#i’m sorry i keep talking about this but like i cannot comprehend that 2 weeks tomorrow i’m meeting him LMDKSKSKSK

[stvharrngton]

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[nnight-dances]

HOW TO FALL BACK IN LOVE WITH YEONJUN

pairings: yeonjun x f!reader

tropes: one-sided enemies to lovers >:-)

plotline: yeonjun loves you. you've loved him before but now you're convinced he deserves nothing but your ironic smiles. well, you're wrong. these three acts of your life uncover the truth behind your resentment and the depth of yeonjun's love. plus, an epilogue where we collectively hate on short stories because only poetry can truly capture a writer's horniness!

what to expect: a lot of rambling in parentheses but i promise it's essential to the storyline, (i have many thoughts about how i've used this feature in this story which i can share if anyone's interested.) mbti talk, some tiktok slang.

song recommendations: sweet by cigarettes after sex, moonlight by dhruv, lay all your love on me by abba

—

THE FIRST ACT: 2 THINGS YOU (MIGHT) HATE ABOUT YEONJUN

it’s not a secret that yeonjun does everything with his everything. he’s only invested in his select few interests but just the little things take up all the space in his heart. you could argue for or against his way of living, he’s more than aware it’s not the healthiest to be like this but he’s not ready to change, not while he’s still young. for now, he’s a summation of fixations and obsessions in his world. and it just so happens that one of his obsessions is you.

“what’s this? y/n’s got a new piercing?” he leans back on his heels dramatically, mouth forming an o at the sight of the newly-added butterfly stud on the helix of your ear. “and it’s only tuesday. week not going very well for you.”

you narrow your eyes at him in your typical resting-bitch-face fashion, instantly taking on an aloof demeanor, “i’m extremely uncomfortable with the fact that you’re keeping up with the number of piercings i have. can’t say i’m flattered.”

“ha! at this point, i don’t even have to try to keep count. you get a new one every other day.”

“oh, leave her alone, jun,” calls out taehyun from behind you, “she’s doing it for inspiration for her portfolio that’s due in three days.”

two ring-adorned middle fingers stick up in front of taehyun’s face, your hoarse voice following suit, “you’re a terrible friend, kang taehyun.”

“two days? and you’re not done? sorry, love, but as an ESTP, i physically cannot forgive you. i have to shame you in public.”

yeonjun laughs a little too hard for your liking at that, about to chime in with his own patronizing comment but you cut in, “oh, well, you know who else is an ESTP? donald j. trump!”

yeonjun laughs again at that, enjoying the banter between you and taehyun a lot. he joins in, “i’m an ENFP. that’s the same as katniss everdeen’s, so i’d say that explains why i’m so hot.”

you frown, “you mean you would choose peeta over gale? yeah, i can see why you have such bad taste in everything.”

taehyun howls in laughter at that and yeonjun shakes his head, “oh, ho ho ho,” he shuffles closer to you, “you don’t understand, y/n, how badly you’ve just insulted yourself.”

before you can fully comprehend the meaning of his statement, he’s gone, grabbing (stealing) a can of beer from hueningkai who’s busy forcing beomgyu to arm-wrestle him.

“whatever that means,” you huff out, massaging your temples. taehyun sighs, concealing a knowing smile, “yeah. i’ve no idea what he means.”

you rest your head against the sofa he’s sat on, stretching out your legs, “i actually hate you for betraying me like that.”

“oh god, maybe i’ll stop the day you stop talking like we’re still in the second grade and i’ve lent my eraser to the wrong person.”

“you might as well have!” you complain, not in the least petty because, “choi yeonjun did not need to know i’m behind on my portfolio. god knows what he’s gonna do with that information.”

taehyun snorts, “ah, yes, he’s probably going to plan a full-fledged assassination involving your family and kids simply based on the knowledge that you’re a helpless procrastinator.”

“you know what?” you sit up with a groan, “i think you’re the one i should be worried about sharing my secrets with. you’re the real threat here.”

your ‘friend’ simply chuckles under his breath as he watches you depart his side and hopes yeonjun’s somewhere in the crowd of the party to keep your nerves… unnerved.

yeonjun is present in the crowd, sat on the less than reassuring metal stairs of beomgyu and hueningkai’s shared apartment. his hand fidget with his phone, struggling to stop himself from going on tinder only to be disappointed because he’s just looking for another y/n and that near impossible, unless you break your oath to rely on “real life encounters and experiences” (your very own words) to find love.

he finds you then, in a group of people hanging around the balcony, cigarettes in hand. you stand a little far apart from the others, looking undoubtedly spaced-out as you swing on your heels back and forth. you’re pretty, even though yeonjun can only see one-fourth of your face, what with all the darkness and your hair in the way.

but you hate him. even if your disgusted grimaces and cold glares are all but a joke, you did seem harbor some kind of resentment toward yeonjun. he’d no idea what it was and trust him when he says he’s been putting his neck on the line just to figure out why.

so far the reasons that have him most convinced include,

one: you hate all men in general and he just happens to be a particularly irksome male presence in your life.

this is a pretty likely explanation, he thinks as he approaches you, because even as an outsider to the group you’re in, he can see that you reserve your expletives for certain men.

“…and that’s why i think everything is soup,” yuta finishes saying when yeonjun joins you. for a second there’s silence and even mark who usually can’t control his laughter maintains a poker face. then, you groan, “yuta, if i had a pencil right now, i genuinely would have stabbed you with it.”

now, this makes everyone crack up while you regard them in disbelief with a look that screams you guys know i’m serious right? because you’re dead serious.

so yeah, it’s a good bet to say that men aren’t your favorite kind of people. but still, yeonjun couldn’t shake off the feeling that your dislike for him is more personal. wishful thinking, perhaps? but then, you turn and notice yeonjun standing beside you.

your half-smile tightens into a frown, “when did you get here?”

there it was. that specific tone you use with, that was missing when you’d threatened lucas just moments ago. the grit in your teeth, the intensity of your eye-contact, even the way you say you changes. which brings him to the next and last potential reason that yeonjun has spent days, if not years, pondering.

two: yeonjun had done you wrong without knowing and ever since then, you’ve grown to absolutely despise him.

now, yeonjun knew for a fact that you’re expert at holding grudges, clear from how quick you’ve always been to bring up embarrassing things people around you, specifically taehyun, had done. and to be honest, you’re just good at remembering unusual amount of detail which you use to your advantage.

which is why yeonjun knows you’ll know he’s lying when he says, “i’ve been here for a good ten minutes, y/n. i’m so hurt you haven’t noticed.”

“stop that,” you shoot back instantly, raising a singular but intimidating index finger, “i know what you’re doing.”

yeonjun raises his eyebrow in amusement, “stop what? what am i doing?” he slightly leans in to dramatically tuck in a few stray strands of hair, “please, enlighten me.”

the low, husky voice he uses is not lost on you. despite your flaming cheeks, you scoff, “that! you’re flirting with me!” you reach up and promptly untuck the hair from behind your hair, “these are my slut strands. you’re not allowed to touch them without permission.”

“your—” yeonjun pauses, “slut... strands? right.” he swallows a chuckle, smirking instead, all while internally he’s having a breakdown over how insane you are. like in a good way. in the way that everything you say is fucking crazy but it’s so native to your logic that it drives him crazy and holy cheese, yeonjun is scaring himself right now.

he looks away momentarily to see the rest of the group’s conversation floating elsewhere. he turns back to you, “so you noticed?”

you cock up a brow, “that you’re flirting with me? no shit, yeonjun, you know i may not look street-smart but i have to live with taehyun and his witty ass so trust me, i’m not oblivious.”

“oh, i beg to differ,” he settles closer to you, leaning against the same pillar as you, shoulder flush against yours, “i didn’t think for a second that you were oblivious.”

“that’s why you ran away after telling me i was insulting myself by insulting your taste?”

yeonjun flushes, taken aback by your straightforwardness, coughing to cover up his lack of excuses at that. you breathe out a laugh at his flustered state, “hmm, so goes down the all-mighty choi yeonjun.”

“at least i wasn’t defeated by my inability to complete my creative writing portfolio due in three…” yeonjun looks down at his watch, “actually, now, two days.”

this time, you’re left without a comeback, “that’s a low blow, man.”

he laughs, “come on, isn’t this like your first time being this late?”

“once again, i remain creeped out at you knowing things like that but,” you relax noticeably next to him, “i guess i ran out of ideas this time. not sure what’s wrong.”

“and this had never happened before?”

“i thought you already knew this.” yeonjun rolls his eyes, a complete contradiction to the grin on his face. ”hm, maybe you’ve run out because you’re trying to do it the same way you’ve always done it?”

“i mean, of course i’m doing it the same way,” you mutter, “that’s like the point of having a regular writing practice. it needs to become natural.”

“yeah, but you need spice things up a little sometimes!”

“gross,” you scrunch up your nose, “you sound like you’re prescribing me a threesome right now.”

he shrugs playfully, “if that’s what rocks your boat.” you push him away at that and he laughs out, “okay, okay, but i’m serious. try something new.” you quieten down at that, probably thinking.

“what about…” you look up at him expectantly and he almost fumbles over his words, “um, what about walking around the city?”

—

THE SECOND ACT: LOVE BEGINS BEHIND CLOSED PARENTHESES

full disclosure here: yeonjun’s second reason is right. the first one isn’t completely wrong, but it’s more so the second one that finds you in the gropes of overthinking that night.

you know how at a certain point in the past, you really (really, really, really) like someone but then things don’t work because that person isn’t into you (but more because you’re too caught up in your own self-perception to do anything) so slowly that lots (and lots and lots) of like turns into a lump of resentment? yeah, that pretty much describes your relationship with yeonjun. more or less, you hate him for not liking you (”in the past!! i don’t care about him anymore!” you hastily add from behind kang taehyun who had been narrating this whole paragraph. taehyun poorly covers up an incredulous snort.)

“so now you’re going on a date with him?” taehyun asks a little too loudly, “how does that happen?”

“it doesn’t happen because nothing is happening because i’m not going on a date with him!” you half-scream, hitting the brunette on his head to try and shove some sense into it, “and please, stop being so loud or i’m going to cry.”

“y/n, we live alone. and i think you’re going to cry nevertheless, but okay. if it’s not a date, what is it?”

“it’s just a walk,” you say and when taehyun looks at you blankly, “a walk around the city, in his exact words.” more blankness. more silence. “i was going to go alone but yeonjun said he knows an obscure part of town that would help me become, you know, curious.”

“uh-huh, right, of course…” taehyun purses his lips, intrigued to see how far you’d go with your denial.

“stop looking at me like you’re so much better than me! and no—” you cut him off knowingly, “don’t say that you are better than me. you’re not. what you are is an asshole and i hate you.”

you fall into your sheets with a frustrated wail and taehyun laughs at your state for a few seconds before returning to his role as your therapist slash best friend.

“okay, y/n, i know you don’t like to think about, let alone admit it, but you’re into yeonjun. and since i can’t let what happened a year ago happen again, i’m telling you that i’m almost completely sure that he’s into you, too. so please, don’t be hostile tomorrow on your date— sorry, your ‘walk’ with him. use the opportunity or i’m sleeping over at kai’s.”

—

“i don’t know why i let you talk me into this,” you scoff as you fall into step next to yeonjun. “we’re literally at a stupid park.”

he gasps like the theatre kid he should be, “first of all, this is a huge park and you’ve no idea how much people-watching you can from here. and secondly, i bought you coffee so all you’re being right now is ungrateful.”

you stay silent, eyes scanning a group of middle-aged ladies that passes you. you hear a whiff of their conversation, something about one of them wanting to take a break by the water fountain.

“see? you’re already in the zone and i didn’t even have to shut up.”

you look back at him, awed look morphing into a scowl, “no, i think it’s just really easy for me to forget you’re here.” yeah, it’s safe to say you haven’t taken a word taehyun said to the heart.

but no matter what you say, half an hour later finds you perched on a bench, crouched over your notebook, fingers scratching quick bullet points into the paper. you look up every ten minutes or so, head moving up and then rotating slowly, and then back to writing.

it’s only when yeonjun brings you your second cup of coffee that you notice the stiffness in your shoulders. he smiles at you, brightly. brightly? no, it’s the sun that’s bright, not yeonjun. he’s… moronic.

“wanna take a break?” he asks. you stand up in answer, taking the cup he holds out for you, the words thank you leaving your lips a little too quickly. he doesn’t overreact like you expect him to, his attention on some kids a few ways away from where the two of you are.

“you wanna play frisbee?” you mean to mock, not offer, but yeonjun’s ear perk up and he’s pulling you after him before another word can be said.

“hey, kids!” he greets the children who look like they’re maybe in middle school, “could we join y’all for a bit?”

it’s a a girl in pigtails who answers excitedly, probably encouraged by yeonjun’s looks (hey, yeonjun is objectively good-looking. just because you’re stating facts about his appearance doesn’t mean you’re in love with him. because you’re not in love with him.)

“sorry, this one is a little zoned out most of the time, so just don’t aim at her face,” you hear yeonjun say as you finish convincing yourself of your lack of feelings for him. you resist the itch to flip him off and flash a polite smile to the blonde boy next to you.

he responds with an enthusiastic wave, “hello! i’m ren!” you raise your eyebrows, not expecting him to introduce himself but return with a, “hey ren, i’m y/n. nice to meet—”

you’re cut off by yeonjun’s yell as the yellow frisbee flies your way. your hands come up to shield your face but ultimately it’s yeonjun’s body crashing into yours that saves you. does it, really? you wonder as you groan from under him. the grass is damp and you’re in it and yeonjun’s on top of you. you’re not sure what makes you more annoyed.

“i fucking hate you,” you whisper as yeonjun props himself up. he’s still close enough though so he grins, looking objectively good-looking despite the twig that’s found its way into his hair. “smile, babe, i just saved your life.”

you don’t know how to respond to his outrageous use of the endearment so you’re grateful when ren exclaims, “he just called y/n noona baby!!!! ewww, they’re dating!!”

on second thought, you’re not grateful because apparently, this is enough to wreak havoc among the group of children. weren’t they already at least ten? isn’t that old enough to not be annoying? you don’t find out because next thing, yeonjun’s hand is wrapped around your wist as he helps you up.

you shoot him a glare and the loud boy next to yeonjun screams, “they’re holding hands!!!”

“gosh darn, kids, your parents never touch each other or what?”

“my mother said my father’s breath smells like beer and that’s why she won’t give him kissies like she gives me them!” the girl in pigtails answers, proud for some reason. despite everything, you crack a smile at that, leaning into yeonjun’s side who’s struggling to stifle his laughter.

“i think we’ve had enough of a break, no?” he says to you and you nod, “please, let’s go before i’m forced to write about the bad parenting in my portfolio.”

about five minutes pass in you trying to break free from the group who insist on another round. another round takes two minutes before ren takes a hit to his knee and you both take the chance to leave, with you almost sprinting back to the peace of your bench in the shade.

you fall against the tree next to the bench, yeonjun close behind. “that was…” you take a moment to catch your breath, “not bad?”

yeonjun claps his hands together, “that’s exactly what i’ve been trying to tell you! this park! those kids! me? not bad!”

and well, because you guess you can allow that the whole affair isn’t half bad, it’s already evening when you’re too tired to write anymore. you look away from your almost illegible handwriting to find yeonjun gazing at you. weirdly (longingly).

he clears his throat, “you think you have enough?”

feeling weird (love-struck), you also clear your throat, “um, i should. i hope so, my fingers feel like they’re going to fall off.”

“that’s a good sign you’ve worked hard,” he pats your head. you don’t flinch away somehow. he continues, “it’s also a good sign that we should get some food.” when you narrow your eyes at him, he rushes to add, “you know, to relax your fingers.”

the excuse is ridiculous. the premise of this entire day is ridiculous. hell, yeonjun’s entire being is ridiculous. but you’re spent, your walls aren’t as rigid in the soft light of the sunset, and yeonjun’s eyes have an unreal glow when he’s silent.

and so, ridiculously enough, you answer yeonjun, “we should get sushi.”

—

that night, you return to your place to a tipsy party (?) of taehyun, soobin, and beomgyu with hueningkai glued to his phone-screen in concentration, filming everything. “you’re back!” kai announces when he opens the door, phone still recording, and you flip the camera off, not without a careless smile.

taehyun stands up at the sight of you, “i take it you had a fruitful date?” soobin laughs, so very loudly. “lmao,” (yes, soobin has the ability to say text slang out loud irl, next question please), “get it? fruit-ful? date? dates are fruits? am i drunk already?”

you shake your head at them and simply hug taehyun, feeling unbelievably affectionate today. “oh? what’s this? y/n initiating physical contact? choi yeonjun must be a god.”

you pull away, “this has nothing to do with him,” you say, sounding unconvincing even to your own ears, “i’m just tired. good night. if you make too much noise, i will take kai hostage and—”

“oh, do that anyway!! please, i’ll pay you!!!!” beomgyu shouts enthusiastically and you leave the living room before you have to witness any more of their drunken behavior.

but even in bed, you find yourself unable to sleep, mind occupied with… thoughts (is hanging out with so many men making you slightly dull? maybe. is it making emotionally constipated? absolutely. you make a mental note to schedule a lunch date with yeji later).

to be more specific, the image of yeonjun sat across from you holding out a piece of spicy tuna roll in your direction is too stubborn to leave your head. you think about yeonjun, among other things, that night.

yeonjun is no different, his mind still reeling from the realization that he’s spent an entire day with you. a day. a date? maybe, but whatever it was, you definitely couldn’t hate him too much if you could stand to spend that much time with him. you even shared a meal with him, laughed when he pretended his chopsticks were an airplane transporting food to your mouth. you humored him. you laughed with him. was that real?

—

if you think there’s nothing worse than waking up, walking out of your room— and right into yeonjun, then you’re wrong. because the disorientation you feel comes nowhere close to compare to yeonjun’s condition when he runs into you on his way to the common bathroom. he’s not sure what he else expected but it doesn’t surprise him to see that you sleep in a ginormous graphic tee (with mona lisa’s face on it?) and shorts.

“what are you doing here?”

the sense of deja vu overwhelms yeonjun for a moment before he smiles a little because your tone is not hostile, only confused. could he take this as progress? (or are you just half-asleep?)

“i’m… i’m here for brunch?” he’s a bit out of it by the time you raise your arms to stretch, heaving a half-groan, half-sigh. and listen, yeonjun’s not a pervert but he is considerably in love with you so seeing you with your slightly droopy eyes and slumped shoulders in your perfectly in-character pajamas sets off his imagination. to all kinds of destinations. (you as a domestic cat? you as a tired soul resting in his bed after a long night? god, he’s not doing this right now.)

“i don’t? i don’t remember agreeing to brunch?” you mumble confusedly, almost petulantly.

“you know,” announces soobin, suddenly revealing himself from the shadows (he’s literally been standing beside the two of you for two minutes, waiting for you to notice him. all he gets is the heat of the sexual tension between you and yeonjun. he could cook eggs on that shit.) “yeonjun was our friend before he knew you, y/n. actually, taehyun was our friend before he was your soulmate, so a brunch is a pretty normal occasion for us.”

yeonjun nods and you simply nod your head, probably too sleepy to make any witty comments at that. he shrugs, “but you’re more than welcome to join us if you want. for brunch? i’m guessing you haven’t eaten anything since our— since last night.” why’s yeonjun flustered? he’s only invited to brunch with four other people.

“i’m—” you’re cut off by yeonjun making his way to the bathroom. when he shuts the door behind him with a less than dramatic thud, you look at soobin in confusion. “so many things are happening too early in the morning.”

but brunch becomes a thing. and you join brunch, helping yourself to taehyun’s nearly perfect breakfast spread, your plate filled with bacon, eggs, and waffles.

“i say it’s nearly perfect because all we have in this house is fucking peanut butter!” you cry out, making taehyun give you a glare because he’s heard this many times before, “i don’t know how many times i’ll have to tell you this, but jam! jam is meant to be eaten with bread, it’s the only right way, it’s the way god intended things. do i look like a gym bro to you?”

“lol no,” says soobin, high-fiving you (you’re not sure if he does that because he agrees with your point about the jam, or if he’s also not a gym bro?) “y/n has a point. there’s so much more options with jam, think of all the berries you could be eating! peanut butter is the same old, same old.”

“god, i hate it when these two are in the same room.” you don’t have time to respond to beomgyu’s exasperated comment because yeonjun shifts closer to you on the sofa, coffee kettle in hand.

“want some? i’ll pour it out for you,” he offers, eyebrows raised. you pause for a second, mouth almost hanging open at how motherly he seems, but nod in a daze and watch as he stands up, takes out a black mug (that coincidentally happens to be your self-proclaimed mug) and pours coffee into it. you’re unaware of the little smile on your face when he brings it back to you, placing the hot mug next to your plate.

you’re about to think out loud about his motherliness when beomgyu follows up on his previous comment, even more boisterous, “oh, but these two in the same room are even worse.”

you look up at that to see the other three staring at you. you make a disgusted face, “why are y’all staring at me? please stop, i feel unsafe.”

“in that case, yeonjun must be feeling really fucking unsafe from how closely you’ve been staring at him,” laughs soobin, words slightly muffled from the food in his mouth. he’s lucky he’s your favorite friend (honestly, it’s just because he looks adorable with his cheeks full but eh, his personality wasn’t that bad you suppose).

“i’ve? not? been staring?” you ignore beomgyu’s snickering, picking up the coffee, “you guys need to get lives so that you stop searching so desperately for crumbs of drama here. i’m not here to serve as a source of entertainment for yo—” you promptly, contradict your statement by spilling the top half of your drink right into your lap.

while you sit there with scalding on your bare legs, it’s only yeonjun who seems concerned (overtly so, you’d observe if you’d care to admit it) with the others laughing their hearts out, satisfied at the comedic timing of your accident.

yeonjun, meanwhile, rushes to you with a handful of tissues, lips in a pout, “what the fuck, are you stupid? how do you spill that? have you never had coffee before?” you sit there trying to get the tissues from his hand, but he swats your attempts away, swiping the coffee from your thighs.

he’s much more careful that you would’ve been, making sure none of it soaks through your grey night shorts and a hand on your knee, probably to steady himself (spoiler: his hand on your knee doesn’t steady either of you, especially not him). but he manages himself well, his worrying outweighing all else as he looks up at you, “are you okay?”

you realize you haven’t said a word, eyes raising to taehyun’s who’s now looking away but watching slyly from his peripheral vision. beomgyu and soobin are in similar positions, pretending to be decent people when really, they’re over the moon.

“yeah, i’m okay, i didn’t really feel any of that,” you mumble, patting at your thighs, “but, um, sorry i wasted so much of your coffee.” yeonjun takes one of your hands, “no, don’t worry about it, i can always make more. you can’t make more of these legs.”

“okay! that’ll do it! i can’t take it any more!” beomgyu stands up with a melodramatic groan, “you two are gross, dude! like, not even in an elementary school way, you’re just objectively gross. i hate this.”

“what was that you said about not being our source of entertainment?” jokes soobin, elbow poking yours, pointing at you and then yeonjun who’s still crouching in front of you, one hand on you, “i very much feel like i’m in a k-drama right now, so i’ve no clue what you mean.”

you can sense from the tilt of taehyun’s grin that he’s about to follow suit with an equally, if not more, obnoxious comment, so you stand up, declaring, “i’m going to my room. i have a portfolio to finish in two days!”

you retire to your room after that, deciding concentrating on your work will do you some good now that you’ve… socialized? could you even call it that? you leave it at that, plopping down on your study desk where you would’ve usually conceptualized your rough drafts like you’d done yesterday in your notebook. it doesn’t compare to the park yeonjun took you to, but there is a window to your right from where you can see the slow street in front of your apartment. people-watching through that window has given you some pretty cool ideas for your pieces. you suppose it was like a pocket-sized version of your experience at the park.

you work the afternoon away, surprised to see it getting dark outside when there’s a knock at your door. you twist in your chair and call out, “come in!”

a light-brown head of hair pokes through and squinting in the darkness of your room, you can tell that’s not taehyun. “yeonjun?”

“woah, haven’t you got electricity in here?” he asks, stepping in and you see he’s put on a cream-colored cardigan on the blue shirt from brunch.

“nah, taehyun uses the money i give him for the electricity bill and gambles it all away,” you joke, sighing with feigned sorrow.

“ah, right, i forget taehyun has a gambling addiction. i’m sorry, miss, can’t imagine what it’s like to be married to someone like that.”

you laugh at that, yeonjun joining in. he leans in against the wall across from you, finding the switch to the lights in your room and turns them on. you’re both quiet for a moment.

you, because you’re reveling in the new-ness of your relationship with yeonjun. you feel like you’ve moved on in some way, no longer feeling caught up in the bitterness that had been coloring your interactions with him so far. he’s close to you, this yeonjun right now, who really, truly looks at you. you don’t even remember the yeonjun who broke your heart. (was it him who broke your heart? you begin to wonder, or just your imagination?)

for yeonjun, he doesn’t think he could’ve said anything even if he wanted to. you look so otherworldly in the dim glow of the evening, your eyes meeting his eyes, unapologetically and most importantly, without resentment. you’re beautiful, here silently in front of him, and he thinks he might have a chance with you after all.

“um,” he’s the one to break the silence, “have you eaten since brunch?”

you shake your head, “have you?”

“nope, beomgyu roped me into watching netflix with him when i tried to study,” he admits with a shy giggle, “next thing i knew the sun was setting.”

—

THE THIRD ACT: WINE FLIES WHEN YOU'RE HAVING FUN

conversations with yeonjun always lead the most unexpected places, and this one ends up with you driving with him to the supermarket. one day, you’re taking walks and playing frisbee with yeonjun, the next you’re grocery shopping with him because he’s had a whim to cook dinner for everyone. oh, how fast the night changes.. or however that one direction song goes.

“do you like spaghetti?” he asks, approaching the shelves stacked with different types of pasta.

“think before you ask me if i like pasta again, yeonjun,” you shoot back, inspecting the packets with your hands clasped behind your back. “wow, it’s been so long since i’ve been grocery shopping. taehyun never trusts me to get stuff and that’s how we end up with only peanut butter.”

yeonjun chuckles as he scans the shelves for the kind he likes and you shuffle around a lot, making little noises at all the cute shapes in the different packings. “they have heart-shaped pasta?!” you hold up the pink package excitedly at yeonjun who closes in on you with a fond smile.

“hmm, i think i get why taehyun never lets you come grocery shopping,” he starts, “it says here this a kids’ pasta.”

you regard him with your hands on your hips, unimpressed scowl on face, “you’re saying i have to be a kid to eat heart-shaped pasta? i don’t ever want to talk to you again.”

yeonjun is in a fit of laughter but he reaches out for your wrist as you pretend to walk away anyway with a hurried, “no, no, i think we should get the heart-shaped pasta.”

the rest of your trip is you roaming around being pulled off by the obscure brands and unusual types of foods while yeonjun grabs the ingredients you’ll actually need for dinner. about fifteen minutes later, when he’s done checking off everything on his list, he finds you typing away on your phone.

he catches a glimpse of the notes app on your phone and smiles as he comes to stand in front of you, “what’s up?”

“ohh, are you done?” you look away, “i got some ideas. i’ll use them for future pieces.”

“you’re done with your portfolio?” he asks. and you nod, eyes twinkling as the two of you head to the counter, “yep, i guess your plan with the park wasn’t completely a fail. it was not bad, really not bad.”

yeonjun laughs, piling the items for the worker to bill them. you gasp at the sight of a dark purple container, “you got blueberry jam?”

(fuck, his heart skips a beat. cheesy but valid. you look like you have hearts in your eyes.) “yeah, i saw it and thought you’d like it.”

you crack a delighted smile and even though both of you are paying for the groceries, you feel like you’ve been gifted the world. “i think i love you.” (you’re only joking. …right?)

—

“taehyun!!! beomgyu!!! soobin!!!!” you holler into the house, setting up five wine glasses around the table, “dinner’s ready!”

beomgyu is the first to come out, summoned by the smell of food, gaping at the fancy set-up of the two casseroles on the table, one bigger for the spaghetti and a small dedicated to your heart pasta. “woah, this looks insane,” he comments and calls out for the other two.

yeonjun emerges from the kitchen, the bottle of red wine you’d picked out with your hands. you hadn’t been the most helpful in the conquest of the pasta ingredients but you knew a thing or two about wine. this one was one the cheaper side so you didn’t have the greatest expectations for it, but it’ll have to do.

taehyun and soobin make it to the table five minutes later, shocked at seeing a table full of homemade meal. “is this, like, you and yeonjun announcing that you’re officially a couple?” soobin asks. (he’s not joking. the way the two of you stare down at the dinner you’ve put together proudly truly has him convinced that you’re finally over the pining.)

clearly this is not the case but the sight of both of you turning as red as the spaghetti for dinner is enough to elicit a few chortles from all of them. “honestly… shut up, soobin,” yeonjun scolds and you take a seat at the table wordlessly.

the dinner is an experience. it’s been a while since any of you have had good home-cooked food like this, the past few weeks having been cluttered with take-out meals and the extent of cooking you’ve done involves frozen food.

“this is so good,” you hold up a heart pasta, waving it in the air at everyone, and then at yeonjun, “i told you this would be good. it’s so good.”

“judging from the way you’re acting like a child, i’m guessing you’re done with your portfolio?”

you glare at taehyun but nod anyway, shooting him a thumbs up, “done and dusted, sir. i even managed to proof-read it before submitting it this time.”

yeonjun has been sitting beside you, eyes round with adoration at everything you say. you can’t blame him, you’d changed into a white dress with puff-sleeves before dinner which doesn’t only fit the mood but single-handedly creates it, and it’s a rare thing to see you in a dress so casually.

taehyun smiles, “i’m proud of you. even though you’re doing the bare minimum by completing your work on time.”

you roll your eyes at his twisted way of affection, the words on the tip of your tongue dying out when yeonjun leans into you suddenly, arm reaching out for the bottle of wine beside you. he shoots you a half-smile when he meets your gaze, pouring some out for you. as he returns to his position, he says under his breath, “try not to spill this on yourself, babe.”

you hold in the giddy breath that almost escapes your throat at his words, but you can’t stop the mellow feeling that blooms in your chest, eyes following him as he pours some wine for the others, too. was it the wine that was mellow or yeonjun’s voice? (hint: it was the moment of his love for you that was mellow.)

you make it through dinner, occasionally asserting the supremity of your heart-shaped pasta for kids here and there, but overall, overwhelmed by the man by your side. when everyone’s finished eating and lazing around the sofa, beers in hand (”wine is for sissies,” beomgyu aims at you because he knows you hate it when he says that, “let’s get beer guys.”), you take to the balcony with a glass full of wine to yourself.

the night air is pleasant after the warm atmosphere inside the house and you breathe through your mouth a few times, to calm your nerves. you can feel yeonjun’s eyes on you from the living room but choose to stay still, welcoming the feeling of spacing out in solitude.

“you alright?” his voice greets your ears not two moments later. (is he really close to you right now? or is the balcony just too small for two people?)

you hum affirmatively. then, you look at him, a light laugh leaving your chest. you’re leaning into his side now, you enjoy his warmth. “i’m good.”

“didn’t know wine could make you drunk,” he breathes, heart in his throat.

you shake your head at him, “i’m not drunk.” you hesitate and then, “at best, i’m tipsy.”

“i was talking about myself. i feel drunk. ‘s never happened before.”

you frown, throwing a careless glance over your shoulder, “beer and wine? yeah, that’ll make you drunk.”

“i didn’t have any beer,” he reveals. when you narrow your eyes, he continues, “i’m not lying. i don’t like to mix the two. i’ve read it gives you headaches.”

you stay silent, holding your breath for no special reason. (…)

“besides, once i start something, i like committing to it.” if his words themselves aren’t meaningful enough, the soft look on his face is full of unmistakable love.

“you’re not just talking about wine,” at first, it’s a statement you speak, your gaze fixed. then, memories of your past hurt rush in and you finish with an uncertain, “are you?”

“i’m not,” his voice is hushed and you feel there isn’t a moment lost between when he says his words and when you hear them. you’re so close to him, in all meanings of the word. “do you still hate me?”

you’re a little stunned by the jarring question. “i didn’t hate you. really, it was… something internal. like a dilemma. a phase, almost? i don’t think i could hate you if i wanted to.”

“you think?” you can feel his words inside of yourself now, even though you doubt either of you have moved any closer to each other.

yeonjun’s heart is on fire, destructive but determined. his hand brushes back your hair. “you’re so pretty when you wear your hair down.”

you hide your face in your shoulder, away from him, flustered that his words have such an effect on you. you’ve been complimented before. with much more zest, with more elaboration. but this is different. you feel like yeonjun is holding you.

he chuckles, “are you okay?”

you pull yourself away, swallowing, but not making eye-contact with him yet. “that’s the first time you’ve called me pretty.”

“that’s the first time you’ve heard me calling you pretty,” he corrects you. his fingers are in your hair again, this time to make you look at him. “you should listen to my thoughts sometime.”

you laugh and he’s moving closer, both his hands coming to your face. your hands move from where they’ve been clasping the balcony railing for dear life and find yeonjun’s waist, silently beckoning him nearer.

when your noses touch, yeonjun hums, “i’m crazy for you, y/n.”

you want to chuckle at his silly phrasing but instead, you’re saying it back, “fuck, i’m the crazy one, yeonjun. i’ve—” you stop your words, suddenly hesitant.

but yeonjun is firm, his lips hovering over yours and his question will you kiss me? unanswered because you’re already kissing him when he asks you.

(this kiss is. . . not bad.)

—

EPILOGUE: A SELF-AWARE SLANDER OF SHORT STORIES

“so…” your voice struggles to stay stable as you prop yourself on your elbows, yeonjun’s arms never letting loose of your sides. “when you say you’re crazy, is it that you’re crazy for me or crazy because of me?”

yeonjun stops in the middle of the tantrum he’s throwing with his buried in your neck. he blows out air through his mouth and you giggle, your hands pulling him up by the hair. “answer me!”

he sighs, “i don’t know, babe. both? neither? either.”

“come on, there’s a fundamental difference between the two,” you whine, “am i a symptom of your craziness or the cause of it?” he stays motionless, lips pressing against your cheek. you add, “just so you know, there’s no right answer. i’m honored to be either.”

“god, i can’t believe you’re using your boyfriend as material that’s going to be read by your entire class. a class of pretentious, sleep-deprived kids. they’ll hate me, y/n.”

you groan, kissing yeonjun’s ear lightly, “not true! you’re a very cute boyfriend.”

“so you are using me for your creative writing class?”

you pause and yeonjun flops onto the bad, pouting and feigning a cold shoulder. “the audacity of women these days!”

“hey!” you pull him back into you, “i’ll have you know that my love language is turning people into literature.”

yeonjun’s pout is already fading when taehyun’s voice breaks into your room (you should probably re-inforce the rule about knocking now that there’s a half-naked man in your room more often than not). “that’s true. she’s already written a story about me.”

your boyfriend’s interest is piqued at this, his eyes jumping between taehyun and you. “what? really?? and you haven’t written about me?”

“i’m trying to! you’re not making it easy.”

“did you ask him all these questions when you wrote a whole story about him?” taehyun cackles in glee at yeonjun’s returning pout.

you roll your eyes, “yeonjunie, it was a short story— the most unromantic form of literature. i’m basically saying i would rather write a bunch of boring description than even think about having sex with him.”

“hmm, it seemed like a pretty enthusiastic piece to me,” taehyun supplies unhelpfully. you glare at him. if you weren’t in just your bra, you would’ve gotten up to shut the door in his face.

“babe, i’m having serious doubts—”

you quickly shut down yeonjun’s whining, “i want to write a poem about you, my love. that’s why i’m asking you so much. it takes a little more to be properly romantic! i want to be truthful.”

he hesitates and you kiss his nose to seal the deal. taehyun groans in defeat, “gross. i just came here to get your asses to brunch. hyuka’s brought mint chocolate snacks from home so we need someone to handle him, so please hurry,” he starts to close the door as he leaves, but stops when the two of you make no move to wake up, “and you’d better not start fucking now! nobody needs to hear that this early in the morning, especially not poor hyuka.”

you laugh into yeonjun’s chest as he shouts back comforting words to taehyun. his lips attach to your shoulder. “i love you, y/n. you’re the explanation for my craziness.”

you shift to look back at him, smile widening, “hm, that’s interesting. can i quickly write that down-? okay, okay, sorry, i was kidding, love, come back here!!”

—

[darkacademicfrom2021]

All flavours of wrong (part 1)

Masterlist Part 2

Pairing: Loki x Reader (gender neutral) (reader gets called princess and Queen mockingly, but it can have no gender connotations, just as in a joke).

Summary: You got an arranged marriage with the firstborn prince of Asgard, inheritor of the crown, God of Thunder. But your heart has other plans, that your brain cannot yet comprehend. And on Loki’s side it’s not getting easy either.

Word count: 4.5K

Warnings: Sexual tension (a lot). And honestly not much more? Mentions of blood.

I used prompt #293 and prompt #279 from @creativepromptsforwriting to take me out of a block, so thank you so much to this page, it’s incredibly useful! I recommend all writers to check it out.

“Thor”, whispered Loki. But since his four failed attempts at calling him discreetly went wrong, he stepped on his foot under the table, making him spill wine all over his trousers.

“For Gods’ sake, brother, what do you want?”.

“Well, finally. Are you ignoring me? I’ve been trying to get your attention all dinner”.

“Yes, of course I’ve been ignoring you”, said as if it were obvious. It wasn’t.

“Why?”, Loki asked, trying to not sound hurt.

“You know why”, muttered under his breath, faking a smile when his gaze met his mother’s. “And shut up, we’re not supposed to talk if Allfather is not here yet”.

“Look, if it’s because I set on fire your History books, get over it, it’s not like you were doing great with that anyways”.

“You… you did what? It was you?”.

“Yes, of course. Oh, you didn’t know. Well, what are you ignoring me for, then? Ah, I know. Is it because I broke the…”.

“How many things of mine have you been destroying lately?”, Thor raised his voice slightly.

“Boys, enough”, interrupted Frigga. “Cut it off, your Father will be here soon”.

The siblings went back to their plates, and Loki kept stealing glances at his brother, trying to figure out what was wrong. Thor was nervous; his leg kept bouncing and bouncing, he barely touched his food (which was very suggestive, given that he usually ate it all in two mouthfuls), and he was refilling his cup with the strongest wine of the table, as if he needed to loosen up for something. Loki decided it was better off to just pay attention to what would come next. It was evident his Father would be bringing the thing that made Thor so nervous.

And then it hit him; it was already June.

The previous year Odin announced the possibility of an arranged marriage to whoever was winning on the competition for the throne, if he hadn't gotten anywhere near a possible royal companion. Thor was winning, by far; of course. And he didn’t show any partner, or even the possibility of a future partner, so no wonder why he was so nervous.

Loki went back to his plate, not sure how to feel. Annoyed, that was for sure. He knew he wasn’t going to be King (at least not until his brother died, if he didn’t die first), but the preparations for his inheritance got there faster than he expected. It was all too quick. And the disappointment grew bigger the more he thought of it. His father was not even giving him the chance to get better in the competition, and instead he just assumed it was Thor who’d win. Frustrating. Obvious, but still frustrating.

The doors opened and a young and bright warrior followed the footsteps of Odin. He, with a smile from ear to ear, waited until getting the attention of everyone, and, directly looking into Thor’s eyes, introduced you with your full name and current social status. Loki couldn’t stop staring with his lips slightly parted.

That was it. That was what annoyed him the most. His brother got to marry that.

He just couldn’t believe his eyes. He blinked fast to see if there was something deceiving his perception, if maybe his whole family arranged a joke to him, if maybe that little warrior was an illusion casted by his Mother to laugh at how unfortunate he must have been looking at that moment. At the moment he realized his brother was marrying the perfect partner for Loki. You were, at least in the physical sense, his literal type. He was baffled.

And that didn’t go unnoticed by Thor either, who stole a glance from him and chuckled mockingly. Loki went red of embarrassment and tried his best to hide from you, to avoid your gaze, but he just couldn’t keep his eyes off you. He felt hypnotized, and bothered. You didn’t look at him. You looked everywhere but him. You were amazed by the palace, by everyone around you. It was obvious you were not familiar with a royal life.

“You seem bewildered, brother”, Thor whispered in his ear.

“And you don’t seem as astonished as you should, brother”, he answered with levels of sarcasm in his tone he didn’t even know he had.

“I shouldn’t, this is merely formal”.

“You’re marrying them. It’s not entirely formal. It’s a whole future and family”, Loki discussed, but he knew his brother didn’t care about it enough. His brother didn’t even want the throne that badly, yet he was the one getting it. More and more frustration flowed through Loki’s veins. He kept staring at you with a frown. “Besides, look at that piece of art”.

He looked so tough, so serious, until you stared back. No, you didn’t even stare. You looked up and found his eyes. He quickly softened his expressions as you gifted him a gentle smile. His heart skipped a beat.

And just with a smile he knew, he was completely fucked.

Loki closed his eyes and shut his fists as hard as he could, trying to focus and concentrate only on what he was supposed to. The spell.

But you were looking, and it was hard.

A week passed by, and you were already living in the palace, bonding with your future husband and trying to learn as much as possible from the new life you would acquire once the wedding passed. You met him everywhere; in the halls, on the meals, on the trainings, on the classes; everywhere. He had no means to escape you. Nor did he want to. But he couldn’t get used to that horrible and sweet feeling of his chest getting tighter, face warmer and balance unsteadier when he saw you.

“You’ve got this, Loki. We’ve been over this”, Frigga said from the other side of the training room. “Just remember what we practiced yesterday”. But the only thing Loki remembered from yesterday was when he was trying to train that same spell and you were, at the same time, practicing your archery skills outside. Sweaty. Tired. Ecstatic. Smiley. Red.

He opened his eyes and dropped his arms, completely giving up. He knew he wouldn’t be able to do even a simple spell in front of you.

“What is it that’s distracting you so much, son? You have your head too full for this”, Frigga commented, getting closer to him.

“I’m simply tired, Mother. Don’t worry about it, had a poor night of sleep”.

“Well, get it together for this afternoon. We’re trying again after you get some rest, alright?”.

“Yes, Mother”.

You weren’t paying much attention to the conversation prince Loki and the Queen had. You were way too focused on how uncomfortable the clothes you had to wear were in you. You could barely breathe, and had to fix your posture to avoid choking. Besides, you could feel prince Thor’s eyes on you, and somehow it made you extremely uncomfortable.

You knew you would marry him. Then why couldn’t you at least fake a little bit of interest in him?

You redirected your attention to prince Loki, once again, and the corset was not the only thing that made your breathing harder. Gods, and for the Nine Realms, the prince’s training clothes were something else. Not even compared to Thor’s tank top and weird-looking shorts; Loki’s were almost made exactly for him and his silhouette. Black leather pants and top covering him almost entirely, tight even where it shouldn’t be that tight. Gold endings everywhere and little patterns in his long sleeves and trousers; details that only made it harder for you to not look. But you didn’t even know where to look, if you looked.

Well, you knew exactly where you should’ve been looking. To your side. The blonde and huge man with the big hammer that promised you a crown, a throne and a good place for your family to live in.

You shook your head, and got up to make yourself some tea, hoping the wrong thoughts would fall off your brain and you’d finally come to your senses.

Once you made it to the kitchen, you realized you shouldn’t have gotten there by your own. Unable to get used to the fact that if you wanted some tea you should ask for the maids to make it for you (as with everything, even the clothes you would wear, the foods you’d eat, the way the bed should be made, and an infinite etcetera), you ignored it and put the kettle on the fire.

You tried to reach for the tea box on the countertop, and stood on your toes, failing to even touch it with the tips of your fingers. As you turned around to look for a chair to climb to, you blundered against the God of Mischief’s chest.

“Oh, dear, I’m so sorry”, he apologized, taking a step back. “I was about to get the tea box for you”. You felt yourself completely red.

“It’s… it’s fine, thank you. I’m sorry” you stuttered nervously, with the echoing feeling of his torso against your arms and chest, making you blush even more. You wondered if he did that accidentally.

He smirked slightly and reached for the box effortlessly, making deep eye contact. Was he… was he flirting, somehow? you asked yourself. No, of course he wasn’t. That would be a hundred percent inappropriate, and he was completely appropriate and polite all the time. Even when he shouldn’t have. So, what was that about? Did he usually look at people like that?

“Breaking some rules, I see?”, he added after a painful minute of silence in where you chose the tea and mug. You turned around and realized he was still staring.

“What?”.

“You shouldn’t be the one making the tea, you know”.

“Yes, I know”, you answered calmly, trying to not show the tremble in your voice. Just the presence of that God in the same room made you feel… tiny. Weak. Maybe in a good way. No, definitely in a bad way; he shouldn’t be making you feel anything, for that matter. “And we shouldn’t be in the same room all alone”.

“Are you kicking me out?”.

“Just stating a fact”.

“Hm”.

“And offering you some illegal tea”.

He smiled. You were way too good for Thor, he thought. You would be bored if you married him. You had the trouble spark in your eyes and Loki was the perfect companion for that. It was so evident you were made for each other; then why would his parents think you would be better off with Thor? He was still clueless at how they could’ve made such an imprudent and blind decision.

“I’d love to, princess”.

You chuckled. “Princess? Really?”.

“Not good?”.

“No”. He lowered his gaze and put a strand of hair behind an ear. “Which kind would you like?”.

He stepped closer to you; so much closer that you could feel his slow breathing grazing your forehead. You tried your best to not rise your head and sink in his sharp features. He grabbed with two fingers a tea bag from the box you were holding. Your hands were trembling slightly. He then got a little bit closer (even though you didn’t think that was possible), slowly stretched his arm and picked up a mug that was conveniently behind you. As soon as he stepped away, you realized you held your breath the whole time.

“Are you alright? You look nervous”, he mocked, which only made you even more embarrassed.

“I suggest you stay in your place, prince Loki”, you said, trying to get back to reality. It was not okay. You could not flirt in any way or form with your future husband’s brother. Wrong. Wrong! All flavours of wrong.

“Suggestion denied”, he said with the same troublesome smirk from before, that still hadn’t wiped off his face. “And you can call me Loki”.

“I will not”, you said, filling his mug with the boiling water. “And you’ll call me by my full name, as you should”.

“You know, in our actual position… you should be the one recieving my orders”, he said, lowering his already deep voice. You swallowed, but tried to keep a determined and confident look on your face.

“Which are...?”. You knew you’d regret even asking, but he was right. He still was your prince, and you still were a mere warrior. He raised an eyebrow.

“Call me Loki”.

“Or?”.

“Well…”, he whispered raspily. You felt he was about to step closer to you again, but the voice of one of his tutors interrupted his flirting.

“What on the Realm are you two doing in here without an escort?”.

“Terribly sorry”, you muttered while you rapidly left the kitchen. Loki stood there, observing you leave and sighed. His tutor looked at him with disapproval and he simply shrugged his shoulders and smiled innocently.

But he had already decided, you were going to be his.

You couldn’t help but to wander the palace as much as you could. The place was enormous and nothing compared to anything you’ve seen before. You only knew the tiny houses you grew up in Asgard, and the occasional visit to other Realm’s palace in the middle of a battle.

But you had to be careful. Nobody would approve you nosing everywhere, much less at those hours of the night. But, well, it was the perfect time, because the palace would not only be empty, but also illuminated by only the soft glimmering of the candlelights. It was gorgeous.

You roamed around through the hallways, until the sharp sound of a fall stopped you dead on your tracks. The sound was followed by an “ugh, fuck” from a particularly familiar voice, and your curiosity grew bigger. What was prince Loki doing at those hours in… the library, was it? You thought, as you tried to read the sign in the doorframe. All signs had to be in old Norse, of course. And you could barely speak it, let alone read it in the dark.

Peeping from the entrance, you got to see what the prince was doing. With a big and dusty book on one hand and a frown in his face, he was trying to make a pile of books from the floor levitate.

He shut his eyes close and once again, pointed at the books with the palm of his hand. A green light surrounded the objects and two of the three books got suspended in the air. With effort, prince Loki pushed harder upwards to make the third book levitate too, but soon got tired and the rest of the pile fell to the wooden floor again, making the same sound that brought you there in the first place.

He then left the open book he was holding over one of the tables and tried again, this time with both of his hands. In around five minutes he got to make the three books fly above his head, as if they were dancing. His eyes glittered and an ear-to-ear smile lit his face. You’ve never seen him smile so innocently, so childishly before.

How adorable, you thought, as you leaned on the doorframe. But the smile on his face got interrupted when you sloped wrongly over the door and fell down with a sound that felt more like a scream than a subtle gasp.

Loki ran to see where that sound came from, and found your flustered face on his feet, trying your best to not look too embarrassed by the fact that you were hovering, or even spying on him.

“May I help you with something, princess?”, he held your hand to help you up, but didn’t let it out when you were already on your feet.

“Thank you. And, please, don’t call me princess”, you said, freeing yourself of his hand.

“‘Please, don’t call me princess’? Darling, you’re begging for the wrong things in here”. You got chills from the seductive tone of his voice, and tried to ignore it through a laugh. There was nothing else to do but to hope he wouldn’t notice how blushed you’d gotten.

“It’s not appropriate that you keep flirting with me, Mischief”.

“I like that nickname”.

“Did you even listen to me?”.

“Yes, I know. You don’t want me to flirt with you because you’re afraid of being inappropriate. But, between us, which one was the one stalking the other one in the middle of the night?”.

“I wasn’t stalking. I was simply observing and hoping you wouldn’t notice”.

“That’s the dictionary definition of stalking, my dear”.

You sighed. There was no point in arguing with him. He would know if you lied; and that’s probably why he kept flirting. Because he knew you didn’t mean it when you corrected him. You liked it. You truly enjoyed it.

“What are you doing?”, you asked after a while, pointing at the floating books that were now almost touching the roof.

“I really need to focus for this one in particular. If I need silence and emptiness, this place and time are usually a good idea. Unless, of course, there’s a little spy falling off the doorframe”.

“Sorry about that”, you chuckled, and he smirked.

“It’s fine, I basically finished it anyways”.

“Looks like you mastered it, though”, you complimented. Loki looked at you with a little smile.

“Well, I…”. He was about to answer you, but you reached out for a strand of hair on his face and moved it behind his ear. The books fell off abruptly, and Loki did his best to cover you from their impact, covering your whole body with an embrace. He didn’t let go of the hug, but looked at your face with shame. “I’m truly sorry. I got.. surprised, I guess”.

“Don’t worry. And sorry, didn’t mean to make you nervous”.

“Nervous?”.

“Or surprised, whatever”.

“You’re right, though”. He smiled gently once more and lowered his gaze. “You make me feel things, little warrior”.

“Prince Loki, you really shouldn’t…”.

“I can say it, you don’t need to answer it”. You sighed and gave him a knowing look. “If it makes you feel uncomfortable, I’ll stop. If not, let me flirt with you. I don’t need you to flirt back”. You laughed at his proposition and he stared, waiting for a confirmation.

“Fine. But don’t call me princess. You make it sound diminishing”.

“As you wish, my Queen”.

“Oh my God”.

“Precisely”.

You both giggled and tried to keep it down just in case somebody else was awake. The moonlight making its way through the gigantic windows of the library were the only lightning, and the sharp features of the God became even more fascinating by the contrast. His eyes looked deeper. Or maybe it was the way he looked at you with them. You felt naked at his eye, and maybe not in a bad sense.

"What are you thinking about?", he asked after a while. You were both in silence, contemplating each other. Oddly, it wasn't uncomfortable. With Thor, on the other hand, you only felt uncomfortability; even if it wasn't an awkward situation, you knew you were not welcomed by him. Maybe not even his friendship.

"I'm… I think I should get going".

"Why?" he asked, and immediately grabbed your hand. "Stay".

"It's late. Thor might awake and not find me there".

"So?".

"Let's not cause a scandal, Mischief. I have to do what I have to do".

"Maybe you don't have to", he insisted, and you rolled your eyes. With a sigh, he let go off your hand. "I understand. I know you'll be better off like this".

"Yes, I will", you said, faking confidence. Maybe it was your sleep deprived brain that couldn't see right, maybe it was the sudden urge to do what you wanted instead of what you needed; either way, you lingered your way out.

He waited for you to go, but you stayed a little longer, delaying the sneaking back to bed with the man you didn't want to be with. You just needed one reason, only one reason to stay.

"Good night, darling", he said after a while. He knew better than to ruin your future and reputation for his selfish desires. He didn’t want to let you go, he wanted you to be his and only his. But he knew better than to make you a part of his brotherly quarrels. He appreciated you enough to keep you out of it.

"Good night, Loki".

He smiled as you walked away. As much as he shouldn’t have, he got you to call him by just his name.

Not even two weeks passed by and everyone around him already suspected the obvious; the mischievous and rebellious brother was trying to make Thor’s partner fall in love with him. What not everyone knew was that it was completely working.

The stolen glances from up the shoulders in every meeting, every dinner, every event. The long walks around the Gardens, talking about literature, magic and general life. The trainings in one-to-one combat with him that lasted a bit longer than with the rest of the trainers. And you couldn’t help but smile at everything he said or did; it was so much harder than one could think, to hide such thing from Queen Frigga; she saw it all and knew better than everyone in romance. She also knew better than anyone both of her sons, and it was evident how they both felt about you. Because Thor’s stone cold indifference wasn’t one to go unnoticed as well.

In dinner, Loki was again sitting by Thor’s side, and couldn’t help but to chatter about the subject that bothered him so much.

“They’s late, brother; you’ll marry a terribly mannered warrior”, he mocked. Thor rolled his eyes and contraatacked.

“At least I’m marrying them”.

“You say it as if I wanted to”.

“Please”, Thor scoffed.

“Marriage is a boundary. I merely desire them”.

“You’re telling me you wouldn’t want to hold their hand from the Throne, or to put a crown on their head”, mocked Thor. Loki sushed him, because he was completely right. Loki would’ve loved to gently caress your hair and kiss your pink cheeks, to fidget with your ring as he held you in the mornings and nights. Gods, he was lost.

“I do not, anyways. But if you plan on borrowing me wedding night and spare you the annoyance you’d feel by bedding them… I agree”.

“Will you keep on making sexual jokes to avoid real feelings all your life or do you grow up after the 1100 year?”.

You opened the door and got in with your head low and breathing unsteady, embarrassed and apologizing. The princes stopped the chattering and followed you with their eyes. Loki didn’t even hide his expressions of pure and raw desire. Your hair was a disaster, and you were still in your ripped warrior clothes, covered in mud, blood and scratches. The dagger strapped to your thigh was, too, covered in blood.

“Hot”, said Loki, unintentionally louder than he should have. Dear, he loved when you looked like a threatening mess.

“What?”, you asked in a breath, still agitated.

“Eh, hold. Hold the door, I meant”, he corrected himself (everyone was looking, even the guests, and he knew better than to be that inappropriate on certain occasions). But you knew exactly what he said and smirked slightly, just enough for him to notice.

“You were saying… you didn’t want to?”, whispered Thor just before Loki got up and walked through the tables. He didn’t even know what he wanted to do, but if he said ‘hold the door’ he had to keep it verosimil, didn’t he?

As he walked past you, slowing down, he whispered “library, tonight”. And then left the dining room, leaving an even more blushed you to imagine what could he possibly want from you. And your imagination was not precisely innocent.

You took a deep breath and held it for a minute before getting inside. After wandering around the bookshelves, you noticed the room was still empty. Maybe too early? It was barely midnight. Everyone was already asleep and the Palace was, as every night, dead silent.

You sat on the couch and caressed the texture with the tip of your fingers. Was he coming? Did he say it just to make you blush in lunch? Perhaps he was messing with you. He was the God of Lies and Mischief after all, wasn’t he?

After ten minutes you stood up and decided to look for something to read. You wouldn’t be able to sleep anyways, so might as well make the most of the night; with or without prince Loki.

You walked slowly, reading carefully every title. If something had your attention, you’d read it on that beautiful velvet couch, in front of the fireplace. Even grab a mug of coffee, to keep you up until you finish your readings. The plan sounded marvelous, but you couldn’t help but to feel disappointed you wouldn’t spend the night with him.

You weren’t expecting to actually get physical, of course. He was not your fiancé and would never be. He was barely a lover. Not even that. He was the man you loved and desired, yes. But merely platonic. It wouldn’t go any further. It couldn’t go any further.

But you were expecting to have that precious alone time he gifted you in the nights, where everything was off and both of you were the only flame alive in the whole Kingdom. The glances he threw at you, the smiles he drew to let you know you were appreciated; you were wanted, you were loved by him.

As you reached for one of the books, a bigger hand wrapped around yours and the book, making you gasp.

“Hello”, he whispered in your ear, earning a shiver from you. Just that, he didn’t need to do any more than that to set on all your alarms and get your face redder and hotter than ever.

You turned around and smiled. He didn’t move away; in fact, he raised both his arms to your sides and locked you between him and the bookshelf.

“Seems like you won’t let me go away, won’t you?”.

“I don’t think you would even if I gave you the opportunity”.

“And how are you so sure about that?”.

“You came here, as I asked you to”.

“So?”.

“Are you actually going to play dumb?”.

You both laughed slightly, still not wanting to make a single noise. He got a few inches closer, and you did too. You raised a hand and fondled his hair. Moved your hand all the way from up his ear to down his neck. He slowly slipped down one hand to your waist and the other one to your collarbone, making the same deep eye contact he made with such lust; that desire he always looked at you, but amplified to a hundred and ten percent.

Now both of your hands were cupping his face. He was warm. And smiley. And… God, gorgeous. Godly gorgeous, as he always was. You traced with your fingers his cheekbones, his jaw, his neck. You sighed.

“May I kiss you?” He whispered, getting even closer. His breathing was slow and you could feel it on your face. His question was barely audible, yet so strongly loud to you.

May he kiss you? May you kiss him? You weren’t supposed to be even that close with him. You weren’t allowed. You shouldn’t look at him the way you did. Or touch him the way you wanted to. But there he was, asking to kiss you. And you had no other words in your vocabulary else than;

“Please”.

[kareniliana]

Elijah: Bloody Introduction Part 2

A//N: I had been so incredibly busy these past few weeks. My parents came to visit, so I had to clean the place up. Then on MLK day, I got together with my sister and her friends. Since we had no classes on that Monday, I had to push my tutor session to Tuesday, which meant an even busier day than normal. That cause my to have to push everything on my schedule to fix that. then this weekend, my sister and her friends hung out again. Making it really hard to write on the weekends. BUT, hopefully I can make it ALL up this week. It’s suppose to be a little light this week, my first exam is this Friday. But I feel confident that I’ll do just fine. I have a tutor for that class and so far the homework hasn’t been too difficult.

okay that was a lot. I’m sorry. But I have been getting a few requests about Bloody Introduction, so here I am updating y'all.

I hope you enjoy!

xx Karebear 💛🧸

Part 1, Part 2

The following weeks after Elijah helped you from death, he met up with you. He would constantly check in with you at your job, making sure no vampires, werewolves, or witches cause you any trouble. Which you quickly calm his racing thoughts, you have friends who are supernatural and care about you too. They wouldn’t let anything happen to you, just like Elijah. He made it his mission to walk you home safely every night, but both you and him know it’s not just because he’s a good man. 

He fancies you, and you know it. 

You were cleaning up when suddenly you felt another presence in the bar, turning around you see Elijah fixing his suit as he sat down at the counter. You smiled at the 1,000 year old vampire. 

You were comfortable around him, you felt safe and seen. When he looks to you, he really sees you. Not as a practice dummy or a blood bag or even just human. 

He looks at you like you’re his light. The light that casts away any and all demons that haunt him from behind the red door. 

He looks at you like you’re his glimmer of hope.

That’s how you know you mean more to him than anyone could comprehend.

“How has your night been?” He asks, like the gentleman he his.

You lean on the bar, “Better now.” He smiled at you, lifting his hand to tuck a strand of hair and caress your face.

“I want to take you somewhere, I think you would enjoy it.” His deep and soft accent make you go weak in the knees, thankfully the bar counter was holding most your weight. His hand slowly and reluctantly pull away, standing up shortly after.

You mentally regrouped yourself before answering, “I just have to lock up.”

“I will leave you to it, I am rather famished.” He buttoned his suit back up, straightening his clothes. 

You walked around the bar and to him, straightening his tie but wanting nothing more than to just rip his clothes off. The sexual tension between you was thick, but you never wanted to pull the first move. Being too shy and scared, but slowly getting more and more comfortable touching him.

He could hear the sound of your heart beat rise, you were getting nervous. Standing so insanely close to him, with your hands on his chest. Suddenly without thinking, his arms wrap around your waist. He was pulling you closer, which only made your heartbeat race.

He smirked, lifting his hand back your face. Looking up into his hazel brown eyes, you see nothing but love and lust. You trail your hands from his chest up to nape of his neck, wanting nothing more than to kiss him.

Slowly Elijah leaned his head down, closing the space between you. Closing your eyes instantly, feeling him hold you in place as your lips touched. The electricity of the kiss tightening his hold on you slightly. The dark atmosphere became romantic, just the two of you soaking in the moment. His fingers getting entangled into your hair, the softness of his kiss held passion. you moved perfectly in sync.

It was the perfect moment.

That was until his brother came barging in raging on about something Marcel said or did.

Pulling away almost instantly but not bothering to move form your positions. Klaus walked closer, getting the full view. You pulled your hands to your sides as Elijah removed his hand from your hair, fixing a few fly aways. 

“Oh dear brother, I mean not to interrupt” Klaus started out gently but began to raise his voice louder and louder with each word. “as the MAN I ONCE THOUGHT OF AS A SON IS FORGING MY DESTRUCTION!”

Elijah had turned to his brother, standing slightly in front of you. “Save the dramatics for an authentic villain, brother.”

Klaus scoffed with an amused look on his face. Looking over to you then back to his brother. “I see, this is your new damsel in distress. What? Hayley finally decline your advantages?” 

You furrowed your eyebrows, who was Hayley?

Elijah sighed, “Brother, Marcel is quite the trigger for you. He cannot kill you without killing himself. And Hayley and I came to a mutual agreement. Just as you have come around to agree that everything you do from now and on, Hope will find out. Now out of the goodness in your heart, I do wish you go back to her.” 

Klaus and Elijah had a few moments of a stare down before Klaus reluctantly left the bar. Elijah turned as he sighed, deeply disappointed in himself and his brother.

“I do apologize, my brother can be a bit..”

“full of rage, vengance, psychopathic tendencies...  you just let me know whichever fits best.” You joked, trying to get Elijah to crack a smile. He just shook his head.

“Yes, I do believe he is all of those things but above all else, he's a worried father.” He sighed, taking a hold of your hand.

“I think you love your brother but you can’t keep making excuses for his murderous behavior. He isn’t your responsibility.”

“Let us not talk about my brother. You know what, let’s not talk at all.” Elijah said mischievously, his smirk making you giggle a little.

His swiftly pulls you into his embrace, leaning his forehead on yours. Smiling at each other like a couple in love with one another. 

This was it, he was it for you.

You were done looking for that one thing that was missing from your life. 

Love.

You love him. You love Elijah.

[laurenandloki]

Request by @rose7420 :

Okay so... I’m a type one diabetic and I struggle a lot with keeping my blood sugar in check and I have to wear devices on my body to deliver to myself insulin 24/7. The whole never ending process of having diabetes is really depressing sometimes so I was wondering if you could write something where a tiny is diabetic and has a bad day with diabetes like her blood sugar is really high and she’s kinda grumpy and Loki is there to cheer her up.

I know this is complicated so if you choose not to do it that’s completely fine. But if you do choose to do it I can answer any questions about diabetes and all:)

If I, in any way, didn’t include certain things or didn’t write about things the right way, please let me know and I’ll fix it!!❤️

_______________________________________________

~A Helping Hand~

Day in and day out, you always seemed to be worrying about your blood sugar levels. For a borrower, you thought that it would be easy to maintain it, but it was the complete opposite. Having type 1 diabetes was hard, especially when you’re only 3 inches tall.

Food choices were incredibly slim and you never really came across something that could help level out your blood sugar.

However, Loki was always there for you. Whenever you went to him in a grumpy mood, he knew right away that you were in need of help. He did whatever he could to bring you out of your misery state. Loki would read to you as you sat cupped in his hand or sprawled out on his chest, he’d talk to you about how annoying his brother was, you both would watch movies together and then talk about how dumb the visual effects were, etc..

To sum things up, Loki thought of everything he could think of to cheer you up.

Before Loki knew about your struggle with diabetes, he would always taunt you about the unhappy mood you would always be in, but he was struck with guilt when he saw how much it further upset you. You cried your heart in front of him and Loki swore to you that he would help you deal with whatever you were going through.

You hadn’t told him about how you dealt with type 1 diabetes. You didn’t think he would care, but out of the blue one day, Loki asked about why you were always in a dreary mood. You opened up to him about your diabetes and although it was hard for Loki to comprehend it at first, he did whatever he could to help you.

Loki even researched ways to bring down your blood sugar levels. He kept a notebook on his bedside table of certain recipes he could make you and he even made sure to give you your own water bottle so that you could stay hydrated. You never thought in a million years that a human—well, Asgardian—could be so kind.

Unfortunately, today you woke up rather-...sluggish. You felt very fatigued, a nauseous feeling was starting to form in your lower stomach, and you felt the need to down an entire cup of water. You sat up and immediately felt pain ignite in the side of your head. “Great a headache for me to deal with first thing in the morning”, you said to yourself.

You grabbed a hold of your blanket and uncovered yourself, swinging your legs over the side of your bed, letting them dangle over the edge.

“Why me? Of all the borrowers on this planet? Why can’t someone else deal with diabetes?”, you asked yourself out loud.

You sat there on your makeshift bed behind the walls, wondering what to do. As far as you knew, you were the only borrower living in the Avengers Tower. So already, no one your size could be of help.

A light bulb suddenly went off in your mind. “Loki! Maybe he could help me”, you thought to yourself.

Your relationship with Loki was amazing. He had caught you in the kitchen about two weeks ago, and ever since then, you had been somewhat happier. You were out on a trip to find some food that could help ease your blood sugar levels, when Loki had come out of nowhere, looming above you. Let’s just say you cried—you cried so hard that you thought you were going to pass out. Your diabetes had already taken a toll on you that day and getting caught by a giant was just the cherry on top for a break down to happen.

Loki saw how frightened you were and instantly decided to befriend you. Ever since then, you both had become extremely close.

You walked out from behind the safety of the walls and onto Loki’s desk. He was sitting in a chair with a book in hand, of course. Hopefully he won’t poke fun at you today.

Loki instantly saw movement in front of him and looked up. When he saw you walking towards his relaxed position, he grinned, closing his book and setting it down.

“Oh look, a tiny mortal. Gosh I keep forgetting how little you are”, said Loki teasingly. He didn’t poke too much fun at you with his words just yet, but he did physically poke your arm. You could tell just by looking at his face that he was in one of those moods.

Great, already off to a good start.

“Not now, Laufeyson. I’m not capable of putting up with your sarcastic remarks today”, you said. Loki gave you a sly smirk and poked the top of your head. You flinched, not expecting the sudden pressure. Loki chuckled and poked your stomach. You let out an annoyed grumble and pushed his finger away rather harshly.

“That’s it. I’m going back behind the walls”, you said. You turned around and started to walk back towards the hole in the wall, but a pale hand blocked your path. You stared at the hand and kicked it lightly, upset that he wanted to keep teasing you.

Loki’s eyes widened at the sudden turn of emotion you showed. As he saw you start to walk away from him, he put his hand in front of your path. “Are you alright, small one? You are only ever this grumpy when-...” Loki paused for a moment, realizing what the problem must be. “Your blood sugar is high again, isn’t it?”, he asked with concern laced in his voice as he spoke to you.

You turned around and looked up at him. “Isn’t it obvious? As soon as I woke up, boom! Headache..” you paused for a moment before continuing on. “I don’t even want to mention the nausea that I felt when I sat up in bed and how thirsty I was”, you said sounding defeated.

Loki stared down at you with sadness written all over his face. He felt terrible that you had to go through such rigorous symptoms all the time. “You came out here searching for my help and comfort, didn’t you?”, asked Loki.

You slowly nodded your head yes. Loki sighed, which blew your hair back a bit. You suddenly felt a heavy, but gentle pressure on your back that was moving back and forth. You turned to see that Loki was rubbing your back.

“What? Do you feel bad about teasing me now?”, you asked.

“Of course I do, little Y/n. I am terribly sorry for making you even more upset. My sincerest apologies”, said Loki softly.

You squinted you’re eyes at him, wondering if he was being genuine or not. “Apology accepted. But I know for a fact you’re gonna keep on teasing me ya oversized reindeer”, you said.

You saw Loki smile slightly at your comment. That helmet of his really was the root of all your jokes you made about Loki.

“I think it’s about time I help you control those symptoms of yours. I have found a way to help better control your blood sugar levels”, said Loki. You became very confused.

“What do you mea-..”, Loki, without warning scooped you up in his hands and held you in front of his face. He hushed your incoming questions.

“I have done some research about diabetes ever since you opened up about it. Since you have type 1 diabetes, you need to take insulin to treat the disease. Your body cannot make insulin by itself anymore. Someone without diabetes has insulin already inside of them. It helps control their blood sugar levels and it breaks down glucose, which is the primary source of energy in the human body. That is what you lack, my little Y/n. It’s the reason as to why you’re always grumpy”, said Loki as he gently ruffled your hair.

“How did you find out about all of that so quickly? I only told you that I had diabetes about a 2 weeks ago, around the time you caught me in the kitchen!”, you exclaimed. As you raised your voice, pain shot through your head—another headache. You slowly rubbed your temples and said, “Not this again.”

Loki’s smile faded away once he saw the agony you were in. It killed him to see you this way, especially when he was able to help you. “Do not fret, my little dove. While doing my research, I came across something called an insulin pen. It injects the right amount of insulin into your body. Now remember, insulin is a vital hormone for humans, even borrowers of course. This is exactly what you need”, said Loki.

You put your hands on your hips. “And how are you going to get this insulin pen? I’m the size of your thumb, remember? Do you know how big a pen is compared to me?”, you asked. The amount of sass that was spewing out of you was not only hilarious, but adorable. Loki loved your personality.

He returned the same amount of sass you had just shown him. “Well, my dear, I am gifted with casting spells. I can conjure you up an insulin pen that is your size in no time. And whenever you run out of the insulin, just come straight to me and I will replenish it for you. Got it?”, asked Loki with a gentle smile.

You allowed yourself to relax and agreed to Loki’s idea about getting an insulin pen.

After he had given it to you, Loki explained the proper way to use it and helped you through all the steps, showing you exactly where to inject yourself with the insulin pen.

After Loki introduced you to the insulin pen that day, he coaxed you into watching a movie with him. You sat in the middle of his chest with a blanket covering you. His hand was draped over you as well, acting as a shield. You finally felt at ease. Your headache had went away and so did that nauseous feeling in your stomach.

You were so grateful for everything that Loki had done for you and you couldn’t wait to make more memories with good ol’ reindeer games.

[nickyandmikey]

talk a little life with me

hi anon i took this opportunity to basically say whatever came to mind i’m sorry if you were only expecting a few sentences and hope you don’t mind sdhfjksd <3

TLDR; a little life is so interesting to think about when it comes what should and shouldn't be "allowed" in art, but still it feels emotionally manipulative for me, and the question of who the target audience is is worrying at best... The contents of the book itself were a lot of times straight up evil, yet i couldn't help be touched by the story that was told; the story of someone's life "as inconcievable as it is" will always feel like a privilege to hear/read about (even if it's fiction). i just really really wish it could've been done in a way that felt more like it was honoring certain experiences instead of being as harsh as it was.

(under the cut i get into it a "bit" more, so if you wanna read what i was thinking about as i was losing my mind through the last 100 pages, go ahead - but it IS like a mile long i warned you lmao)

What's interesting for me to think about regarding a little life is the discussions to be had about its right to exist. It has become sort of infamous for being very difficult to read. Everybody wants to know what all the fuss is about, people always have a perverse interest in taboo things, wanting to get a peek at the worst of the worst etc. And i've always thought of myself as someone who has a high tolerance for brutality and violence (in fiction!!!), so i also wanted to see how much of it i could take, pretty much just to be able to say that i did it, i finished it and prove to myself… what exactly? Idk. But here comes up my first problem: that the whole book can feel like an exercise in just how many absurdly, sometimes cartoonishly, evil things the author can throw in there. The reader is faced with an endurance test, and those who complete it are now part of an exclusive club. So what's the message here? Does there need to be one? Does any art need to have a moral to justify its existence? What should and shouldn't be limited and would taking away the most difficult parts of this book be censorship? I don't really have answers, i just find myself being like "including this part doesn't sit right with me" then asking impossible questions about the purpose of art and what it serves and how.

Despite this, one question still remains: who is this book for? Because i cannot imagine it would be an endurable read for someone who has gone through any of the numerous trigger warning-worthy events and experiences depicted. So that leaves those who had not, those who can only imagine, which includes myself. This creates a story only to be consumed as a spectacle for those who wish to be shocked by, to marvel at, to feel pity for people who cannot be present at their very own exhibition, because it is designed to be that way (also, as i mentioned, the book now has a reputation that precedes the reading experience, people obviously wanting to see for themselves just how fucked up it gets). So tossing aside all musings about what art should do and mean, i cannot help but feel that there is something exploitative being done here, even though it's a fictional story with fictional characters. Or maybe i'm being presumptuous, and i should appreciate that Yanagihara doesn't shy away from portraying the more brutal aspects of life. Then again, is it honest? Exploitative? Cruel? Does it exist only to shock? Is it a problem if it does? I really don't know. Maybe i've also misjudged people's ability to see reflections of their traumas portrayed as they are in a little life, so i'm sorry if that's the case, though just how much any one person can endure is of course individual. Typing this i realize the question i'm really asking myself is "can i call this sensationalist and exploitative without belittling real people's experiences of abuse, mental illness, disability etc?". Maybe manipulative is a better word for it?

I think for me personally the best way to describe this book is "exhausting". it's so emotionally draining and mentally taxing. It took me almost a year to finish, and i can be a slow reader sure, but at some points i just didn't have enough energy to take away from other parts of my life for this. Basically, there were months between me reading the first 2/3rds and the last 1/3rd so my memory of the beginning and middle of the story was able to mellow and lose some of its painfulness lmao. But it really is so all consuming, it enters your mind so deeply and it doesn't leave for days or weeks after reading any amount.

Reading about someone's life in its entirety is such an overwhelming experience. Seeing it unfold in front of you in a few hundred pages the decades someone (albeit someone fictional) had lived through, all the pain, the joy, the suffering, the glory… indescribable. And despite the often graphic imagery, the vividness of the details that made me wince and want to turn away from the book altogether, i still grew to love the characters. And they grew to be a part of me, no matter my gripes and doubts and iffiness about certain things. For this i am thankful.

SPOILER ALERT FOR THE ENDING FROM HERE. First of all, Willem's death. Trying to comprehend the enormity of Jude's loss feels impossible. I don't think there are words accurate enough for it, and this inability to understand on my part - due to being young and not having had the chance to develop that sort of history with someone - in itself becomes an experience for which no words exist, if that makes sense. After all, how do you give name to the experience of trying to imagine the unimaginable, you know.

Then there's the Ending ending. i feel there is something very dangerous about how beautiful it was, how inevitable. Something sinister in its implications but i don't think i can get into it now, not eloquently enough.

All in all, i wish it wasn't something you had to shield yourself from, putting up walls just to keep going forward, paying half attention at a few points, hurrying through plotlines to get to the end of them finally. I guess i just wish it had been more gentle. Finishing a little life is a sigh of relief, and in many ways it is an impossible book.

[othersideoftheparadise]

Tampered [3/?]

Sam Wilson x cis fem! reader

Warnings: Spoilers for TFAWS. Mentions of blood, alcohol poisoning, graphic mentions of violence. This is the first time I'm ever writing something like this, so I'm open to constructive criticism.

Word count: 4.3 k ish.

Read Part 1 and Part 2 here.

2000

Dull pain thrummed between your eyes as the butt of the gun connected your forehead, almost making your vision black. It felt like needles pricking the skin all at once. You had to finish the mission. Your recovered, maintaining your balance back again, ignoring the pulsing pain, gripping the knife tucked in behind the belt, you dodged the punch aimed at your gut. You kicked your feet off the wall behind, as the boost gave you enough height to strike down the enemy, slashing his neck open right by the artery. Killing the very last attacker in the room. He slumps down with a thud, with blood splaying everywhere.

As the adrenaline rush wearied off, you were hungry now rather than being nervous about your mission. It was your duty to clear off the path for the Soldat and always look behind his back, just in case. More like a worm pierced onto the fishing hook for fishing. It was more like being assigned to be a bait for clearing the path.

You had to report back to the assigned rendezvous point, as you were told to be, but hunger made your ears ring. You did not have time to dwell upon in the middle of the mission, but the sweet aroma of freshly baked, warm bread and the sight of a boy around your age licking his fingers as he gobbled down plum pie definitely wanted you to think twice. Searing waves of hunger pangs hit, subconsciously leading your feet towards the boy. Hearing another set of footsteps approaching, you tried to shimmy behind the garbage bin behind, only to be yanked out by the man you never wanted to deal with.

The Soldat.

He looked down at you with his eyes reflecting no expression behind the mask. He dragged you by your hand as you protested.

“Let me go!” you trashed in, kicking and grunting against his firm grip.

‘Салдат, принеси с собой цечку, немедленно.,’ You heard the voice on the other side through the earpiece.

“N-No, No, I don’t want to go, it is so dark and p—please.” Blood was rushing to your head all at once, pulsing every beat. You didn’t want to go back. You wanted to stall as the feeling of fear overwhelmed sank into the gut.

Confusion was written all over his face; you could sense his hesitation. Previous mission with the Soldat ended up with him screaming for minutes in pain and agony when he had disobeyed. The people in the base never threatened but always made sure that you were present during the electroconvulsive therapy and when he was kept in cryo till the next session.

Shifting weight from one leg to another, your heart lurched, and your stomach tugged as you were closer to the destination. He was bruised and was limping by the time he had found you, but now he was straight up rigid, listening to the command. You remembered his gut-wrenching screams piercing in, and he took you back to the rendezvous point before the cleaning crew showed up.

“I’m sorry. I was just fascinated by this. I don’t know what to call it, but this part seems to be important. Who is Nakajima?” where he was pressing all the wrong buttons. Zemo was one of those only men; you were eager to know what was going on in his head.

Here he was playing the role of sugar-daddy, prodding over. What was more important was how Bucky never told you that your neighbour Nakajima was one of the people on the list of his amends. It was on you that you had expected him to tell you; he had no obligation that he had to.

“If you touch that again, I’ll kill you.” Bucky let-go of Zemo’s neck.

Sam visibly tensed up, looking at them, “I’m sorry. I understand that list of names. People you’ve wronged as the Winter Soldier.”

So, this was the reason why he wanted to move in.

Part of you was disappointed, but you had no right to have expectations. It was his own decision, and you had to respect it.

On the other hand, it was Zemo. It made you wondering for a while about how he was able to sit in the same room as you did. He should be angry, angry for rotting in prison after avenging his family’s death. This guy was surely a good spy and was very skilled; this was another reason you had to keep an eye on him.

Zemo devised a plan, laying out different people to meet in and around, starting from Madripoor. The city that had loose laws hence had better leverage for things to go according to him.

“It’s kept its lawless ways. But we cannot exactly walk in as ourselves. James, you will have to become someone you claim is gone.” Zemo let Bucky know.

“That is not going to work.”, this plan was going to fail; Bucky can become the Winter Soldier but cannot act like one.

“And why would you say that?” his interest piqued. He obviously knew this better than anyone else. If this was one of his mind-games to rile you up, it was not happening anymore.

“Well, it was something that he was conditioned to do in his subconscious. Not in his real-time. He does not know to pretend like one.”

“Alas, we do not have a better plan, do we?” he replied back.

Knives, Check.

Guns, Check.

You found yourself scrolling aimlessly through the local television, making sure that your eyes did not skitter over to the suit that was draped over him, fitting neat and tight.

Holy fucking shit.

You had to physically make sure that you were not watching him, straining your vision onto the screen. He looked like a mafia drug lord. You knew that you would be floored if he had opted to wear the shirt with his sleeves rolled up. You wanted to have more of the Sambal and rice that was served in the morning. The appetite had appeared out of nowhere.

“Alright, I’ll be leaving now. Ping me when you’re done with your business or in case of an emergency. I’ll be looking over from the second floor, from the lodge opposite to the pub.” Part of you did not trust Zemo, but you were sure that Sam and Bucky would be able to handle themselves.

Mentally slapped yourself, ignoring the looks thrown at you. All of this would be over for once and all if the plan had worked out, and you would tell Sam that you would be leaving.

Putting the food on the plate you waited, you made sure that table was all set up before Sam came back from his jog. Things were awkward, to say the least, and tiring as well. You couldn’t care less about how people showed false compassion at Nat’s funeral, making you roll your eyes. One thing that always made you regret that you did not have anything that belonged to Nat other than her memories. Everything had burned down once Bruce snapped, even before the team could comprehend her death. It was so unfair that everything that belonged to her had been destroyed, wiping out her entire existence as if she had never existed in the first place.

Another headache was pulsing in, beating in the hollow space with every heartbeat. You heard the door slam shut, reminding you that Sam had indeed returned from the run. Here you were, preparing breakfast, soaking in the domesticity in the world where she was already forgotten. She deserved to live, live a good life after all of this with Steve. Sunlight shimmying into the house made it look like the future that you had always wanted. This was too good to be true; the team was still recovering from the loss.

Sam and you both were still managing to barely keep the relationship tied together as the honeymoon phase after the blip had ended. The real world was settling in. You had seen him struggling to set into the new world, where people had moved on without him. You tried your best to ignore it because it always ended with ‘let me handle it’ ending the conversation.

“Hey, are you listening to me?”, He asked digging in, looking over for a response. “I said that the food is delicious. It is terrific.”, He reassured after seeing you cock an eyebrow.

“I appreciate it, Sammy.”, you smiled, remembering how Nat opened up to you saying that she always wanted a family with Steve, wanted a life, a life that you were living now.

“Hey, look at me.”, he hooked your chin with his finger, lifting up. “Thinking about her is not going to bring her back alright, but you can talk to me. I’m right here. It is okay, not to be okay.”, He looked at you with all sincerity that he could muster.

All you wanted was to scoff, scoff at how he was always ready to help others but dealt with his problems all by himself.

“They were supposed to get married!”, This was when the heaviness in chest grew heavy. He was physically taken back by the new information. Maybe he didn’t know about it yet.

Shit.

“And really, Sammy? I could say the same to you. I get it, alright. I get it that we both are going through a tough phase, but I have wanted to say the same to you. All you say is ‘I can do this and shut me out.” You emphasize with your fingers, seeing his tense shoulders.

“You are so careful around me all the time that you physically look like you’re embracing yourself for shit to collapse.”, This was it; you had been waiting for weeks to say this. You saw his jaw tick with all the tension that he had been gritting in and holding back.

“N-no, No, I don’t want to go in there. Do you understand? I get what you are trying to say, but it is just that I need some time to open up about everything. The world did not wait for anyone and has been running even in all those five years.”, He said, pointing at the window.

“I need some time, m’kay? I need some time to adjust to all of this.”, He was ambiguous.

“This is how our relationship is, Sammy. We don’t talk. This-this is why you are always on alert mode whenever you are with me because you think you have to keep reasoning every time anything happens. Y-You also think that you’re better off without telling anyone about your problems.”, Emphasising the conversation, you sat looking dead in his eyes. This flared anger in him, flickering like a spark staring out a fire.

“Why does every conversation we have, has to end up about our relationship? And no, you’re wrong this time; it is not that I don’t want to talk to you about it. It is just that I need some time.”, He reasoned, trying to explain, taking deep breaths.

You both had arguments almost every single day. It was emotionally exhausting. You could not imagine what he must be going through now that everything had resumed.

“This is what I am talking about. We both have grown out of this relationship, and we have different opinions, which is absolutely fine.”, He was positive, scrapping the chair away. “But I need a break; I need a break from all of this. It is just that you and I are dealing with different things, and I’m tired of explaining this to you every time.”, He said with certainty.

It really did take some time for his words to sink in, but he was crystal clear. He approached you, instantly regretting his words.

“You’re right, Sam.”, You stared aimlessly, getting up.

“H-Hey, I did not mean it.”, his voice dropped, lacing with sadness, looking at you.

“Stay there and sit down; this is your house.”, you emphasized, motioning him. He looked distraught as seriousness stetted in.

“No, Wilson. I understand; you are right. We need a break, and this is not working out because we both need time. I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I was selfish and insensitive about what you are going through right now.”, Sighing you carried yourself to pack up, ignoring the headache pounding in. He didn’t deserve any of it. He deserved someone better than this.

“It is just that I’m not in the right headspace right now. I’m sorry.” You repeated again, walking out. You were too afraid to think how different life would have been if the snap had never happened. Simultaneously, you imagined how Nat would have cussed you back and forth for ruining your relationship.

“Hey James, do you have a spare room to crash in for few days?”, You whispered into the phone, hearing the beep sound.

Before you knew, you saw Zemo, Sam, and Bucky scrambling around, confused. You sighed, loading your gun, firing off people who were attacking them right away. Another line of fire came out of the window beside yours, halting immediately after the attackers were down.

What the hell?

“Wow, look at you all dressed down to take out the bad guys.”, you had sensed her but not this close. Maybe you were getting slow.

You looked up at the women, who had saved Steve and Sam back in the day. To be honest, you had forgotten about her and knew why she was ignorant about the whole situation, “I know why you’re all bitter. I’m sorry that we did not come back.”, you signified, raising up for hands, surrendering.

“Oh please, there is a difference. It is always easy for people like you to say ‘sorry’ not knowing what someone else had to go through.”, Sharon scoffed, pointing the gun.

You were also curious about what she was going to do further, as she pressed the gun to for back, guiding you to lead the way. The whole situation turned around when Sharon agreed to help in for the next lead.

Sam looked far by uncomfortable as he tugged his collar out for more air. He was sweltering down as he reached the condo.

“What’s wrong, Sam?”, You asked as he looked like he was going to collapse, unable to walk. He huffed, struggling to take out the phone that was buzzing in his pant pocket.

“Wait, let me take it out for you.”, You knew that something was wrong, but you did not want to use your powers to find out without his consent. You heard his breath hitch as you moved closer to him.

This was definitely weird.

“Just do it soon.”, His voice turned hoarse, gritting his teeth. He visibly shivered as you skimmed your fingers into the pocket to take out his phone. It was Sarah. You saw his eyes glistening as he grabbed his phone, walking straight into the room, shutting the door with a loud bang.

You almost heard Bucky snort, making you sharply turn around in his direction. What had happened down there, pushing Sam into a situation like this?

“Bucky, what did you do?” you marched as Sharon huffed, settling down to look at the show you all were putting up.

“I-I didn’t do anything. It was not me, okay.”, He stammered, with his eyes wide. He was practically pressing himself into the sofa.

“It was wine. The snake wine he drank.”, Zemo quipped in, shifting your attention.

“What? What on the fresh hell is a snake wine?” you were bewildered, to say in the least.

You heard, Oh-s and Aah-s, as Sharon spoke up, “Snake wine is assumed to be an aphrodisiac and is believed to make people strong.”, She said, gesturing at her biceps.

“It is a what?!”

“Hey, calm down, listen to me; I’ll arrange someone to buy sex toys with lots of food and hydration. It can go on for hours, but who knows.”, She nodded looking at you.

“Okay”

“No wonder he couldn’t run in those heels.”, Bucky muttered, looking around, shifting around.

You all discussed your next lead that was tipped off in the bar, hearing Sam throw up. This was not a good sign.

“Bucky, please hand me over the medicine kit. I’ll take care of him.”, You rushed in, locking the door.

The whole room was a mess, with everything strewn all over the place. The acrid smell of vomit filled in your lungs as you saw a tired Sam collapsed on the floor.

Oh my god.

“Sammy, hey, look at me.”, you were trying to shake him into consciousness. His eyes were rimmed red as he looked at you. Wiping him down with a warm washcloth, you could feel pain rattle his lungs, and somehow, it had only become worse.

“Come on, Sammy.”, You helped him lay down on the bed, ignoring his burning skin. You knew what you had to do; he was just at the brink of passing out and threw up almost everything you tried to make him drink.

This was not a good sign; with the mind racing with endless possibilities, you did not want to be terrified. You had seen what death was, but looking at Sam right now, did make you remember when he was dusted away during the snap. Living through all the madness, running from one place to another, it was Sam who made you feel human.

“Sam, do you trust me?”, You knew that this was not entirely consensual, but he was only a human after all.

“I—I do. I do.”, he was dazed by all the alcohol and the dehydration.

Removing the wristwatch, you concentrated on the energy from the center, carmine red flickers spasmed through your palms. Pressing them to his warm chest, you imagined him healing from inside as you felt the energy radiating off his body.

He had visibly calmed down, looking down at you. “Is this how you saved Pietro?.,” He looked at you incredulously.

“What?” you were the one staring back in shock, moving away.

Oh no.

“Don’t worry, Wanda accidentally slipped when she was talking about Ultron, but I didn’t know you it was going to be something like this.”, he huffed. The furrow of his eyebrow explained for itself. He did not push it further as he got up to clean the mess, not looking back.

“Sam, I can explain,” “No Y/N, you don’t have to. You don’t owe one.”, He said, not looking up.

“Talk to me Sam, I know that look on your face. You’re angry.”, You tried talking to him, rushing on your feet, closer to him.

“I’m angry because I’m an idiot. Just like I said, you don’t owe me an explanation. I had my doubts after the blip when things were quickly found and how everything is always rearranged like the clappers. You look more alive than ever but older at the same time, and I don’t understand a damn thing.”, he said, chucking the sheets into the laundry basket.

“I did not want to tell it to anyone because I’m already an outcast for not being normal. People look at me in fear and disgust after knowing who I am.”, You tried explaining to him. This was wrong; finding out something like this made the situation worse.

“Look, I get it; I’m really thankful that you saved my life today.”, You signaled him to be quiet as you scanned around. Flares shimmered away from you throughout the room, creating dark midnight hues, with a glint of yellow flaring over them.

He looked more confused than ever.

“Ah, it keeps happening all the time. I don’t know why the colors keep changing, but this one is always prominent.”, you explained, gesturing at the blue orb.

“How long have you been doing this?”, he asked putting on his clothes.

“It was in 2012. I acquired them when I was trying to get Loki off from smuggling the tesseract. I don’t know how but I understood that he was possessed. I tried negotiating, talking sense into him. I told him that I knew what was going on and was trying to help him out. He told me that he would kill me, so I threatened to destroy the tesseract out of stupidity. One thing led to another, and I crushed it with his scepter. The next thing that I knew, that was I was in a hospital bed out for almost a month.” You summarized.

“Wait, and no one knew about it?” Sam was surprised processing in. “No signs of any radiation, damage, or anything?”

“No, it turned out that Loki had used his powers and transferred the blow to the other side of the portal. On the other hand, I did not show any remains of radiation. I don’t know how.”, he was more concerned.

“So, you’re saying that Loki’s intentions were not to destroy New York.”, He sat down, rubbing his palms together.

“No, it was Thanos. He had caught Loki wandering off in space when he committed suicide jumping off the rainbow bridge in Asgard. He made a negotiation by torturing Loki to bring Tesseract and the Septer to him.”

“Which is around two stones, right? Then why would he send Loki, when he could do the job himself?”, he was trying to come out with a possible explanation.

“I don’t know what his true intentions were, but when we’re doing our research on stones during the time heist, we came to a conclusion that he had done the same with the power stone as well. He negotiated with Ronan to wipe out half of Xandar in exchange for the power stone. He did the same thing with Loki too. Give him an army to invade and rule the earth in exchange for the stones.”

“So, this was more like killing two birds in a stone.”, he completed your sentence looking up at you.

“It was also another reason why I never initiated any interest, even though I really liked you a lot when you let us into your home for the first time.”, you confessed, picking upon the fabric of your pants.

“What?” he was letting the new information sink in.

“Technically, it was in the closet when we were trying to set up Steve and Nat together.”, You were feeling guilty that you did not give him any time to process the information.

“Do you regret it?”, He had an unreadable expression on his face.

“I regret a lot of things, Sam. You have to be more specific.”, From what life had thrown you into different situations, one thing that you were sure about having a life with normalcy was that you liked Sam. As a person, a friend, and someone you could rely upon.

“You know what I mean.”, the hardness in his stare threw you off. It was something that was never directed at you.

“I do, Sam. I do. Call it fate or whatever you want; I had hope before the blast had happened. Retire one day and have a normal life. I was convinced that I would not use my powers because I was tired of people exploiting me.”, There were times when blood samples were taken, right before and after having meals. It mostly ended up you hearing gossip about how the blood work always turned out to be normal as guards walked down the narrow corridor, assuming you were asleep.

“From H.Y.D.R.A.to SHEILD, I do not want anyone come after me, and then I met you.”, pinching out splinters from the window, you give yourself a second to continue. “I almost convinced myself that I would always avenge and fight for the rest of my life. This is going to sound really cheesy, you know?”

“It is all kinds of normal; that is what makes us human.” He was looking at the wool rug spread across the floor, nodding at you to continue.

Well then.

“When I met you, I started liking you throughout the years after we met. For who you are, you’re your maturity, goofiness with a pinch of cockiness that comes out every now and then, but you are also respectful at the same time.”

He was looking up at you with a calm look on his face. On the other hand, you were almost shaking because it was always him before the snap who initiated everything. Initiated talks, initiated to join into conversations when Steve and Nat bickered around, initiated to go out for a date in Wakanda and the night you two had before the battle. This was new, but the burden of carrying all of these secrets alleviated your shoulders; maybe this could give you closure. Closure on how you can never change what had happened but only move on.

‘One step at a time,’ like Steve said.

“It is just- I was so scared, I guess. I was not decisive, and my feelings just grew stronger.” You sat down, with eyes swimming all over the room, landing at Sam, who was now sitting down across you. It was like he had heard your thoughts, now that you noticed him in a black turtle neck cotton shirt. This was your Sam sitting close to you, but not close enough. You wanted to be confused as to why you longed for his presence, but it was crystal clear. With realization seeping into bones, you had to accept that you deserved an ordinary life, but Sam deserved better. Better than all of this mess. What if someone had come looking out for him because of you?

“I need some time away from you, Y/N, so that I can decide when we both sort out about this because I don’t want to swing back and forth if I’m honest with you. This is about me, deciding for myself.”, dissolving the encased power that had kept you both from prying ears, Sam jumped when he heard strings of notifications pinging in.

You heard the sound of your ringtone to see Sarah calling in.

“Do you want to talk to her? I, uh—meant that she called you hours ago.”,

“Nah, just talk to her. She might be calling you for a reason.”

Next part

Taglist: @wanniiieeee

[goldeneyedgirl]

Jaliceweek21 - Day 2: Anti-Soulmates: House of Cards

Fics like this are written when people decided to be unnecessarily angsty, Rae. 

I’m only a little bit sorry. 

--

The visions have been stalking her for weeks.

She didn’t want to know, not really. She’s certainly not going to tell.

She doesn’t know how to fix it.

She just wants them to go away. To stop. To change.

But they don’t.  

—

It happens so quickly. Jess is fine, standing beside her, and then she has Bella in her grip.

One minute Bella is cutting her finger, and the next there’s blood on her throat.

The thing about Jessamine is that she moves like a feline - solid or fluid as it suits her. And in that moment, her movement was fluid and intentional so that no one could stop her. Bella was going to be hers.

She cries out at Jess, but it’s not enough, and Bella’s bone-white and there’s yelling and somehow, somehow, Emmett has Jess, who is hissing and spitting and her eyes are black.

(Thank all the deities for Emmett McCarty Cullen. His salvage and rescue mission only took a second or two, but it’s because of him Bella lives. It’s because of him the House of Cullen does not fall. She’ll never tell him that, because she’ll never want to put the truth out there for them all to comprehend. That Bella died and then Bella lived, and time folds itself over again all because Emmett got to Jess.)

Bella’s lying unconscious on the rug, blood spilling out of her, and the smell is overwhelming, and Carlisle and Edward are hunched over her, and she runs out to the back yard with the rest of the family; Jess still struggling.

She never saw any of this.

—

She always thought that love was infinite and iron-clad; that they were above the pettiness that parted so many human lovers. They were Alice and Jess, and would be until time stopped. That there would never be a time that Alice reached out and Jess wasn’t right beside her.

She was wrong. She was so wrong and maybe if she’d known she could have protected herself better.

(That’s a lie, a damn lie. There was never a possibility of her not falling head over heels in love with Jess. There was no way she could have held even an ounce of herself, her love, back. That’s just how it was. How it is. How it will always be. Jess owns her, heart, mind, and soul.)

They’re out on the lawn, sucking in fresh air, trying to let the hunger and desire fade away. Only Carlisle and Edward have remained behind with Bella; the rest of them are week.

Jess is kneeling in the grass, her gaze vacant and fixed on the flower bed in front of her.

And a new future, one where Bella’s throat bares a ragged scar, and all her impossible, silly fears surface, begins to take shape.

“Jess, Jess,” she begins, half throwing herself at her girl. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be, this isn’t how it’s meant to be. “You can’t.”

Jess looks at her with haunted black eyes that make her face seem hollow, makes her seem - somehow - both ancient and very young, and Alice wants to burrow into her arms, make it better for both of them.

“I tried so, so hard,” she murmurs, words for Alice’s ears only. “This isn’t working.”

“It was an accident, Bella’s going to be fine.” She’s babbling and wondering if a vampire can hyperventilate, because she certainly feels like it’s possible right at this moment.

“I tried to rip her throat out.” The words are somehow flat but curious. Whatever Jess is feeling, she’s not sharing.

Bella’s blood is drying around Jess’s mouth, on her chin, dripped onto her top. The same top Alice bought her and tailored for her and then peeled off her, giggling, just two weeks ago.

The rest of the family is watching them, watching Alice kneel beside Jess in the soft dirt, in her party dress. They aren’t touching just sitting close because Alice is trying to stop herself from shaking.

“You didn’t mean it,” Alice says desperately, trying to stay focused and not fall into the future filling up her mind. “It’s okay! We can go away for awhile, just the two of us, it’s been stressful with Bella here…”

“Alice, I’m going home!” Jess finally yells, and Alice feels like her strings have been cut through, that the girl who holds her heart in her hands has just crushed it to dust, that the future she has worked so hard to build and protect has collapsed like a house of cards.

There are a million things she could say right now, she could argue about, but all the words have been stolen from her because she knows. Nothing is going to change this. The ruby red eyes in her vision have been Jess’s future since Bella Swan arrived, the catalyst for disaster.

(Monterrey isn’t home. It isn’t - Jessie told her that, years ago. They were lying in a motel bed, just happy to get away for a little way, and Jess had run her fingers over her stomach and told her she didn’t care the family had to move again; that Alice was her home. Maybe it was sweet talk, maybe that’s been something that Alice has never wanted to face - that all these years Jess has been longing for a place she shouldn’t want, that for her, the Cullen family wasn’t their destiny, just a place to kill time, tread water, a particularly pleasant waiting room…)

(The fact she knows exactly what and where and who Jess means when she says ‘home’ makes her want to vomit.)

Jess won’t let her come, and she knows that’s a worse fate for Jess anyway; to have her witness first hand everything she came from, everything she has to be when faced with Maria of Monterrey. Jess Alone can survive the Southern Wars, but Jess and Alice cannot. And she won’t burden Jess with her survival, with her presence. She is not that cruel.

She presses a kiss to Alice’s forehead, and for once last time, Alice feels Jess’s gift wrap around her, sink into her. It’s a feeling she’s known and loved for so long, and this is the last time she’ll feel it.

“Jessie,” she whispers but it’s too late.

There are no farewell kisses or promises or chances to hold her tight - Jess is simply gone, walking away from them so easily without looking back; her course is set, and Alice can only watch.

She’s shaking so hard, and Esme’s kneeling beside her, holding her tight, promising her it will be okay, Jessamine won’t have gone far. Won’t stay away long. Just needs time…

There aren’t any words left to shape the truth, and she tries not to cry when a new future begins to piece itself together in her mind.

—

She doesn’t go back to school. (She doesn’t know what the cover-story is.)

She doesn’t go much of anywhere. (She is coerced into hunting and maims two deer in her struggle to control herself. Her eyes lighten some, but it isn’t the curative moment her family was hoping for.)

She goes right up stairs to curl up in a tight ball like a wounded animal, tries not to cry, or scream or let herself sink into the endless void of panic. And that’s where she stays. (For awhile it still smells like them. But that doesn’t last long.)

She watches Jess closely, as close as she can manage. She sees red eyes and foreign blood join the stains that Bella left behind. (She wants there to be a precious reason Jess doesn’t discard her clothing immediately, but she knows its inherently practical.)

She sees fresh newborns snap and break skin. (Fresh scars, scars she wouldn’t know the shape of with her fingers or her mouth.)

She sees Maria touch Jess, offering something a little bit more. (She’s not sure what’s worse; having to watch Maria pull Jess back into their hideous dance, or understanding that it’s better than watching Maria actively destroy Jess. And she hates herself for not being able to decide.)

She doesn’t look to see if Jess reaches back. (The present is all wrong, the future is broken, so she decides to hide in her memories, in old visions that never got to come true, and in the happiest places and parts of her she can think of.)

—

It’s a day in January when she finds Carlisle, Edward, and Esme packing up Jess’s study.

She hadn’t been in there. Opening the door and finding it empty meant this was real. That Jess was gone and there was no future that she saw her coming back.

She screams and hollers and cries and threatens and they try to explain to her that this was to help; just to put things into storage, nothing else. To give her some space to breathe.

And she wants to spit back that when Edward left, the house remained a monument to him - Carlisle and Esme moved twice, and there was always a shining baby grand arranged in the living room, just waiting for him to return. And yet Jess’s sanctuary has already been despoiled, everything that she was keeping in there gone the second the door was opened. She can put the books back on the shelf, plug the computers back in, but it’s over. There’s no fixing what they’ve done.

(It’s Emmett who reads them the riot act, holds her tight, and looks at them and says, “Jesus fucking Christ, what the hell were you thinking?” and she would be more appreciative if she didn’t feel like a raw wound being torn further open by the day.)

—

Jess never married her. They couldn’t, technically, get married. Maybe they would have in the future, if it were allowed, but those conversations were usually silly, romantic, and not a fixed plan.

Instead, Jess gave Alice a locket she’d carried with her since she was a girl, right through one war and then another. It had a ‘W’ on the front, and the photos had been lost in Jess’s childhood. But Alice has put their photos in it, cut from photos taken in the ‘60s.

She takes it off and puts it away the day after Jess’s study is cleared out. She tucks it into a drawer of her jewellery box, like she’s preparing for its burial. She lies it out against the velvet and she closes the drawer. Like she can put aside her pain and hurt and loss for later, can walk downstairs and pretend that every single second isn’t a war against panic and grief.

(She’ll try anyway. Try and be someone. Leave the room and sit in a chair and have a conversation. Push away the visions. Change her clothing, do some laundry, not react when she finds one of Jess’s t-shirts twisted up in the hamper. Try and fight back to the surface and find something to hold her steady.)

—

She’s failing at everything.

She’s distracted and not talking much and not really interested in anything.

The rest of the family is trying so hard, trying to talk to her, trying to include her, but it’s hard.

(It’s especially hard because it’s easier to live in her memories than in reality right now. When she’s talking to Carlisle, the gaping hole in her chest stretches and then she’s standing knee-deep in a river with Jess someone in Canada, and they’re laughing and smiling, and she knows what happens next and it was a happy time. So she lingers there for awhile, remembering the fall of Jess’s hair, and the weight of her hands, and the way she smelt. And when there’s nothing left to catalogue, she’s back and Carlisle’s left for work and Edward’s back from school, and Esme’s turned on the lights.)

She watches Esme and Carlisle, Rosalie and Emmett, Edward and Bella and she feels angry. It’s unfair, it’s cruel, that they have that and she lost hers. She knows it was Jessie’s choice entirely, that nothing would have convinced her otherwise, but she wants someone to blame. She wants to lash out that she worked so hard for the family, to keep them happy and safe, and ended up with nothing. Ended up with less than nothing and it’s unfair.

Instead, she hides. She hides in her room, in the library, in the room that used to be Jess’s. She hides in her memories, in her visions, in outright delusions.

It becomes really, really easy to hide.

—

One minute, Bella is sitting on the couch, the next minute Alice goes for her face. Bella screams.

(She said something. Something bad and wrong and terrible. Something hateful. But the words ring silently in the air. That just means she hasn’t decided how to say it yet.)

Her eyes keep changing colour.

Red.

Brown.

Red.

Brown.

Then the brown and the red falls together and Alice realises she’s made a terrible mistake.

—

Immortality makes time a strange thing.

So does fortune-telling.

But somehow the months fall like dominoes, and soon Bella and Edward will graduate. She still doesn’t know the official story of where her and Jess vanished too. She wonders if anyone cared.

She hasn’t seen Bella in awhile. She’s not entirely sure when she hurt Bella, and her horror at the event left her squirrelled away in her room for days, still seeing the girl’s blood under her nails even after she’d scrubbed through an entire bar of soap.

She doesn’t blame Bella, not at all. (Not yet. Blame will come after the words are actually said out loud. Then she’ll hit and scratch and remind Bella that she nearly blinded her for them the first time.)

Then… well, she gets a vision about Edward and Carlisle realising there’s an army in Seattle before the army is robust enough to be noticed. She tries to focus enough to research, tries to explain, but only Rose and Emmett think she’s onto something.

Of course she’s right. Victoria is coming, and they’ve lost the only one of them who knows how to face down a newborn army and live to see another day.

(Carlisle makes the call, and that tastes like betrayal, that Carlisle knew how to find her this whole time and never told her. Never thought that maybe a voice on the other end of the line might be a balm, a life-preserver, something to pin her hopes and her sanity to. When he tells them Jess is coming with help, she laughs sharp and hard, a foreign sound out of her mouth and they look at her, startled. But she’s too far gone to explain herself, and she doesn’t owe anyone the opportunity to gawk at all the pieces and pain that made up her and made up Jess, and made them up together.)

—

She sees Jess arrive on the battlefield with Maria, Peter, and Charlotte in tow. Her chest feels tight at the sight; Jess’s eyes are luminous red, and she looks grimmer than ever and Alice knows how much she’s hurting, how much that life always hurt her. She wants to take that hurt away.

Maria has a smirk on her face, walks close to Jess. Too close.

But the weight in her chest is nothing new; it’s been sitting there since September, getting heavier. She knows what the future holds for her, without Jess. She doesn’t know if Edward doesn’t know, doesn’t believe her, or doesn’t care because she knows he still holds a grudge against her and against Jess. But it’s as unchanging as those first visions, and she’s accepted what is to be her fate.

She doesn’t care. She doesn’t care about much anymore. She knows what her future holds and it’s nothing she can change.

Jess’s gaze is fixed to her, where she stands next to Emmett. She nods in greeting at Maria, Peter, and Charlotte and wonders what this would be like if she didn’t feel like she was slowly being taken apart. She wonders if she’d slap Maria, if she’d kiss Jess and beg her to stay.

She doesn’t say anything, but Jess is probably the only one who notices that. She hasn’t done much talking in a while.

Jess slams her up against the tree, her mouth hot and demanding and Alice meets her challenge, tearing into her clothing. There’s no doubt that everyone can hear them, everyone knows what they’re doing, and she doesn’t care - she has the press of Jess’s body against hers, she has Jess in her arms, it’s all she ever wanted and needed. They’ve only got this moment, this singular point in time, because Jess is going to leave again. But Alice will take this, take any small assignation every once in awhile because it’s Jessie.

Except…

The bite mark on her throat is fresh, and reality is that Jess went right back to Maria in every way that mattered. That the marks Alice left on Jess’s body have already been obscured by fresh bites. It makes her want to cry.

“Alice?”

She blinks. The world has changed again; Emmett is beside her, and Rosalie is watching her with kind eyes. Rosalie, not Esme. After Bella, then. She thinks. God, she can’t remember. They aren’t home, she can’t go and hide until the world tips right again.

(She shoves that vision away because as much as she wants it, she knows it can only end badly. And every time she thinks she’s found rock-bottom, thinks she can’t hurt or weep any more than she already has, she finds new depths to plumb.)

—

“…What happened to Bella’s face?” Jess finally asks.

Jess’s eyes are red, and Maria’s here. Victoria, then. The battle. Creeping closer, closer, to her fate.

There is silence and then perfectly diplomatic Esme speaks.

“Alice had a vision and didn’t know where she was. Bella was standing close to her, and there wasn’t … it was an accident.”

Jess is horrified, she knows. She knows the look on her face, she’s seen this before. That Jess doesn’t recognise this version of her.

The mad girl, the demon, the monster.

(It took her twenty eight years to lock all that away, and only months for it all to come spilling out again.)

And sweet Esme hasn’t told the truth. The truth is, she was attacking Bella. But not the now-Bella, a later-Bella. A vampire Bella who could fight back. Instead, she lashed out at soft, human Bella and tore at her face - the scars run a furrow down the left side of her face, stitched back together as neatly as Carlisle could manage. Her left eye droops a little now but no one says anything.

She can’t remember what story they decided upon in the end, but maybe a fall? A wild animal? She knows that Charlie was ridiculously grateful to Carlisle for the medical care. She knows that the pack only know the cover story, believe that cover story completely - after all, there was no bite.

But after that, after Esme had to scrub Bella’s blood off the carpet for a second time, she stepped back from Alice, fussing over her human daughter instead. She knew Esme loved her, but she couldn’t make peace with the hurt that Alice inflicted on Bella, couldn’t comprehend the rage that had made Alice lash out. She knows that Esme confessed all her confusion, all her grief, all her anger to Carlisle behind closed doors. She saw it, heard Esme say the words, that - the closest thing she’d ever had to a mother - felt like she’d lost two daughters when Jess left.

That Alice alone was worth less than Alice with Jess.

That had hurt in new ways.

How many girls had two mothers turn away from them?

But she’d learnt how to carry pain.

—

Her head swoops, and suddenly she’s in her bedroom again, curled tight in a ball in the still of the night, and there is pain in her head like nothing else. She reaches to hold her head, but the pain doesn’t flicker or change. She lets out a cry and then…

“Alice? Alice?”

It had been Emmett and Rosalie that reached out to her. Rosalie has been a good sister, the very best sister, since. Emmett is so sad for her, so gentle. Neither of them get upset with her, neither of them get frustrated. They try to keep her calm, remind her of where she is, remind her that they love her, even on the bad days. She knows they stayed for her, instead of travelling. She loves them for it. She should tell them that more often.

Rosalie has her arms around her, and she’s clutching her head, her eyes squeezed tight. But the pain has gone. Or hasn’t happened yet.

It will.

“Rose?” her voice sounds hoarse and bewildered. Everyone is staring at her, and she straightens up.

There’s no point explaining what she’s seen. Her visions have been shrinking in range for weeks now, shrinking down to just her and Jess; Jess’s moments hurt like nothing else (or rather, they hurt like something she thinks she should remember but doesn’t), and her moments are meaningless, unhelpful. Apparently, the only valid visions are the ones that protect and benefit the family.

Any others, she needs to keep to herself. That’s what Edward said to her, his voice sharp and imperious, when she told Bella, yes the scar would be noticeable. (Bella had asked.)

The world is crisper than before, and it’ll take a moment, but for now, she’s fixed in a time and place.

(She hopes.)

—

“Alice can’t fight.”

The words are sharp and dispassionate and her name sounds strange coming out of Jess’s mouth in such a way. It doesn’t sound like her name. It sounds judgemental and dismissive, and she remembers a future where Jess would be holding her hand, where they would be standing close enough to each other to touch. When she would protest at Jess’s overprotectiveness, and Jess would give in but worry.

(That’s a nice future. She might go looking for that one when she’s home again. Sink into a reality where she cannot smell or touch or taste, but is close enough to give her some kind of peace, for a little while at least.)

Everyone exchanges looks.

“I’ll be fine,” she says mechanically, staring at a spot just past Jess’s right shoulder. “I’ve seen it.”

Emmett and Rosalie meet Jess’s gaze and nod, a silent agreement that the three of them will keep an eye on her, will keep her out of trouble. She pretends she doesn’t see it, doesn’t acknowledgement.

(Everything will be fine. They’ll fight, they’ll win, Victoria will die. Victoria has to die, she knows that. But… maybe she understands a little. Maybe she’d tried to tear the world down if Jessie was dead, and not just gone. Maybe she’d want a pound of flesh in her rage if someone else had taken Jess out of the world.

Maybe that’s why she ripped open Bella’s face. Maybe that was her trophy, her retribution, her act of war. Not a vision at all, just grief and frustration and so very much regret.)

—

They fight, they win, Victoria dies for love of an unworthy man.

It’s the oldest story.

(It’s going to be Bella’s story, and that makes her giggle, and that makes them all look at her, concerned, because they’re burning body parts and cleaning up the battlefield, and there’s nothing inherently funny about a fifteen-year-old girl losing her head in a made-up war.)

She watches Jess from across the field, and she wonders what is better - dying for an unworthy man, or pining for the one that discards you.

(She’s never going to stop wishing for her. There will never be a time when she wouldn’t welcome Jess back, cling tight to her, and give her anything she wants. She can be angry, furious, heartbroken, and desperate, and still want Jess back home.

She’d give anything for that.)

—

Jess doesn’t say good-bye. She didn’t the first time either. There is no kiss on the forehead this time, either, no benediction to see her through. She just walks away.

Again.

She watches Jess leave with Maria from her bedroom window.

She could run after them, beg Jess to take her with them, but she won’t.

She knows her future, can see the emptiness stretching before her, unbroken.

She sees no reason to change it.

[angstysebfan]

If You Love Me Why Did You Hurt Me? 9/10

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Other Avengers Mentioned: Pretty much the whole gang Warnings: none

Summary: You dated Bucky for 5 wonderful years! You thought he was the one! Then, without reason, he ends your relationship, and gets a new girlfriend 2 days later! While you are both Avengers, you still have to see him, and his girlfriend.

Series Masterlist

It all happened so fast. Tony’s realtor found an adorable apartment about a mile from the compound. Tony had it fully furnished, and secured with FRIDAY. He also gave you a car so you wouldn’t have to walk all the time. In 2 weeks, you were packed up, moved in, and settled. 

Aaron was slightly hurt, you didn’t take him up on his offer to move in with him, but he understood that you felt that was moving too fast. He was still over all the time. So were the Avengers, except Bucky. He kept to his word, and gave you the space you needed. It killed him each time his friends left to see you. 

You continued to come to the compound for training, and even went on a few small missions with no complications. You saw your therapist twice a week, and really started to feel like your old self again. You felt happy more times then sad, and didn’t even flinch when you would still see Bucky in the compound occasionally. 

You were telling Aaron about how well you thought you was doing while he was over for dinner one night. You have been living on your own for 2 months already. “I’m telling you Aaron, I really think I’m getting there. I see my psychiatrist in 2 days, and I’m pretty sure I will be back on full fledged missions soon, and then nothing can stop me!” You said with a chuckle. 

You notice Aaron has been quiet all night. “Aaron? Did you hear anything I have been saying? You have been really quiet tonight.” Aaron looked at you.

“What are we Y/N?” This caused you to pause, as you were cutting vegetables for your salad. You looked at him. “What do you mean?” You asked, though you knew what he meant. 

“I mean what am I to you? Am I a friend? Boyfriend? What? I have tried to give you time to figure out your feelings, but I feel like I am no closer to this answer now, than I was a few months ago.” Aaron’s frustration was adamant in his voice. 

You put down your knife and walk over to him. “Aaron...” you said quietly. He knew what was coming. “I care about you, a lot. You have been such an important part of my recovery and I don’t want to lose you!” You take a deep breath.

“I tried to have romantic feelings for you, I did. But, I only really like you as a friend. I’m sorry. I understand if you don’t want to see me anymore.” You look down, trying to keep the tears at bay. You didn’t want to lose Aaron, but you didn’t want to lead him on.

“You still love him, don’t you?” Aaron said. You look up at him confused. 

“I mean, yes I still love him, but that has nothing to do with this. Even though I still have feelings for him, I don’t see myself getting back with him. At least not any time soon. I really feel that you and I are best as friends. Bucky had no weight in my decision.”

Aaron gave you a small smile. “I’m sorry. That was inconsiderate of me to say that. I guess I always thought that one day you would look at me the way you look at him. But I guess I would rather be your friend then nothing. I don’t want to lose you either, Y/N.”

You reach over and give him a hug. “Honestly, I think I need to finish finding myself again, before I can even think about a relationship. But I could use all the friends I can find.”

Your comment stung, slightly. But Aaron understood. You both went back to getting dinner ready. An awkward silence falling over you. Thankfully the rest of your friends showed up to ease the tension.

You open your front door to see Nat, Steve, Sam, Wanda, and Tony. They all come in after giving you a hug. “Wanda, no Vision tonight?” You ask as you guide them toward your little dining area. 

“No. Thor asked him to go with him to Asgard for something.” Wanda said with a shrug. Aaron walks over and greets everyone. You head back into the kitchen, Steve following.

“Need help with anything?” Steve asked. You shake your head. “No, only a few more minutes and everything will be ready. You could help me bring everything out when it’s time though.” You say.

Steve smiles. “How are you feeling?” He asks quietly. You laugh. “Good. Really good actually. Kind of feel like my old self.”

Steve nods, “You look like your old self. It’s great to see.” He looks like he wants to say something, but either doesn’t know how to, or is afraid.

“Stevie? Everything okay?” you ask, hoping this will get him to open up. He looks at you and smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. His eyes look sad.

“Yeah... everything is... everything is fine.” He says. You raise a brow at him. “Steve? Is.... is he... doing... okay?” you ask quietly. Not wanting the others to hear your conversation. 

Steve is surprised by your question. You haven’t asked about him since you moved. “He... he is okay. It’s hard seeing us coming here, and knowing he can’t. He wants to give you space. But.... He misses you, greatly. He started seeing a therapist, which I think is helping him. I just... hate seeing him unhappy. Though I know he brought it upon himself.”

You nod. “Yeah, he did.” Before you can say anything more, the timer went off.

Steve helped you bring all the food to the table, and you spent the rest of your night talking with all your friends, and eating good food.

__________________________________________

You wake up suddenly. Why, you were not sure. You look over at your alarm clock and see that it is 2:00 am. Why the hell did you wake up? Then you heard it. Knocking on your front door. 

You grab your gun out of your nightstand and slowly walk to the front door. All you hear is the rain outside and your breathing. You peek through the peephole and release a breath, but become very confused. 

You open your door to see Bucky standing on your doorstep, soaking wet from the rain. “What are you doing here at this hour Bucky? And in the pouring rain!” you scold. 

You notice the bags under his eyes. He looks exhausted. “I... I had a nightmare... about you. I had to come and make sure you were okay.” Your face softens immediately.

“Come in and get dried off before you head back. I don’t want you to get sick.” You wave him into your apartment and close the door behind him. He slowly walks into your living room, as you quickly grab 2 towels for him and put your gun away.

You walk back into the living room and see him looking uncomfortable, standing in the middle of the room. You hand him the towels. “Have a seat, just use one of the towels to sit on. Did you want tea or water, anything?” 

He shakes his head and places one of the towels on the couch, then sits down. He uses the other towel to dry his arms, chest, and hair. You sit on the love seat across from him, tucking your feet under you, watching him. You didn’t realize until this moment how much you missed him. 

“When did the nightmares start again?” you ask quietly. He looks up at you sadly. He is hesitant to answer. “Uh... when you... um... when you left for rehab.” You nod at him. You remember how bad his nightmares were in the beginning of your relationship. But over time they improved, and then disappeared completely. 

“How did you know where I lived?” You ask, though a part of you knew the answer. He gave you a knowing look. “Well... besides the fact that our friends come here once a week, I have....” He swallows and looks down. “I’ve been doing security checks, both through FRIDAY, and here in person.... since you moved in.”

Your eyes widen at this information. You didn’t know how to comprehend that. “Why... why would you do that?” you almost whisper, emotions running high.

“I know you don’t feel the same way about me anymore, and I completely understand, but.... you...” he sighs and looks at you. “You are still the love of my life, and I want... need to make sure you are safe at all times. I wouldn’t know how to live if anything happened to you.”

Suddenly your heart starts pounding, and you have trouble breathing. Bucky quickly comes over and grabs your hand. “Y/N breath. Look at me.” You look in his eyes. “Match my breathing.” He starts taking deep breaths in and out, and you slowly start to match them. Finally you feel slightly better and give him a small smile. 

“I...” You are at a loss for words. “Bucky, I don’t know what to say here. You hurt me so bad.” Tears start slowly rolling down your cheeks. Bucky is still kneeling besides you. He wants to wipe them away, but knows it’s not his place. He nods sadly.

“I know. I know I was an ass. Worse than an ass. I understand why you cannot forgive me. I get it. I know you have a boyfriend, and I am trying to keep my distance, but I just... I need you to be okay.” Bucky goes to get up and you grab his hand.

“I do still love you. I think I will always love you. You were such a huge part of my life. My therapist told me that forgiveness is part of the healing process. I never thought I could ever forgive you for what you did, but... I have.” Bucky looks at you shocked.

“I have forgiven you Bucky. I still don’t think what you did was right, and I am not 100% sure I can trust you again, but I do forgive you.” Bucky looks down, tears now falling from his eyes.

“Thank you...” he whispers. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but... thank you.” He says looking back into your eyes. You smile, and wipe his tears with your thumbs. Slowly you start moving toward him feeling like you are being drawn to him. You have his face in your hands, bringing him closer until you lightly press your lips to his.

As you are about to pull away, he brings his hand to the back of your head and deepens the kiss. Fireworks go off, and the butterflies are flying around in your stomach. You feel his tongue swipe your lower lip and allow him access. You take him in, and give back just as much. You’ve missed him more than anyone could ever know.

Before you lose yourself completely, you pull back. Both of you are panting, trying to catch your breath. You are both still holding each other. You slowly slide your hands away from him.

You take a deep breath. “Buck... I don’t know what the future holds for us. Whether we are just teammates, friends, lovers, husband and wife, I don’t know. But, I know I am not ready to jump back into a relationship with you.”

Bucky nods and looks away. You grab his face and turn it back towards you. “But... I can’t deal with you not being in my life. I want to start at the beginning. Being acquaintances and teammates before moving on to anything else. Do you think you can deal with that? At least for the near future?”

Bucky smiles. “Y/N I will take you any way I can have you. I just want to earn your trust back. And if we never get to where I wish we could be, I will still take what I can get.” You smile at him.

His smiles lessens slightly. “What will your boyfriend say to this?” He asks. You lightly laugh. “I broke up with Aaron. We are just going to be friends. I think I was trying to push feelings for him to try and get over you, but it wasn’t right. I don’t want to hurt him. He isn’t happy, but he understands, at least I think he does.”

Bucky nods. “Well, I guess I should head back to the compound.” He gets up and starts walking toward the door. He opens it up and turns toward you. He surprises you by pulling you into a tight hug. You close your eyes at the closeness and take in the feel and smell of him. 

He loosens his grip on you and looks at you. He gives you a small peck on the lips. “Thank you again. I’ll uh... see you around the compound agent.” You smirk at him and nod, pulling away and slowly closing the door. 

“Yes you will, sergeant.” He smiles and starts walking down the hall. “Oh and Barnes?” You say peeking out of your door at him. He turns and looks. “I have weekly team dinners here, you should come to the next one.”

He smiles. “Yeah, maybe I will. Goodnight.” He turns back around and heads down the hall. You close and lock your door. As you climb back into bed, you feel a like the heaviness you’ve had over your chest and shoulders has disappeared. 

You turn off your light, turn on your side, and for the first time in months, have a great nights sleep.

__________________________________________

Chapter 8   Chapter 10 (end)

I just can’t leave it that she shuts him out completely. I guess I personally love Bucky too much, even if he is an idiot. Let me know your thoughts. I can’t believe I’m coming to the end of this!

[wefoundloveunderthelight]

Marco’s Home for Lost Boys

Read on AO3 - Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

Tagging:

@lfh1226-linda

Chapter 5: Grief

Summary:

“I’m in. Let’s go get your dad’s stuff back.”

“Em, maybe this is a bad idea.”

“Bullshit, if you can do it, I can do it. Besides, I asked to do something exciting.”

Notes:

Warning for Character Death and also violence.

6 months later

“Come on Ems, one more?”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to get me drunk,” she giggled.

“Only if it’s working” Neal slides the glass toward her.

Her laugh was sloppy and loud, a snort escaping her nose.

“One more!”

She tosses the shot glass back as the warm liquid burns down her throat.

“You are so hot.” His hands are on her hips, pulling her toward him. She drinks in his lips, tasting of whiskey and peanuts.

As if on cue, her phone begins buzzing on the table beside them.

“You probably shouldn’t answer that in your condition, Ems.”

“Hello Captain!” She giggles into the phone.

“Swan, you need to come home.”

“Well, I’m quite busy right now sir…”

“Emma...”

“And honestly I don’t feel like coming home so I don’t quite think I…”

“Emma, it’s Marco. He had a heart attack. They did everything they could, but…”

Emma feels like the whole world has started humming in her ears, her knees buckle under her, phone slipping from her hand onto the table.

She can’t comprehend what Neal is saying on the phone to Killian before he hangs up and picks her up off the floor.

“Ems, Jones is going to come pick you up. Lets just sit on the couch until he gets here. I’ll go get you some water.”

This can’t be happening. Marco can’t be dead. Not her Papa.

She’s an orphan again.

~

Neal opens the front door on the second knock and he immediately smells the whiskey on the boy’s breath. Killian pushes past him to find Emma sitting on the couch, staring at her feet, a glass in her hand.

He grabs the glass and sniffs it to find it is water, but she smells like she rolled in a barrel of booze.

“Underage drinking? Bad form, Cassidy.” He scowls at Neal standing in the doorway.

“Save the lecture Jones, we were just having a good time.”

He looks down at Emma, “Swan, you alright? Can you walk? We gotta go.”

She stares straight ahead, and he kneels so that his eyes meet hers. “Hey,” her eyes meet his. “let’s go home ok?”

She blinks, recognizing him for the first time since he walked into the room.

“He’s gone.” She whispers and his heart breaks for the second time that evening.

“I know, love. Can you stand?” His hands cup her elbows as he stands and pulls her with him. She wobbles on her legs and leans into his chest.

“Seems like a real good time you two were having.” He peers over at Neal. “We’ll talk about this another time.”

He ushers Emma outside and opens the door to David’s truck, helping her into the seat.

Climbing into the truck himself he sighs and looks over at her. “I’ll try and cover with your brothers as best I can, but you’re gonna need to shower when you get home to wash the smell of alcohol off.”

~

The hot water numbed her face, standing under the stream in the shower. Killian had moved her quickly through the house and past her brothers before they even got the chance to console her or realize that she was anything besides utterly broken with grief.

The next few days went by in a blur.

The house was buzzing with activity with Arthur and August returning from college for the funeral. Robin shut down his bar for the week to be at home and help with the arrangements.

It was weird having so many people at home. Even though she knew it was only temporary.

Soon Arthur and August would go back to Boston and Seattle, Robin would go back to working 7 days a week at the “The Sleeping Lion”, David was on his way to building a life with Mary Margaret and she was sure overheard the two of them whispering about him moving out in the near future.

Killian was hardly around anymore either. He began working as a Boat Captain on the “Jolly Roger”, a tourist attraction where you got to sail with pirates on a real pirate ship, guyliner and leather included. But even when he wasn’t working, he was always out doing “something”.

It would just be Will and her. They had just started their senior year in high school. She was a couple months to her 17th birthday. What was she going to do now as everyone was leaving her?

She did everything she could during those few days to ignore the shouting in her brain. She packed up boxes in her father’s room, cooked dinner for her brothers, cleaned up the messes they left behind while they ran here and there trying to prepare for their father’s funeral.

She did everything, except cry. No matter what she did, the tears wouldn’t come.

Even as she stood in front of her Papa’s gravestone, rain coming down and bouncing off the freshly moved ground, David’s arm wrapped tightly around her, she found no tears.

Once they returned home that evening, she was starting to feel like she was suffocating. She wanted to yell at the next person who apologized for her loss and asked her how she was doing.

I’m fine.

“Swan, you should eat something.”

“I ate.”

“Swan.” She looked up into his narrowed blue orbs. “I happen to know you have not eaten anything since breakfast, and that was a piece of toast.”

“Geez, are you keeping a tracker or something? I’m sure I ate today.” She tried to push past him, but he held firm and his hand wrapped around her arm.

“Emma, I know there is a lot going on in that pretty little head of yours, but you need food if you wish to remain on your feet.”

She reached over and grabbed a cracker and cheese off the tray in front of them and shoved it in her mouth. “Happy now?”

He rolled his eyes but allowed her to move past him toward her room, slamming the door behind her.

Run.

E. You busy? I need a drink!

She clicked her fingernails on her phone waiting for the response which came quickly.

N: Come on over.

Emma grabbed her jacket, lifted the window upward and jumped to the ground outside. She was across town in her yellow bug in no time and running up the stairs to Neal’s home.

After the second knock on the door, it opened with Neal’s father standing in the frame.

“Emma, I’m so very sorry about your father.”

Emma smiled weakly. “Um thanks, Mr. Gold.”

“Please come in, my son said you would be stopping by.”

Neal appeared behind him and Emma stepped into the house.

“Please ensure you and Ms. Swan are responsible.” He nodded at his son and pulled on his jacket. “I apologize but I have business to attend to and cannot stay to entertain.”

“Oh well, it was nice seeing you.”

When the door closed, she turned toward Neal. “Um is he cool with me being here while he’s gone?”

Neal laughed. “Yeah, he even gave me a nice bottle of whiskey for us to share.”

“Woah.”

“Yeah, he can be cool sometimes. So, what do you say we crack this thing open?”

Emma was finally feeling a bit less claustrophobic being in Neal’s house. No one to mill about or force food upon her. In fact, Neal hadn’t even asked her how she was doing.

She grabbed the glass from his hand and quickly tipped her head back, feeling the warmth hit her stomach immediately. She grabbed the glass and poured a second shot.

“Woah, not messing around.”

“I just need to drink and not have people ask me how I am.” She sighed.

“Ah feeling suffocated then?”

“How do people think I’m doing?” She rolls her eyes. “Oh, I’m just fine, I’m great, who needs a father anyhow, I’ve done it without one before.” She parroted.

“Woah, Emma.”

“Don’t, Neal. I don’t need someone to comfort me. Just someone to pour the damn drinks.”

“I can do a lot more than pour your drinks.” His hand lands on her thigh.

She stands up and starts pacing the room, grabbing the bottle of whiskey and taking a swig. “I want to do something exciting.”

“Well, I was just trying to do something exciting but you’re now over there and I’m still sitting here.”

“Not sexual. Exciting, dangerous. Something that reminds you that you are alive.”

“Ok I think you’ve had enough to drink.” He tries to take the bottle, but Emma yanks it away from him.

“I’m serious. I just want to feel like I’m still here.”

“Well, I do have to do an errand tonight that might fit in that category.”

“Errand? How does that even fit in the category of exciting.”

“Well, it’s not exactly a… shall we say legal errand.”

Emma sits down next to him wide eyed. “Neal what are you talking about?”

“Never mind, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

She takes another long drink of the whiskey. Why would Neal be doing something illegal?

“What exactly is this errand for?”

“Ems, I shouldn’t talk about it.”

“No, I want to know. Maybe I’m interested.”

“That’s the thing Em, you are not the type to be interested in this sort of thing.”

“Hey, I can be the type.”

“That’s the whiskey speaking.” He pauses. “Look, it’s not a big deal, I just have to pick something up that was taken from my dad.”

She stares at him. “Oh my God someone stole something from the pawn shop?”

He nods. “Uh yeah, something like that. And my dad asked me to get it back for him.”

“Well, if it belongs to your dad, then whoever took it should just give it back.”

“Exactly but well, they don’t actually want to give it back, so I have to kind of…” He looks at his feet, as if he doesn’t want to proceed. “I gotta go steal it, Em.”

Shit.

Her phone buzzes and she looks to see that she has missed a lot of messages.

K: Everyone is going to bed.

Will: Are you going to sleep all the bloody time now?

K: Are you alright in there?

David: I know you are taking this hard Princess but know that we are here when you want to talk.

Will: I was going to come talk to you, but Killian is being an arse and told me to leave you alone. Just checking to see how you are doing. I’ll talk to you in the morning.

K: I guess you aren’t coming out of your room anytime soon so...

K: Goodnight, Swan!

She takes another long swig. “I’m in. Let’s go get your dad’s stuff back.”

“Em, maybe this is a bad idea.”

“Bullshit, if you can do it, I can do it. Besides, I asked to do something exciting.”

“Ok but, you can’t tell anyone we did this ok?”

“Well duh.” She jumps off the couch and puts the whiskey down. “So, do we wear all black or?”

He laughs, digging into a small cabinet and putting something in his jacket pocket. “Nah what you are wearing is fine.”

She frowns. “Oh bummer.”

He grabs a black beanie from the cabinet and tosses it to her. “Fine, wear this so your hair doesn’t stand out so brightly. It can be your disguise.”

She giggles and pulls the beanie on, not sure exactly what the hell she is getting into. But she needs this. She needs to feel like this isn’t the end of her. That she is still breathing, and life goes on.

~

He can’t stop tossing and turning in his bed. His mind won’t turn off. It’s been a whirlwind for the last week since their father had passed. Everyone had stayed busy to ensure that all the tasks were completed.

Grief was tricky.

Everyone had a way of coping with it. Robin and Arthur had thrown themselves into work by getting all the details and chores done, August was slowly drowning himself in a bottle, David chose to drown in love by spending every moment with his girlfriend, and Will had cried until there was nothing left. He had been taking it hard after having found his father on the floor of the kitchen.

For Emma, she seemed to choose avoidance. He had barely seen the girl cry since their father’s passing.

Killian found that for him, grief was about figuring out your next move. Where it would take you from that exact moment in time.

And his next move was going to take money and a fair share of it if he was going to get his own place with Milah and ever have hopes of buying that ship.

He was already working 5 times a week at the harbor as a bloody pirate captain on the “Jolly Roger”. He got to wear some authentic leather pirate gear and he had to admit he looked dashing in the guyliner. But the job wasn’t going to get him the ship he needed to get out of here.

So, he got desperate.

He knew working as bag man on the side for Gold wasn’t exactly a hero move. Tossing his lot in with Gold was suicide to many who had done so before him. But Gold paid him double what he was making on the Jolly and offered him an extra bonus a few times to muscle some blokes who had refused to pay what they owed Gold. Gold was a private man, so his services had stayed out of the public eye which was exactly how Killian had wanted it.

Besides, as soon as he had the money he needed, he was done with Gold. He wasn’t proud of what he was doing, but it was a means to an end. And he would leave this town as soon as he had the money he needed anyway.

Everything he had planned was moving along except for one piece.

Emma.

Emma had gotten herself involved with Gold’s son, Neal.

Killian needed to make sure she got away from him before he left town. Neal was trouble. He was cocky, reckless, and selfish. Traits that were only going to get Emma hurt.

But he didn’t know how to tell Emma the truth about Neal without exposing himself to his own lies.

He looked over at the clock, 1:15am.

He groaned and pushed his covers off, sitting up on the bed and rubbing his eyes.

Maybe he could drown himself with that bottle for a little bit. Maybe it would allow him to find sleep.

Tugging on his boxers, he quietly padded through the house and opened the cupboard door, pulling the bottle of rum from the shelf.

“Can’t sleep either?”

Killian almost dropped the bottle to the ground at the sound of David’s voice.

“Geez, mate, not a good idea to sneak up on a man in the dark.” He stepped forward to see David sitting in a chair by the fireplace, a drink in his hand.

“Guess we had the same idea.” He held up his glass, the dark amber liquid swirling at the bottom.

“Aye.” Killian took the seat opposite with his own glass in hand, taking a sip of the liquid.

“Can’t believe he’s gone.” He sighed.

“What will become of this place?” David continued. “Everyone will be graduated adults next year.”

Killian’s raised his brow. “You really think Will is going to graduate?”

David laughed. “We’ll get him there.”

“Aye.” He nodded and then took another drink.

“We should probably talk about that though. You know, Will and Emma. They are both almost 17. Old enough that they will let them still live here, but I guess one of us will need to be their guardian until they graduate.”

“Hadn’t thought of that, but I haven’t the means to move out yet anyway.”

“Yeah, I was actually going to talk to everyone about this before Marco passed but,” He paused. “I had planned to move out in a month. I’m going to start working at the station for Sheriff Graham and they offered me a place close by in town.”

“Oh, wow that’s great news, Dave.”

“It was. But now.”

“No, you should still stay on your plan. Besides, I know you and Mary Margaret would love some privacy now and then.”

“Well, there is that.” He smirked.

“I’m happy for you, mate. You deserve happiness.”

“So, do you brother.”

He swirled his glass before taking another sip. “I’m a pirate captain five days a week, what more could I ask for?”

David stood to refill his glass. “You make a good point there…” he paused at the window. “Did Emma go out?”

“No, she’s where I left her hours ago, brooding in her room.”

“No, she’s not.” He turned, gesturing to the window. “Bug’s gone.”

~

This was the dumbest idea she had ever had.

Emma’s hands were numb from standing in the cold. Neal was hunched over the door, with small tools sticking into the lock as he jiggled them, but nothing was opening the door.

“Do you even know what you are doing?”

“Of course, I do, but I can’t do it with you yammering in my ear.”

“It’s just that you’ve been at this for a while and the door is still closed. I thought the point of this mission was for us to get inside.”

“Ok smart ass, you think you can better?”

She laughed. “Um no. I mean. I’ve never broken into anything in my life.” She stared at the tools sticking out of the lock.

Live a little Emma.

“Ok fine, move over.” She shoved his hands away from the tools. “So, what am I supposed to do?”

“I was joking.”

“Just tell me what to do.”

“Ok that wrench there, you push that in. Then take the pick, you need to move the pins around until they click into place and you can open the door.”

Emma pushed with her hands and could feel the pins moving around like a puzzle in her head. She closed her eyes and concentrated. She felt lost in her thoughts when she felt the door push.

“Ems, you did it, you’re a natural.” He beamed.

“Great, I have a future in criminal behavior.”

He pulled her up to him and kissed her before tugging her into the dark of the building.

“Just stay here ok. I’ll be right back.”

“Wait Neal, you aren’t just going to leave me here are you?”

“I’ll be right back.” He disappeared into the black and Emma stood silently in the corner of the shop they were in.

Suddenly she heard voices coming from the direction Neal went.

“Neal?” she whispered.

She stepped forward into the dark. “Neal?”

Suddenly she heard his voice and saw him running toward her, “Run Emma, Run.”

Emma turned to leave but felt something grab her from behind. She kicked backward, making contact with whatever had grabbed her, knocking them backwards, the shimmer of something long and silver in the man’s hands.

Neal ran past her, grabbing the door and yanking it open. “Emma let’s go.”

She tripped as she tried to run to the door, falling into something that caused her to land on her knees. She knew she would have bruises tomorrow. Dragging herself up, she stumbled forward in the dark before hands grabbed her ankles and she fell forward again. “Neal! Help!”

“You can’t steal from me.” She heard a gruff voice coming from the man holding her ankle and she kicked at his hand with her free foot. It was enough to free herself and she clamored to her knees and onto her feet to grab the door handle, yanking it open.

Just as she stepped into the alley, she felt a pain in her side, a burning sting that made her scream out in pain. She shoved as hard as she could with her hands at the man standing behind her, a long silver knife falling to the ground as his back hit the concrete wall behind him.

Run Emma, Run!

She didn’t look back; she didn’t stop running until she got to the road. She looked around and realized she was completely alone. No man trying to grab her. And definitely no sign of Neal.

She knew she needed hide. To get out of the open. She looked around until she got her bearings and headed toward where she had parked her car on the back street.

She expected to find Neal at the car, but he was gone.

He left me.

She pulled the door open and locked the door behind her, looking around to make sure no one had followed her.

She breathed heavily, her hand clutching her side which was still burning. When she pulled back her hand, all she saw was blood.

And then everything went black.

[frooopsen]

kyalin - part 2

Post-TLOK / book 4

Notes: I have no idea where this is going...guess we’ll have to wait and see.

Patience

The morning sun settled in the room. Maybe it would be a warmer day, though the cold breeze coming through the window suggested otherwise. They lay in bed facing each other when Lins hand slipped unterneath Kyas shirt to rest on her chest, where the knife had been just a few nights ago. Right between her breasts. Not really, but it had felt more real than the soft skin underneath her fingertips now. „Anything you’re looking for in particular?“, Kya smiled. A scar, Lin thought to herself. Or rather she wanted to reassure herself that there wasn’t one and it had really only been a dream. „Maybe you’ll find what you’re searching, a little bit lower.“

Lost in thought Lin didn’t answer her, but withdrew her hand, placing it on Kyas cheek and looking at her, eyes filled with admiration. „I’m so glad to have you.“, she said when turning on her back. She didn’t want to see the concern that most certainly took over Kyas expression. „Don’t look at me like that, I’m fine.“ When she still felt the pearcing eyes resting on her face as Kya perked herself up on her ellbow she added, „I tell you that all the time.“

„Yeah, but not like…this.“ She guestured across their bodies. Tension seemed to find its way back to Lin‘s body as she felt where this was headed. Kya would want to talk about it and she didn’t, as per usual. Kyas rambling didn’t annoy her, nor did most other things Kya did, that would send Lin raging if anyone else did them, but talking about her own thoughts and feelings was still a strange thing to do – even with that gorgeous woman, she felt so connected to. Why did people feel the need to always talk about things? She was fine. „It was just a stupid dream. Nothing more.“

„See, you say things like that“, Kya began, using her fingers to guide Lins face to meet her gaze, „and I do want to believe you, but then I wake up because someone’s clenching my hand to a point where my blood has trouble passing through.“ Lin blushed as she remembered. „Again, sorry about that.“ She pulled Kya closer for a deep kiss until she broke it again.

A smug grin tugged on the corners of her mouth, „While I could spend all of my time doing this and much more– “ She didn’t get to finish her sentence as Lin climed on top of her, quickly joining their lips back together. A frustrated groan escaped Kya when she held her eager lover back. It felt like her mind was standing in her body’s way. „I cannot believe I’m saying this, but we need to take a minute.“ Lin looked down at her and sighed, falling back to her side again. „I was afraid you might say that. Want some tea?“, she asked, getting up.

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The steaming cup stood on the table when Kya joined her in the kitchen. Lins movements seemed to lack fluency, even for an earthbender. It was like a mantle had wrapped around her, inducing and amplifying imbalance. She wasn’t going to tell her about the change in her aura since the reaction would most likely be a mocking grunt. She tried a more lighthearted approach,  as to not be met with silence. „Unless you want to keep our bodily contact to a few exciting kisses, we’re going to have to talk about it, you know.“ Lin turned around leaning back against the countertop. „We did. Like I said, just a nightmare, nothing more. Haven’t you ever had one?“, she asked and continued sarcastically, „It’s like a dream, but a bad one. Sometimes there are monsters. And when you wake up you’re glad that it’s over.“ Kya smiled, „Right, and if it was in fact ‚just a nightmare‘ you wouldn’t be trying to distract me with your very tempting body.“ Her eyes followed Lin striding towards her with a knowing look on her face. „And here I was, thinking you liked that kind of distraction.“, she grinned.

„I do“, Kya said, meeting her lips, „And if this were a one-night-stand I would not be bothered at all, but – quoting you here – we’re ‚trying that relationship-thing‘. Thus my passion – if you want to call it that – has become slightly attached to your well-being.“ Lin hated it, when her own words were used against her.

She hated it even more, when Kya was right about these things. She definitely was, but that didn’t make talking about it easier. She just didn’t want the dream to have a deeper meaning. What was wrong with her, that she dreamed about Kya not only dying, but killing herself? She wouldn’t ever do that, would she? Would this strong woman ever come to a point in her life where maybe Lin’s work and the dangers that came with it were too much? How often did she tell her to be more careful? How often had Kya healed her wounds after fights gone wrong? She always reassured her, that she was ok with her being chief…it didn’t always feel like it was the truth. Understandably so. Lin knew how bad the wounds looked sometimes and if Kya felt even half of the love Lin felt for the waterbender, she probably hurt as well, when taking care of the cuts and bruises. The least she could do, was give a little honesty in return. Kya deserved honesty and everything else Lin was afraid to give.

„Those weeks where you spent most of your time at the station.“, Kya started tentatively when the silence grew to be heavy, „Did anything happen to you, that you didn’t tell me about?“ Lins eyebrows furrowed in confusion. „No, it’s nothing like that. Though it might be the reason, that I’m back to my even-less-feely self.“, she admitted, her face growing soft as she stroked along Kyas arms, „I know you’re right, but it‘s just. I can’t tap into that part of myself as easily as you can.“

Kya nodded with her caring eyes resting on Lins face. She understood. The weeks after Kuviras attack had been hard on everyone. As criminals took advantage of the situation or far too often of the people who had already lost so much, Lin had spent more time at the station than at home. She knew she had to be patient if she didn’t want the earthbender to shut herself off even further. „Was it the only nightmare?“

With a hint of embarrassment she shook her head from left to right. „Most of them were at the station. Made it real easy to hide it from you.“ Kya smiled at Lins sly remark, her patience paying off. She eyed her for a few moments. „How about this.“, she suggested, „You drink your tea while I get our coats and we go for a stroll.“ Lin picked up her cup in agreement and spilled the rest of Kyas tea down the sink. „Don’t you want to be my shrink anymore?“

„Oh, we’re definitely doing that, I just thought it would be easier for you this way. Now drink up and get your boots.“

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As it turned out, Kya had been right again. The walk helped Lin clear her mind and sort the thoughts rushing around in her head. With the monotonous movement and Kya’s gaze occupied with the trees and people passing by, she didn’t feel the pressure to fill silence with words. Kya knew her well, to a point where Lin had to remind herself, that the woman didn’t have the ability to read her mind – though in some moments she was convinced that she did. Their difference in nature complemented their relationship in a way that neither of them fully comprehended – nor did most people who knew about them. „Did you notice how they keep staring?“, Lin asked while making her way to the nearest bench, „They’re probably jealous of me. I did in fact land a great catch, don’t you think?“

Kya rolled her eyes, but planted a quick kiss on her cheek before sitting down close to her. „We do look good together, don’t we?“ They diverted their gaze to the small pond infront of them. They sat in silence for what felt like an eternity, watching the turtle-ducks until almost everyone in the parc had left.

Lin wondered how talking about the dream would help her. It wasn’t real anyways and Kya would probably be disturbed by the pictures her mind would be filled with. Would she want to analyze it and end up asking about her childhood again? Last time it had hurt. Why should she revisit that kind of weird pain. Or worse, what if it lead to arguing about her work? Had she spent too much time at her desk? Would Kya blame her work for the nightmares and lack of sleep? The longer she thought about it, the less she liked the scenarios she came up with. She decided to find a way to summarize the dream in a harmless way, as to not scare Kya when they did talk about it.

Kya let her mind wander but found herself coming back to Lins nightmare everytime she started a new train of thought. She badly wanted to know about the dream and had to restrain herself from asking about it, yet again. Why didn’t she just tell her? How scary could the dream have been? Lin had seen so much violence and pain. She was hardly startled by anything, let alone frightened. The fear she had seen a few nights ago had made her blood freeze and still sent shivers down her spine everytime the image of Lins tensed face and body flashed before her inner eye. Maybe she had in fact dreamt about Ammon taking away her bending again. It would make sense. After all, they didn’t really talk a lot about the event when it had occurred, and most trauma tended to resurface. Especially if you kept repressing it, like Lin.

„Do you want to go back?“, she suggested as it got darker and even colder, „You have to get up early tomorrow for work and while I hope to hear about your dream soon, I don’t think it’s a good idea to talk about it right before going to bed. I’d rather not be clenched awake again anytime soon.“

„You are a special kind of perfect.“, Lin answered and leaned in for a kiss. Any public display of affection other than sitting next to each other, or letting Kya wrap her arm around hers, was something she avoided but there weren’t any people around and she just couldn’t resist the urge. „Thank you.“, she muttered. „Anytime, if this is your reaction.“ Apparently Kya couldn’t resist her urge to tease, but that was just…Kya. Though they had barely talked at all, Lin felt closer to her than in the morning when they’d woken up right next to each other.

[howdoyousleep3]

The Walker fic is killing me! I love that the collar got brought out cause honestly that's one of my biggest kinks. But (please don't be insulted/upset by this, it's a personal thing) I need to check Buck's 100% okay with it all? He seemed so uncomfortable with Walker just being there/not having any warning. Plus Steve thought about it for a week, but didn't tell Bucky til Walker's there, and it felt like that changed how safe the consent conversation was (ran out of space, sorry for this) 1/2

2/2 (Hi, checking SSC again, sorry again!) I'm honestly really freaked out by how strange it made me feel. I've never experienced stuff like that which could trigger me (afaik, I know sometimes it takes time to realise), so I'm confused & kinda scared. Also I'm so so sorry for putting this on you, it's not your job to counsel me. And I don't want this to affect you. These were prob a bad idea so pls ignore/delete if it's too much bc I've always loved your work & you, and I'd hate to upset u 😘💛

Hi! I hope you don’t mind but I’ve gotten a bit of feedback that is along these same lines and I would like to only address it once, but I also want to make sure I answer your Ask.

I’d like to first thank you for your thoughtfulness in you sharing your feelings about a story I have written. I can sense that this might have taken a lot for you to share with me and I don’t want you to feel bad in anyway for coming to me. It seems to me that you read something that was new to you and that you are trying to interpret and self-reflect and that’s great and necessary. I appreciate you acknowledging that you’ve never experienced something like this and that it is not my job to counsel you because, and this is my second and more general response to the feedback as a whole—

I should not have to apologize.

And I know reading that without my personal tone and just through text can be incredibly abrasive and that it’s unavoidable, but I hope by the end of my explanation you (anyone and everyone, not just you, Nonnie) can understand why I feel this way.

Bucky is okay. Steve is okay. Together, in this fic and in this moment, they are more thank okay. This is an incredibly well-established relationship that I have worked so hard to create and build up to the fullest extent as a writer. This is not a random one-off and this does not belong to a pairing that is outside of this tiny world I have created. I have shown everyone how Steve and Bucky’s relationship works and how healthy it is and was hoping that would be kept in mind as this story was read.

Yes, Steve showing up with August Walker was startling for Bucky and yes, Steve did wait and keep something from Bucky for the week leading up to this night. I stand by that decision. Steve knew that if he told Bucky the week before, he would absolutely freak the fuck out and worry himself sick over the consuming what-if thoughts. Steve made an informed decision as a Daddy, as a Dom, and as a boyfriend. He knows Bucky and he used that information to protect and keep Bucky safe. Also, any introduction to a kink is going to be startling. The same thing happened when Bucky was spanked for the first time and when Steve was much rougher with him one night and when Bucky climbed on top for the first time.

All of those instances were talked through no matter what, either before or during and definitely after, and they were sprung on Bucky in the moment. We know Steve. We know how important communication is for him and how much he cares for Bucky. I feel like that was expressed here well. We know Bucky. We know he would have his hesitancies, as expressed, and we know he is a strong individual who trusts Steve and would have absolutely no issue with saying no to Steve for any reason.

I am aware this content is very different than anything I have ever written and that this particular kink exploration comes with literally someone else in the room, but I do not, in any fashion, think this fic deserves a Dub Con tag as it has been requested.

Steve and Bucky have their own process to introducing something such as this into their lives. They know and trust and love one another in ways they cannot even comprehend sometimes. Steve was incredibly clear when he spoke to Bucky and supported him physically and verbally during their discussion. He gave Bucky complete control over the entire night. He gave Bucky a way out at any time if he needs it. There is a tiny bit more of this discussion in front of Walker in the next chapter that might help and make readers feel more comfortable.

As the person who has created this tiny world with these two specific characters and as the person who knows them better than anyone else, everything that is transpiring in this fic is safe for them, and that is why I will not be apologizing for what I have written. This is maybe the second time I have ever put my foot down and taken ownership for my characters and said, as the writer, that certain things would and would not happen with these two. I love creating this world and building it up with all of you! But there are some things that just don’t fit into this world in my brain as the author and dub con is absolutely not one of them.

Now, Nonnie! Don’t apologize or think this is a bad idea! It is so important for your voice to be heard and I think this might have been good for you in processing everything that you’ve read and thinking about how you reacted. I appreciate the feedback no matter what and you are not the only person who has felt this way after reading this chapter update. I want to explicitly state that this response is not directed towards you specifically in any way expect for that top bit. Please do not take the burden of this response and rest it on your shoulders in any way or feel bad. I am proud of you for reaching out and letting me know how you feel.

I hope this clears things up for any and every person who reads this fic and I hope my thought process was clear enough to understand. I am still very excited to share the rest of this fic with everyone and welcome all feedback! Love you always!

[wifeofkimtaehyungofbts]

Chapter 2

Pairing: Jimin x Y/N

Synopsis: How do you help someone with their emotions if you don’t feel emotions? When your brother’s best friend dies in a tragic car accident and he spirals downwards in depression, you devote yourself to helping him out of his misery. But when his other best friend becomes suicidal following the loss, it isn’t merely about helping them. It’s about saving them.

Word count: 1500+

*****

Monday morning came by fast. I stood in the kitchen waiting for the toaster to do its thing, adjusting my long beige coat over the navy-blue shirt and white denims hugging my figure. Jungkook strolls into the kitchen sleepily, his hair a soft mess.

I smile at the sight of him. “Good morning sleepy head”

He looks up at me but ignores my greeting. He walks over to the table and adjusts himself on the stool as he leans over, grabbing an apple and biting into the hardness with a loud crunch that bounces against the too quiet kitchen walls. I stare at him as I process his state.

My brother has always been overly protective of me; taking care of me day in and day out and putting my happiness over his at any point in his life. He has never behaved in any way unpleasant or disapproving to me. From his no-good-morning to him ignoring my presence, bothered me more than it should.

“Kookie” I say. “I’m making toast butter bread for us”

He doesn’t even lift his head to look at me. A frown settles on my brows as I make my way to him. I stand a few feet away from him and place a head on his shoulder.

“Dude, what’s with the low energy? What’s up with you this morning?” I ask, concerned.

He roughly shrugs my hand off as he looks at me with one eye, the other covered by his thick bangs.

“Low energy?” he asks in his gruff morning voice. “I didn’t know sad people had to keep up bright appearances” he chuckles sarcastically.

I blink several times, swallowing hard. It’s only been a week, Y/N. How could you expect him to have recovered already?

Feeling like a complete jackass, I run my fingers through his messy bed hair. “You should stay in today, without going to work” I smile warmly.

“That was the plan anyway, you didn’t have to tell me” he stands up, my arm falling to my side as I watch him walk away and disappear around the corner of the hallway. I stand there, feeling empty and lonely after experiencing a new side of my brother I’ve never before had the unfortune to meet.

***

Carrying a mountain of files up six flights of stairs because the elevator was under maintenance was not an easy feat for someone in 4-inch-high heels and a too-tight pencil skirt. Too bad for me, I had to change out of my beautifully fitting white pants this morning when I was mindlessly making coffee for the first time just for me instead of for both Jungkook and I. I reached over for my coffee mug and ending up knocking it over my lap with the back of my hand. The hot darkness soaked the pure white of my pants and before I could scream, it had already drawn maps across my pants. I changed into a pencil skirt a size too small and now I’m suffering the consequences of choosing style over comfort with my attire.

I make my way step by step painfully up the stairs, barely being able to stretch my legs to lift them over each stair.

“May I help you?” I hear a deep voice from in front of me. I groan and grunt as my tired arms attempt to move the files out of my sight so I can see the man standing before me. A weight is suddenly lifted off my arms and I gasp loudly, staring at the face of my savior. Before me stands a very tall, handsome man with soft cheeks and brown hair parted at the side. I have to remind myself to stop staring because that is all you can do at the sight of this very handsome man.

“Uh...” I try to find my words lost in my head cramped with inappropriate thoughts of this man.

He cocks an eyebrow at me and the gesture has me tumbling backwards mentally before I scold myself to get a grip. “I actually have to get these to floor 3 within the next 3mins” I mumble.

The man smiles gently at me, his eyes turning into crescents. He turns on his heel and takes long strides, taking two steps at a time as he swiftly makes his way up to the third floor. I take much longer to reach the third floor, but when I do, I find him standing there waiting for me.

“It needs to be dropped off at Jin’s desk” I say, already making my way to the table at the very end belonging to the most handsome man in our company, Kim Seokjin. As I approach him, he lifts his head from the stack of papers he had it buried in. His plump lips turn upwards in a warm smile as his sparkling eyes take in my presence. Jin takes off his round glasses and straightens himself in the seat. He rolls back his wide, muscular shoulders and cracks his neck.

“It’s been a crazy week y/n” he sighs, holding the back of his thick neck.

“I bet! You look rather exhausted” I take note of the bags under his eyes and red nose, probably from staying up all night in the soon approaching winter and waking up too early.

I turn to the man behind me who is already placing the files on top of Jin’s desk. Jin watches as the man scrunches his nose when he clumsily placed the files, knocking over Jin’s pencil holder. Pens and highlighters sprawl across Jin’s desk and he can only sigh at this obvious behavior from the embarrassed man in front of him.

“Namjoon Namjoon Namjoon” Jin shakes his head. “How many times have I told you not to be so quick with your movements if you know you are clumsy beyond fixing?”

Jin pinches the bridge of his nose as he picks up the colourful mess in front of him.

“Sorry I was just trying to help this pretty lady” Namjoon scratches the side of his head.

Namjoon.

And he called me pretty!

I have to mentally slap myself out of this new found, fascinating information as I finish placing the files in order on top of Jin’s desk.

“Thank you for helping me” I bow to Namjoon and Jin before heading off back downstairs to the comfort of my own desk, away from the eyes of two handsome men out of my league.

***

The rest of the day goes by too slowly, work after work piling onto my lap as I try my best to finish them all off so I don’t have to take my work home. I am strict on keeping my personal life and professional life as separate as possible.

As I type fast, my mind wanders to my brother away from the tap tap tap of my fingers on the black keyboard. I wanted to call him, ask him how he’s holding up and whether he wants me to cook for him tonight or he would want to do it by himself as he does on most nights. I conclude with take away on my way home after deciding with myself.

I reach for my mobile phone to call him and decide against it. He probably wants to be left alone.

Opening a new tab on my search engine, I type HOW TO COMFORT SOMEONE AFTER THEY EXPERIENCE A LOSS.

Articles pop up from blogs, newspapers, magazines and even from question-answer platforms. I skim through most of them but is left dissatisfied. They all talk of being there for them and listening to their worries so they do not collect their frustrations but none of it is relatable to me. For someone who doesn’t feel emotions like normal people.

How can I be there for my brother or empathize with his internal frustrations if I cannot comprehend the mere situation itself? I know Taehyung meant a lot to him, being one of his first best friends and helping my brother come out of his introverted shell. But I do not understand how much he meant to my brother. How lost and torn my brother feels over his passing. I have never felt such strong emotions and the only loss I have experienced was my father and I do not recall being torn and devastated over it. I was sad, obviously, but not lost nor did I hide inside a shell unwilling to move with the world and move on with my life.

I sigh as I stare at the smiling sticker in the upper right corner of my office computer. Oh, how wonderful it must feel to feel so deeply! My mind wanders as I think about if I may ever get to experience such overwhelming emotions as pure bliss or utter terror.

***

Previous / Next

[80alleycats]

Dee Day Thoughts and Analysis

Preface: For those who don’t know, I’m a homoromantic asexual woman of color (mostly black).

Anyways, unlike many folks on Tumblr, I did not have too much of a problem with this episode. It did feel kinda..”eh”...and it could have been much better, but I had some laughs and laughed more with this episode than last week’s episode.

Here are my thoughts on the controversies of the episode. They might help some hate the episode and/or RCGMegan less:

1. Yellow/Brown Face – When I first saw those costumes I was like “Oh, we’re doing that again.” But it didn’t surprise me too much. This has been a part of the show for a long time and the racist caricature characters are “old” characters (i.e. known to the audience and not new caricatures created for shits and giggles), so I’m kind of shocked that people are so shocked by this.

I love RCGMegan, but RCGMegan are just…white as fuck. As a person of color, my standards are low for white people. (I HATE that this sounds racist but y’all know what I’m talking about) Like, I can’t even be mad about it. I’m just glad that there were attempts™ to point out the racism and the shittiness of Dee’s characters, which is something they’ve always done as well.

I think RCGMegan really meant well. It’s PURE SPECULATION but it’s possible that that’s why they hired Pete Chatmon, a black man, to direct the episode. White people sometimes think that if they add a person/people of color to their group and they don’t say “PLEASE DON’T DO THIS THIS IS FUCKING DUMB” what they are doing is okay.

And even though this is PURE SPECULATION on my part, I think RCGMegan’s wellmeaningness is one of the reasons that Pete Chatmon chose to do the job and posted on Instagram that he had a good experience working with RCG and co.

I think RCGMegan were attempting to be “silly classic hijinks” Sunny but also “woke” Sunny but they are…white as fuck and sometimes just do not “get” it. (I get the vibe from interviews that they mentally/emotionally separate the show from themselves and from reality.) I hope they learn to chill out with the yellow/brown/red face one day because, even ignoring the racism issue, it’s SO BORING, but I don’t expect them to because…they are white as fuck. Some white people figure it out and stop doing awkward shit. But some just…don’t. Especially when they have a long history of doing questionable things.

For a person of color to be a fan of this show, we/they have to accept the nature of this show or just stop watching it. Those are the only real choices and both choices are valid.

I’ll admit that I think the “Asian driver” joke was actually somewhat funny because the purpose of the joke was to highlight the phenomenon of white people acting like they aren’t racist when they actually are and are too stupid and delusional to realize it (i.e. benevolent racism). I love attempts™ at highlighting benevolent racism because of the subtle and insidious nature of it.

__

2. Predatory Gay Mac – I get where people are coming from, but I feel like Mac’s homosexuality wasn’t the joke. I feel like the joke was that Mac was being a goofy idiot who happens to love Dennis, but can’t always express it properly. (example: Mac trying to get Dennis to get on stage with him so he could maybe kiss him…which is the kind of harebrained scheme you’d expect from a goofball 1st grader with a crush and not a full-grown 40 year old man)

Mac’s behavior in this episode was similar to Charlie’s messy over-the-top behavior towards the Waitress in previous episodes.

There was also the dual joke of Mac trying to “one-up” Charlie and so veering into accidental innuendo territory. (example: Mac repeating the comment Charlie said to Dennis about wanting to get in Dennis’ pants)

Also, it’s canon that Mac is often gross when it comes to sexuality in general and I think they were playing with that as well (example: the social network episode where Mac asked the distraught woman about where to find her leaked nude photos).

Everyone in the gang is gross when it comes to sexuality. I feel like a lot of fans forget that Dennis and Dee are canon rapists who usually rape the opposite sex (and Dennis has literally sexually assaulted Mac before even though he considered it a prank). Being an equal member of the Gang, I’m not surprised the writers decided to pass the baton to Mac this episode and even then Mac’s behavior in this episode was fairly tame (in the context of this show LOL).

And FINALLY, even though Dennis protested Mac trying to get them to kiss, I never got the vibe that Dennis was extremely uncomfortable. I think it was just supposed to be a typical “Dennis is annoyed at Mac because Mac is being stupid” reaction. Mac gets on Dennis’ nerves sometimes, but Dennis loves and accepts him and all his weird and stupid behavior. I don’t believe it’s even possible for Mac to make Dennis extremely comfortable. Like, these two are pretty much a hivemind…

__

3. Charlie and Dennis Kiss Scene - I TOTALLY GET THE DISCOMFORT WITH THIS. And while the second kiss was actually a surprisingly good kiss (Charlie and Glenn can ACT), the scene wasn’t really funny. It was just like “Why? What am I supposed to be getting from this?”

One criticism I’ve seen is that the scene was saying two men kissing is gross (i.e. homophobia). But I don’t think that was the purpose. It honestly reminded me of the awkward attempted kiss scene between Mac and Dee when they were playing characters in one of the lethal weapon episodes.

Another criticism I’ve seen is that Dee (who, as we know, raped Charlie) forced two child abuse victims to kiss. VALID CRITICISM. But when it comes to the characters: they just don’t give a shit. Charlie still hangs out with Dee and considers her a friend (which is COMPLETELY different than how he sees Uncle Jack). Dennis loves her and hangs out with her. Notice that they were more concerned with coming across as homophobic (which is so, so stupid but typical of them) and they hated that they had cheese breath.

And keep in mind that even though it was Dee Day and they were “supposed” to do what she says, they didn’t have to. They treat Dee like garbage 364 days of the year with little remorse and she always come back to them. I feel like the implication is that they CHOSE to do the kiss, considered it gross but didn’t consider it a big deal, and would not compare it to their child abuse experiences.

Dee’s behavior analysis: The previous season’s Mac/Charlie/Frank orgy with the Dennis doll that she watched permanently fucked her up. Like, she knows she’s making the Gang uncomfortable, but she’s lost the ability to comprehend how abnormal her behavior is. Boundaries are gone in her mind. In her mind, she’s simply teasing them and they’ll be fine no matter what happens.

I know people identify with the characters because of their personal experiences and I get that. I get that people have strong feelings about these characters and it’s totally understandable and valid. But I think we have to be careful not to project too much on the characters and instead try to keep in mind how the characters are instead of how we think they are. Like, It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia has a ton of dark elements, but it’s a relatively upbeat show that often doesn’t take itself too seriously.

This is PURE SPECULATION but I got the vibe from the second kiss that “someone” (possibly Megan?) wanted to do a CharDen scene but needed to do it in the spirit of IASIP (awkward situations + the Gang willing to do anything if they are passionate enough about it) and that scene was the result. It’s also possible that it was the result of some kind of RCG “in-joke” that they didn’t realize might not translate very well on the screen to certain audience members.

At the end of the day, I think it was just supposed to be a goofy “lolwut the Gang is so wacky” scene and it’s not meant to be psychoanalyzed the way certain things on the show are.

 __

4. Dennis Without His Make-Up – I get people’s concerns about this. But the show has occasionally made fun of Dennis’ self-esteem issues concering his looks throughout the show, so this is nothing new. I feel that the scene was designed to make you feel sorry for Dennis, but also it was supposed to just be classic Sunny. Like him hitting on the congresswoman wasn’t just funny because he looked “off,” but because he just kept saying weird and awkward shit to her (similar to the scene in Season 13 where he was trying and failing to hit on the fantasy baseball woman). 

And keep in mind that the rest of the Gang kept reassuring Dennis that he looked fine even after the scheme, which was sweet. The same cannot be said about Dee. She’s received a lot more abuse from the Gang and only scraps of affection and reassurance from them to the point where she always lights up when they show her basic kindness. If Dee (and we) can handle Dee’s abuse, Dennis (and we) can handle Dennis’ abuse. And, as mentioned above, he did not have to remove his make-up. He chose to do it and he chose to deal with the consequences of that. But he’ll be fine.

 __

5. There was not enough focus on Dee – 100% agree. Nothing else to add. LOL.

[miss-tc-nova]

Wish I Was - Bragi x Fem!Reader Pt 1/2

A while ago, I was thinking about my series Wish I Wasn’t, which I’m still kind of proud, and I decided that I’d write this. It’s kind of like an alternate ending, but also okay on it’s own I think. 

~~~~~

Part 1: Stronger

              My eyes burn and I feel like a wreck. No sleep was had last night and I feel so sick I can’t bring myself to even think about breakfast or work or anything really. The shop will not be opening today and it takes hours before I’m even able to convince myself to get out of bed.

              I have to force myself to shower and clean up, spending longer than I should beneath the warm water. Even outside the bathroom, I mull around, losing myself to the dread of today.

              Speaking of the dread of today, I need to gather everything up. Toiletries from the bathroom go in a box that’s been waiting on the table. A pair of textbooks and a notebook come off the desk to add to the pile. Left behind weeks ago, a water bottle gets tossed in along with a spare pillow. Possibly worst of all, I have to go through all my laundry, clean and dirty, to dig out what goes. As I collect these little reminders, all the misery begins to bubble up; still, I persist in my task. I never wanted this, none of it, but I just can’t.

              The heart skips in my chest when the quiet knock bellows through the apartment. Pretending I’m not home is briefly considered but that’s simply immature and will only prolong this whole mess.

              Blinding sunlight assaults my eyes the second the door cracks open, lapping at the darkness I’ve been wallowing in. Once my vision has adjusted, I find the very boy I’ve been afraid to confront again.

              “Hey,” he mumbles. He looks just as terrible as I do: his hair a complete disarray, eyes red and raw, skin pale, and just looking so utterly exhausted. I wish I couldn’t feel because this hurts so much.

              “Hey,” I whisper back. I leave the doorway, hearing him step in behind me. “Um, I think I’ve got everything, but if you think something’s missing, let me know and I’ll see if I can find it.”

              The front door clicks shut, hiding the pair of us away from the currently overwhelming world outside. “Can we talk about this?” That broken note in his voice is going to ruin me.

              “There’s nothing to talk about, Bragi,” I murmur, unable to face him.

              “There’s everything to talk about.” The welling in my throat is not a good sign. “There has to be a way we can make this work.”

              Blurring vision is accompanied by the familiar tingle of tears forming. “There is, but you already refused that option.”

              “You can’t seriously expect me to just quit being a keyblade warrior!”

              Tears or not, I turn back on him. “Of course I can!” I snap. Anger leaps onto his face, riddled with pain. “Most people don’t spend every moment of their free time worrying whether their significant other will come home or not! Most people don’t check their first aid kit five times a day because of the fear of their partner coming home injured! My entire fucking closet if full of spare bandages and saline solution and all sorts of bullshit! I took first aid and magic classes because I’m afraid you’ll come home hurt and I won’t be able to do anything about it! Most people don’t have to do those kinds of things so WHY DO I?!”

              “Maybe because you care about me!”

              “I know I do! That’s why I can’t stand it anymore!” I scream. “I’m terrified, Bragi! You leave on these dangerous missions and I can’t sleep because I don’t know when you’ll be back or if you’ll even come back! I’m afraid every time you walk out that door that it’s the last time I’m ever going to see you! I had to shut down the shop for three days last month because I just couldn’t function worrying about you! And I can’t just put up with it anymore because I love you so much!” His eyes widen. “I cannot physically handle you doing this anymore and if you can’t understand that…” It doesn’t matter how much I’ve said until now, the next words have to be torn from my mouth. “–then we’re just not going to work out.”

              Anger quelled, there’s just pain there. “But…”

              My head shakes; I gave him my ultimatum and he made his choice.

              Picking up the box, I stroll across the room and push it into his arms. “I’m sorry, Bragi.”

              His shoulders drop, lips twisting. Surprisingly, his voice is steady when he answers, “Yeah. Me too. Guess I’ll see you around.”

              A “Goodbye” barely manages to escape me as he walks out the door. The second the latch clicks, I hit the floor. In the lonely, empty darkness of my home, I scream and cry. The weight that’s been threatening to smother me for months is evaporating but it’s left a messy, jagged hole where my heart was that might as well have been thrown in that box. He leads a life that is just so hard to endure and I wasn’t strong enough to persevere—now both of us get to suffer for that. Even now, every cell in my body is screaming for him to take this agony away and it’s dawning on me that I’m never going to experience the comfort of his presence or the adoration of his kiss. I needed to push him away for the sake of my own survival but this misery is nearly unbearable.

              I don’t know how long I laid there or even at what time I convinced myself to go to bed; hell, I don’t even know how many days I stayed cooped up in the dark. Unfortunately, life had to continue.

~~~~~

              I can’t even remember how many weeks it’s been since that disaster. The days just keep coming and there’s nothing I can do to stop it, even as I’m about to drown in the weight of my responsibilities. All I can do is keep stumbling forward; one step at a time I start to pull my life back together into something resembling normalcy.

              Jingling bells alert me to a visitor and a little more of my depression spreads within me. Sucking up my grief, I straighten up and prepare to work.

              A voice calls out, “Hello?”

              Putting on a customer service smile, I walk around the counter. A young man with wavy black hair and gray eyes stands just inside my door. I don’t like the look in his eyes; he seems weary. “Hi, how can I help you?”

              Those eyes flicker to a box in his hand. “Um, I’m looking for the shop owner.”

              “That’s me. What can I do for you?”

              Said parcel is offered. “I was asked to give this to you.”

              Sure enough, my name is written on the top. “…Thanks,” I reply, hesitantly. “What is it?”

              “I don’t know,” he answers with an exhausted shrug. “I was just told to bring it to you if…if something happened.”

              His words have me stunned. “What does that mean? What do you mean if something happened?”

              “I…” Tears well up in his eyes and his head shakes. “I’m sorry.” With that, the boy walks away, leaving me standing in my confusion in an empty shop.

              Something tells me I don’t want to open the box so it gets put aside while I continue on with my work day. Nevertheless, it’s very presence pricks and prods at my curiosity the entire time, even when I throw it upstairs in the apartment in hopes ‘out of sight, out of mind’ actually holds some truth I still can’t get the package out of my head. It makes the day drag on, but even when I close the shop, I don’t immediately open the thing. Its foreboding nature compels me to do everything, anything else to occupy my time before I finally force myself to sit down and face the mystery.

              Cutting open the tape, the ominous message left by the courier comes to mind, making me pause. However, no matter how nervous I am about it, my mind isn’t going to let me forget that it exists and I just need to open it. With a deep breath, I pull the box open.

              I wish I hadn’t—I immediately wish I hadn’t. There’s no mistaking that white fur and blue fabric. I don’t even get a second to comprehend it all before the tears begin to fall. As soon as I pull it from the box, I bury my face in the spice of cinnamon. It aches at my heart but nothing in the world is more comforting.

              Through the tears and the sobbing, I just barely notice the white square on the bottom of the box. A shaky hand clears my eyes as I pull the paper from the box. It’s a little white card with just four words scrawled on it that ruin me for years to come.

              I love you too.

[imaconstantmess]

Until Part 3/?

Part 3 to this series, sorry it’s been a while but recently I’ve had tons of online work to do, as always this is my first story so thoughts would be appreciated ❤️

Steve x gender neutral! Reader

Steve’s mind has been occupied for the past few weeks, and it’s got something to do with the recruit he’s been assigned to train.

Bit more Bucky and Sam oriented

Warnings: mentions abuse, mild threats.

————————————————————

Bucky and Sam did one last final check of your apartment, just to make sure they hadn’t missed anything important. After they got off the phone to you, their attitudes dropped slightly when they saw the damage that had been done the night before.

“It’s a good job Steve didn’t see this, he might throw the guy out of the window” sam said as he was walking around the mess Tyler had made. “This could’ve done some real damage” he said as he heard a soft crunch under his shoe. He’d stepped on a little piece of pot.

“I know, look at the size of the hole in the wall” Bucky traced the wall, the hole was bigger than a fist. “But about Steve seeing the damage, he may or may not have already seen it.” Bucky said in a quiet tone.

“What you mean, already seen it?” Sam crosses his arms over his chest with his eyebrow raised.

“Had a few issues with the camera. Y/n didn’t seem bothered...” Bucky remarked as he adjusted the backpack on his shoulder.

Sam let out a small laugh “damn it Barnes, if Steve sees the guy he’s going to rearrange his face. Not like Y/n couldn’t, but Steves got that whole hero complex going on”

Bucky wished he could argue. Even before the serum Steve would always stand up for what’s right, which wouldn’t be a bad thing if Steve didn’t end up getting jumped in alleys for it. Little punk would never walk away, always tried to hit back. Before Bucky could come up with a decent remark, the men heard the door open.

“What the hell! Who are you?! I’m calling the police!” Tyler looked frantic as he fumbled with his mobile phone. Sam and Bucky gave each other a look before Bucky snatched the phone from Tyler’s hands, and gently threw it on the couch at the other side of the room. They both pinned Tyler down with a stare, but next to Bucky, with his murder face and metal hand on full display, Sam hated to admit he didn’t feel quite as intimidating as he would have liked. With both of them making eye contact with Tyler, he recognised them. He doesn’t know if he should feel relieved or worried, because he’s only a civilian and wasnt really an avengers level threat. But then again, he had not one, but two avengers in his living room looking like they wanted to choke him. With a shaky breath and a tense body, Tyler spoke again.

“Why are you here?” He looked between them and noticed they were holding bags. Your bags. Then it dawned on him where you worked, and the people you knew. He hadn’t really paid attention to what you were saying when you went on about work, he thought you were exaggerating your position to make yourself look good. He didn’t actually think you were on speaking terms with any of the avengers except Steve and Bucky, but that was because he assumed you were cheating. He saw the way you smiled at Bucky when you met him in the street one day. He figured it had to be either him or captain fucking America. In his mind, this just proved his theory. Before Sam or Bucky could reply, Tyler carried on.

“Come to get your lovers things? Fucking typical. I knew there was something going on...” Tyler spat, aiming his little jab towards Bucky.

“Wait hold up, lover? What the hell are you talking about?” Sam was very confused, and was done with this guys shit. “They ain’t lovers. Y/n’s been loyal to you for reasons I cannot comprehend” Sam sassily gave back while gesturing to the wall. “They’ve left your ass, and we’ve come to get their stuff because we’re tight like that. You give y/n any trouble, wether it be on social media, the press, real life or otherwise” Sam got closer to Tyler’s face, being taller than him by a few inches. Tyler gulped. “shield will rain down harassment and abuse lawsuits on you so hard it might as well have come from the Holy Ghost.” Sams voice was low, and Bucky smirked at the terrified look on Tyler’s face. Sam stood straight, and walked past him to the door, bumping shoulders with him so hard he nearly fell. Picking up another bag, Sam made his way out the door and down the hallway, leaving Tyler alone with Bucky.

Tyler turned to Bucky and expected him to follow after Sam, but was surprised to find Bucky leaning casually against the wall, not saying anything and staring. It’s a technique Bucky remembered from his winter soldier days, to use on weak targets. Silence and staring made people squirm, and Bucky wanted him to be as uncomfortable as possible. Then after about 2 minutes, Bucky suddenly got up from the wall and to his delight, Tyler jumped.

That was when Bucky finally spoke. “See, people like you boil my blood. Make me wonder if it’s worth saving the planet when there’s asswipes like you walking around” Bucky was circling Tyler, voice low and gravelly.

Saving the planet. Bucky slipped that in there to remind Tyler what he was capable of, if the whirring of his metal arm didn’t do the trick. He held back a smile when he saw Tyler start to break a sweat. Bucky stopped his circling, and stood in front of the shaking mess that was your ex boyfriend. Bucky leaned in close, voice low, almost whispering.

“I know a few people who wouldn’t care how they hurt you. They would make sure your body was never found. The list includes master assassins, half of shield, a genius..” the look on Tyler’s face was pure fear. Bucky thought how the team who had superhuman abilities would react. “Thor would kill you quick. Dr banner... well you know what he’s like when he’s angry with people. Wanda would keep you alive, messing with your head. As for me and Steve...”

Bucky rolled his shoulders, metal arm making a dangerous sound. Tyler looked ready to pass out. “We’ve been in the toughest war fronts you could possibly imagine. Steve has a habit of jumping out of planes with no parachute, and comes out without a scratch, and I have this metal arm. We’re super soldiers. And you pissed us off.” Bucky grabbed Tyler’s shirt with his metal arm and pinned him against the wall.

“You’ve personally pissed off Captain America. Not very patriotic is it?” Tyler didn’t dare say a word. “I asked you a question” Bucky stared him down.

“N-no.. it- it’s not.” He couldn’t get a word out. Bucky wouldnt usually do this, but he saw steves reaction on the phone. He’s only ever seen that look when they were facing the enemy, weather it be an alien or a scumbag on a mission. If Bucky did this, it would stop Steve from seeking Tyler out personally. And you were his friend, he was mad too.

“That’s what I thought.” Bucky let go of Tyler’s shirt and hap hazardly smoothed it down. “ we’ll be back. I don’t know when. Y/ns not coming back here. If any of their stuff is broken or missing... well I’ll leave that up to your imagination.” Bucky stepped back, and walked out the door leaving Tyler almost crying.

With a satisfied smirk, Bucky made his way to the car and put your bag in the back and got in the front. Sam turned to him with an annoyed expression. “You didn’t kill him did you? You were in there a while”

“No, just threatened him a little on behalf of the team. I think he’s crying” Bucky said with a shrug. Sam let out a small laugh as he drove towards steves apartment.

————————————————————

Steve hadn’t taken his arm from you, and you weren’t moving. The tv was on, and you were just chatting quietly every now and then, just being relaxed in each other’s presence. It was a nice, strangely intimate gesture from both of you, but still remaining platonic. You got up to grab some bags from Sam and Bucky, and took them into the bedroom to find a quick change of clothes and some deodorant. As you were getting ready, Bucky and Sam sat down on the sofa with Steve to wait. Sam spoke up

“So we ran into Tyler at the apartment” he said casually watching steves reaction. He stayed still. Unnaturally still. The kind of still you go when you’re trying not to give anything away.

“ yeah?” Steves reply was short. He wanted to be angry, but he was captain America. He needed to pull it together.

“ uh huh. Went through the whole ‘I’m calling the police’ thing.” Sam imitated in an unflattering voice which made Bucky chuckle.

Bucky piped up “so naturally, we threatened him. Sam went for the ‘say a bad thing against y/n and we’re gonna sue your ass’. I went for the more subtle approach of pinning him against the wall and telling him how anyone from the team could kill him and get away with it. You know, nothing too serious.” Steve let out a smile at that, and his posture became natural again. He felt a lot better now, knowing how intimidating Bucky can be. The only thing bothering him was how he didn’t get to do it himself. When you emerged from the bedroom, you smiled at the men who were now chatting amongst themselves.

“You guys ready to go?” They looked at you and smiled, getting up to leave. When you turned to get your jacket, Steve noticed what you were wearing. You wore a tight, crew necked black shirt which showed you off in just the right way, and some simple navy blue jeans. You looked... nice. That was the word Steve would use. Seeing you relaxed in normal clothing, fresh faced and not dishevelled from training was refreshing. It made you look more... civilian. Domestic. Like you were friends with Steve past being work colleagues. Seeing you like this, made Steve strangely feel normal. And he supposed that today, he was.

He wasn’t captain America when he ordered a burger that day. He was a guy who went out with his friends, missing brunch and settling for lunch instead. He wasn’t captain America when he laughed at Sam for spilling his dinner on his shirt, or when he was smiling at you when you were in a deep conversation with Bucky explaining the plot of starwars. He was Steve Rogers. He hadn’t felt that way in a long time, and he basked in the fact that he was Steve Rogers today. He never got time to be ordinary. That was until he laughed with you. He never got to show people his ordinary side, afraid they’d prefer the star spangled man.

Until a recruit showed him how to be himself again.

Until you.

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A/n: made this a little shorter, and hopefully easier to read? It’s my first story so as always please give criticism, especially if there was anything you didn’t like. Thank you for taking the time to read it though 😇