

“Bucky...”

“No deal. You or nothing, doll.” Bucky finds himself smiling through the tears. “You’re my only dance partner, okay? Can’t be having just anyone step all over my toes.”

You hum and it’s so faint he can hardly hear it. 

Bucky clears his throat, swallowing back the lump that threatens to choke him. “We’ll have to go back to that bar, okay? The one off of Bourbon Street. Live music only. I can show you how we used to dance back in my day. I’m sure you’ll be wonderful at it.” 

A smile breaks through the tears as he imagines spinning you under the soften glow of amber lights and the reflection of the moonlight through the windows, the roar of trumpets settling in his chest and the echo of your laugh etched right into his soul. You’d smile at him and his whole world would stop spinning. 

“What do you say, doll?” Bucky sighs, leaning down to kiss the crown of your head. He brushes the hair away from your eyes, sticky and wet with sweat.

But you don’t say anything and suddenly, it’s impossibly silent.  

Bucky stops breathing because he can’t hear the crackle of the fire place or the wind barreling against the cabin walls. He can’t hear the heavy snow as it brushes against the windows. He can’t hear your breaths, can’t feel the pulse as he reaches up to your neck, and that silence begins to feel like a void, like he’s screaming, but it’s all inside his head.  

“Y/n?” he chokes out. There’s no reply, but still, as if to break his own heart a little more, he tries again. “Y/n? Please... don’t do this. Come on. Come back to me.”

Nothing.

“No... no no no... don’t give up on me,” Bucky pleads, tears burning hot in his eyes. “Y/n...”

He barely notices as the cabin door is blown open, as the wind screams outside and snow barrels in through the frame. He can’t focus on much of anything else as he tries to move your lifeless body in his arms, trying to wake you from the edge of a paralyzing darkness. He doesn’t recognize the blur of red and yellow as it crashes into the room.  

“Banner! I need the antidote, now!”

You’re being pulled from his arms and all Bucky wants to do is hold on tighter.  

“Barnes, you need to let go of her.”  

The voice is calmer now, gentle, and Bucky allows himself to meet Tony’s eye. There’s a kindness there he doesn’t expect, an understanding. Tony’s helmet has been discarded and Bucky notices quickly he bares the same redness in the whites of his eyes, the same dark circles beneath. Tony’s hand lays upon your shoulder.  

“Let me save her, Barnes,” Tony tries again as Bruce barrels in through the door in a parka a few sizes too big for his frame. He’s clutching a syringe in his hand, desperately trying to hold up the hood around his head.  

Bucky nods numbly and releases you from his hold. Tony and Bruce lower you carefully down to the ground, laid upon the blankets he slept on less than an hour earlier. Tony presses his hand to your chest and an electrical spark jolts through your body. He tries again, and still, nothing.  

Bruce pulls off the cap of the syringe and without hesitation, plunges it directly into a vein and releases the serum inside. He sits back on his heels and waits.  

It's agonizing. The seconds feel like hours and Bucky is certain he’ll never learn to smile again, until suddenly, the purple veins along the knife wound begin to retract. They crawl along your skin and shrink back to the wound until they’ve disappeared entirely.  

But then, the most beautiful sound.  

You gasp for air, chest rising high off the ground before you sink back against the blankets. FRIDAY reports your pulse, says you’re stable, and Bucky presses his hands over his face to stop the sob before it consumes him whole. It’s made of relief.  

“You did good, Barnes,” Tony says as Bucky lowers his hands.  

He’s suspicious of the praise, but as Tony runs a hand over your hair, soothes it away from your face, Bucky knows he meant what he said.  

“We should get her to the cradle,” Bruce says, shivering as he glances back to the door. “Helen will want to fix that wound up and run some tests to make sure the antidote worked.”

Tony covers you with the blankets as best as he can and gathers you into his arms. Bucky tries to ignore the lurch in his stomach as you press your nose to Tony’s neck, seeking out his warmth. He doesn’t say anything else before he flies out the front door, back to the quinjet.

Bruce starts to make his way to the door when he realizes Bucky isn’t following behind. He pauses and glances back at Bucky over his shoulder.  

“How did you know?” Bucky asks weakly, staring at the empty syringe.  

“A few of the Shield agents came back from the field with the same symptoms,” Bruce explains. He scratches the back of his neck. “We wanted to be prepared if either of you were infected by the poison.”  

Bucky nods. He feels empty.  

“She’s going to be alright, Barnes,” Bruce says and he places a comforting hand on Bucky’s shoulder. It surprises him but he can feel the tension slip away as Bruce squeezes the muscle tightly. He gestures to the door. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”

***

Bucky’s right hand is throbbing. Blood trickles down from the open scars on his knuckles and it smears into the punching bag. Beads of sand embed themselves into the wounds but he presses on because it’s better than the pit in his stomach, of seeing you laid up in the med wing with wires attached you and a monitor displaying the weak rhythm of your pulse.  

It’s been days since you’ve been home, since the antidote was administered and Helen properly stitched up the stab wound in your stomach, and yet you’re still unconscious, barely breathing on your own. Banner can’t make sense of it, but he suspects it’s because the poison was in your system longer than the others.  

Bucky can’t help but wonder that if he never left the field with you, if he had just stayed put and fought off whoever tried to come near, that maybe they could have saved you. Maybe he’s the reason you're still fighting for your life. Maybe if he wasn’t around at all you'd be safer, you'd be alive.

The bag dislodges from the ceiling and slams into the wall in an echoing thud.  

Bucky sighs, slumping his shoulders down as he kicks at the sand streaming from the bag onto the gym floors. He turns to pick up the next bag in the long line leading from the storage closet when he stops dead in his tracks.  

You’re standing in the center of the gym, still dressed the pale blue scrubs from the med wing, holding onto the edge of a weight machine for support. There is a mark in your arm from where the IV line should be, tape residue around your mouth from the tubes. It’s a miracle you’re on your feet at all and all Bucky wants to do is run towards you, wrap you tight into his arms, just to convince himself that you’re real, that you’re standing right there, but instead, he holds his ground. He’s turned to stone.  

“Thought I’d find you here,” you chuckle, your voice raspy and airy, but it has a strength to it again. It sounds like you.  

Bucky grips his hands at his side. “I didn’t... I didn’t know you were awake.”

You shrug. “Don’t think the nurses do either. Helen might be mad at me when she finds an empty bed in my room.”

“You shouldn’t be here, Y/n,” he says, his gaze focused on the floor. He pushes aside the heavy stone sitting in his chest as he starts to walk towards you to usher to towards the med wing. “I should get you back...”

“What else was I supposed to do when I woke up and you weren’t there?”  

You’re smiling, teasing. There’s a laugh in your voice, and still Bucky can’t help the pang in his stomach. It twists and turns and threatens to consume him whole.  

He rolls his eyes. “Maybe not wander around the tower after being in a coma for four days?”

The smile lingers upon your face despite his tone. It doesn’t seem to bother you at all, doesn’t throw you off your game, doesn’t puncture even a crack into the shield of your charm. No – you smile at him.  

“You broke your promise, Barnes,” you say simply. “I’m here to scold you for it. Think you may owe me a few takeout nights before you’re out of the doghouse.”  

Bucky narrows his eyes, daring to challenge your gaze. “What promise?”  

“You left.”

Bucky feels the hitch in his lungs before the flash of guilt sweeps over his gut. You notice it just as quick because the teasing smile falls in an instant. He stumbles back away from you, slipping out from the extent of your outstretched hand.  

“It’s better that way, Y/n,” he mumbles. “I’m the reason you ended up there.”

“Don’t you dare do that,” you snap, enough so that it startles him. 

You struggle to walk the few steps closer to him, your legs wobbling underneath you and he wonders how you even made it across the tower and down five floors to the gym without anyone stopping you. You reach for his hand and because Bucky can’t bear to see you struggle, he offers his support. You balance yourself on the edge of the weight machine beside him, one hand anchored in his left forearm.  

“Y/n,” he starts, taking in a deep breath, but you cut him off quickly.  

“No. There is no room for the Bucky Barnes guilt parade here, okay?” you argue. “You saved my life, Bucky. You can’t possibly stand there and think for a second that you’re somehow to blame for anything less.”

He shakes his head. The guilt and shame that burns deep into his chest is one he knows well. It lives inside of him, festering, waiting for moments like these.  

“If I hadn’t taken you from the field, if I got that blade out sooner, Banner could have given you the antidote hours earlier and you wouldn’t have—”

“I would have bled out before he had the chance,” you press, pulling yourself a little closer. “Those other agents? They had scrapes, Bucky. Nicks. The poison only started to affect me after you removed the knife. Bruce thinks it reacted to the oxygen in the air. Waiting to remove the blade, closing the wound... Bucky, you prolonged it as long as you could have. You gave me more time, gave Bruce and Tony time to find us. You saved me.”  

Your hand squeezes at the solid metal of his forearm and Bucky knows he can't really feel it. He can only register the synapses faintly, as if they were distant, far away; it reads it like data and numbers, but there’s something in the way the pads of your fingertips press into the divots of vibranium that makes his breath hilt. His stare focuses on your thumb as it rubs soothing sweeps along the crevices and it takes him a moment before he dares to meet your eye.

When he does, all that is waiting for him is that same smile that lit up across a battlefield, that pushed through when you were on the brink of an endless darkness, that cast away the shadows and demons that swarmed in his chest just with the wrinkles up by your eyes. He felt lighter. Safer.  

“Now,” you start, sliding your palm down his forearm until you can intertwine your hand in his own. You curl your fingers around his and you don’t seem to be bothered in the slightest by the harsh chill of the metal. You smile at him and for the first time in a while, Bucky finds himself smiling back. “I believe you owe me a dance, Sergeant.”

Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨

[yourtamaki]

history doesn’t repeat, it rhymes

sakusa x gn!reader

word count: 4.1k

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, elements of depersonalization, non-explicit mentions of sex

dedicated to: @onyxoverride (thank you for beta reading) & @saintdabi

you can’t remember the last time you saw your reflection.

it wasn’t deliberate, the way you turned your back to the full length mirror in your closet every morning when you got dressed, how you usually dodged your reflection coming out of the shower like you did just now. at least, not at first. not until you realized how much better you felt now that you didn’t have to come face to face with a stranger everyday. that was the only word to describe whatever lived in the mirror. a stranger. any recognizable part of you had rotted away long ago. all that remained now was an empty husk with dead eyes and a selfish heart. the same selfish heart that set you on this path in the first place. 

was it worth it? you wanted to ask your past self. was his love worth what you did to yourself?

the very first night you met sakusa set the tone for the rest of your relationship. you’re still not entirely sure why you accepted your roommate, hinata’s, invitation to his team’s party to celebrate their record win streak. it probably had something to do with the puppy dog eyes he threw you. regardless, you went, wearing an outfit you were losing confidence in by the second and leaning against a wall as far from the drunk crowd as you could get. you never liked parties like this. too many people, too loud. but for your best friend, you were willing to grit your teeth and bare it. 

a part of you, larger than you would ever admit, wishes you never looked to your left that day. wishes that you never spotted the curly haired man looking so sullen despite half his face being covered with a mask, that you didn’t notice the way his eyes flickered from his empty red cup to where you knew the kitchen to be, how he wearily eyed the crowd of people that separated him from it. 

“i was about to grab a drink. i can bring something back for you if you’d like?” the first thing you ever said to the love of your life was a lie. you were planning on staying tucked in your corner all night, safe from the dancing drunks who had no concept of personal space until hinata was ready to leave. and yet the words were almost ripped out of you the moment your eyes landed on him, a fierce need to help the man flaring up from nowhere. you could only assume he had separated himself from the party for the same reason you had and it pulled on your heartstrings. no one ever noticed when you needed help so why not extend that courtesy to him instead? he blinked at you as though he had to process your offer before he nodded. 

“yes, please i’d appreciate it.” his voice was different than you expected it to be. slow and calm despite the way his fist clenched and unclenched.  “just water. a closed bottle if you can find it.” 

his brows furrowed for a moment when you held out your hand before letting out a quiet ah and handing you his empty cup. it was endearing how he placed it in your hand, balancing it carefully on your palm. 

“be right back.” you shot him a smile and started to make your way across the floor, getting pushed and jostled the entire way there. you made quick work of tossing the garbage into the overflowing trash bag and dug out two water bottles from behind a rack of beer cans in the fridge. the trip back was no easier and you breathed a sigh of relief when you were once again in your small private bubble with the man. the discomfort you endured, the skin crawling sensation of all those bodies too close to you was worth the way his eyes lit up when he saw you’d returned. 

he accepted the cool bottle with a murmured thanks, pulling his mask down and tucking it under his chin. handsome was your first thought and his name was your second. the two distinct moles on his brow should’ve given it away that you were talking to sakusa kiyoomi. you’d seen enough of hinata’s games, heard enough stories to put a name to the face. he held your stare as you placed him in your mind, taking a sip from the bottle as he did. an urge to say something, anything to keep those eyes on you bubbled up hot and fast and you said the first thing that came to mind. 

“my roommate’s your teammate.” 

“is he? which one?” 

“hinata. shoyo.” you added as though there was another hinata on the msby roster.

“ah. my condolences.” the corner of his lips quirked up when you snorted. “i’ve seen how he leaves a locker room. i don’t want to imagine what his room looks like.” 

“it’s not pretty, that’s for sure.” you said, leaning your shoulder against the wall and taking a moment to regard him. “can i ask why you’re here? shoyo told me you don’t like crowds so a party must be hard on you.” 

“would you believe me if i said contractual obligations?” 

“nope cause i helped shoyo go through his contract and i don’t remember ragers being a part of the deal.” a small burst of pride bloomed in your chest when he laughed, a quick huff from his nose and amused eyes as though he didn’t expect it. 

“you got me.” you waited for him to explain and deflated a bit when he remained silent. that is, until you followed where his eyes had wandered. it was easy to spot hinata from across the party. he sat high above the rest of the crowd on bokuto’s shoulders, leaning back occasionally to test bokuto’s reaction time and giggling every time he was caught at the last moment. meian was trying in vain to pull the ginger down while atsumu seemed to be on facetime with someone recording the whole thing, his loud laughter ringing out clearly over the music. 

“you’re here for them?” you said just as the realization dawned on you. sakusa twitched, so small you wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t been watching him so closely. 

“spending time with your teammates promotes better gameplay on the court.” 

“i’m sure it does. but wanting to hang out with your friends isn’t a crime.” 

“we are hanging out. i’m here, aren’t i? if they wanted to talk to me, they know where to find me.” the bitterness in his tone wasn’t enough to mask the acceptance behind his words, of being resigned to his fate as the forgotten one. 

“well, i found you.” he looked over at you, something unreadable swimming behind his eyes before they softened.

“yeah. you did. you know, you’ve talked a lot about shoyo but i don’t know anything about you. i don’t even know your name.” he said. heat raced to your cheeks, flustered that he seemed to be paying as much attention to you that you were to him.

“i didn’t even notice, sorry.” you said before offering your name. he repeated it back, once, twice, rolling it around on his tongue and you watched his mouth, mesmerized by how it curled around a word you’ve heard your whole life until it sounded new again. he spoke your name in a soft, hushed whisper and you wondered if his lips would feel just as soft. half-lidded, his gaze flickered downwards like he was wondering the same thing.

the rest of the night was a blur in your mind. all you could recall was that you chatted with sakusa until the others found you and you drove a passed-out hinata home with a new contact saved to your phone.  

the reminiscing left you drained, clutching your phone in your hands, the screen frozen on that same contact as you collapsed into bed and yet you couldn’t stop the rest of the memories from flooding through your mind, the truth you’ve been holding off for too long. you’ve picked at a festering wound that was best left alone. if you didn’t think too hard about it, if you ignored how it grew and ate away at you, it wouldn’t hurt as much. right? but it was too late. you’ve pulled the string and now you’re left to deal with your own unraveling. 

you scrolled through your texts for what feels like a lifetime, the entirety of your relationship flashing by and disappearing in an instant until you could scroll no higher. of course you sent the first text. a formal message that didn’t look anything like how you actually text with one too many exclamation points in your desperation to come across friendly. 

your fingers moved across the screen and when your mind caught up, your thumb was hovering over the button to delete the entire conversation. you never wanted to see evidence of who you used to be ever again. you didn’t want to be reminded of the person you cut and broke and killed until they fit into sakusa’s neat life. but sentimentality stilled your hand, the phone dropping from your limp fingers and crashing to the floor. you didn’t bother reaching for it.

the accursed memories refuse to let you be, another bobbing up to the surface from the murky depths and pulling you under before you could stop it. one that showed what little agency you had in your own life.

it started the way it always did. you noticed him. noticed how tired he was every time you spoke. how you went from going out on dates to always staying in to maybe being lucky enough to say good night over the phone before he crashed for the day. and sure, you were lonely. so starved for him it ached. but that was overshadowed by your worry for him. you would lay awake wondering if he’d remember to eat that day, if he had the energy to clean his apartment and if he didn’t, how much was that adding to his stress? 

so you swung by his place the next morning after he had left for practice, spent the day cleaning, restocked his fridge and were nearly done making dinner when he returned. his exhaustion was truly hammered home when he walked straight past the kitchen on autopilot before doubling back, tilting his head at you in confusion. 

“what are you doing here, darling?” 

“helping out.” you turned back to the stove and busied yourself with mindless stirring, afraid that you’d been too eager and overstepped. “you seemed pretty tired these days so i wanted to do something for you but you’re back earlier than i expected so i can just go if you want to be alone just let me-” 

your rambling was cut off when a force barrelled into you and sakusa hugged you tight from behind, head buried in the crook of your shoulder. all at once, whatever anxiety had been growing fled you and you relaxed into his touch. 

“thank you.” it wasn’t the words that made your heart leap to your throat. it was the sincerity, the slight crack at the end that told you he had more he wanted to say but didn’t know how. 

you fell into a routine of going over to his apartment, looking after things, kissing him when he returned and staying over at night. at first, it was once a week. then over the weekend, then every other day. 

“you should move in.” even though you half expected your relationship to take this next step, it still took you by surprise the casual way sakusa brought it up. you weren’t entirely sure if you wanted to move in with him just yet. you built a home with hinata and that apartment meant everything to you, all your happiest memories were made there and oh no sakusa was still waiting for an answer.  

“i should?”

“yeah.” 

and that was the end of it. you were packed and out of hinata’s apartment (because it was his now. his and atsumu’s. not yours, it’ll never be yours again) by the end of the month. most of your things didn’t come with you but that was fine, right? so what if you still felt like a guest in your home even to this day with none of yourself being reflected in the apartment? you got to wake up to see the love of your life every day and that made everything worth it. 

until you started waking up alone.  

extra training, he said. the team drafted new players and he had to get used to their play style, he said. and you believed him, trusted that he’d be home with you if he could. so you took the crushing loneliness and swallowed it down like a bitter pill. you smiled wide when he came home late with only the moon to light your bedroom and let him use your body to rid the stress of the day.

the dead of night was the only time you’d have him all to yourself. you could be greedy for his attention when he was buried inside you. it was easy to pretend you clawed up and down his back because you were caught up in the moment and not because you were desperate to keep him close to you. easy to pretend the tears in your eyes were from pleasure and not from how much you missed his voice. 

and when he was empty and spent, you would stroke his hair until he fell asleep and then, only then, would you whisper all the things you couldn’t tell him during the day. small, meaningless anecdotes that you knew would earn you a wry smile if he was awake to hear them, the one he used when he didn’t want to let on how close he was to laughing. the stolen moments were a salve on your fractured heart but it was never enough to heal it. in the end, when you were once again alone in your too-wide bed, it only served to remind you just how deep the cracks were. 

maybe that’s where you went wrong. you gave away your heart to someone and got nothing in return, nothing to plug up the all-consuming void in your chest. there was nothing left of you. no, that wasn’t quite true. there was nothing good left of you. you gave him your best parts and all you had now was pure resentment that burned hot and fierce in your core, so acidic it ate everything in its path. it burned away the dredges of your soul until all you could do was allow it to climb up and scorch your throat in a silent scream. 

another memory. it’s strange what your brain chose to latch onto as you spiralled. on the surface, you remember this to be a happier time. but as it overtook you, you’re reminded almost violently that the edges of this memory are stained with the early decay of your identity. 

before the early mornings and late nights, before you got into the habit of staring at your ceiling and wondering how you got to that point, you and sakusa had a tradition. you’d both find something, a story, a movie, that you think the other doesn’t know and share it with them. that day sakusa came to you with the myth of orpheus and eurydice. 

he told you the story of a man so in love with his wife he journeys to the underworld after she dies to find her, how hades tells him he can guide her to the land of the living but orpheus must trust that eurydice is following him. if he turns around, eurydice’s fate is sealed. sakusa explained how in every version of the myth, orpheus turned around at the very end out of an uncontrollable, unfiltered love for his wife. whether it was because he was excited to see the end of the tunnel and wanted to share his joy with her or because he feared she got lost, either one stems from the love he has for her. the love that sent him to find her is the same love that doomed her in the end. but the more sakusa spoke about orpheus, the more you wondered about the other protagonist of the story. 

“why didn’t eurydice try to let orpheus know she was there? she could’ve held his hand or touched his back or something.” you asked. you were laying your head on sakusa’s chest, letting the low rumble wash over you as he read you the tale. the question had been bugging you as the story came to its conclusion though you couldn’t place your finger as to why.

“she was a spirit. she would pass right through him.” 

“yeah but…” you searched for the words to explain your confusion. “she didn’t even try.” 

“it wouldn’t have mattered either way.” 

you opened your mouth to press the issue further, too stubborn to let it go just yet when you heard sakusa sigh out of his nose. it was enough for any question to die on your tongue and all that came out was a quiet, “i guess so.” 

it was a nothing memory. an empty thing to remind you of better times that you’ve had no need to look back on. so why did that moment swirl around your head now, as you crumbled in your lowest moments? scattered pieces start to form together in the recesses of your mind but before you could call them forth to make a full image, the bedroom door swung open and sakusa walked in. 

for once, you don’t slip on your well worn porcelain mask. you don’t school your expression and force it to mold into something that couldn’t quite be called happy. instead, you sat up straight in bed, held his gaze and did nothing to hide the maelstrom of hurt that raged inside you. a sick satisfaction shot through your veins when his steps faltered at the force of your stare. 

“what’s wrong?” he asked. 

what isn’t? you thought but instead said, “nothing. i was just thinking. about us.” 

“oh.” his eyes are already sliding away from you, a quiet detachment in his voice that made you grind your teeth in frustration. 

“remember that greek story you told me about?” 

“mhmm.” 

“tell me again why eurydice didn’t reach out.” there it is again. a short, sharp exhale from his nose. he opened his mouth but you spoke before he could. “humour me.”

“she was dead, darling. she couldn’t touch him, he couldn’t hear her so there was no point.” 

“no point? there was no point in trying to tell orpheus that she was behind him? he climbed into the underworld for her and she couldn’t try?” 

“could you--?” he cut himself off and pinched the bridge of his nose. “it’s late. i’m exhausted and really not in the mood so can we go to bed?” 

“doesn’t that sound familiar?” you continued as though he hadn’t spoken. “one person bending heaven and hell for the person they love while the other can’t even meet them halfway. remind you of anything?” 

now you had his full attention. his brows scrunched together and you’re not sure if he’s trying to figure out the meaning behind your words or the reason for your hostile tone. you don’t feel like helping him out either and instead watched the gears turn in his head with something akin to glee. it’s his turn to be paranoid, to overthink, to pick apart every moment of your relationship and dissect it piece by rotted piece. 

“please don’t be vague. if you’re upset with me, tell me.” it was the most emotion you’ve heard from him in so long, you were taken aback for a moment. 

“i’m a bit past ‘upset’, omi.”

“i’m sorry.”

you scoffed. “you don’t even know what you’re apologizing for.” 

“you’re hurt and it’s my fault. that's enough for me to say sorry.” 

“you don’t understand.” he crossed the room in three large strides, sitting on the edge of the bed to leave space between you. 

“then help me understand.” 

you floundered for the right words to explain the mountain of revelations you’ve uncovered and settled for, “how do i take my coffee, kiyoomi?” 

he took your use of his full name in stride. “black. one sugar.” 

“no that’s how you take your coffee. that’s the only way you ever make coffee. i had to learn to like it.” 

“what, you’re mad i don’t know how you like your coffee?” you know he didn’t mean anything by it, that’s he's always been more blunt that he means to be but it doesn’t stop you from feeling patronized and the hurt loosened your tongue. 

“it’s not about the coffee! it’s not about the fact that eurydice was a ghost. it’s the effort, omi. you haven’t put an ounce of effort into this relationship. i’m the one who has to bend. i’m the one that has to change, it’s never you.” 

“i never asked you to.” the truth of the statement knocked the air out of your lungs. because that's the worst part, isn’t it? you have no one to blame your misery on but yourself. 

“i don’t know how to love you without sacrificing pieces of myself. and i’m empty, kiyoomi, i've given you all of me. and it feels like you’ve given me nothing in return.”  

his head was bowed while he listened but from how tight he laced his fingers together, you know he was fighting to stay calm. “you know i love you, right?”

“do you? do you love me or love that i’m convenient? love that i clean your place and make you food and have a hole you can--” 

“stop.” you didn’t know it was possible for so much heartbreak to be packed into a single word. it sobered you of your venom and in its place, shame came rushing in. 

“i’m sorry. i'm pissed at myself for letting it get this far and i’m taking it out on you. i don’t regret loving you. but it feels like that’s the only thing living inside me. like i’m not even a person anymore.”

“i should’ve noticed. it shouldn’t have taken you snapping for me to realize what was going on.” 

“maybe.” 

silence, suffocating silence, stretched and morphed time until it felt like you’ve aged a decade in a moment. and then sakusa spoke.

“you’ll help a stranger just because they look like they might need it and ask for nothing in return. you’ll make someone food just so you can be sure they ate that day. you’ll tell me about your day while i fall asleep and i don’t think i could sleep without hearing your voice. you’re kind and too selfless for your own good and the best person i’ve ever met. it kills me that i’ve been the cause of your pain.”

it was strange hearing those traits spun in a good light when you’ve thought of them negatively for so long. strange knowing where you saw faults he saw things worth admiring. “you hear me at night?” 

“and you like focusing on minor details. yes, darling. every night.” 

“oh.” 

“i understand if you need… space, if you want to spend some time apart. but give me a chance. please. give me a chance to prove how important you are to me. i’m sorry that i’ve failed you. i’m sorry i've been taking you for granted. but that ends now. never again. 

“and i can help you, too. i can remind you of all the parts you say you’ve lost. i’ll tell you all about the person i fell in love with everyday if you need it. i’d never run out of things to say. please. you found me once, let me return the favour and help you find yourself. if-if you’ll have me.” 

his small speech wasn’t the reason tears stung the back of your eyes. as he finished speaking, sakusa reached out across the space between you and offered you his hand. a lifeline that you took, the lump in your throat to keeping everything you wanted to say stuck inside you. thankfully, you needed no words for sakusa to understand you. he brought your joined fingers to his lips and let out a shaky breath against them. the two of you stayed like that for a small eternity, drifted apart yet holding together with a bridge to link you. you’ve been fueled by resentment and anger for so long, you weren’t sure if you were strong enough to let them go. but you did know that you didn’t want to try without him by your side. 

[battlekidx2]

Amphibia - Earth Epilogue Thoughts

This was originally going to be about the entire last episode but then it got way too long so I’m breaking it up into parts with this one coming out first because, while this is the last section of the episode, it is somehow the section I finished first.

I can’t believe Amphibia is over. It was an amazing ride from start to finish with some of the highest highs I’ve seen in animation. When I first started watching the show in May of 2020 I wasn’t expecting how attached I would become to the world and characters and it really did help me through a turbulent time in my life. I’m really happy that this show has garnered the following and been given the love it deserves.

I had to sit on this for a few days because it was hard to process all that had happened and I have a lot of thoughts on The Hardest Thing. I am conflicted about some aspects of the finale but overall I loved this goodbye to the series. Amphibia has once again made a season finale that will stay with me long after that first watch-through. This one was a bit difficult to get through because I had so many emotions about a series so important to me ending but I’m really happy that it existed and got to be a part of my life so I wanted to get this out there.

I just hope all of you could get the enjoyment and connection to Amphibia that I found these past two years watching the show because it really was a wonderful experience and this is an amazing show.

I’m glad I took a few days to sit on this because the Amphibia cast and crew have been very active on social media and some of the things said have eased a few issues I had with the finale. One of them was that Matt Braly came out and said that Marcy did visit after she moved away and that all the girls did stay close after Amphibia even if they slowly drifted apart over time. They still keep up with each other on social media and try to show interest in what they are each doing. But I will stand by the fact that the dialogue in the episode doesn’t get this across.

The way the dialogue is makes it sound like they didn’t talk hardly at all after Marcy left and she was out of the loop and Anne and Sasha drifted apart soon after. Marcy asking if Anne and Sasha hung out after she moved doesn’t seem like the kind of question that would be asked if they kept in close contact and Sasha’s comment that Anne and her drifted apart in high school makes it sound like they drifted apart 1-2 years after amphibia (given that they were 13-14 pre-timeskip and would have entered high school the next year). I know logically that the girls would always be close and important to each other even if they lost contact due to time and distance. That’s why I didn’t understand the dialogue choices and still don’t entirely. 

Amphibia is about change but the entirety of the show was also about the friendship of these three girls falling apart and forcing them to grow separately as individuals before coming back together as true friends. A huge part of The Beginning of the End and All In was all about Sasha and Anne coming to understand Marcy and wanting to make their friendship with her and each other work despite their past issues. Season 3b is dedicated to Sasha and Anne rebuilding their friendship into something stronger than before (Anne literally says “just look at what you and I have now”). So to make it sound like they drifted apart so casually bothers me. I don’t think I can get behind how they had Anne and Sasha’s relationship drift apart like that especially since they live so close together and likely go to the same school during this time.

I understand that this is a friendship that wouldn’t easily be broken. That is exactly why the dialogue bothered me because I don’t think it properly conveyed that.

It’s not an issue with the message. I love the message that people do grow apart and that they can come back together again. I love how they meet up on Anne’s birthday, bring her presents, catch up, and take a new photo. I love the idea that things aren’t permanent and that sometimes you will grow apart but that doesn’t make your experiences together and the love you share pointless, it just takes on a new meaning. I love that all these years later they could come back together and reconnect.

I love all of that. My issue was that the dialogue made it seem like they drifted apart soon after Amphibia which didn’t sit right with me. But with Matt’s tweets about the subject and assurance that this will be shown in Marcy’s journal I have hope that this could be addressed.

Now for the things I loved about this epilogue. There are a lot.

The first thing I want to talk about is how perfect each girls’ profession is. Marcy creating a popular webcomic is a great outlet for her love of fantasy and escapism. She can put all that passion and love that initially blinded her to the consequences of her actions in Amphibia into something healthy and connect with many people through her work. She can find that connection through media that she tried so desperately to establish in the flashback in The Beginning of the End (that flashback makes me emotional even mentioning). And Sasha even read her webcomic trying to show interest in Marcy’s passions which I loved.

This is once again really relatable. I know a lot of gifted kids who excelled academically and had great things projected for their future in science and engineering only for them to burn out and discover their true passion was tied to the media they consume and creating something of their own. Marcy has always been relatable and this just hit it home.

Sasha becoming a Child Psychologist to help kids work through their emotional baggage was really fitting. I liked the nod to how all of her actions in Amphibia were brought on by her baggage from home. She was struggling with the effects of her parent’s divorce and the breakdown of her relationship with them. Her inability to understand the relationship between Anne and the Plantars, the jealousy/bitterness she shows towards Anne’s relationship with her parents, her need for control, etc all stemmed from a turbulent home life. The fact that she’s using the lessons she learned in Amphibia and her own mistakes to help kids work through their own issues so they don’t take that same path is heartwarming.

I do wish we got some sort of expansion on Sasha’s home life outside of implications, the two separate letters, and interviews because we got at least some insight into Marcy’s parents and situation that kept her from wanting to go home but with Sasha it is all subtext. We also don’t get a clear motivation for why she’d want to go back outside of “it’s where she’s from” and I feel there should have been some expansion to this point to round out her arc. 

This didn’t hurt this episode for me but it makes Sasha’s ultimate decision to go home and leave behind Amphibia and Grime not feel as integral to her arc as it is Marcy’s (because it was very clearly the trajectory of her arc after the True Colors reveal) or as earned as Anne’s (she’s self explanatory. Her goal has always been to go back home and she has missed her family and home since day 1) for me.

I also think Marcy’s parents should have been shown. Her parents deciding to move is what kicked off the entire story so it seems odd not to show them at all.

It didn’t hurt how much I liked the episode. It just felt weird that they were teased with Anne sending the letters and the phone call with the Boonchuys in All In only to never appear.

Anne becoming a herpetologist who works at an aquarium was perfect. It makes complete sense. She can be surrounded by what she loves and create a homage to an important, formative part of her life. The “Get Lost in Amphibia” sign with the Plantar farm, toad tower, the three gems on the wall, mother olm above the doorway, and the frog she named Sprig all hit in the most bittersweet way. The Plantars and Amphibia will always be a part of her just like it is for Marcy and Sasha. She just found a different way to build it into her life and career.

I think the idea that they could come back together after all the time and distance that has come between them is really beautiful and it makes me tear up. I love this idea. I love how they meet up on Anne’s birthday, bring her presents, catch up, and take a new photo. I love the idea that things aren’t permanent and that sometimes you will grow apart but that doesn’t make your experiences together and the love you share pointless, it just takes on a new meaning. (My conflict comes from the things I pointed out above.) 

This aspect of the epilogue makes me really emotional especially considering Anne’s narration “But of the things you let go, you’d be surprised what makes its way back to you.” The girls reuniting and hugging with Sprig in the foreground and the Amphibia setup around them was the perfect ending frame for this show. 

There’s also more than one interpretation of this ending line. There’s the obvious one that the girls always find their way back to each other but it also has to do with how Amphibia has come back around and stayed in their lives long after they left it behind. That last shot is a recreation of the picture on the calamity box as well which brings it all full circle.

It’s also all of their adventures surrounding them and bidding them farewell. They spent months of their lives here and it has irrevocably changed them. So having one final goodbye even if they can’t see their found family again tugs at the heartstrings.

Amphibia is and will always be a big part of the girls and they all have things to help them remember it by. Anne has her job and setup at the aquarium which is one big homage to her second home. Sasha has the twin heron sword patch on her jacket and ornament on her rear view mirror along with the heron on the back of her jacket and the ax beetle guitar sticker on her mirror (and she was supposed to have a Grime eye tattoo on her wrist). She has reminders of her time there all over. And I am convinced that Marcy put aspects of their adventures in Amphibia in her webcomic. They all carry their experiences and memories with them even if they can’t return. And I love seeing how they all carried those experiences into their new life back on earth.

(I wish I could get a higher quality photo of the new polaroid)

I would be remiss not to talk about that final shot in the credits of the new bff photo the girls took. It’s a beautiful bookend to their story. The polaroid was such an important thing for every girl throughout the story but it grew and changed in significance with each of the girls. This new one symbolizes their new change in dynamic and friendship perfectly.

Anne is in the center rather than Sasha. Before Amphibia Sasha was the leader of their group. She made herself the center because of who she was. But now Anne is the center, the heart, of the group. Because she is the glue that holds them together. She is a big reason for Sasha and Marcy’s individual growth. They have their hands interlocked to show this but also because they will always be connected. Even with time and distance they will find each other and come back together because they are irreplaceable parts of each other’s lives.

The fact that our first sighting of the group was this polaroid stuck in a tree in the rain during the opening and that this is the last sighting of the group right before “Complete” appears in Thai bringing the series to a close is so poetic. This friendship started turbulent and bound to break apart but because of their individual growth their bond is unbreakable. They may not have talked every day over the past ten years but their importance to each other has never waned and the possibility of being close once again after this moment of connection is there. It’s open to the individual.

I love this series and I love these characters. I know this series will always hold a special place to me and I hope others manage to find connection in it as well.

Also Sasha Waybright is Bi and I love it.

[imaginethebeautifulworld]

Let’s say England has a long-term girlfriend he knows isn’t the biggest fan of marriage bc her family had been really really pushy (before she got the heck out of dodge) about her marrying + reproducing ASAP. How might he react if she came to him and said she was kinda starting to like the general concept of marrying him — that is, the whole ‘together forever’ bit. Thanks!

I confess darling that I have been trying to finish this prompt for well over a year, and I offer my sincerest apologies that it’s taken me this long to finish it. Still, despite my tardiness, I hope you enjoy, and I thank you for your patience with me.

You had never intended to fall in love, not with the constant push of your relatives to fall in line like a perfect child.

First, marriage to someone they deemed acceptable, raising the perfect 2.5 children, followed by quietly settling into parenthood and complaisant contentment until the day you last drew breath.

Truth of the matter was, you had avoided all chances of romance for the first few years after you moved away from home, carefully slipping away from anyone who seemed remotely interested in you.

You knew your folks would have disproved such behaviour had they learnt the truth, but you couldn’t find it in your heart to care. You had your own dreams to pursue, your own story to tell, your own life to live; you didn't need someone by your side to feel complete.

You were happy as you were, finding enjoyment in your work and figuring out your place in the world.

You didn’t need, or frankly want, anything more than that.

That was of course until you met him.

Falling in love with Arthur Kirkland had been a complete accident. He slipped past all of your defenses and took up residence in your heart as if he had always belonged there.

It started out slow enough; at first you simply knew him as a familiar face from the cafe in Waterstones, steaming cup of Darjeeling and a chocolate croissant sitting forgotten on the table in front of him, always too focused on his reading to pay any attention to the outside world. After one particularly crowded Sunday afternoon, he began to transition into your favorite dining companion, the two of you often taking turns paying for each other’s food. Slowly but surely, you began forgetting about your books, too wrapped up in conversation, and before you knew it-

You had come to love every part of him- the gentleman that you begrudgingly introduced to your parents, the rebellious and passionate activist, the cocky and playful little shit who had long ago memorised all the best ways to disarm you, and the ancient soul who cared so deeply, who still stretched himself thin most days in effort to protect each of his loved ones.

You fell in love with his voice, whispering sonnets and sonatas and sweet nothings in your ear while his arms cradled you from behind.

You fell in love with his eyes, still losing your footing sometimes when the light caught them just right, dreaming momentarily of summer forests and grassy glades and the misty dews of spring.

You fell in love with his smiles, from the satisfied grin at stirring up Peter’s ire to the breathless wonder each time you kissed or complimented him, to the bright, beautiful, blinding smile he wore when he was incandescently happy, his entire countenance iridescent from his joy.

You loved him completely- for his devotion, for his sweet gestures, for his damned impishness, for his wit, his sass, and the soft spoken affection.

You loved him: for his patience, for his recklessness, for his resilience, for his possessive pride that was somehow more charming than alarming.

He was unique, an enigma that, even after having lived together for years and dating even longer, kept you on your toes, his energy and random spouts of spontaneity proving to you that, even if you spent one hundred lifetimes with him, he would always remain a puzzle you would never fully solve.

And by God did you want to.

Arthur had stolen your heart away from you before you had even noticed he was close enough to take it, offering his own in its stead.

You had remained reluctant, confided in him your fears about settling down, how much you dreaded becoming trapped in a monotonous rut of tedium. He was quick to reassure you, showing through words and actions far more impassioned and teasing than he had ever shown prior, that an eternity with him could never be boring.

Even on quiet days, like today, with a steady drizzle painting the world in greys, Arthur humming quietly while adding another patch to his denim vest, and no other disturbance apart from the cat’s chittering at the robins playing in a puddle by the iron fence- Even now, you weren’t so much bored as you were pensive.

You had been thinking about a future with him a lot in the past few days, some irrelevant ad on your mobile about wedding venues catching your attention and slithering into the back of your mind.

What kind of wedding would he like? Would Arthur prefer something small and intimate, or would his hubris crave a larger venue, giving him yet another chance to prove to the world that he belonged at your side, no one else?  You couldn’t help but wonder if he would wear his uniform or a suit, if he would leave the rats' nest he called a hairstyle untouched, or if he would perhaps slick it back in that way that somehow made the normal rakishness disappear, a confident, refined cavalier standing in his place.

You knew of course that none of this mattered unless you actually talked to him first; as far as you were aware, he was content with the current arrangement, and he respected your views of marriage.

He had known, for a long time, just where the grim outlook stemmed from, and he never breached the subject again.

But now-

You had thought it was enough to hold his love, his faith, his vulnerabilities. But life was so fleeting, and now those few things were no longer enough.

You wanted to wake up every morning next to him, wanted the cheesy partners’ towel and flip flop sets. You wanted the physical reminder that you held his heart, the comforting reminder that he completely possessed your own. You wanted to be by his side forever, holding his hand through the good and the ill, facing new worlds and challenges and the uncertain future together.

You knew the risks, of course.

Marriage to a Nation carried an even heavier burden than the simple oath of “till death do us part.”

No, marrying Arthur would mean weaving your entire lives together, binding you on a spiritual level far surpassing mortality; it would mean sacrificing your chance to ever grow old, to eternally give yourself away: heart, mind, body, and soul.

But this was Arthur, who sang showtunes in the shower, who spent hours making silly faces at the cat, who was ridiculously competitive about Halloween costumes, the man who sat down and memorised the entirety of The Tempest in one night just for the bragging rights.

He already owned your heart, constantly invaded your thoughts and daydreams, and God knew he had long, long ago claimed your body, making certain not a single millimeter of his new territory went unexplored.

Would it really be so bad to give him your soul, too?

Glancing back up, seeing his eyes narrowed in concentration, his fingers handling the needle with expert precision, lips slightly parted, reading glasses fallen halfway down his nose-

You knew your answer.

It was always going to be Arthur for you, only Arthur.

Forever, should he have you.

But now you faced the challenge of telling him that.

It should be simple enough; you really held no more secrets from him, and he no longer bothered trying to hide anything from you. You loved how open you were with one another, cherished the honesty that served as the very foundation to your relationship.

But the truth was that you were terrified.

It had been so long since either of you had spoken of marriage, since the topic was even a thought in your minds, and-

What if he didn't want you anymore?

What if he-

"I can see the steam coming outta your ears."

The unexpected presence of Arthur's voice startled you, eyes darting back over to the very man who was unwittingly tormenting you.

He had barely moved from his earlier position, though his glasses had been pushed up into his hair and he was studying you curiously, if not bemusedly.

"You good there?"

By default, you nearly responded with an affirmative, some playful, lighthearted thing that would have dismissed his concern immediately. You cut yourself off mid-start, then, while shifting to sit properly in the armchair, you decided to push forward. "Can we talk?"

You watched as his expression shifted, revealing his concern as he tied off his thread, setting aside the patchwork and gestured for you to join him on the sofa.

There were a few awkward moments where you took up your favourite positions, Arthur tossing an afghan across the pair of you despite your insistence that you didn't need one, the flicker of a grin as you begrudgingly thanked him, and then shifting around as you both got comfortable, but soon enough-

"Alright, now; talketh at-eth me."

It was impossible to fight the smile his choice of words triggered, a reference to an inside joke so old now that you could scarcely recall its origin. Seeming to deem it a success, his own soft, reassuring smile greeted you.

"Seriously though, luv-" His hand came to rest atop your own, his fingers gently tapping a familiar rhythm against your skin. "What's troubling you?"

You were half-tempted to offer something short of sincerity, something innocuous and mundane that you could both laugh over and forget again within a few hours. Yet, you knew that if you didn't tell him now, didn't ask him now, you would never find the courage again.

"I've been thinking-"

"Ah. A scary premise in its own right."

"Oh, shut up," you retorted to his tease, smacking his arm for his troubles. He rewarded you with a grin, all fondness and mischief. Opting to ignore him, you pressed on, eyes downcast to avoid whatever judgement he may offer.

"As I was trying to say earlier, before I was so rudely interrupted-" The teasing fell off, and the worry crept back in. "I've been thinking. About us."

"O-oh?"

Were you not so consumed by your own anxieties, you would have noticed his stutter, would have seen the sudden tension in his posture, the fear in his eyes. As it was, you were completely oblivious to all of it, and made yourself continue at his prompting.

"I- I think I'm ready."

He mimed the word "ready" to himself, parroting it with utter befuddlement. "For wha-"

"I mean, I know I wasn't for such a long time, and-" Suddenly, you were off, half unhinged. Now that you had admitted the truth aloud, it was all rushing out of you, everything you had come to love about him, everything that-

A finger pressing firmly against your lips stopped you mid-tangent, and when you glanced up to find piercing, blazing emerald focused on you as if you were the very center of the universe, whatever remained of your ramblings disappeared entirely.

"What are you trying to say?"

A simple question, so easy to answer, yet it carried with it the weight of Infinities, demanding nothing save the truth, in its most basic state.

You were lost in his gravity, half-drowning in whatever this new feeling was. It was addicting, another riddle to be solved.

"Marry me."

Time stood still, the words weighing heavily in the space between you, now seemingly insurmountable despite being no more than mere decimeters.

Arthur showed no reaction, revealed no indication that he had even heard your plea, your query, your command, your request, and yet it echoed over and over in your own mind, the tone, the weight, the untimeliness-

Every facet- from your inflection to chosen tempo- crescandoed as an accusation, a mocking symphony that he would reject you, that you would be left with only the haunting strains of your ill-conceived proposal.

And yet-

There was a hesitation in his eyes, the face of a man who wanted wholeheartedly to believe what he had heard, but had been burned far too often in the past to dare allow himself hope.

"You-" His eyebrows furrowed, eyes narrowed as he studied you once more, only for the suspicion to disappear again almost immediately, disbelief swiftly taking its place. "You're serious?"

It was then that you finally read his nervousness, understood the strange emotion reflecting in his eyes.

You had lead him to a precipice, the vast Unknown before you both, and-

And he was just as fragile as you were, even if he was better at hiding it.

You gave his hand a light squeeze, hoping to ground you both, and offered him a nod. “If you’ll have me, anyway.”

His eyes flickered between your own, darting back-and-forth so quickly in search of a lie, of any doubts, of any hint that you were less than certain- yet you knew he would find none of that.

“What about your family?”

The question took you by surprise; in the moment, you had completely forgotten anyone else even existed.

You weighed his question carefully. Marrying Arthur would give your family leave to gloat in self-satisfaction, and you knew with absolutely certainty that they would hold it over your head for the next three decades. But looking into the eyes of the man before you, remembering all that you had already seen and done together, you found that others' opinions no longer mattered, really hadn't mattered in a long, long time.

“I couldn’t care less about them. Arth-”

Whatever you were going to say was forgotten as he closed the remaining distance between you, moving so swiftly that you scarcely had a moment to steady yourself before he captured you in a searing kiss, one of his most passionate by far.

Somehow, despite the suddenness of it all, the initial force, the intensity- 

He was being incredibly gentle, and moving slowly enough to almost be more a torment than a treat. Almost.

You found yourself lost in a daze when he finally pulled away, just enough for each of you to catch your breaths, just far enough that he could study you with rapt attention. You could have drowned in his eyes, endless greens magnetizing in their intensity. His hands were still cradling your cheeks, still holding you firmly in place, a not completely foreign expression creasing his features.

You couldn't quite place it, even as your memories shifted desperately in search of its mate.

"'If I'd have you?'" His words, a rhetorical refrain of your own mere moments earlier, were scarcely a shared breath between you, murmured in timbre so low it summoned a shiver. There was the smallest twitch of his lip, his head tilting ever so slightly as more of that damned deviousness made its presence known. "I fully intend to have you regardless, luv. But the formality of it all certainly adds a particular je ne sais quoi, wouldn't you agree?"

You'd be damned if he knew just how that made your heart flutter, if he knew just how much weight that reassurance had lifted from your shoulders.

Carefree, content, you offered a playful smile. "Till death do us part then?"

Arthur no longer bothered trying to restrain his smile, soft and sincere in a way that left you breathless. "I'll love you till even the stars go cold, my dear."

Thanks for reading~

[cuttinqlines]

IN THE MIDNIGHT HOUR II

                             IN THE MIDNIGHT HOUR II

(richard ramirez [ahs 1984] x reader | mainly implied xavier plympton x reader)

trigger warning; drug use, toxic relationships, mentions of abuse, toxic characters, xavier is portrayed as a major piece of shit for the first few installments, glorification of a serial killer, knives, etc.

disclaimer: i do not support the real richard ramirez in any way, shape, or form. this is simply based on the fictional version from ahs 1984. no disrespect is intended in any way. please, feel free to click off of the fic if you don’t enjoy this type of content. any hate will be ignored.

word count: 2,467

a/n: sorry this took so long. im a depressed piece of shit lmao. 

taglist: @kuollut-talven @felicityofbakerstreet @bitchcraft1398 

previous | next

IT HAD ONLY been a few days since your run-in with the self-proclaimed ‘Night Stalker’ yet it felt like years had passed. The memory of the event was constantly running through your mind, seeming to occupy your every thought. It was as if your mind was filled only with visions of dark hair and piercing dark eyes. It had gotten to the point where it was consuming you, distracting you from anything that wasn’t the thought of him. It was impossible to focus. You weren’t exactly sure that you wanted to. The part of you that desperately longed for the dark stranger to reappear and tear you away from your dilapidating life was overtaking you. You had almost wished that you would have given in to his demands that night. Almost. Something had been holding you back that night and something- someone- was still holding you back, tethering you to the place you had grown to despise.

Letting out a sigh, you stared at yourself in front of the bathroom mirror, attempting to shake away the thoughts that continuously plagued you. The ghost of a bruise still showed underneath your eye, barely noticeable with the makeup that you had delicately applied over it. You looked better than you had in the days before, but you still weren’t keen on leaving the confines of the four walls of your bedroom, let alone your apartment. You hadn’t left the house since that night. You were sure everyone thought that you were spiraling- He had probably twisted the story into that narrative. You turned away from the mirror, leaning against the base of the sink. It was time to face the situation at hand. You could already feel the silent judgment of Montana. She had told you so.  “Fuck.”

It shouldn’t have mattered that much to you- what everyone thought. It’s not like they had too much room to judge. They were your friends, sort of, but they didn’t rule you. They weren’t the end all be all. Still, you couldn’t help but feel nervous at the thought of facing them. It had been days of voicemails, knocks on the door, and missed phone calls. You had gone ghost. They wouldn’t have expected anything else, though. It wasn’t unlike you to disappear. You were used to disappointing everyone. 

After a few more minutes of anxiety and deliberation, you laid out a pretty white line, snorted it down, and got ready to head out the door. At the very least, you could show up to aerobics and casually run into everyone. By the time you got there, you were sure you could figure out how to gloss over all of the problems that kept on appearing. 

****

The Aerobics studio hadn’t changed much in your week of absence. The faces of the instructors were still plastered on the walls, yours still included much to your surprise. The chairs strategically placed throughout the lobby were occupied by young adults, laughing at something one of them had said. The ambiance was peaceful and you suddenly wished that you would have shown up for work in the last week. The thought quickly diminished as you thought back to the bruise that had been occupying your face. There was no way you would have shown up with that. You wouldn’t have given him the satisfaction. Stepping up to the front desk, you leaned against the counter lazily. 

“Hi. Do you have any classes with vacant spaces open for today, Janice?” You asked the receptionist a bit awkwardly, looking at the wall behind her as you spoke.

The woman looked up, purposefully making direct eye contact. She looked you up and down, judgement written all over her face.  “Yes. The instructor position for the class you teach at 6:30, (Y/N). If you want to keep your job, I suggest you get prepared for it and go teach it.” 

You couldn’t help but cringe at her tone. The attitude dripped off of it like poison. Truth be told, you had thought that you had already been fired. That is generally what happens after you drop off of the face of the planet for a week. “Right- I’ll just go ahead and get set up to start, then. Thank you.”

“You’re lucky that you showed up today. You’re really pushing it with your delinquent behavior. Shape up or ship out, sweetheart. This is the last time you’re getting exceptions. You’re really lucky that Montana covered your classes for the week. Now, get moving. It’s 6:20. Studio 3.”

Janice hardly gave you time to react, as she stood up and began to push you towards the direction of the studio. Her cold touch caused an unpleasant shiver to shoot through your spine. Your mind instantly drifted to your unwelcome house guest, though the shiver he gave you was not exactly unpleasant- You mentally scolded yourself for obsessing over the ‘Night Stalker’, before practically bursting into the studio. 

It felt as if a million eyes landed on you from the moment you opened the door. The never-ending stares seemed to burn holes into your skin. One pair of eyes, in particular, seemed to stare the deepest. Xavier. You flickered your gaze to meet his, the other people in the room disappearing into a sort of tunnel that consumed the sides of your vision. Your heart caught in your chest. You wanted to tear your eyes away, but there was something stopping you. Something about Xavier always seemed to hold you back. His gaze was pleading, an apology seeming to spill out of it. 

 “(Y/N)! I thought you were going to be out for a while! Xavier said that you were like super sick or something.” Montana’s voice rang out, casually. “So happy you’re here though. Teaching this class has been such a drag.”

At the sound of the young woman’s voice, your head instinctively jerked towards it. You plastered a pained smile onto your face. “Yeah- thanks for covering for me, Montana. I seriously owe you one. Being sick was a major drag. Probably worse than teaching this class of Cyndi Lauper obsessed boys.” 

The blonde let out a laugh. “Well, since you’re back, I’ll let you take this one. And maybe take your man out when you’re done. He’s been such a buzzkill lately.” 

Montana gave you a wink, patting your shoulder affectionately. With a final wave to you and Xavier, she slipped out the door and disappeared down the hall with a flash of blonde hair. Not wanting to waste any more time, or give Xavier the chance to talk to you, you flicked the boom box on and let the sound of Billy Idol’s voice fill the room. 

****

The entirety of the class went by uneventfully. Billy Idol’s soothing tone seemed to temporarily soother your anxiety, making it easier for you to ignore the pained glances that were becoming more and more inescapable. You left the music on as the class drew to a close, turning the volume down to a soft, but audible hum. You didn’t bother to look as everyone made their way to the door. Instead, you moved towards the front of the room, letting yourself face the large windows that looked out towards the city. 

You watched as people leaving the last few classes of the evening walked down the sidewalk, off into the night. Some faces were familiar, regulars that always seemed to be in aerobics class. Other faces, unfamiliar and new. They all seemed so happy, as if their lives were perfect. You wished that you could get a taste of that feeling. You continued to admire the citizens of Los Angeles, lost in your thoughts. Then, in a sudden flash, there was a single face that stuck out in the crowd. Unmistakable dark hair and piercing eyes that could have belonged only to the face that you could never forget. You locked eyes with the man, causing a sinister smile to appear on his face. He moved closer to the building. Your heart skipped a beat. He was headed towards the door. Your eyes were still locked with his, nothing could-

“(Y/N)... Can we talk about what happened the other night? Please… I didn’t mean for it to go so far.” Xavier’s voice hit your ears, soft and pleading. 

You broke away from the ‘Night Stalker’s’ gaze, slowly turning to face the man that you had once felt so strongly for. You leaned against the windows behind you, pressing your nearly bare back against the cool glass. Xavier took a few steps closer, leaving only a few inches between your faces. You couldn’t help but flinch as he reached out to tenderly touch your face. Hurt flashed across his face briefly, but his hand still gently came into contact with your soft skin. You let your eyes flutter closed and sucked in a sharp breath. “I- I can’t do this,” you whispered, hot tears pricking in the inner corner of your eyes. So many different emotions were running through your body. The urge to run away from him had never been so heightened. 

He grazed his thumb gingerly across your jawline, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I’m so sorry, Please. I just wanted it so badly and I thought that was the only way. And I didn’t want anyone to find out. The way you looked at me when you did- I lost it. I thought you would tell everyone. I thought you would leave me. I’m so sorry.” 

You had yet to respond to him when a cutting voice interrupted the scene unfolding before you. “Well, well, well. What do we have here?” The deep voice questioned, sinister laughter etched into his tone. 

“N-?” You began, eyes flickering open. You met the dark haired man’s eyes, looking directly past Xavier. He was already staring at you intensely, the usual smirk plastered on his face. 

“Richard.” He corrected, moving his eyes from you to the other man in your company. Xavier had moved away from you by this point, looking at Richard with a suspicious glare. Richard simply continued to smirk at him, looking more and more devilish as time passed. “My little angel, didn’t expect to see you so soon. What a pleasant surprise.”

“Okay. Who the fuck are you?” Xavier demanded, his hand wrapping around your forearm in a protective manner. You instinctively recoiled to his touch. You shifted your weight from one foot to another, watching as the two began to go back and forth. 

“I’m the devil’s favorite prodigy. It’s more like ‘who the fuck are you?’” The other man taunted. His eyes locked on the contact point of yours and Xavier’s skin. An unreadable emotion flashed across his face, but was quickly replaced with his usual infuriating smirk. “I’ve decided I’m here to collect her. Truth be told, it wasn’t originally in my master and I’s plan, but it seems like I stumbled in at the perfect time, with you harassing my girl.”

“Your-? (Y/N), are you fucking this guy? We get into one fight and you’re off giving it out to this creep?” The blonde questioned, his tone demanding and incredulous. His voice rose with every word that he spoke. He was red in the face by this point. You could tell by the clench in his jaw and the way his hand tightened around you that he was angry. The smug expression of Richard definitely wasn’t helping his reaction either.

You tried to ignore the fear that had begun to creep into the back of your mind, your mind flashing back to his closed fist accidentally ramming into your face. You looked up at him with your tear stained face. Words were failing you. You didn’t exactly want to say that Richard had broken into your house, pinned you against a wall, and sparked something inside of you that made you feel so many fucked up things. Was it really more fucked up than what you felt about Xavier after everything that he had done? You weren’t so sure any more. Xavier seemed to take your silence and lack of denial as a ‘yes’ to his questions. Disgust took over his face, his hand tossing your arm away as if it had suddenly turned into some sort of cursed object. 

He scoffed at you, shoving you away from his body. “I can’t believe you would do this to me. Maybe you deserved that.” He spat out venomously, angrily gesturing to the hardly hidden  bruise underneath your eye. 

You flinched as his hand raised. Something seemed to click into place for the dark haired man as he watched the two of you, your reaction triggering the darkest part of him. You hardly had time to react further, before Richard was in front of you. His left arm pressed back against your body, gently shoving you behind him. His right hand was adorned with his blade, ready to slash at the man before him. “You did that to her? For your sake, I hope you say no. I’d hate to have to kill you right here. It would really throw a wrench into the master’s plans and we both hate that.”

Your hand reached out slowly, tugging on the edge of this sleeve, beckoning his eyes to meet your eyes. He complied, looking over his shoulder quickly. You shook your head at him, a silent plea for him to drop it. He was already acting psychotic enough to have the police called on him and you were sure that would be the last thing that he wanted. He looked back to Xavier, who was staring at him incredulously. “Get the fuck out of here or die,” The dark haired man spat out.

Xavier gave you a pointed look, before shoving past the both of you and storming out of the studio. You knew he would show up at your apartment later, demanding explanations for the psychotic interaction that just went down. You would figure out a way to avoid that later. For now, your full attention was on Richard. He turned towards you, dark eyes studying the every feature on your face. His hand hovered over the side of your neck, before gently pushing your hair to the side. His fingers softly trailed down the side of your throat, traveling down your chest. Like a phantom, they grazed the length of your body, sending a shiver down your spine. Your heart skipped a beat in your chest. You softly bit down on your bottom lip, eyes staring straight into his. “You’re mine now, little angel. I’ll kill for you. I’ll die for you. But you have to be mine forever- That’s the catch. Will you sell your soul to the devil?”

“I will.”

[a-marlene-s]

Commission: Actions and Consequences

Tags: (I’m going to do a reblog tomorrow with the tags.)

@miner249er commissioned me to write this fic.

If you like my work, please considering supporting me! https://ko-fi.com/a_marlene_s

Warning: SALT SALT SALT SALT. CLASS SALT! LILA SALT! ADRIEN SALT!

Oh, and there’s a bit of Lukanette in this~

----

You know what they say…

All actions have consequences.

Every choice has a consequence.

Be responsible and be…

You get the idea.

This has been on the mind of everyone in the school of Dupont for who knows how long. Oh wait, that really hit home when one Lila Rossi came to Paris and started her lies. It looks like the only ones that were clearly fooled by her lies is the Akuma Class. Including their own teacher!

Well… except for Marinette.

She is the only one that is not fooled into believing such things. Who in the right mind would believe any of that? Akuma class, that is whom. People began to pull away from them. One by one, not wanting to be connected to them. Not so much for the fact they are known as the Akuma class… it is for the lack of regard they have for Marinette.

How dare they treat Marientte in such a way! After what she has done for them! For all of them! They believe the words of that liar over a friend they have known far longer. Some have tried to reach out, but Rossi is always near or just sucks them back into her webs of lies. Whatever work they have to get their friends back to a world of reality, it is reversed back the moment they step back into that classroom filled with webs.

Many have tried and tried again to help them. To help them see the light of what has been going on, but they all refused to see the light. Many of them growing toxic to themselves that it is better to cut ties then to deal with them anymore.

Who could blame them?

They tried. Truly tried.

Did they want to lose their friends?

No. They did not. But for their own health and sanity… they cut their losses and moved on. At least, they are reassured, that the only ones in Rossi’s grasp is the Akuma class sans Marientte Dupain-Cheng. For which, they made a promise to get protect her from them. She does not deserve the mistreatment. No one does.

-.-

It started out small.

Too busy to hang out.

Leaving messages on read.

Avoiding having them around.

Cutting conversations short.

Many other things to get away.

Some others… are more up front with their dislike with Lila Rossi.

They do not bother to hide their disgust.

Some kept quiet to a degree…

Mireille gave Lila a worried smile as she started to tear up about Aurore’s mistreatment towards the latter. She simply patted Lila’s cheek, leaning close so that she could wrap her arms around Lila to give her a comforting hug… before whispering into her ear as everyone watched on. “Play along… after all… this is just a game for you. You don’t want to disappoint your audience.”

It wasn’t much of an issue to play along with Lila’s games when she tried to bring in the Akuma Class as backup. Long as you show sympathy, play along with Lila’s games against her… you should be good. Lila will never break in character in front of them. Long as you don’t call her out in front of them and act just as deluded to make her mess up, it’s all good.

Then there are the times one has to be more up front…

“Achoo! Ugh, sorry, allergies you see.” Aurore sneered out as she ‘accidentally’ stabbed her umbrella into Lila’s hair when she sneezed. “I’m allergic to bullshit.”

Lila’s jaw dropped as she tried to pull her hair but only wincing as her hair really got caught in the umbrella. She looked around, hoping to catch someone’s attention. But… no one is paying any mind. If anything, one of them even went as far to offer Aurore an allergy pill. “Why are you doing this? I never did anything to anyone!”

“Oh, shut up. We all know you’ve been mistreating Marinette since day one.” Aurore teased, there was a glint in her eyes as she easily untangled her umbrella out of Lila’s hair. “All of us were willing to stand back because Marinette asked us to. Then you got her expelled… Let’s make some truths…”

-.-

Slowly but surely, things began to change for Bustier’s Class. Or better known as, the Akuma Class began to see a change. Then again, things have been happening and have been so caught up in Lila’s lies to even take note of any of it at first.

Many have already put a distance between them and themselves.

It’s silly really. None of them really had taken note of the fact here is now a wall between them. Slowly growing as time goes by. It really came ahead when news spread around on Marinette’s expulsion and her return back to school without much of a say on what happened.

Except for the fact Lila claims Marinette had stolen an answer sheet, her necklace and pushed said girl down a staircase.

Why no one bothered to look deeper into those lies, is beyond anyone at this point. What really got to the rest of the school is how the Akuma Class, Bustier and Damocles’ are so far up Lila’s ass that they wonder if they could even see the sun at this point. It was at that point, the gloves were off and no more.

It was time to bring out the big guns when word got out that Lila supposedly has a lying disorder… only to Bustier and Damocles. Only them, no one else. Thus, only causing more tension for Marinette with the rest of her classmates as they still believe the original lies. All of them giving her a side eye, wondering what she should do next.

Marinette doing something against Lila?

Hah.

It’s going to be the entirety of Dupont against Lila now.

Dupont vs the Akuma Class, sans Marinette. They love their sleep deprived cinnamon roll that could possibly kill them once she finds out what they are up to.

It would be so worth it though…

-.-

“I’m sorry Rose, I’m going to be busy that weekend. Busy, busy at the studio!”  Mireille smiled sweetly at Rose, Juleka, Mylene, Alya and Lila. “Nadja is prepping me to do live interviews over the weekend. I’ve been told I might interview a rock star! Isn’t that great!”

“Wow! That’s amazing, Mireille!” Rosa said in awe. The others following along, amazed by the news.  They were gushing over the fact Mireille is possibly going to interview a pop star soon. Going on and on… Mireille simply smile, keeping her arms behind her back and her knuckles turning white as she kept a tight grip on the back of her blouse. She kept an eye on Lila, her smile only growing as Lila tried to steer the conversation back to herself.

Mireille did not care; this would be the perfect opportunity for her to walk away.

Expect when she saw Marinette walk down the hallway with Aurore.

“Hey Marinette, did you hear? Lila knows who Mireille is going to interview.” Alya mentioned, grinning at Lila’s direction. “

Marinette paused, nose scrunching up. She looked over at Mireille to see her eyes narrowing at the direction of Lila. Clearly, this is one of the many lies Lila has up her sleeves. Aurore smiled at Lila, almost warningly. “Yeah, she told us last week.”

Marinette looked around her classmates to smile at Mireille. “Nadja finally got in contact with them?”

“Thanks to you, Marinette. Nadja got in contact with all of them.” Mireille smiled widely at Marientte and Aurore. “We can’t thank you enough for that favor! Come on! I know the perfect tea shop!”

Mireille walked over to Marinette and looped an arm around one of Marinette’s own. Her smile only grew as Aurore looped her own arm around Marinette’s free arm. The two girls quickly pulled Marinette away from Lila’s sights all the while talking about the interview and the tea shop.

“Did… did they just ditch us?” Alya pulled a face as she watched Aurore, Marinette and Mireille walk away. Mireille had earlier mentioned she was going to be busy after classes which is why they asked her if she was going to be free this weekend. Apparently, she’s supposedly busy with other things than to thang out with them. Why?

“Hey, girls… is everything alright, Alya?”

Alya and the rest of the girls turned around to see Nino and Adrien walking up to them. Her smile grew when she saw Lila warp an arm around Adrien’s own. What she didn’t see is how stiff his smile became but continued on.

Adrien looked ahead to see Marinette with a Mireille and Aurore. The three chatting away without a care in the world. His brows furrowed at the sight. As of late, this has been becoming the norm…

-.-

“Mom said we could hire a DJ for the event, but…”

“Davis already have the day filled?”

“Yeah. Along with Diego, Mei and Lola.”

“What about Nino? He DJ’s, too right?”

“Hah! Dad, don’t joke! Like I want him to DJ the party! Marinette is going to be there and if I have him there, he’s going to wonder why no one else in his class was invited. I am not going to invite a bunch of people that have been mistreating my friend.” Claude grimaced at the thought. He was not going to have Nino DJ his party. If things were different, things would have been different. It is his party. His. He is not going to run the risk of Lila Rossi and her flying monkeys coming to his party and making it all about her.

Yeah… that is not happening.

Lila will find a way turn the party so that it’s geared towards her. She did that at Izzy’s 15 birthday bash and it took Izzy weeks to console her after she regretfully invited Rose, who in turn invited Lila after she overheard the blonde telling Juleka about it. Rose never asked or apologized to Izzy about inviting Lila, who in turn invited her flying monkeys.

Yeah… Claude was not going to let that happen. To make sure that does not happen no one from the Akuma Class, except for Marinette, is invited to his party.

“That’s a bit harsh. I’m sure there’s more to the story. You and Nino were good friends for some time now.” Claude’s father said, worry filled his tone.

“And I thought Nino was close friends with Marinette far longer but apparently that does not matter to him.” Claude deadpan. “I am not going to have Nino DJ the party. Plus his girlfriend is Lila’s main supporter. If I do have Nino DJ, he’ll tell Alya who will tell Lila and I am back to square one. The one I want to avoid! I don’t want Lila Rossi at my party!”

“I’m sure she’s just trying to make friends…”

“…that’s what you said about Clarice before mom divorced you.”

-.-

Adrien paused mid-bite, straining his ears to overhear what is being said on the booth several seats away. He overhead Claude saying Nino and Lila’s names several times but never a clear sentence. It took a while before it caught on what is being said.

Izzy’s party was amazing to say the least! He went along as the rest of his classmates invited him along and he finally got permission to go by his father. The party was amazing to say the least! The music! The food! Everything else!

Why wouldn’t Claude want to ask Nino to DJ his party? It wouldn’t be a bad idea to invite everyone. It would be horrible to note everyone. Wasn’t Claude friends with everyone in his class?

Right?

Sitting across of Adrien is Nino, concentrating on a calendar that he brought out along. Nino has been… struggling to get gigs for a while now. It was not so much he could not get someone to hire him, from what Nino has been telling Adrien, it’s actually doing his job. As of late, he hasn’t been asked to DJ for anyone else outside of his class. Sure, there are some here and there, but at times… he needed to cancel because Alya wanted to do something with Lila and wanted him there for it.

-.-

Luka resisted the urge to pull out his ears as the rest of Kitty Section, sans Adrien and Marientte, whisper to other. All the while sending him weird looks throughout. This is the first time they have met up for practice in well over a month since they keep bailing on practice. Why? They prefer to hang out with Alya… who is hanging out with this Lila Rossi. All. The. Time.

They all have been talking about Lila Rossi… nonstop. Going on and on about her. To the point, Luka suspects that Rose wrote a song about her for some damned reason. Why are they talking about her?

Lila Rossi knows Jagged Stone.

How Lila Rossi’s dance move got stolen from Clara Nightingale.

How close she is to Prince Ali.

Lila knows a lot of people that could, supposedly, get them famous. How Lila has connections to help Kitty Section become famous. Knows someone that would make them better costumes. Along with even knowing how to write better music.

Lila this…

Lila could do this.

Luka stood up from his spot from the makeshift stage with his guitar in hand. There tunes are different, no longer in tune to the music, let alone to their hearts. More so when he is supposedly out of ear shot and they started to whisper about how Lila mentioned that he, the founder of Kitty Section, should no longer be in the band. How Lila told them how he is hold them back and that she knows someone that is better than himself.

Him holding them back.

Really?

Rossi is the one that is holding them back.

If they want to repeat that broken tune, so be it. He needs to find his muse. Luka left them to whisper to themselves. If Lila believes that they do not need him, so be it. Leaving without much of a fight, he knew when it was a time to retreat until they got their bearings. Right now, he now needs to find out more about Lila Ros-

“Psst! Over here!”

“Hey! You! Luka!”

Luka paused, an eyebrow raised as he slowly turned around to see two individuals, some of his sister’s friends from a different class, are calling out to him. They were both holding umbrellas, which only made them stand out more in his opinion. “Hello?”

“Come here!” The blonde motioned for him to walk over to them.

“Hurry before they see you!” The other said, pointing down the hall. Luka looked down said hall to see Adrien and some unknown girl that is clinging onto his arm. Oh.

Luka hurried over to the girls and they promptly hid him under their umbrellas and behind the pillar with them. It was close enough to listen into whatever Adrien and the new girl’s conversation.

-.-

Adrien stood by as Kitty Section walked out to meet him and Lila, and they started to talk about Lila’s advice. What’s this advice? That it would better for Luka to leave Kitty Section as it would be too weird for him to be in the band with them. It is concerning to say the least. Are the really going to kick out Luka from the band?

“It is better this way. Luka is only holding all of you back.” Lila smiled at her classmates as she tightened her grasp around Adrien’s arm. “All of you are better off without him. I’ve talked to that producer friend of mine and Jagged Stone, and they both agree. Luka is no good for your image.”

“I suppose you are right…” Juleka said, twiddling around with her gloves. Rose reached over to hold onto her hands and gave her an encouraging smile. Juleka chewed on her bottom lip as she thought it over.

“I am positive that Luka will understand.” Lila smiled once more and this seemed to put Juleka in a better place.

“We have been practicing without him for the last month.” Rose mentioned, tugging onto Juleka’s hands. “We could do it.”

Lila smiled brightly, increasing her hold around Adrien. She looked at the blonde for support. “Right, Adrien?”

-.-

Who does she think she is???

They have been practicing without him.  For the past month? Without him? Well, that’s one thing he could easily take with a grain of salt. What his sister is saying has his song beating a new beat that hasn’t been played for so long. What really got Luka’s attention is the fact they were all eating up Lila’s lies.

Are they really that gullible?

“This is just the bare minimum of what Rossi has been doing to your sister’s class.” Aurore explained, motioning for Luka to follow her and Mireille.

Luka’s brows furrowed over the blonde’s words. “…Is something being down about it?”

“More or less, but that’s for later. Right now, we are planning a party later for Marinette and we need you to distract her for a bit.” Aurore said, nudging Luka with her elbow and gave him a sly grin. “The party is for her. Did she tell you about her class situation?”

“Marinette has mentioned she wanted to tell me something but everytime she tried to say it, one of her classmates popped up and she would go quiet…” Luka trailed off as he took that in. Oh, that would explain some things. Shaking his head, he would ask her later about it. “I’ll talk to her later about it. Tell me more about this Lila…? I don’t like her song.”

-.-

Mendeleiev was never one that cared so much to know about the personal lives of her students. In terms that, she does not care who is dating (long as it is a healthy and very much legal relationship), knowing what her students are doing after classes (long as it is nothing illegal or against the rules), and well… whatever she had just witnessed from down the hall.

Ondine just broke up with Kim.  

Which is a big surprise considering how googly eyed they are… were for each other. A big shock, that’s for sure. However… considering what has been going on, it’s no surprise to anyone. Well…

To Bustier’s class that is. Those poor, poor, souls do not know what is coming to them. It was just a matter of time and patience before someone loses said patience. There is only so much someone could stand idly by or do their best to help others, before washing their hands of them. Look at herself? Mendeleiev did so to Bustier due to the fact the younger woman refuses to listen to reason.

Mendeleiev shook her head as she headed to her room. She needed to create some paperwork in hopes that will push some people to see things her way.

-.-

Adrien gulped when he heard the news that Ondine broke up with Kim. That came out from nowhere! Completely out of nowhere. Why did she break up with them? They were so happy together it does not make any sense.

A lot of things have not been making sense for a while now. Many of those things were small at first, but Adrien could no longer shake off that creeping feeling there is more t-

“Adrien… a word?”

-.-

Marinette stared down at her phone, her shoulders shaking as she read the text messages her fri… her classmates are sending her. Varies of texts that has her wondering what the heck is going on to her class, are they finally seeing the rest of the school just does not tolerate Lila?

“Block them, Mari.” Luka murmured into her ear while he played with her loose hair. He and Marinette were in her latter’s room on the sofa, with the bluenette snuggled up to Luka. He reached for the phone and took it from Marinette, ignoring the pout that was sent his way. Placing the phone in his pocket for safe keeping, Luka wrapped his arms around Marinette and reached down to give her a peck on her neck.

“I suppose I could forget about them for now…” Marinette giggled at Luka’s actions, she smiled when she felt Luka grin against her neck. She raised an eyebrow at Luka, despite the fact he could not see it. “Are you hiding something from me, Luka?”

“You could say that… Aurore and Mireille asked me to distract you as they set up a surprise.” Luka mumbled into her neck, his grin ever present. “How am I in distracting you?”

Marinette’s jaw drop when she felt Luka started to press kisses up and down her neck, her mind went blank just long enough to return the favor. This was so much better than dealing with her classmates demanding answers to something they should have known since day one.

-.-

“Ugh, again with Lila crap?”

“I know, right? Why does Alya keep posting those so-called interviews she has for Rossi?”

“I don’t know, but have you seen ClaudetteOneEye’s reaction and debunking of it? Hah! Her best yet!”

“She already did a reaction to it! I need to watch it!”

“We still have time before class, watch it now!”

Alya really wanted to storm out of the stall and yell at the individuals that were clearing mocking Lila, who in turn mocking her. What is there to debunk? There is nothing to debunk! Lila has been most telling about her history with Ladybug. They are best friends for Pete’s sake! Alya took out her phone and started her search to show those gir-

“You know how Alya always goes on and on about how she’s a reporter and always checks her facts…”

Snort.

“Hah. Her checking facts? Has she ever checked on any of the crap Lila has been spewing? Any of it?”

“I know, right? Plus, has she ever asked Ladybug about it before posting any of their interviews?”

“Like the little good reporter that she is? Unlikely. No wonder Ladybug has been ignoring her.”

Has… has she ever asked Ladybug about Lila? Alya ran a hand through her hair as she tried to think of an answer to her question. Of course, there were times when she has recently tried to get an interview, but Ladybug just… started to avoid her.

-.-

“Saving Jagged Stone’s cat? If they looked it up, they would have checked that him and his fiancé are allergic to animal fur.”

“Doesn’t he have a pet crocodile?”

“Yeah. He does.”

“That’s just as pathetic as her knowing Prince Ali and being friends with him.”

“Uggghhhh. That doesn’t even make sense, she’s been here in Paris for months before she started coming to Dupont.”

“That’s what I thought! Among the other bull she’s spewed out, the ones that grinds my gears are all the ones she lied about Marinette…”

“Yeah. They all known her for years and this new girl comes along and what? All that goes out the window?”

“Marinette does so much for them, and this is the thanks she gets? That they’ll believe Lila’s lies that she supposedly pushed her down the stairs, steal her necklace and some other bullshit?”

“Still heated about it?”

“Of course, I’m heating about it! They still think she did those things! From what Marinette told Aurore and Mireille, they didn’t even let her talk or defend herself. They took Lila’s side and expelled her.”

“Tell me again, how Marinette got un-expelled?”

“From what Marinette told them… Lila said she had a lying disease.”

“That is bull. I am so over the moon over the fact she’ll be leaving that class. Come on, Aurore said she’s going to need help setting things up.”

Juleka, Mylene and Nathaniel pushed themselves against the wall as they watched several students run past them towards the courtyard. Their expressions betrayed how they felt over what they just overheard. Did they just hear right? Lila has been lying this whole time… and none of them… No, just their class never caught it.

Except for Marinette.

Mylene shakily took out her phone to look up all of Lila’s stories, the others followed in doing so.

-.-

Adrien sat on a stone bench as he watched Kagami paced in front of him. Every time he tried to say something, she would shoot in a glare. He looked down on his lap as he tried to think of what he should say when he’s finally able to speak. Somehow, Kagami found out about Lila’s lies. All of them. From whom, he does not know. Maybe Marientte told her, he’ll have to ask her about it. She shouldn’t have told Kagami about Lila. “Kagami, did Marientte tell you about Lila? I-”

“Agreste, everyone at school and whoever has met Rossi, knows she is a liar. Everything that has ever come out of her mouth is a lie. Everything.” Kagami said in a tight voice. She stopped pacing to stare down at Adrien. “Marientte told me nothing. I was the one that had to go around to figure out exactly what type of person she is.”

“Why didn’t you ask me about Lila before you asked others?” Adrien asked, head shooting up to stare at Kagami with confusion. “I would ha-”

“You would have attempted to pressure me to not do anything against Rossi once I found out exactly what kind of person she is. However, considering you never told her off about that picture she took of the two of you…” Kagami looked up and down at Adrien, her mouth twisted into a scowl. “You would have attempted to have me stay quiet about Rossi’s nature. Just like you are doing to, Marinette… correct?”

“I-I just don’t want to cause problems!” Adrien exclaimed, pushing himself off the bench. “I don’t want any problems in class, and with Marinette trying to out Lila it was impossible. I don’t want Lila to get akumatized anymore.”

Kagami stood her ground, crossing her arms over her chest. “And what of your classmates? Your friends? Marinette or myself? I was akumatized because of her, remember? Don’t we all matter too?”

“It’s more complicated than that, Kagami.”  

“Complicated? Complicated! How is that complicated! Explain yourself!”

“…”

“…What did you tell Marinette about Lila’s lies? Adrien, what did you tell her?”

“Could we drop this?”

“Tell. Me.”

“I told her, as long as me and her know the truth, does it really matter?”

“Adrien, it does matter! Everything matters! You are allowing Rossi to walk all over Marinette and make her out to be the bad guy for trying to stand up for herself.” Kagami snarled out, causing Adrien to jump. “You are forcing her to stay quiet about someone’s lies. You do realize once your friends find out, they will be the ones that are going to get akumatized. Not Rossi. What then? Who are you going to protect then?”

“I’m doing my best, Kagami.” Adrien pleaded.

“Your best is not good enough. Rossi is escalating and you are doing nothing. What will happen if she says you two are dating? What then? Far as I supposed know, are dating but this is extremely one sided considering you keep putting Rossi’s feelings above everyone.”

“I… I don’t know…”

“…you are pathetic. Your best is not good enough and it will never be.” Kagami sniffed, she pulled out her phone to look at the time and grinned a bit. She put it away before starting back at an obviously hurt Adrien. “What? Like I would allow someone who I am supposedly seeing, to put some other girl’s feelings above my own.”

Adrien opened and closed his mouth, unable to say anything as he was unable to respond to Kagami’s words. How was he supposed to respond that, there was no answer to that for him. “Please understand th-”

Kagami shook her head before she pulled out phone before putting it away. She gave Adrien on last look before walking away. “You need to stop putting horrible people above those that have been nothing but supportive of you… It’s no wonder why Marinette has finally given up.”

-.-

Ladybug swung around Paris at night as she thought over today’s events. It’s safe to say, that today has been one of the best days of her life since becoming Ladybug to say the least. She felt free and no longer held up to an impossible standard. To think transferring to a different class has made her feel as such. It also may have helped she told everything to Luka what has been happening to her since Lila came to Paris. The memory of that conversation made her blush as at the end of it, they are now officially together. It made her happy, immensely so.

Their first date was at the welcoming party Aurore and Mireille threw for her transfer to their class. Best date and party ever. The cherry on top, was when her former classmates crashed the party(apparently that was planned) and Claudette of @ClaudetteOneEye did a live reaction to one of the newest interview of Lila. It was priceless to say the least. Her former classmates tried to approach her but that was shut down immediately. Many other things had happened at the party that made it so much better, but that’s a thought for another day.

Right now, there is someone sitting alone at the park.

Is that Adrien?

Ladybug let out a sigh before she swung down to the park.

Adrien blinked a couple of times when he heard steps walking towards him. He looked over to see Ladybug walking up to him. He smiled at the sight of her. “Hello, Ladybug? Having a good night?”

Ladybug raised an eyebrow at Adrien, she sensed something is up with Adrien but did not make any notion for him to open up. “A little late to be out, Adrien?”

Adrien shrugged before he looked down at the ground, his brows furled deep in thought. “Can I ask you something, Ladybug? I need your advice in something?”

Ladybug stared at him for a moment before motioning for him to speak. Might as well hear what Adrien wants to say and need advice in. This is new considering how his advice has never been exactly the greatest.

Adrien began to tell her about the advice he had given to Marinette, when it came to Lila.

Adrien Agreste is asking her opinion on the advice he had given Marinette, who by extension, is actually herself. The same advice that had weighed heavy in her mind so much so, that it nearly akumatized her. Ladybug had stopped listening to Adrien as she felt anger started to bubble within her. This is too much, far too much. It was one thing to ask her about his original advice. Oh no, now he’s going on about Marinette’s actions that contradicted mentioned advice.

For what? To make sure that Lila does not get akumatized. Again.

“And Marinette? What of Marinette? Were you not even worried if she got Akumatized because of Lila?” Ladybug cut Adrien off. “Have you even thought of the highly possible chance she could be the one getting Akumatized over your advice? Paris got very lucky tonight there were no akumas out tonight otherwise the city would have Akuma’s at every corner of it.”

Adrien looked shocked over Ladybug’s words. His silence, his answer, has Ladybug starting to pace around.

“No, you did not care. What you cared is to make sure Marinette kept quiet and did not stand up for herself. Not only to Lila, but also by extension to Chloe.” Ladybug grounded out, sending Adrien a glare as she continued to pace. “You expected Marientte that as long as the two of you knew the truth, that nothing else pretty matters? That as long as Lila continued lying to everyone and allowing her to walk over Marinette, who is supposed to be your friend, that it did not matter?”

“It’s not like that, Ladybug.” Adrien stood up and approached Ladybug. Ladybug raised a hand at Adrien’s direction to stop him from getting close to her.

“Then how is it, Adrien?” Ladybug questioned. “You are prioritizing Lila over everyone, even if it puts them all at risk at getting akumatized themselves. Is that what you wanted to hear? That your advice is horrible. Let me tell you something, Marinette, your supposed friend to nearly get akumatized. Twice. It’s all because of Lila and the second time, Hawkmoth got to her and for some reason the akumatization did not take place. Lila caused that. All because she wanted to keep your promise when it came to her. Truth is that Lila Rossi is a liar that should have been exposed a long time ago and I am happy that it happened tonight. I am happy!”

“What about Lila? It was horrible what happened to her, she got humiliated in front of nearly the entire school.” Adrien tried to ask but was cut off when he saw Ladybug pulling out her yo-yo.

“To be frank Adrien… when it comes to bad people… you need to knock them down several pegs to get them to understand how wrong they are.”

[sinner-as-saint]

My Favorite Kind Of Night - 1.

Camboy!Bucky x CEO!Reader

Part 1 of this series

Run-through: On Friday nights, you are punctual to your virtual meet-up with your favorite camboy over a streaming platform, for your private stream session. You’ve known him for a couple of months now. He goes by the alias of ‘Winter Soldier’ on the platform, which is perfect for the kind of man he is; brawny and drop dead gorgeous. Over the past few months, he has become your favorite kind of night. And secretly, you became his as well. You two get closer over time, and things get interesting when your real, professional lives gets intertwined.

Themes throughout the series: sex worker!bucky, smut, phone sex, fluff, language, dirty talk,

Half past five.

You glance down at your watch and settle into the backseat of your car. You mentally planned the evening ahead of you.

By six, your driver would’ve dropped you home. By six thirty you’d be in the bathtub, soaking in warm water and getting rid of the week’s tiredness because being the owner of your own company did come with perks, but also a shit load of stress. By seven thirty you’d be making yourself a quick dinner. Watch some TV all while answering some emails by nine. Go upstairs to your study and do some reading for an hour or so. And then after that, onto your favorite part of the entire week.

At around ten thirty, each Friday, you logged onto this streaming platform – where you spent the next 1-2 hours with the only man you knew who could make your knees weak, make your body throb in desire and make your heart flutter just by the sound of his voice and his phenomenal physique. Your favorite camboy, Bucky.

That’s all you knew about him, just his nickname. On the website he went by ‘Winter Soldier’ and many of his fans just called him ‘Soldier’ and you did too. But then when you began paying him for private sessions, he told you could call him by his nickname. And you liked it much better than the alias.

He was truly the best part of your week. Him and his impeccable body and his toys; fleshlights and vibrators, his foul, sinful mouth and his charm – truly your favorite kind of night.

Through video, he never showed the entirety of his face at once, it was always just half of it. Whenever he performed in bed, where all of his glorious, naked body would show he always wore a mask; showing just his eyes and his luscious hair. But whenever he sat closer to the camera, talking to his fans or during private sessions, then he always made sure that just the lower half of his clean shaved face showed along with the rest of his body. None of his fans knew what he truly looked like, including you, but you were all convinced that he has a beautifully crafted face

The fact that he never truly revealed his whole face never bothered you. Mainly because the mere sight of his body was enough to get you going, and whenever you got glimpses of his partially hidden face; his sinfully pink and plump lips, or his pretty eyes – then those were just bonus. Besides, if you were to see all of him, you knew you would never know peace again. Because if you knew what he looked like, then you would spend all your time looking for him in every crowd. And that would suck all the fun out of it, because this mysteriousness of his was thrilling.

 Ten thirty-five found you in your room, on your bed, wearing just a dark red silk robe with your computer right in front of you.

Then he showed up.

And your heart fluttered at the sight of his bare body. His boxers showing off his round ass and his semi erected bulge. Bucky took his time in putting up a show; pushing his chair aside and standing up, allowing you all the time you needed to drink him in. Fuck he was gorgeous. You couldn’t help but smile as soon as he came in view.

“Like what you see, doll?” you heard his usual, playful voice come through the other side. You giggled, trying to hide just how much effect his voice had on you, despite knowing he couldn’t hear you. His voice just did things to you. Deep and velvety and smooth, it sent chills down your back.

Always do, Soldier. You typed, and watched how his lips curved into a semi smirk as he read your reply. How have you been? you asked again and watched how he licked his lips, purposely, before answering.

“Without you? Desperate.” He purred, “And needy.” He inched closer, his body taking up almost all of your screen. His perfect mouth, clean shaved face, his long dark hair falling almost to his broad shoulders. His defined abs which made you want to trace them with your tongue. And his boxers worn low enough to give you a good view of that well-crafted Adonis belt. He looked mouthwatering and he knew it.

You smirked. Oh yeah? You missed me, huh? You typed, sitting up straighter.

He chuckled upon reading your message. “Of course I did, doll. You’re my favorite part of the week.” His hand dropped to cup himself through his tight, black boxers. “Besides, I didn’t touch myself at all since last night. I waited because I wanted to cum for you. Only you.”

Fuck… the man had a way with his words.

Hmm. You typed, smirking and knowing that you had him all to yourself for the next hour and a half at least. Did you get what I asked you to?

He chuckled again as he read your reply and reached over for something. “Eager little thing, aren’t you?” he teased and held up what you asked for up to the camera for you to see. “Just what you asked for, doll.”

The sight of the vibrating cock ring in his hand excited you. You were giddy almost as you thought of all the way you could play with him had you been there in his room with him, physically.

Good. Now put it on for me. You typed and reached over for your own vibrator, sighing in delight and excitement because this was the perfect way to wrap up a stressful week.

 Bucky knew just what you liked, and how you liked it. He would make a mental note of what he did whenever he received a large tip from you; which gave away what you enjoyed. So far, no one paid him as much as you did. And that was one of the many reasons why you were his favorite to interact with. The other reasons had to do with how nice, and polite and patient you were. And how you two often just talked without anything sexual going down and you still paid him the same. He liked how playful you were, and the right amount of cute and sassy. Fuck, the things he would do just to have a glimpse of what you looked like.

Over the past months, you had tipped him so much that he was finally able to enjoy the finer things in life, as well as make significant savings. And he was more than grateful. He just wished he could maybe one day return the favor, properly.

 Tease. Came your message after he deliberately took his time in lowering his underwear and putting up a show for you.

He laughed looking at the screen where your replies would pop up often. “Oh shut up, you like it.” That damn laugh of his definitely made you even wetter than earlier. And something told you he knew because of the smirk he had on.

Bucky took his time, slowly lowering down the waistband of his underwear. Stepping a little closer to give you a better look when he heard the sound of a notification – which signaled that you dropped him a tip already.

You watched his mouth curve into a smile which could end wars. “Thank you, babygirl.” He said and stepped away and began stripping again. And when he was finally naked, he received another notification, and yet another tip from you. He chuckled and turned to his side, shamelessly showing off his voluptuous butt cheeks.

Nice ass, soldier ;). Another message from you popped up and he smirked.

“All yours.” His voice was raspy and deep. He stepped closer again, letting his hands roam his body; and making you wish it was you touching him instead. He let his fingertips trace his abs, down to his abdomen where he gently trailed his fingers down till he wrapped his hand around his glorious cock. He was big, and long and thick and perfect in every way.

The sight of his cock with his fist wrapped around it made you clench your thighs together. Fuck…

He slowly stroked himself up and down, whimpering softly and moaning. You touched yourself, watching him, soft whines escaped your lips as your finger slipped inside your entrance with ease given that you were dripping already. Your other hand toyed with your nipple, twisting and tugging.

You watched him slip the cock ring on. He moaned once the metal toy rested around the base of his cock; sending vibrations all along his cock and down to his balls. He groaned and let his body grow accustomed to the pleasant feeling.

You noticed how his cock stood taller once the ring was on, and how Bucky moaned wantonly just leisurely feeling the vibrations reverberate within him. He wrapped his hand around his cock again and hissed in pleasure. “Fuck… I wish you were here with me right now, doll…” he moaned.

I wish so too. Your message was followed by another generous tip.

 Money could make anyone horny. But Bucky especially felt more free and dirty whenever he had sessions with you. He was much more comfortable in showing his body off to you compared to his other viewers. It began after that one day during a private session with you a month or two ago. And while chatting he sensed that something was off with you and sat down at his desk and asked you about it.

Nothing sexual happened that day. You had a long conversation, and along with occasional tips, he got to know quite a lot about you as a person. Not your name, or your job, or anything like that. But he felt a connection, one he had never felt before. And since then, he always gave you his all. And you became his favorite girl to talk to.

 “The things I would do to you if you were here babygirl…” Bucky moaned as he stoked himself so slowly that you whimpered sinfully on the other side of the screen; you whined as you fingered yourself as you watched him. “I could fuck you for hours… I could just-,” he hissed and threw his head back, fighting back the pressing need to cum. “Could just spread you open and fuck you all night…” he trailed off, his voice dying out in a whimper.

You gasped when you saw him getting closer to the camera, your heart raced as you watched him lower and adjust his camera so he could film himself sat in his chair. You were still just a little bummed that you couldn’t see his face but that didn’t matter because now you got a perfect view of the rest of his body.

Legs spread apart, one hand resting on his muscular, smooth thigh while the other wrapped around his cock. He looked majestic, just sat there in his seat. Perfect body on display all for you. “I wish I could fill you up with my big, glistening cock.”

Another notification signaled that he received another tip from you. Much more than he expected. Followed by another message. I wish I was in between those legs, sucking you off hard and fast and making you cum even harder.

He took a brief second to read your message and groaned with a slight smirk on. “Fuck… I’m so hard for you, doll.” he stoked himself again, the cock ring pressed down on his balls and he was really having to fight off the need to cum right away.

You watched his perfect lips parted as he whimpered, touching himself for you. Oh the things you’d do to just be there with him in that moment. You were hot, burning with desire, and needy.

“Touch yourself.” he spoke again, speeding up the pace at which his hand moved up and down his erected cock. “I want you to cum with me.” He panted.

Talk to me Bucky. Make me cum… You typed and moaned quietly under your breath, imagining it was one of his long fingers that was inside you, touching you instead of your own. You could tell he let out that loud growl once he read your message. The sound made you tingle and whimper as your finger brushed against that sensitive spot inside you.

“God damn it, babygirl!” he gasped, licking his lips as he stroked himself faster. “I know you’re wet for me, with your pretty little fingers deep inside you. Touching yourself as you watch me.” His words made you tremble and moan. “Fuck… you have no idea how bad I want to be the one in between your legs, touching you, eating you out and tasting your pretty little cunt for hours.”

He moaned but it ended in a dark chuckle once he heard the notification go off again. Another tip. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You dirty little girl…” He stroked himself faster, and faster. You sped up as well, keeping your eyes on him and his movements.

You noticed how his cock twitched in his grasp, how his thighs moved as he thrust into his own grip and his abs flexed as he took himself higher. Your body trembled too as you slipped your finger in and out of your wet hole rapidly. Your own touch took you higher…and higher… and you were on the edge just like he was.

“Faster… faster, doll.” he whispered. “Fuck, I wish I could feel you squirm under me. I wish I could press my body down on yours.” He chuckled. “Just so you could feel how big my cock is, and how hard I am for you.”

God damn it. Your message popped up on his screen.

He let out an adorable laugh, even in this filthy situation.

“Cum for me!” he growled as he sped up, fisting his cock and stroking himself faster than earlier, chasing his release.

Your moans were wanton, and loud. It echoed around your large bedroom. You tilted your head back and moaned loudly when you touched a sensitive spot. You slipped your finger in and out of you rather rapidly, whimpering and moaning at the familiar sensation.

Your back arches off the headboard again, as you whine in pleasure. You fucked yourself faster and faster as you watched Bucky to the same. You could hear him as he stroked himself, and you could hear your own fingers slipping in and out of you as well. The wet sounds which were heard were obscene, especially the moans escaping his sinfully pink lips.

“Cum for me.” He growled again and you watched how he ejaculated all over his lower abdomen. You were gasping and moaning and taking yourself higher and higher… and a second later, you came as well. Hard and fast, you felt your orgasm wash over you deliciously.

Your body was hot. And your heartbeats rang in your ears as you watched Bucky panting just like you, trying to calm his heartbeats as well. “Fuck…” he swore and looked down at his body. “If you were here, I’m sure you’d help me clean up. Right, doll? You’d get on your knees and lick me clean like my good girl, wouldn’t you?”

You’re gonna be the death of me. Your message made him laugh.

-

Almost two hours and many orgasms later, it was time to say goodbye to your favorite camboy.

“Nooo,” he whined, smiling. “Don’t go yet.”

You watched how his lips pushed forward into an adorable pout. Time’s up, baby boy. You typed.

He chuckled at the nickname. “I wish I could talk to you all the time. Not just Friday nights.” He confessed finally. He’s been thinking about it for weeks now.

Trying to drain me, huh? You typed with a smirk on, worn-out, exhausted and ready for bed, but still wanting to see where he was taking this.

He chuckled. And ran a hand through his hair, his muscles flexing wonderfully and making you want to lick them. “Not at all, babygirl. But I would love to be friends.” He sounded hopeful. And your heart skipped a beat. And you were lucky he couldn’t see you because you had a foolish, giddy smile on.

Friends? Wow, you’re breaking my heart.

He laughed again as he read your message. “Maybe we could be text friends and see where that goes.” That hopeful tone was back again.

Hmm, that does sound interesting. Will I get good morning texts and sexy shirtless pics often?

He laughed and his laughter sent pleasant chills down your spine. “You can have whatever you want, doll.”

Doll… the nickname made you feel some kind of ways every time.

Okay then. Your message was followed by your phone number. Good night Bucky.

 He smiled when he saw your number on his screen. “Good night, doll.” he spoke and ended the stream. He sat back in his chair and stared at the number on his computer. Should he send you a message right now, or should he wait?

No. He should wait, right? He didn’t want to seem too clingy or annoying.

---

 Monday morning, you woke up to your phone buzzing. Expecting it to be a text from Bucky, you woke up quickly and felt around for your phone under your covers. And yes, you were disappointed to see that it wasn’t him, but it was a text from your assistant asking you if she could call you.

You sighed and rubbed the sleep out of your eyes and called her yourself.

The call lasted a few short minutes. Basically she wanted to let you know that you had to be early at work this morning because you had to interview a few people regarding the new position available at your office. You groaned when you heard it but oh well, boss duties.

You lazily got out of bed and went about your morning routine. You kept checking your phone constantly though, finding it surprising that it was already eight in the morning, but you still didn’t receive a single message from Bucky.

You instantly smiled upon thinking of him. This past weekend had been… interesting. You two texted nonstop and you felt like you were back in high school or uni again, texting boys all the time. Bucky was funny, his messages could make you laugh throughout the whole day. And his occasional selfies from the gym or being shirtless in bed made your boring weekend much better.

You sent him some back as well, carefully avoiding showing your face. And within the first day, you both were addicted to each other. So now that he didn’t send his usual good morning text, you were a little disheartened to be honest. It’s crazy how you can get used to talking to someone and then when they don’t text you for a couple of hours, you feel all empty and incomplete.

Had you been too needy and annoying? Or maybe he’s just sleeping in, or sick or doing something important. Right?

It was crazy how the thoughts of a man whose whole face you hadn’t seen yet, who probably lived miles and miles away from you, was making feel all crazy.

 Before leaving for work, you quickly snapped a photo of you in your lacy underwear set and sent it to Bucky. You two had been teasing each other with naughty pictures all weekend long.

You tried to push all thoughts of Bucky out of your head as your driver drove you to work. Quarter to nine and you were already in your office. Your assistant came in to tell you that the first candidate was here already.

You tried to focus on work, ignoring Bucky. For now.

 4 candidates later, you were so done with the interviews; none of the candidates were cut out for the position as office manager – since your last one resigned because she moved. You needed someone dynamic. Someone who’s not too nervous, quiet or grumpy and who would contribute to the calm, fun and pleasing atmosphere you had managed to create at work.

When your assistant walked in to tell you that there’s just one last candidate left, you groaned loudly.

“Please. I can’t.” you whined, feeling a little moody. And you knew for a fact that you wouldn’t be moody if Bucky had just texted you this morning, like he had this past weekend. You were a bit of a brat, you’d admit. But then again, who isn’t?

Your assistant gave you an apologetic smile. “Come on, boss. Just a last one left.”

You groaned and pouted, checking your phone again. No messages from the hottie. Not even after a mirror selfie in lingerie?

“Alright,” you moved some papers around to clear your desk a little. “Who’s the next one?” you asked about the candidate who would walk into your cabin next. “Send them in quickly and let’s get this over with.”

“Sure.” Right before she walked out, your assistant spoke up. “And your next one is uh…” she trailed off as she looked down at her notepad and read the name. “It’s a James Buchanan Barnes.”

[elentiyawhitethorn]

Prompt- Nyx tickles Rhys in front of all the hewn city members. (Rhys is very ticklish)

A Visit to Hewn City

Fluff//1565 words

“You are not taking our child to Hewn City. Absolutely not.” Feyre’s arms were crossed and she had an obstinate look in her eyes.

Rhys just smirked. “Fine. You can take him with you to your art classes.”

Feyre winced, likely remembering the last time that had happened. Nyx had gotten into a bucket of paint, smeared his hands all over the wall in a desperate attempt to get it off, then started crying. “I’ll stay home today.”

“I thought you were short-staffed.” Rhys knew exactly how this conversation would end from the sigh that escaped his mate’s lips.

“Can’t you go to Hewn City another day?” Feyre asked in a last-ditch attempt to keep her son away from there.

Rhys raised an eyebrow. “We’ve both already rescheduled the last few dates we were meant to go. Keir was annoyed enough as it is to hear that only one of us could come today.”

“We could get a babysitter—”

“Mor is off being our emissary. Cassian and Nesta are in the mountains. Azriel’s on a mission. All of our other friends are busy in some way. Do you trust our son with a stranger?”

Feyre squeezed her eyes shut. “I know you won’t let anything happen to him, I just don’t want Nyx in that environment.”

Rhys gaze softened. “I know, darling. I understand. If you really don’t want me to—”

“No,” Feyre cut him off. “I trust you.” She placed a hand on his shoulder and tried for a smile. “Just think of the look on Keir’s face when you show up with a baby. He only found out about Nyx during out last visit, yes?”

Rhys’ lips twitched. “Indeed. I imagine he’ll be rather surprised. And hopefully annoyed too. My dear uncle deserves a bit on trouble every now and then, don’t you think?”

Feyre grinned. “Absolutely. I need to go now.”

Rhys gave Feyre a peck on the cheek. “Have fun.”

Feyre returned the sentiment and winnowed away.

Rhys gathered Nyx in his arms, ready to head off to his meeting. And really, he was the most powerful high lord Prythian had ever seen. Only Feyre’s power rivaled his own. How hard would it be to keep a baby under control for a few hours?

—

As predicted, the look on Keir’s face was absolutely priceless. Rhys winnowed nearby, then strutted into the throne room with a baby in his arms. Of course a few residents of Hewn City dropped their goblets at the sight.

Keir, though… he looked absolutely enraged. The first glimpse of his distantly related grand-nephew did not seem to meet his standards.

Rhys just grinned at him and kept walking. Passing occupants of the Court of Nightmares, who were all scrambling to bow, seemed to please Nyx. He was reaching out of Rhys’ arms at everyone they walked by, excited to meet new people.

Rhys made it to the two thrones and took a seat in his own. Nyx settled on his lap, cooing.

“You brought the newborn,” Keir commented. His voice was strained.

Rhys just smiled. “I hope you don’t mind. Your High Lady is busy today. Subjects, may I present my son, Nyx.”

The whole room seemed to collectively take a breath, processing the situation. They clearly hadn’t been expecting a baby to appear in their domain.

Ignoring the silence, Rhys turned to Keir once more. “Any important updates?”

Keir was still frowning at Nyx. “Everything has been as it usually is. We only need to discuss how to calm down some residents who have gotten a bit worked up about some issue or other.”

Rhys, accustomed to the vague references to his people, wasn’t bothered by the lack of willingness to share. He was, however, bothered by the way Keir scowled at Nyx throughout this little speech. Even now, his eyes were on the baby who was currently pulling at Rhys’ hand.

“Do you have an issue with the presence of my child, Keir?” Rhys’ voice was icy.

Keir’s eyes snapped to Rhys. “He has wings.”

Trying to keep from throttling the male in front of his son, Rhys kept his tone even. He noticed the whole room tense at his words. “Does that matter?”

Keir frowned. “Being commanded by an Illyrian and his bastard Illyrian friends was bad enough. Now the child?”

Rhys wanted to use his power on the man. He’d done it before. Feyre had as well. But with Nyx there… absolutely not.

Instead, Rhys smiled. “I’m glad you’re pleased with him. Now go fetch some wine for me.”

Keir tensed, debating whether to argue, as he’d done many previous times. But something hard in Rhys’ eyes had the male scampering away.

Nyx seemed totally oblivious to the encounter. He gave his small wings a flap and scooted on Rhys’ lap. A string of babbled baby language left his mouth.

Rhys smiled fondly at the boy. “Hello, son.”

The entirety of Hewn City was watching their high lord coo at his baby, but Rhys paid them no mind. He wasn’t going to be cold and ruthless in front of Nyx.

Keir reappeared with the wine and Rhys took the goblet, not bothering to thank him. Then he dismissed Keir with a wave of the hand and went back to playing with his son.

—

Rhys wasn’t meant to be at Hewn City for long. After a couple of hours, Rhys had the small issue Keir had mentioned sorted out. He’d also entertained the court for as long as his lordly duties required.

Ready to leave, Rhys tried to scoop up Nyx, who had crawled over on Feyre’s empty throne. The baby managed to get Rhys back on his own seat and clung to his tunic, babbling.

“Now, Nyx, it’s time to leave,” Rhys said in a gentle voice, much of the court still watching curiously. They certainly had a very long attention span.

Nyx remained uncooperative. He tried to climb up Rhys’ shirt. In the process, his little baby fingers dug into Rhys’ side.

Rhys let out a startled laugh.

Pleased with the reaction, Nyx repeated the movement.

Prepared and trying to hold it in, Rhys lasted a few seconds before laughing once more. The entire court was staring at them now, entirely unsure of how to react to seeing their high lord being tickled. Keir was glaring with disapproval from the sidelines.

Nyx didn’t let up, surprisingly strong for a baby. Rhys had a bit of a laughing fit while trying—and failing—to corral his son.

Not sure if he’d be able to pick up the rascal and make it out the door, Rhys just smiled at the Court of Nightmares and said, “Your High Lady and I will visit next month. Be on your best behavior.” Then he winnowed away, hoping he didn’t sound as embarrassed as he was feeling.

Gods, Rhys’ face felt warm. He was blushing. Maybe they’d blame it on the wine.

Having appeared in his home, Rhys straightened and stepped toward the bedroom door, hoping to make inside before Feyre caught him. Nyx, still unused to winnowing, clapped his hands excitedly at the change in scenery.

“What did you do?”

Rhys slowly turned. “Do?”

Feyre had her arms crossed. She didn’t look particularly angry; she only seemed curious as to why her unflappable mate was blushing and trying to sneak into their bedroom.

“Did he get into trouble?”

“He was on his best behavior, actually. You shouldn’t be so doubtful toward him, darling. It hurts his feelings.”

Feeling entirely unhurt, Nyx hiccuped and reached for his mother. Feyre lifted him out of Rhys’ arms, rolling his eyes at the pathetic attempt at a deflection.

“What did you do then?”

Rhys winced. “Why do you think anything happened at all?”

Feyre impatiently knocked at her mate’s mental shields, not trusting a word that came out of his mouth. Reluctantly, Rhys lowered them, allowing Feyre full access to his mind.

After witnessing the day’s events, Feyre burst out laughing. “Oh, gods.”

Rhys pouted. “Stop that.”

“Being tickled by a baby in the middle of the Court of Nightmares. How will you ever look them in the eye again?” Feyre managed between laughs.

Rhys sighed. “I won’t. You’re on permanent Hewn City duty.”

Feyre smiled. “Right. Gods, I need to go tell Mor.”

Rhys’ eyes widened. “You need to do no such thing!”

“And Cassian. He’ll never let you live it down.” Feyre was fighting a smile.

Rhys crossed his arms. “Think of the child. What would poor Nyx think of his mother bullying his father so terribly?”

Feyre grinned. “He seems rather pleased with himself, actually.” Indeed, Nyx was stretching his lips, smiling toothlessly, tugging on Feyre’s sleeve.

Rhys sighed. “Oh, well. I think I’ve about given up on dignity at this point.”

Feyre smiled fondly at her husband. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Rhys guided his wife to the bedroom so that she could set down Nyx and let him play.

Upon asking how her day was, Rhys discovered she’d had a great time with her students, teaching some newbies how to mix the colors.

Despite the lingering embarrassment, Rhys was no longer upset about what had occurred in Hewn City. After all, a little bit of sheepishness was definitely worth seeing the look on Keir’s face. Maybe he’d bring Nyx with them again next time.

———

Tag List:

@feysand-loml

@aelin-bitch-queen

@story-scribbler

@live-the-fangirl-life

@midsizewitch

[mostlycompetentwriter]

Chan Request!!

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Chan

Warnings: Language and Mature Content (Not really smut since the request didn’t seem to ask for it)

Genre: Idol AU

Request:

A/N: lots of people seemed interested in this one so...

When you woke-up that morning, you immediately reached out to the left on instinct, expecting contact with another sleeping form. It was your first sign that something was wrong, fingers ghosting through empty air, and you peeled your eyes open to confirm that Chan was already gone.

You grimaced at the faint flicker of irritation in the pit of your stomach because this was the third morning in a row in which Chan had left with no prior warning. The pattern was getting old.

Did he think you wouldn’t notice?

Of course you were bound to notice. Chan was supposed to be your partner. That invited a level of trust and transparency that simply couldn’t excuse these continued absences when you needed him. 

It didn’t used to be this way, especially at the beginning of your relationship. For the longest time, you had both tried to hide it from the rest of the group, especially knowing that your manager’s would disapprove, but it was hard to lie when Seungmin accidentally walked in on you and Chan with the latter’s cock down your throat.

Still, the honeymoon phase of your relationship lasted for a long time, and even when you had problems along the way, you and Chan always managed to work things out. 

It was the best part of your deep connection, but recognizing how distant he had grown lately made you reconsider everything. There was a point when you could hardly leave your bed without Chan finding a way to initiate something like getting each other off or managing a quickie with Chan’s hand placed over your mouth to keep your moans to a minimum. 

Frowning, you forced yourself to leave the lingering warmth of your bed sheets, squeezing your legs into skin-tight jeans, abandoned on the floor from when you had quickly thrown off your clothes before going to sleep last night.

It was another unpleasant reminder of Chan because after waiting hours for Chan to come home, you figured he had decided to spend the night at the studio. But you were vastly mistaken when he slunk into your room at around 4:00 in the morning, whispering a greeting to you after sliding under the sheets. You had slept more soundly once his arm was around your waist, deluding yourself into believing that you could forgive him for staying out so late.

Especially since Chan worked so hard to produce the songs that decorated your group’s track listings, and with the album deadline approaching for the end of the month, he was practically working himself into the ground, 

There was also very little time in his overcrowded schedule left for you, and that certainly didn’t bode well for how much you longed for Chan between your legs....

“Y/N! Breakfast is ready!”

“Coming,” you shouted back at the door, annoyed that someone had interrupted your daydream fantasies.

Especially since it was the closest you had been to Chan in weeks.

It was probably Jisung’s interruption since he insisted on being the annoying little brother you could rarely escape, but it wasn’t his fault that you were in such a bad mood. 

“Good morning,” he immediately chirped when you opened the door, gaze bright with mischief.

You grumbled a greeting in return to your bandmate. “Why are you on the girl’s side of the dorm?”

Jisung scoffed. “Oh, so Chan can have all the access he wants, but I’m the one scolded for just saying hello?”

You rolled your eyes at his tone. “Whatever. Who cooked this morning?”

“Felix did,” Jisung replied, and you perked up a bit knowing that one of your youngest group mates had taken the time to flex his impressive cooking skills - it had to be better than Changbin’s attempt at frying eggs.

“Let’s go,” you said, dragging a petulant Jisung behind you as you both sauntered down the staircase together, joining the others in the part of the house where everything opened up into the common area.

Your managers didn’t mind so much when you were all together in the shared space of the living room and kitchen, but that certainly didn’t stop unmitigated romps between your male and female colleagues.

Your group was a rarity in the music world: comprised of twelve members, including eight of the boys and three of your closest girl pals who had all agreed to audition with you on an unforgettable summer afternoon. 

The fact that you were all accepted into the same company, under the same group name, was even more of a blessing in disguise. You could always rely on them whenever you needed advice, and you had steadily grown closer to the rest of the guys over the years.

Next month marked your fifth-year anniversary (it concurred with your 1st-year anniversary with Chan), and your group was planning to release an album to celebrate, including some previously unreleased gems that Chan had kept hidden on his computer’s hard drive.

Everyone was excited, but the tension of trying to be the best and accomplish everything on time was always weighing heavily on all of your group mates’ shoulders.

Chan was, of course, taking it worst of all, and you were seething beneath the surface when you spotted him at the table sitting between Changbin and Hyunjin, eating breakfast with his eyes glued to his phone screen.

Why didn’t Chan ask you to come to breakfast with him?

“Y/N’s here,” Jisung announced, abandoning your side for his usual spot between Lisa and Sana.

Several of your group members mumbled greetings, but you were disappointed to discover that Chan hadn’t even looked up from his phone.

“Thanks, Felix,” you whispered when you sat down next to the blonde-haired singer, immediately peeling into the croissant that he served you.

“Is everyone coming to the studio later?” Minho asked, summoning your attention. “We need to go over the choreo one more time.”

Your muscles screamed in protest, but you reluctantly nodded your head. Meanwhile, Jisung let out an exaggerated groan at the thought of another six-hour practice.

“You need it the most,” Minho teased him, and you smiled at the good-natured jab between the two.

At the same time, you watched as Chan rose from his seat, depositing his plate into the sink. You rose to meet him halfway to the door where he stuffed his arms into the sleeves of his leather jacket.

“Chan, do you have plans tonight?” you sheepishly inquired, wincing when you realized how ridiculous it was for you to walk on eggshells around your boyfriend and group mate.

“Busy,” he grumbled, and he didn’t even bother to look in your direction on his way out the door.

Later on at practice, there was an obscene amount of sweat in places where it shouldn’t be, and you were just about tired of Chan’s constant criticism.

For the entirety of your dance practice, Chan had taken every opportunity to berate your group members for even the most minor of mistakes, including your own. 

“Y/N!” Chan barked, and you flinched at his harsh tone, sucking in deep breaths to satiate your demanding lungs. “We’ve been practicing this for weeks!”

It was the fifth time that he had stopped the song at the introduction of the chorus - the part where you were supposed to do a backflip into frame. 

Apparently, Chan thought that your form was sloppy, and you bit your tongue to snap back at him. Obviously, he couldn’t seem to comprehend that you were hurting, and he was forcing everyone to endure hour after hour of constant movement. 

“Get your head on straight!” Chan insisted, and for some peculiar reason, it wasn’t anger or frustration with Chan that had you pausing.

It was a far more heart-wrenching combination:

Sadness.

Bitterness.

Shame.

They bombarded you all at once, and you barely managed to swallow back the onset of tears before you were storming out of the practice room, ignoring Chan’s calls of your name.

It was instinctual for you to find refuge in the empty studio rooms on the top floor of your company building - where most people tended to avoid.

You could always find solace in the quiet between four walls, pressing down against the keys of the electric keyboard attached to the big, fancy computer monitor.

The same tedious note played over and over again, but it seemed like the perfect metaphor for your life at that moment.

Especially your relationship with Chan.

But the silence was never permanent, and you used the sleeve of your jacket to wipe away the fresh evidence of tears when you heard the door to the studio room opening.

You immediately turned around, heart-sinking in your chest when you realized that it was Changbin instead of Chan.

“Hey, Binnie,” you said, feeling his gaze on you as he entered the empty studio room.

“What happened earlier?” he asked, always blunt and straight to the point as he drug a chair closer to where you sat.

“Just frustration,” you said.

“With yourself?” Changbin asked, but his tone left much to be imagined, and you grinned at his astuteness.

“With Chan too.”

“Yeah,” Changbin nodded - like it made perfect sense. “I can tell.”

“He’s been preoccupied with the album,” you said. “I get that it’s more important than me.”

“Hey!” Changbin protested. “You know that’s not true.”

His soft and sympathetic tone almost made you start crying afresh. “He doesn’t have time for me anymore.”

Changbin was quiet, studying you intently. “Chan gets wrapped up in what he’s doing too easily. It’s like this zone for him, and nothing else is allowed in that zone except for music and lyrics.”

“So, there’s no space for me?”

“I think there should be,” Changbin countered. “And you need to tell him that.”

You sighed at the thought of confronting Chan after everything that had happened earlier. “I don’t know...”

“Be honest with him, Y/N,” Changbin said, and he reached out to squeeze your hand in reassurance. “Everyone knows that Chan loves you more than anything.”

“He has a funny way of showing it,” you scoffed.

“So tell him that,” Changbin said - like it could be so simple.

Or....maybe it was?

That night, you knocked on Chan’s bedroom door twice before entering at his gentle inquiry.

“Hey,” you said, hesitating in the doorway.

“Y/N,” Chan said, and you were surprised to see him close the laptop screen, patting the empty spot next to you on the mattress. “Come here.”

You swallowed hard, forcing your feet into gear as they brought you to his bedside. “I didn’t want to bother you-”

“You’re not,” Chan said, and his gaze was chastened as he sighed. “Changbin talked to me earlier...”

“Of course he did,” you grumbled, planting yourself next to him.

“Yeah...” Chan trailed off again. “I guess I owe you an apology.”

You frowned. “For what exactly? Seems like I’m the one who got in the way. Guess you haven’t really needed me these past few weeks.”

“Are you kidding, Y/N?” Chan frowned, leaning up to kiss you suddenly and unexpectedly. “Of course I always need you.”

You could barely contain your smile, pulling apart to sigh happily at his reassurance. “It’s just...I know we have the album, but I thought we could still do the little things like we used to.”

Chan nodded, gaze contemplative. “I’ve been ignoring you without even realizing it.”

You allowed your eyes to fall. “And in practice today...”

“That was uncalled for,” Chan interrupted. “I should’ve never raised my voice. The stress I’m feeling shouldn’t punish everyone else...especially you.”

His tone was earnest, and you could feel your shoulders dropping with every word. “Changbin was the one who said I should talk to you.”

“He was right,” Chan said, leaning in closer again. “You can always come to me, yeah?”

“I really didn’t feel like I could,” you admitted.

“Then that’s my fault,” Chan said. “It’s something I need to work on cuz’ we’re in this together, Y/N.

He smiled then. “You aren’t getting rid of me anytime soon.”

You giggled at his teasing. “I can’t help it that I like you so much.”

“The feeling’s mutual,” Chan whispered, eyelids drooping when he watched you move your hand against his thigh, coming to rest at the interesting outline at the front of his sweatpants.

“I’ve also really needed you.”

“Are you gonna put me in my place, love?” Chan asked, and you hated the arrogant smirk taunting you just as much as your shameless act of groping his cock through the front of his pants.

“Yeah,” you grinned. “I can do that for you.”

It took less than a second for Chan to roll over top of you, grinning in a self-satisfied way as he slowly pulled your shorts and panties down your thighs. 

You watched him with a contented groan as he threw them into the floor, parting your thighs to make room for him. Closing your eyes at the first swipe of his tongue against your slit, searching for a familiar mess of curls through a narrowed line. “I’ll make it all better, love,” Chan promised, and your fingers shot out to find purchase against his strong shoulders, arching your back at the promise of a night you couldn’t possibly forget.

[pa-panda-heroes]

Gimmie (a man after midnight)

Dabi x Female!Reader [NSFW] Songfic

Song: Abba - Gimmie! Gimmie! Gimmie!

Aha, I had a lot of fun writing this but it’s not quite what i envisioned, so I hope it turned out okay! :’>

Minors, DNI! Go. Away.

Warnings: alcohol, hookups, slight degradation, choking—Dabi’s belt, anyone? ;), unprotected sex, vaginal penetration, spanking, fairly rough sex ig?

Words: 2,739

Half past twelve And I’m watching the late show in my flat all alone How I hate to spend the evening on my own

You groaned, sprawled out across your sofa and terribly bored. You worked your ass off all week just to go out and have some fun with your girls over the weekend. But alas, they canceled on you, saying they were “busy” doing “adult things” and having “responsibilities.” Bleh! What the hell! You even text a few others not initially involved in your plans, but they let you down, too. That was fair, though. Your invitation was definitely last minute, so you couldn’t blame anyone.

Your eyes dart to the clock. It was still pretty early in the night, half past midnight. Your eyes narrow. You’re an adult, you’re fully capable of going out on your own, right? You wouldn’t look like a poor soul with no friends... right? Fuck it. You’ll leave your apartment all alone and gloomy, but who’s to say you won’t come back not alone?

You bolt off the couch so quickly you nearly lose yourself and slam into the floor, but you recover and make a run for your closet. You had your outfit planned out three days ago, so the agony of looking for what to wear and trying on who knows how many outfits and discerning what paired with what was already over with. You dress quickly and throw on your preferred method of makeup before doing your hair as you pleased for the occasion. You hum at yourself in your success and head out, heading to your previously chosen club.

Autumn winds Blowing outside my window as I look around the room And it makes me so depressed to see the gloom

As soon as you walk in, the air is dense and brimming with smoke and moisture. It’s darker than you expected, although the neon purple, blue, and red lights flashing all around you stood out more this way, looking more pleasing to the eye as a result. The music thrums loudly in your ears, the bass kicked up nearly to a teeth-chattering degree. The violin you could hear through it all sounded intense and emotional, the entirety of the song upbeat and fast and so adrenaline-inducing for your current emotional state.

The mixture that was your boredom and gloom followed you as though it were your shadow itself, trailing behind you with every intention to lunge out and strangle you as you passed through dancing and grinding bodies. One couple was more than happy to let you join between them. For a smooth, lascivious moment you did, letting the male stranger grab onto your waist and grind against you, his (apparent) girlfriend following suit at your front, but you decided alcohol would be a good start first.

There's not a soul out there No one to hear my prayer

Gimmie, gimmie, gimmie a man after midnight

On your way to the bar you just happen to glance through the crowd and meet the gaze of mesmerizing turquoise hues, captivating eyes which stood out like iridescent glimmers in a sea of pitch black after the sun hid itself away. Your step slows as you hold your gaze firm, your own smirk a clear contrast to the stoic features of his own. Bland and non-contorted as his face may be, you tell by the dark, predatory glimmer to his eyes that you’ve caught his attention.

Your favourite drink is ordered and fully downed in no time before you slither back into the cluster of sweat and saliva in favour of dancing your worries away.

Won't somebody help me chase the shadows away Gimmie, gimmie, gimmie a man after midnight

You bounce and move your hips with the music all by your little lonesome in the crowd, others in a situation similar to yours. Try and find those turquoise masters of your captivation as you might, the fiery enigma you saw earlier was nowhere to be seen.

You bite your lip and pout as you carry on your merry way. What a bore you think this night has ungraciously become, your hopes of finding a good time dwindling away like dust in the wind! You almost consider going back to your previous “dance buddies,” but before you can even stop dancing, hands slither onto your hips and torrid breath teases your ear.

“Lookin’ for me, doll?” you hear a smoky, smooth voice purr, and immediately you’re weak in the knees.

You jut your ass out against him, closing the already bare-minimum space between the two of you, courtesy of the stranger himself. “You tell me,” you tease, grinding against him and realizing he’s wearing a massive belt, and your mouth waters. “I’m just lookin’ for a good time.”

Take me through the darkness to the break of the day

A chuckle erupts from behind you, slow and sure, one of the hands on your hip slithering up your waist to ghost over your tit. “I think you’ve found it,” he whispers to you, a call for sex and detachment as his hand - much larger, lither, and bonier than you anticipated - roams your chest freely. He’s careful not to catch the staples holding together the flesh of his hand catch on your clothes where applicable.

It’s clear he’s not playing around, though it doesn’t matter, because neither are you.

You giggle and reach back around for his hair as he moves in sexual tandem with you, while your fingers glissade through strands of pure abyssal silk and latch on. “Do tell,” you taunt, grinding particularly slowly against him and trying to reach for his thigh with your free hand. You can’t help the bratty smirk that parts your lips.

“Here? Really?” he asks, though it’s clearly rhetorical. “You want other people to hear me tell you how I’m gonna pin you against a wall and fuck that tight pussy ‘til you can’t walk, do you?” His voice is deep and low, haunting, and appearances be damned. You’d fuck him just to hear his voice alone.

A shiver wracks your body, much to his pleasure.

Movie stars Find the end of the rainbow with a fortune to win It's so different from the world I'm living in

The stranger’s hand dips down and finds its way up your skirt, giving your asscheek a tight squeeze. “Wonder what they’d say if they heard me tell you I’m gonna wrap my belt around that pretty little neck so tight, I won’t even have to touch you to make you cum.”

“Oh, fuck.” The hiss that comes out of you is laced with a clear moan, and you bite your lip, the growing wetness devouring your lacy panties making itself fully known to you when your cunt clenches around nothing. “Hey, you got a name, stranger?” you breathe, resisting the urge to clench your teeth when his lips find your neck.

“Just Dabi,” you hear him mumble into your skin.

Oh, like the Dabi? The villain Dabi? The Dabi who could very well burn the place to the ground in a matter of minutes and laugh it off like he saw some corny joke graffiti’d on a sleazy bathroom stall?

Oh. Well, alright then. You’re not bothered by it. Seems like he actually just wanted a good fuck and who were you to blame him for it?

Tired of TV I open the window and I gaze into the night But there's nothing there to see no one in sight

“I’m y/n, but feel free to call me whatever the fuck you want.” You sigh, leaning back against him.

Dabi chuckles at you, finding what comes off as a willingness to please quite delicious, if he were being honest. “Let’s head out, then.”

“Patience is not your virtue, is it, Dabi?” you jive at him, the clear pinch on your ass telling you the comment was not appreciated. You giggle at that. “Alright, follow me?”

You grab his hand and drag him through the other patrons, walking by a particularly heated makeout session on the way out. You’re pretty certain the exit you take is supposed to be an emergency exit, but you don’t much care, and it’s not like going through the door set any alarms off or anything.

As soon as you’re out into the cold air he spins you around, quite aggressively stealing away your lips in a loveless kiss and feeling you up like his life depends on it. Your squeak is swallowed right up and you latch onto the lapels of his jacket. It’s now you realise his upper lip is too soft to even be legal, the scarred and marred lower lip, held together by hot staples, is so rough and hot. Fuck, what you wouldn’t do to feel the conflicting textures between your legs.

There's not a soul out there

Your tongue toys with his - rather, your tongue is toyed with - as his hips grind against your pelvis, the clear outline of his hard cock prominent against your clothed cunt, bringing you enough friction to moan unabashedly into his mouth. Dabi’s hand grabs onto of your hair and tugs your head back to break your lip lock with him so that he could plant hot, slow open-mouthed kisses and sucks all along your neck. Oh, the hickeys you’d have to cover up for work.

You sigh and bite your lip. Ignoring the hard concrete clawing away at your back while you fumble with unclasping his belt (you hoped his talk from earlier was bite and not bark), you try to free his dick from its denim confines, only for your hands to be swatted away.

“Hey,” he growls at you. “I didn’t say you could do that.”

“Who said I needed permission?” you sass, egging him on. Oh, you should’ve known better. Your mouth always got you in trouble no matter what aspect of life.

No one to hear my prayer

You hear him click his tongue at you before he spins you again, this time shoving the front of your body against the wall. One of his hands grabs the belt do your skirt and yanks your ass toward him, the other hand pushing forcefully at your neck, your cheek against whatever building lies in front of you. “Who said you could do whatever the fuck you want, brat?” Dabi snarls at you, and you gulp. The villain is quick to unfasten his belt and unzip his jeans to let his cock spring free, before your skirt is thrown over your hips to expose your favourite lacy panties, and Dabi lets out a low whistle, pulling them to the side and exposing your dripping cunt to him. “Not bad, y/n.”

Biting back sass, you instead jut your ass out against him.

“And you said I was impatient,” Dabi goads. “Here you are, drooling and ready for me to fuck you into next week, eh?”

Gimme, gimme, gimme a man after midnight Won't somebody help me chase the shadows away

Your resistance dies as you try to glare at him. “Shut your trap and fuck me already!” you hiss. “...or are you all bark and no bite, Dabi?”

A hard slap smacks into your asscheek and you yelp, though the soft kneading of the flesh pulls a whine out of you.

“Keep this up and you won’t cum, doll.”

“Hey-“

Dabi plunged his cock into you without warning, sheathing himself straight to the hilt in one push of his hips, and you gasp, not having the opportunity to adjust to his size or the piercings adorning his dick.

“Dabi, fuuuck.” Your fingernails claw at the concrete, sure to scratch them up and end up in plenty of tears down the line, but you don’t care. The barbells of his piercings and the utter girth of his cock fill you up so full you almost feel like you’re going to split in half. “So big...!”

“Real fuckin’ wet for me, aren’t you?” Dabi slowly draws his hips back and quickly fucks into you again, drawing a gasp from you as he then sets a steady pace thrusting into you. “And tight-“

You keen as his hips piston into yours repeatedly, one of his hands firmly grasping your hip enough to leave bruises, and you hear an unknown metal jingling about, though you realise exactly what he’s done when you feel tough, cool leather wrap around your throat. Your cunt clenches at the implication his belt brings. Dabi is quick to notice and leans down toward your ear to utter a single, gravelly word: “Slut.” He thrusts into you especially hard and fast as if to prove his point, and you cry out when he hits that spongey spot, your throat dry. You can hear the lewd squelching and erotic song of skin slapping against skin.

Gimme, gimme, gimme a man after midnight Take me through the darkness to the break of the day

The belt tightens around your neck so much that it deprives of you enough oxygen to reach utter bliss as he pounds into your cunt, your cheek getting scraped up from the friction of the concrete wall. Any attempt you make at saying anything amounts to nothing as you begin to feel lightheaded and filled with pure ecstasy, your eyes trying to roll back into your head and drool creeping out the corner of your mouth.

A choked gasp comes out of you when his hand smacks at your ass cheek again, then again, then again, slow kneading of the flesh following thereafter and lulling the sting away. You moan loudly at his ministrations, nearing the height of bliss. “What, are you a painslut, too?” he jabs, though you can’t respond, and so he does it again, coaxing a cry of pleasure and pain out of you and tears into your eyelids, threatening to overflow and stain your cheeks. Another slap has you cumming on his clock with little warning, Dabi’s groan behind you mixing with your mewls and squeals. “Fuck!” you hear him curse, and he doesn’t stop fucking your poor pussy even after you came down, throwing you into a state of whiny oversensitivity.

“Too mu-uuch!” is all you can manage through the hazy fog of bliss.

Dabi doesn’t seem to care and keeps pounding into you anyway, though he does go for a change in scenery as he pulls you upright by tugging back on the belt around your neck, pulling your back to his chest and giving him room to slip his hands to your cunt. You cry out and squirm when his digits begin rubbing fast circles on your clit, your fingers instinctively flying toward the belt and clawing at the leather as you gasp and keen away. Squirm and wiggle as you want, he holds you tight. Tears run down your cheeks and pressure in your abdomen builds, threatening to break away like a damn and letting the flood crash through. You cry out his name, though it only seems to egg him on and he pounds into you faster, fingers still abusing your puffy clit. Head foggy and mind hazy, you orgasm again already, and your cunt squeezes his cock again, clenching repeatedly as if to milk him for all he’s worth and coating him in your juices.

Gimme, gimme, gimme a man after midnight Won't somebody help me chase the shadows away

Dabi lets out a string of curses and loses the rhythm of his hips, his grunts fucking music to your ears. Begs and pleas filter out of you for no apparent reason as his hips keep slapping against yours, your sobs and moans filling the alleyway and reverberating off the walls.

“Fuck! Shit, shit, shit!”

Your clenching cunt hugging onto him like it does sends Dabi over the edge, and he cums inside of you, milky hot cum coating your fleshy walls, eliciting a blissed-out sigh from you as he finally stops fucking into you.

The pressure on your neck is alleviated and you fall back against him, legs weak and head spinning. Dabi nuzzles your ear with his nose, one hand still cupping your pussy and the other gripping your tit.

“Whaddya say we head back to my place, y/n?” he croons.

Gimme, gimme, gimme a man after midnight Take me through the darkness to the break of the day

[quicksilverownsmysoul]

Peter comforting upset reader

Summary: reader is upset that they weren’t able to register for the fall classes they wanted and Peter helps them feel better. This is based off what happened to me today. I wasn’t able to register for any of the fall classes I needed because my school never said when registration opened. So now I have horrible class times to where I have to stay there from 9am to 5:45 pm and I can’t leave cause I’m a commuter student. I’m ready upset but writing this is helping me get through it. Since Peter can’t really hold me in his arms and tell me it was going to get better I wrote it!

Warnings: Angst, fluff

Word count: 1876

You were sitting at the dining room table with your head in your hands. You looked up at the glaring white screen showing your registered classes for the fall semester of college. Your university had failed to tell you when registration was, you only found out because you received an email saying that you haven't registered yet. In a panic you had quickly logged on and tried your best to get the classes you needed. Only to find them full or restricted for some unnamed reasons. If only that stupid advisor had told you when registration was. For God’s sake you had a meeting with him last week! He could have told you but he didn't and now your classes were all a mess. 

You let your head fall back into your hands. All your classes were at weird times and none of them worked with one another. Everyday of the week you had a class at 9 and then one at 3 that didn't end until 5:45. That wouldn't be a problem if you lived on campus. You could just go to the classes then head back to your dorm and chill in between them. But you were a commuter. You lived almost an hour away from campus, driving there and back twice a day four times a week was not feasible. It was going to take way too much gas, and since you had to stay at the school all day it meant you wouldn't have any time for yourself for the entirety of the fall semester. 

You had called the school begging them to help you but they said it was your own fault for missing the registration day. You tried your best to explain that you never got any emails about registration and they just said that they sent them. You must have not checked your email. You hung up and went to your parents hoping that maybe they could talk to the school, But all they did was dismiss you and ask why you missed registration, they were blaming you. They also said that maybe those classes wouldn't be that bad and to just take the four classes you were able to secure. You explained to them that in only taking four classes you would mess up your graduation plan but they just said you would take summer courses or something. They didn't get it, you were there on a scholarship if you took a summer course you were going to have to pay out of pocket, something you couldn't afford at the moment. 

You were so mad you wanted to scream, but at the same time you just wanted to break down and cry. You slammed your laptop shut and made your way out of the house grabbing the keys off the hook, telling your parents you were going for a drive to cool down. You pulled out of the driveway and made your way to the one person you knew could make you feel better. But as soon as you pulled up to Peter’s house you regretted coming. You didn't want to bother him with something as stupid as being upset over your class registration. So you sat in your parked car by the curb in front of his house and just laid your head down on the steering wheel. 

Peter had seen you pull up and a smile made his way to his face. He loved when you came to see him, he looked out the window waiting for you to come out of your car and make your way to the door. After a couple minutes you were still sitting in your car huddled over the wheel, Peter exited his house and made his way over to your truck. He tapped lightly on the driver's window making you jump. You lifted your head and rolled the window down, putting on your best fake smile. Peter looked at your concern in his eyes. “(y/n) what’s wrong?” 

“Nothing!” You said in an obviously fake cheery voice. He watched you struggle to maintain your smile, it shaking and the corners dipping every few seconds. Peter reached through the window, wiping away the tears you didn't even know were falling. That soft gesture broke you. You leaned into his hand and broke down crying.

 “Hey, it’s okay.” Peter said softly opening the door to your truck, the minute he fully opened it your collapsed into his arms. Holding onto his shirt and wailing into it. He gently picked you up and you clinged on even tighter to him. He took his time walking you into his house and down the stairs into the basement. He set you down on his bed and kneeled down in front of you. “(y/n) what’s wrong.” 

You kept crying, mumbling through your tears. “It’s nothing, it’s stupid.” You were so ashamed to be crying in front of him you kept your eyes shut. 

Peter lifted your head by your chin. “(y/n) look at me.” You reluncalty opened your eyes to meet his own. “If it’s making you this upset it can’t be nothing.” His soft brown eyes watched yours, patiently waiting for you to tell him. You calmed yourself down the best you could and told him what had happened. All about missing the registration day, not getting any of the classes you really needed to how your parents didn't even seem to care. He didn't interrupt you, just listened to you, giving your thigh a soft comforting squeeze every now and then. When you finished he finally spoke. 

“That’s awful, I'm so sorry.”

“It’s all my fault.” You hiccupped out.

“No it’s not.” He said firmly. “They should have told you when registration was. They should be worrying about fixing this, not you.” He took your hand in his own. “On Monday I’m going to go to your school and straighten this all out. You know how persuasive I can be.” He joked, you let out a light laugh. 

You wiped away your tears with the back of your hand trying to get up to leave. “It’s okay. It’s not that big of a deal. I shouldn't even be this upset about it.” You said attempting to joke, he just frowned at you. He lightly pulled you back down to sit on the bed.

“No it's not.” He said firmly. “They messed up, this is their fault not yours. You have a right to be upset.” You started to cry again at the fact that he ackowdlged that your feelings were relevant. He didn't try to dismiss them. “If we can get them to change that will be amazing, and if we can't that’s okay.” You opened your mouth to protest but Peter continued on. “Sometimes things happen that we can’t control like this. That doesn't mean the world is going to end. You have a lot of credits, only taking four this semester isn't the worst thing that could happen.” He got up off the floor and sat down on the bed next to you, You felt it dip under his added weight.

“But if I don’t get the six classes this semester I’m going to graduate a semester late.” You looked up at time, tears in your eyes. “I was going to graduate early, in three years instead of four and now I’m going to mess it all up. 

Peter turned his body to face yours, and he made you do the same. “(y/n) It’s going to be okay, you could use this break. You’ve been so tired lately taking all those extra classes a semester. You are burning yourself out. It’s okay to take breaks every now and then. Maybe this is going to be a good thing, You’ll be under less stress and you’ll have more time during the day to study. And you didn't think I wasn’t going to visit you did ya.” You looked back up at him and gave him a small smile. “That’s right I’ll come and see you in between classes, and if you want I can take you home too. That way you don’t have to spend all day there. And when it comes to graduating early, baby you still are! Graduating a semester earlier is still super impressive. You’re too hard on yourself.”

You surpsied him by pulling him into a tight huf. “Thank you Peter.” Your vocie was muffled by the close proximety. You pulled away after a while. “

“Do you wanna get some food or something?” He asked.

You gave him a a weak smile. “Is it okay if we just lay here for a while? I’m still a little uspet.” 

“Of course. And you have a right to be.” He said, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Don’t let anyone ever make you think your feelings aren’t valid.” You pushed down the new wave of tears as you laid down beside Peter. You laid with your back to his chest. He scooted himself closed, wrapping his arms around your figure. You tucked your hands into yourself and let yourself cry, to feel all the things you’d been holding in. He gently ran his hand along your arm in a soothing, repetitive motion. Pressing soft kisses on the back of your neck. His touch making all your problems disappear.

[hlizr50]

Thank You for Saving Me

One of my first. One of my faves.

Spoilers for From Blood and Ash and A Kingdom of Flesh and Fire

Casteel wants to address a few of Poppy's scars that they don't usually talk about

Read on AO3

The room was dark, but he wasn’t bothered. Casteel’s Atlantian heritage meant that he could see anything around him that he cared to notice. He should have been trying to sleep, as Poppy had rolled over to do. She’d said as much not long ago, before he’d successfully distracted her with his lips, his hands, his tongue… all of him.

He grinned to himself, shaking his head. He loved that she found it so difficult to resist him. Surely she knew how easily he unraveled at even the slightest thought of her. That was why he couldn’t help himself tonight. Even though they were to begin the journey across the mountains in a few hours. Even though they were aching and weary from the battle with Duchess Teerman’s regiment.

Casteel leaned his head back against the headboard and cast a sidelong glance at her – the way her hair fell across her shoulders and back, a sharp contrast to that alabaster skin. So soft. So perfect. He let his gaze drift down, eyeing the faint, thin marks that tracked back and forth across the tender flesh of her. His eyes narrowed.

He had never been anything less than completely sincere when he spoke about her scars. He needed her to understand how special she truly was, working against the years of venom that the Duke, Lord Mazeen, and the rest of the treacherous Ascended had used in an attempt to poison her soul, to dim her light. Her scars were beautiful, if only one entry in the long list of things he admired about her. But these long, thin, nearly invisible lines were not the jagged tears from Craven claws and fangs. No, these told a story of a fortitude he understood completely yet could also barely comprehend.

The two of them had rarely discussed Duke Teerman’s “lessons” since Poppy had finally admitted to him that the Duke had beaten her, likely for years. In fact, the last they’d spoken of it was during their journey from New Haven, and that was a lifetime of realizations and confessions from where they lay now.

Married.

And not for the sake of mutual benefit from the power of being Atlantian royalty, but for love. Real, true love. And he needed her to know how he felt – about all of her scars.

“How many times do I have to tell you that it’s creepy when you watch me sleep”

Casteel chuckled. “Well you’re obviously not asleep, so I don’t believe your question really applies.”

“Whatever,” she sighed. “It’s creepy when you stare silently at my back when I’m awake, too.”

“Alright, I’ll accept that,” he answered. And then he reached for her, trailing a calloused fingertip over where the cane had bitten her and swearing to himself when her muscles tensed. “When I realized what he had been doing to you it was all I could do not to kill everyone in that Gods-damned castle.” He moved his fingers up and down the length of her back. If his attention on those particular stripes made her uncomfortable he wouldn’t force his touch. But this conversation was important. He needed her to know.

It was quiet for a few moments, and he wondered if Poppy had somehow drifted off to sleep.

“When did you know? For sure?”

“That day with the priestess, after I prevented her from striking you. I could’ve killed her, too, honestly. But there were too many things that came together… too many signs.”

Poppy rolled over to face him, clutching the blanket over her chest. “Like what?” her emerald eyes shone with surprise.

“Please, Poppy. Did you truly think you were even remotely convincing even one of the many times I asked and you denied it?” the prince laughed humorlessly.

“You always let it go!”

“There was the first time he had me summon you. You and Tawny were both… distraught,” Casteel took a breath. If only he’d known right then, maybe he could have spared her – at least that final lesson. “Then you were holed up in your room for two days. And then there was the night I found you on the Rise. The way you winced when your back hit the wall… when I implied I might report you, and you told me I didn’t know what he’d do, before you could reign in your emotions.”

He reached for her again. Gathering the blanket around her body he pulled her into his lap, tucking her head beneath his chin.

“But it was that day with the priestess. When she said you’d grown fond of the cane. When it was painfully, heartbreakingly clear that you were accustomed to her striking you. And when I asked you point-blank if he hit you… all the color drained from your face before flushing deep red…” he pulled back so he could look her in the eye and let his fingertips caress her cheek. “My heart could have shattered in that moment. I knew what it was to be trapped, knew the shame and the fear of being helpless and not understanding how someone could take such delight simply from causing pain to someone else.”

Casteel planted a kiss on her forehead before pulling her close again. He ran his fingers idly through her wine-red locks – a favorite past-time of his. He loved her hair. It had been so unexpected the first time he saw it; red hair to match the fire within. But the fire had cooled tonight, and he might have thought she’d dozed off if it weren’t for her hand gently stroking his arm.

“Sometimes Lord Mazeen was there,” she offered quietly, and the prince stilled. Of course he knew that, but she had never been so open with this part of her. “He was there… that last time. He… he liked to watch.” Casteel’s chest rumbled with a barely-contained snarl. He had always been so glad – he would even say proud – that she’d hacked the Lord to pieces.

But Gods what he’d give to have the chance to go back and end that monster himself.

“That day… he stood in front of me. I tried to be as modest as possible, as was expected of me. But I had to brace myself on the desk, so I would lean on one arm and use my other arm to cover as much of me as I could. He bored into me with those haunting, hungry eyes as he moved my arm and held both of my hands on the desk so he could see… all of me.”

Casteel could barely breathe, and he clutched his wife tighter to his chest. Had he known that? He wasn’t sure. He knew that the Lord sometimes joined the Duke in his sadistic practice. He remembered Spessa’s End when Poppy had raged against Duchess Teerman’s insistence that the Ascended had been protecting her.

‘Is that what the Duke was doing when he took a cane to my back simply because I breathed too loudly or didn’t respond in a way he found appropriate? When he put his hands on me? Allowed others to do the same?”

He knew that they’d hurt her, but her admission had completely…

Gods, it tore him to pieces.

He felt soft fingers curl around the back of his neck and let out a breath. Her touch grounded him, pulled him back.

“Poppy… I –“

“I think Lord Mazeen was the first one that really made me realize that something was wrong – that their explanations and expectations didn’t make sense. How could my purity and isolation be so important when I saw what was in his eyes… he would have taken me if he knew he could get away with it. He leered at me for… for years!”

He pushed her shoulders back from him gently so he could grasp her face between his hands. He brought his lips to her forehead before leaning into her gaze.

“The Ascended are monsters, make no mistake. But THOSE two… There is not a word strong enough. They were EVIL, Poppy. They hurt you. They tormented you. They took pleasure in knowing that they could do anything they wanted to you for the most miniscule fucking reason and you had to sit and take it. I would burn the entirety Solis to the ground if it meant I could have saved you from that.”

Poppy smiled then. Gods, somehow she still smiled and it knocked the wind from Casteel’s lungs. Her eyes were luminous with unshed tears as she lifted her hands to cover his.

“How many times have you told me that you had hoped to sweep in dramatically and rescue me? After fighting Craven, after Lord Chaney or Duchess Teerman? But don’t you see?” The tears slid soundlessly down into her smile. “You did rescue me. You saved me from the priestess, from the Duke and Lord Chaney. You saved me from a lifetime of ignorance, of being used as a pawn to force an entire people into submission.  You saved me from a life of solitude, of never knowing pleasure or love.”

She released her grip on him and reached a hand to move a stray lock of his dark curls out of his eyes, while he used his thumbs to wipe away the dampness still staining her blushing cheeks.

“You weren’t too late Casteel. You saved me. You did.” And then she pulled his head toward her and pressed her lips to his temple. “You’re my hero,” she whispered, and began to pull away. He wrapped a hand around the back of her neck and held her against him, foreheads touching.

“I know that the scars he left on you are not the obvious ones. They are not many, and they are not easy to see, but they are there. And they are beautiful, all the same. You are so strong, Poppy. So brave. I cannot begin to comprehend your ferocious need to explore, to learn, to live, all in spite of them. You had every reason to cower, to slip into a meek existence, but instead you dreamed and you learned and you fought. Every day I am staggered by who you are, and I don’t think there will ever be a moment when I am not in awe of you.” He could feel burning in his throat and his eyes. His voice was hoarse. He so rarely wept, but he couldn’t help but be overwhelmed. “These scars may be my favorite, the most stunning. The Craven scars are a symbol of your blood, your heritage, your survival. But these? They are a testament to your bravery and fortitude. They show the world that you have faced pure evil, looked it in the eye, laughed, and dared it to try again.”

Casteel scooped her from his lap and laid her back on the bed before sliding down under the blanket to face her. He wrapped his arm around her and let his fingers feel the velvety skin of her back, searching for those thin lines.

“I don’t want you to feel fear or shame when my fingers find them. I want you to feel strong and brave and powerful, knowing that you beat them – that they are dead and you are living your fullest life. Can you do that for me, Princess?”

His breath hitched when she smiled softly again before wiggling closer to him, burrowing as far as she could into his chest. Would he ever be able to see her smile and not come undone?

“I think I can do that,” she murmured against him. He smiled and kissed the crown of her head. He breathed her in and allowed his body to relax around hers. Contentment wasn’t something Casteel was accustomed to feeling, but this was the closest he had ever been to paradise. The silence was comfortable, wrapping around them like a cloak in winter. He sighed deeply and felt her head turn slightly against him. And then soft full lips pressed to his chest. The gesture was pure and innocent and earth-shattering.

“Thank you. For saving me,” Poppy whispered in the dark, almost too quiet even for his ears. He didn’t know if he could draw her any further into him. But he would keep her tightly cocooned in his arms, knowing that having her there is what held him together.

And he wondered, truly, if it hadn’t been she who had saved him.